The rich man in the gospel today had many opportunities to help Lazarus, but he didn't. We don't know why, but he ignored him again and again, stepped right over Lazarus at his own doorstep, all the while Lazarus was getting sicker and sicker until he died. It's sad. How might we relate this parable of Jesus to us today? Who is Lazarus today? This has been troubling me a long time, but I believe the Lazarus that is on our doorstep is the environment. It's the planet!
Pope Francis wrote the encyclical, "Laudato Si: On Care for Our Common Home" a little more than a year ago. It's a tour de force, a call to action to renew humanity's relationship with creation.
Laudato Si's opening words soberly parallel today's gospel. "Our common home is like a sister with whom we share our life and a beautiful mother who opens her arms to embrace us. This sister now cries out to us because of the harm we have inflicted on her by our irresponsible use and abuse of the goods with which God has endowed her. We have come to see ourselves as her lords and masters, entitled to plunder her at will. The violence present in our hearts, wounded by sin, is also reflected in the symptoms of sickness evident in the soil, in the water, in the air and in all forms of life. This is why the earth herself, burdened and laid waste, is among the most abandoned and maltreated of our poor."
The rich man in today's gospel did not notice Lazarus. If the environment is really on our doorstep, what to do about it? Ignore or act? If we wish to act, then we first have to:
1) PAY ATTENTION TO THE EARTH
Pope Francis writes, "If someone has not learned to stop and admire something beautiful, we should not be surprised if he or she treats everything as an object to be used and abused without scruple. If we want to bring about deep change, we need to realize that certain mindsets really do influence our behavior."
The first day of Autumn was just last Thursday. Have you noticed how beautiful the trees are becoming now that their leaves are changing color? Take some time to notice that - wonderful! Take a long look at the world. Amazing! Pick up a handful of those fallen, autumn leaves. Give them a good smell - wonderfully spicy. You are creation. I am creation. There is no atom in our bodies that is not from and of the earth. We too are made of earth, sacred and very good.
Pope Francis writes, "As Christians, we are called to accept the world as a sacrament of communion, as a way of sharing with God and our neighbors on a global scale. It is our humble conviction that the divine and the human meet in the slightest detail in the seamless garment of God's creation, in the last speck of dust of our planet."
2) CARE FOR THE EARTH
You are Bennies and Johnnies. You're smart, otherwise you wouldn't be here. The world needs your intelligence, your creativity, your voice. Saint Benedict, in his Rule, chapter 3, "Summoning the Community for Council" writes, "Whenever any important business has to be done...call together the whole community...because the Lord often reveals to the younger what is best." That's you!
Is healing creation an impossible task? The rich man wasn't called to end hunger and homelessness, but he was called to help Lazarus at his doorstep. That he could do. How might we be able to do our part, be it big or small?
A) What about your major? Environmental/Poly Sci studies = you will be the challenge we all need. You will lead us. Business major = will you call us to simply be consumers, or will you inspire us to act for the common good? Nursing majors = a healthy environment creates a healthy person. Preach it! Theology major = How might you speak about world as a sacrament of communion? How might evolution and science inform our way of speaking of God acting in creation? Other majors = you, too have a voice.
B) In what ways can all of us strongly promote making our campuses more sustainable? Sustainability can be our first priority. The CSBSJU sustainability website is very informative. The 2016 Week of Sustainability starts tomorrow. Did you know also, the College of St. Benedict has a climate neutrality goal of zero net emissions by the year 2035? We can do this together!
C) Eating at Gorecki or the Reef? Take only what you plan to eat. Waste not, want not. Even better, want not, waste not.
D) Take the Link instead of driving your car.
E) Don't litter. If you see litter, even if it's not yours, pick it up be it on campus or in St. Joe.
F) Go on a nature walk. Creation! Touch, see, smell, love it. Speak to God as present in creation.
G) Or other ideas?
Creation, wounded and ignored, is on our doorstep. It's not too late to see and heal creation. Pope Francis writes, "As never before in history, common destiny beckons us to seek a new beginning... Let ours be a time remembered for the awakening of a new reverence for life, the firm resolve to achieve sustainability, the quickening of the struggle for justice and peace, and the joyful celebration of life."
You cannot serve both God and money.
The key word here is "serve." Whatever we serve, by definition, has authority over us. To serve money means that money has power over us -- we don't control money, money controls us. Jesus is not saying that money is bad, he's saying it has the potential to have too much power over our life. Money can be our master, and we can only have one Master.
About a year ago, I had the opportunity to stay at the homes of two families. They were both wealthy, but what a difference between them!
a) The first family. They showed me their expensive stuff and they told me that they often go on big, expensive trips. But I could just sense that they were really unhappy behind the façade of their wealth. Why? Because I think they knew deep within that all their wealth couldn't bring them true and lasting happiness. They were addicted to their life as they lived it and they didn't know how to get out of it. Also, there was no well-loved center to their lives. Just, "Did you see this expensive thing...did you see you that expensive thing...and did you know we're going to Paris next month...blah blah blah." Money was their master.
b) The second family. Their place was beautiful and expensive and they enjoyed it. But I experienced that their wealth was not first of all for them. They were generous to others; their home was a place of hospitality; they loved sharing their life and their wealth with others. And I heard that they didn't just offer hospitality to other rich people, but that their home was open to all sorts of people. The center of their home was the kitchen and dinning room. That's where people met, prayed and gave thanks, drank wine, ate good food, laughed, and enjoyed each other's company.
This family was obliviously much happier than the first because they experienced that true wealth comes not from material wealth, but quality relationships! And this fact can be backed up by science!
I love to watch TEDTalks! One talk (and it's so good that it should be required for incoming first-year's) was about what makes for a happy and satisfying life. Important! The talk was based on the longest study (78 years of study as of 2016!) of human development that began following the lives of Harvard University graduates selected in 1938 and tracked every aspect of their lives. Each year, the graduates' physical and emotional well-being are assessed. Many conclusions have been gleaned, but there's one clear takeaway: The happiest and healthiest participants in this groups were the ones who maintained close, intimate relationships. Those satisfied in their relationships were happier and healthier. 78 years of ongoing study -- It was that simple.
Robert Waldinger said in this TEDTalk. "People who are more isolated than they want to be from others find that they are less happy, their health declines earlier in midlife, their brain functioning declines sooner and they live shorter lives than people who [have good relationships]." According to the study, the commercial projection of a good life - wealth, fame, career success - won't bring us health or happiness. It's the work we put into maintaining meaningful connections with other people that will. Casual relationships, like the ones forged on social media won't do. This is pretty important to know when you're in college. What, actually, is going to make your life satisfying? Material wealth? No. Meaningful relationships? Yes.
Most of the graduates in 1938, when they were young, believed that career achievement equated the good life. But the 78-year study says that while a good career is important, what's more important is to work more intently on relationships. The spiritual traditions have been saying this for centuries. It's good to back this up with science! As a Benedictine college, community is one of our core Benedictine values. We are committed to forming stable relationships in the community. You cannot serve both God and money. As Christians, we experience the sacred, we experience God is our daily lives with those we love and care for, and those who love and care for us. Let our relationships take priority over money and material wealth.
Life is all about what story we choose to believe.
The younger brother tells a story. It's his version of his story, and as he heads home in shame after squandering his father's money, he rehearses the speech he'll give his father. He is convinced he's "no longer worthy" to be called his father's son. That's the story he's telling, that's the one he's believing. It's amazing, then, when he gets home and his father demands that the best robe be put on him and a ring placed on his finger and sandals on his feet. The son is treated as family. Although he's decided he can't be a son anymore, his father tells a different story. One about return and reconciliation. One about his being family again.
The younger son has to decide whose version of his story he's going to trust: his or his father's. One, in which he is no longer worthy to be called a son; or another, in which he's a robe, ring, and sandal-wearing son who was dead but is alive again, who was lost but has now been found. There are two versions of the story -- his and his father's. He has to choose which story he will live in, which story he will believe, which story he will trust.
The father's story begins before the son returns home. I imagine the father at breakfast with his morning coffee, working in the fields, just before going to bed, always looking down the road for his lost son. "While the son was still a long way off, his father saw him and was moved with pity. He ran to the boy, clasped him in his arms and kissed him tenderly." He recognizes his son even though the son has changed. His son is thin, his clothes are in tatters, his face has a hard look on it that only deep disappointment and shame can bring.
Life is all about what story we choose to believe.
The older brother. He too has his version of his story. He tells his father, "All these years I've been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me..." The older brother claims that his father has dealt with his younger brother according to a totally different set of standards. He thinks his father is unfair. He thinks he's been wronged, shorted, shafted. He's furious about it and complains all with the party in full swing in the background.
The father isn't rattled or provoked. He simply responds, "My son, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours." And then the father tells him that they have to celebrate. In one sentence the father manages to tell an entirely different story than the older brother has told himself. I imagine the father with the older son at breakfast, sitting across the table from his son. The son rarely spoke to him and if he did, he only spoke about work needing to be done and things that needed to be tended to. The son never enjoyed his life and his face too had a hardness that comes from only living a life of duty.
The opposite of grace is our refusal to trust God's retelling of our story. We all have our version of events. We believe all sorts of negative things about ourselves. What the gospel does is confront our version of our story with God's version of our story. It's a brutally honest, exuberantly liberating story, and it's Good News. It begins with the sure and certain truth that we are loved. Forever. That in spite of whatever has gone horribly wrong deep in our hearts and has spread to every corner of our world; in spite of our sins, failures, rebellion, and hard hearts; in spite of what's been done to us or what we've done, God has made peace with us. Done. Complete. Jesus' last words on the cross, "It is finished."
Life is all about what story we choose to believe.
Two choices. We can trust God's version of our story or we can cling to our version of our story. We're at the party, but we don't have to join in. Undeserved robes, rings and sandals, undeserved feast all await with an open invitation.
The younger brother believes that he's cut off, estranged, and no longer deserves to be his father's son because of all the terrible things he's done. His problem is his WORTHLESSNESS. (x2) The older brother believes that the reason he deserves to be a son is because of all of the good he's done, all of the rules he's obeyed, all the days he's "slaved" for his father. The truth, is that the older brother is separated from his father as well, even though he's always lived at home. His problem is his WORTHINESS. (x2)
So, each son would say the same thing: The younger son, "Father, look what I have done!" The older son, "Father, look what I have done!" But they mean totally different things from each other, don't they? Rather say, "Father, look what you've done!" Neither son understands that the father's story was never about that. Love is not about worthiness or worthlessness. Love is not about any of that!! God's love cannot be earned and God's love can never be taken away.
It just is. It's a feast. A celebration!
It uncorks the champagne bottles. It's without beginning and without end. It goes on, well into the night, and into the next day, and the next, and the next, and the next.
Without any finish in sight
They strengthened the spirits of the disciples and exhorted them to persevere in the faith. Perseverance.
Life vows as a monk: sign of peace. Give a word. New monks said, "Welcome aboard!" (coming aboard a cruise) and then Fr. Julius, my spiritual director, said, "Persevere!"
In this homily, I want to talk about what it means to persevere in this life of ours. What does perseverance look and feel like? Is it positive or negative? Perseverance, I would well imagine for a lot of you is THE word as you get closer to the end of the academic year! Is perseverance life giving or something we just have to get through?
Persevere. I admit I don't like this word. To me it doesn't have life to it. It sounds like just putting up with something difficult until better times come along.
I've always been attracted by St. Benedict's promise in his Holy Rule to those who dynamically persevere in this life. He writes, "Do not be daunted immediately and run away from the road that leads to salvation; it is bound to be narrow at the beginning. But as we persevere in this way of life and in faith, we shall run on the path of God's commandments, our hearts swelling with the inexpressible delight of love." X2
When I first read this, it sounded very attractive, and then my suspicious nature came in. I thought, "It promises so much, I thought, but is it true? Is Saint Benedict putting us on?" I asked my formation director, Fr. George, this and he replies "You give yourself as gift to God and others, and you find life can be beautiful." Beautiful! Fr. George used that word quite a bit. I would imagine that this "delight of love" depends a lot on the way we persevere.
Love is the theme of the gospel tonight, isn't it? Jesus tells us, "love one another; just as I have loved you, you also must love one another."
I googled for good stories about human love and perseverance because people like to hear stories in homilies, and I couldn't find anything I really liked. Then I thought to myself, "Good grief, what about stories from your own life?" I remember my mom. She passed away from cancer about five years ago. When she was dying, my sister and I would take turns staying at her apartment each week to take care of her. When I stayed there, one thing we would do is celebrate Mass on her kitchen table each day. The benefit of being a priest, is you can have Mass anywhere, anytime. I knew that she was dying, so Mass was a time I could show my gratefulness to her. She gave me birth, she took care of me, she worked at a job she didn't really like for years so that I and my sister could have a decent living. This was commitment of love. Hers was a persevering love.
What kind of image comes to you when you think of perseverance with love? How are you committed in love for others? How are others committed to you? Most of us want to love, but love can't just be a vague, nebulous thing. It must show itself in real, flesh and blood, life ways. How is love and perseverance real to you today?
In the gospel, Jesus' tough love was there even among his doubting, fearing, betraying for 30 pieces of silver apostles. Jesus washed their feet and shared many meals. God's love is a love that perseveres.
Jesus tells us this in a series of parables -- about a woman who loses a coin and lights a lamp to find it; a shepherd who loses a sheep and roams about the countryside until the shepherd finds it; and a father who loses a son and is always looking down the road for his return.
The stories aren't ultimately about things and people being lost; the stories are about things and people being found. The God that Jesus teaches us about doesn't give up until everything that was lost is found. This God simply doesn't give up. Ever.
John 13:31, "It was just before the Passover Festival. Jesus knew that the hour had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end."
Today, the idea of persevering in any commitment perhaps seems unwise or even foolish. Everything changes so rapidly. Much can disappoint. Shouldn't we just protect ourselves? I believe that perseverance can be very positive, very dynamic, and very life giving. Perseverance is not dependent on the imagined perfection of college life, family life, the Church, or society. Perseverance is grounded on the unchanging fidelity of God in the middle of it all. Things change, people disappoint us, and we sometimes fail. It is our trust in God's faithfulness that enables us to keep on keeping on.
They strengthened the spirits of the disciples and exhorted them to persevere in the faith."
In the monastery dinning room at St. John's, there is a little room off to the side we call the snack room. It's a place to get a cookie, coffee, or a place to eat when you don't have time to eat with the community at our regular meal time. Recently, I was having a busy day, and I was standing in the snack room, rather hurriedly eating a bowl of soup for lunch. An elder monk was in there too sitting down having a cookie. He looked at me and said, "The way you're eating is not very Benedictine. Sit down with me and tell me how things are going with you." I thought to myself, "Can't you see I'm busy!" But, I sat down and we had a nice conversation. He's the same monk who knows many of current school alumni. When a student asks to have a meal with him in the Reef, he tells them, "Well, give me half hour at least with you so we can have a real conversation." "Besides," he says with a smile, "I'm old and slow." My brother monk often shows hospitality like this.
Hospitality. I would like to speak today about the Christian virtue of hospitality. It is one of our core Benedictine values here at CSBSJU. Our webpage says as much, "We practice hospitality and respect for all persons. We offer warmth, acceptance and joy in welcoming others. Let all be received as Christ."
Hospitality is a key universal Christian value, perhaps even at the center of the Gospel - certainly the way of Jesus and his ministry on earth. Jesus ate and drank with whoever - the religious people and those on the outs. Hospitality is the way of Jesus in today's gospel reading. We hear, "Jesus said to disciples, 'Come and have breakfast.' Jesus then...took the bread and gave it to them, and the same with the fish."
Sheer genius how Jesus takes ordinary stuff and forms of it salvation. Nets, fish, boats, light garments. Simple words of welcome. Burning charcoal. No ponderous treatise. Not a footnote in sight. No formal invitation, tuxedoes or gowns. No rehearsals, no having first to be perfect, simply a call we've heard before, "Come, have breakfast."
The invitation sounds almost too ordinary. But on closer look it means: "Be strengthened. You've probably not eaten for twelve hours or more. You're looking woozy; food will energize. A full day ahead-you'll need your strength." We've heard it from mom, dad, spouse, or friends. But hearing it from Jesus? Even better: what if we thought he'd died? The scene in today's gospel occurred soon after the resurrection. The disciples had just heard scattered rumors that Jesus was alive. And there Jesus is, on the shore, calmly placing bread on the grill, asking for more fish. "Come, have breakfast."
Why do we make God so distant, perfect, unreachable, and glorified, when God is as close and natural in his serving role as a waitress who's refilled the coffee 97 times this morning at Kay's Kitchen?
Jesus looks on the disciples fondly: dripping, bedraggled, dazed with grief and sleeplessness, sloppy. Dear. He intersects that moment of their hunger and calls them by their deeper identity, "Children, children, have you caught anything to eat?" How intimately Jesus knows human hunger, felt its ache himself. Feeding that hunger is the necessary prelude to any lofty mission. To be near Jesus, even the less reckless might jump into the lake and swim towards him.
St. Ben's and St. John's are Benedictine schools. Benedictine spirituality is ordinary. I hope you catch that here. The sacred, the holy, is in our ordinary relationships, our ordinary day-to-day activities, in our hospitality with one another. God is not to be found above us, in the clouds, but in the flesh and blood relationships with one another - real life! God is certainly transcendent, greater and more beautiful than we possibly can imagine, but God is Word made flesh. God is in the very bone and blood of our ordinary lives. God is in all the places of our lives. When were those times in your life when you could say, "Here is the lord." Was it during something extraordinary? Perhaps. But my guess is that is was during something very ordinary. Love of Jesus translates into love of people, the love of the fabric, the weave and woof of life.
Our success in life, really how we do life right, is so often misunderstood. Happiness does not have to do with how much money we make, or the status we'll build for ourselves. Studies show that to be true. Watch a TED talk! So many people make that mistake; Rather, happiness and life-success has all to do with the quality of our relationships and the hospitality we show to others.
So, how full of welcome is Jesus today. There is the disciples' fish, there is Jesus's charcoal fire, there is a savory breakfast. Eating, the breaking of bread, as recognition of Jesus -- the hospitality of God.
I'll end with a quote from Pope Francis, "Let us have the awareness that each moment, each creature reflects something of God and has a message to convey to us, and the security that Christ has taken unto himself this material world and now, risen, is intimately present to each being, surrounding it with his affection and penetrating it with his light."
In the back yard of the monastery at St. John's there is a great old, elm tree. It's about 150 years old and has given shade to generations of monks. It's just now beginning to bud out from limb to limb, once again living and growing. It's one of those trees that people are just drawn to stand under its boughs. One of my favorite times of the week is after the St. John's Mass on Sunday morning. We have about ½ hour after Mass and before lunch, so many of us monks walk out to the back yard, just to enjoy one another's company while standing under this old and powerful tree. This tree is a symbol for me of the strength of life and of the joy of a generous, life-giving community.
A tree, strong and green, is an ancient symbol for a healthy Church. A church that has as its chief message of avoiding hell or not sinning will never be the compelling story. A church that calls us to be a lamp on a lamp-stand rather than be merely nice people to those we know and can accept is a blessing. A church that exchanges shallow fundamentalism for deep mystery sees the whole world as sacred. A church that repeatedly, narrowly affirms and bolsters the "in-ness" of one group at the expense of the "out-ness" of another group will not be true to the Big Story, the Good News, we read in the gospel today - about Jesus breaking into the lives of the disciples and telling them to "go out into the world" while they were in hiding behind locked doors. A church that hides is not a church at all. Thank God the disciples did indeed accept the peace of Christ - the peace that gives courage, gives joy, and gives radical vision. Alleluia!
So, we joyfully welcome those who will be confirmed by the Church today. We call upon the Holy Spirit that the Spirit may pour out power upon these people that they may experience an authentic, gospel life. This Eucharist is for all of us gathered here as we seek renewal and as we seek the greening of our lives.
That's what happens in the gospel today! Jesus, in his Divine Mercy, breaks through the disciples' locked doors and their fear, and says aloud, "Peace be with you!" But peace for the disciples wasn't keeping safe in a locked room from those who would harm them. Their peace wasn't being safe in their fear -- "We've found a great hiding place!" No, their peace was Jesus Christ calling them out to something greater than themselves. The disciples were to grow from seed to tree. The same is true with us! This same Jesus still speaks those powerful and glorious words, "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...Do not be afraid. I am the first and the last, the one who lives. Once I was dead, but now I am alive forever and ever."
May this celebration of Confirmation and Eucharist empower all of us to experience the glory and new life which is ours as Christians! May all of us be like a tree in springtime. Life-giving. Strong. Green. Alleluia!
In the Gospel today the case seems clear-cut. A woman is caught in the very act of adultery. She's before us wearing nothing but a single sheet she quickly grabbed as others grabbed her from her bed. The evidence is indisputable. It's very easy to point a finger at this woman. The law is clear: it's just a matter of carrying it out. Stone her! When we point our finger at an obvious wrong in a person, we might think that we are carrying out our Christian duty to rid the world of what is immoral. Yet in that very act of accusation, we think of ourselves as being so much better. Pope Francis, when a journalist asked him about his experience as a confessor to homosexual persons, endeared himself to many, when he simply said, "Who am I to judge?" We thought that that was his job. But, surprise.
A story: A brother did a great wrong in the monastery and when a community meeting was called about it, they sent for the holy Father John, but he refused to come. So the monks sent someone to him, saying, "Come, the community is waiting for you." Father John got up, and picking up a large basket with a hole in the bottom, filled it with sand and placed it on his back. When he arrived at the meeting, those who came out to meet him said to him, "What's this father?" The old man said, "My sins trickle down out behind me and I do not see them and yet I have come today to judge someone else's sins which I do not see." When the community heard this, they didn't say anything to condemn the brother, but forgave him.
In Rule of St. Benedict, in the 7th chapter "On Humility," St. Benedict writes, "that a person not only admits with their tongue but is also convinced in their heart that they are inferior to all."
This is not an opportunity to do a nose-dive into an unhealthy low self-esteem, but rather that I have more evidence against myself than I have for any other human person. That is, my conscience tells me that I am far from perfect, whereas I only know by hearsay of the wrong done by others. Even if I can point a finger to and put an exact name on someone else's sin, do I ever see the whole picture of a person's life? There may, at times, be an occasion when we have to correct someone, but my guess is that before we can that, it first takes a real relationship with that person, and we treat that person as a person who we really care for, rather than someone simply to be corrected. Even so, judgment and correction should never, ever become condemnation. Jesus doesn't even do that.
The Scribes and Pharisees (the religious guys with all the answers) are intent on being able to condemn the woman with transgressing the law. Today, 2000 years later, are we not we sick and tired of the men in power always controlling, blaming, stoning, and maiming women in the name of God? In the gospel today, where is the man the woman was with? I've heard some say, "Well, it's probably because the man was stronger and was able to escape." The truth is, unfortunately, as a woman blogger wrote, "We still believe men are incapable of making rational decisions when it comes to sexual behavior and we force women to take on the role of managing or even outright controlling those behaviors. When something goes terribly wrong, we look to blame women because men just can't help themselves!" So, to the men here at Mass I strongly say, "Like Jesus, be another man against violence against women!"
The religious powerful want to justify violence by quoting the Law of Moses to Jesus and press him for his verdict. While they wait for an answer, Jesus bends down and begins to write on the ground with his finger what's that about?
Much ink has been spilled by commentators who speculate on what Jesus wrote. St. Jerome proposed that each onlooker saw their own sins being written. That's sobering! I suggest that Jesus, being a man, and confronting religious men, bent down as an act of non-confrontation. If Jesus would have said the same thing, "He who is without sin, cast the first stone" while looking face to face and eye to eye with the male accusers, that is a position of confrontation, and likely the men (especially the younger hot-heads first) would have thrown the stones because they felt threatened.
So in the act of bending down, looking at the ground and writing, Jesus words of challenge are left in the hands of the accusers, and so they have to deal with their own words. The elders and wiser leave first.
In this Jubilee Year of Mercy, the times when we are tempted to condemn another, we must not think that God is right there with us ready to point a finger and throw the first, hard stone. Rather, God, in the person of Jesus Christ, is bent down, and he's writing on the ground. What is he trying to tell us? He's not standing with stone in hand like so many of us. He places himself, beautifully and radically at the level of the accused. We know, after all, that Jesus did die like a criminal, like one accused, on the cross. Jesus took the sins of the whole world upon himself, not for the sake of condemnation, but something much more beautiful and powerful: our salvation!
Life is all about what story we choose to believe in.
The younger brother tells a story. It's his version of his story, and as he heads home in shame after squandering his father's money, he rehearses the speech he'll give his father. He is convinced he's "no longer worthy" to be called his father's son. That's the story he's telling, that's the one he's believing. It's stunning, then, when he gets home and his father demands that the best robe be put on him and a ring placed on his finger and sandals on his feet. The son is treated as family. Although he's decided he can't be a son anymore, his father tells a different story. One about return and reconciliation. One about his being family again.
The younger son has to decide whose version of his story he's going to trust: his or his father's. One, in which he is no longer worthy to be called a son; or another, in which he's a robe, ring, and sandal-wearing son who was dead but is alive again, who was lost but has now been found. There are two versions of his story -- his and his father's. He has to choose which one he will live in, which story he will believe, which story he will trust.
The father's story begins before the son returns home. I imagine the Father at breakfast with his morning coffee, working in the fields, just before going to bed, always looking down the road for his lost son.
"While the son was still a long way off, his father saw him and was moved with pity. He ran to the boy, clasped him in his arms and kissed him tenderly." He recognizes his son even though the son has changed. He's thin, his clothes are in tatters, his face has a hard look on it that only deep disappointment can bring.
Life is all about what story we choose to believe in.
The older brother. He too has his version of his story. He tells his father, "All these years I've been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me!"
The older brother claims that his father has dealt with his younger brother according to a totally different set of standards. He thinks his father is unfair. He thinks he's been wronged, shorted, shafted. He's furious about it and complains all with the party in full swing in the background.
The father isn't rattled or provoked. He simply responds, "My son, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours." And then the father tells him that they have to celebrate. In one sentence the father manages to tell an entirely different story about the older brother.
I imagine the father with the older son at breakfast, sitting across the table from his son. The son rarely spoke to him and if he did, he only spoke about work needing to be done and things that needed to be tended to. The son never enjoyed life and his face too had a hardness that comes from living a life of duty.
The opposite of grace is our refusal to trust God's retelling of our story. We all have our version of events. We believe all sorts of negative things about ourselves. What the gospel does is confront our version of our story with God's version of our story. It's a brutally honest, exuberantly liberating story, and it's Good News (x2). It begins with the sure and certain truth that we are loved.
That in spite of whatever has gone horribly wrong deep in our hearts and has spread to every corner of the world, in spite of our sins, failures, rebellion, and hard hearts, in spite of what's been done to us or what we've done, God has made peace with us. Done. Complete. Jesus' last words on the cross, "It is finished."
Life is all about what story we choose to believe in.
We can trust God's retelling of our story or we can cling to our version of our story. We're at the party, but we don't have to join in. Undeserved robes, rings and sandals, undeserved feast all await with an invitation.
The younger brother believes that he's cut off, estranged, and no longer deserves to be his father's son because of all the terrible things he's done. His problem is his WORTHLESSNESS.
The older brother believes that the reason he deserves to be a son is because of all of the good he's done, all of the rules he's obeyed, all of the days he's "slaved" for his father. The truth is that the older brother is separated from his father as well, even though he's lived at home. His problem is his WORTHINESS.
So, each son would say, "Father, look what I have done!" (x2) But they mean totally different things from each other, don't they?
Neither son understands that the father's story was never about that. Love is not about any of that!! God's love cannot be earned and God's love cannot be taken away.
It just is. It's a party. A celebration! It uncorks the bottles. It's without beginning and without end. It goes on, well into the night, and into the next day, and the next, and the next, and the next.Without any finish in sight.
It's a story we can choose to believe in.
Homily relying a good bit on Rob Bell's book, Love Wins.
I received this email from a friend of mine just a couple days ago. He's part of a group of men and women who live the spirit of St. Benedict in their daily lives - they're called "Oblates." Both St. Benedict's Monastery and St. John's Abbey have oblates. My friend writes, "There was a couple in our group who are new oblates. They spoke of some serious problems they were having with their daughter who is taking drugs and was recently arrested. They spoke very emotionally about their great worry about their daughter's life." My friend continued, "I was reminded of the very real and urgent problems people have to face. We ended our meeting by praying over them. I got a big hug from both of them and they told us that our presence in the group was so important to them. Just our presence would help them through. I realized no one needed to offer any advice to them. We didn't have to DO anything, but just BE present. That was a little moment of clarity for me. Despite our differences, the group grows closer. The Lord is at work here!"
Why do bad things happen to people, like this daughter with a drug problem, especially in the belief of an all loving and powerful God? In today's Gospel, that's what Jesus knows what people are thinking when they report to him about those whom Pilate murdered and the people who were killed when a tower fell on them. Why do these bad things happen - who's at fault?
There may, indeed, be sinful causes behind these events in the Gospel, but not on the part of the victim. Pilate, who carries out violent executions of innocent people, embodies a sin-wracked system of people in power. Deaths caused by a tower falling could be because of shoddy workmanship or cutting corners, when profit is prized over human safety, are the result of sinful practices but not those of the ones who fall victim.
In the Gospel, Jesus does not answer the more complex question of why bad things happen to people. What he emphasizes in his response is the need always to be prepared: our end could come quite unexpectedly. Jesus is saying to us, "Are you ready today?"
There is a story about the famous 18th century writer and ecologist, Henry David Thoreau. When he was on his deathbed, a concerned friend came to him and asked, "Henry, don't you think you need to make peace with God?" Henry responded, "I didn't think we were fighting." The Gospel today invites all of us to enter more deeply into such a relationship with God, where we too can say we are ready at any moment, and are even at peace with God.
Coming back to the gospel, the examples of people dying in unexpected ways are not meant to scare us into repentance. They are a sobering reminder, however, that our time to respond to God is limited. We might never get a chance to live a tomorrow. We can miss the opportunity to enter more deeply into the heart of God and into care and love for one another and even be gentler to ourselves.
The story my friend told at the beginning of this homily is a good example of how, even in the middle of our many "whys?" we need to draw closer to God and one another. My friend had wisdom and right compassion when he wrote, "I realized no one needed to offer any advice to them. We didn't have to DO anything, but just BE present." Our job is not to fix anyone, no matter how broken they are at the moment. Unfortunately, we usually don't really listen with the intent to understand. We listen with the intent to reply. BE present to one another. That is what our God does for us today. God is present when we are gathered together in God's name. Yes, God is present deeply now, and God's love is poured out for us in his precious Body and Blood of Jesus Christ.
A story: I asked God to take away my grief, and God said, "No." God said "it is not for me to take away, but for you to work through." I asked God to make my broken heart whole, and God said, "No." He said, "your spirit is whole; your pain is only temporary." I asked God to grant me patience, and God said, "No." He said "patience is a by-product of tribulation, it isn't granted, it's earned." I asked God to give me happiness, and God said, "No." God said, "I give blessing; happiness is living in that blessing." I asked God to spare me pain, and God said, "No." God said "suffering brings you closer to me and to those you love." I asked God to make my spirit grow, and God said, "No." He said "you must grow on your own, but I will prune you to make you fruitful." I asked God if he loves me, and God said, "Yes. I gave my only Son who died for you, and you will be in heaven someday because you believe." I asked God to help me love others as much as He loves me, and God said, "Ah, finally you have the idea."
Perhaps you've experienced a movie at a theatre that was so powerful that when it was finished and the credits were rolling, the audience was just silent, not being able to move. I remembering that happening when I saw the movie "Shindler's List." It was about Oscar Shindler who saved many Jews from concentration camps during WWII. About 10 seconds into the credits, one teenage boy, probably a good bit immature, made a wise-crack and laughed out loud, breaking the silence. I think half the audience gave him an immediate "shhh!"
Powerful experiences often make us speechless; we're held in the moment; and we know that interrupting the powerful moment with talking or even moving, would somehow diminish the reverence of the moment.
That's the gospel today. Jesus is transfigured before Peter, James, and John. We hear simply, "[The disciples] fell silent." But then there's Peter opening his loud mouth, "Master, it's good that we're here; let's make three tents, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah." But Peter did not know what he was saying. Peter was an idiot in the face of glory.
Glory, glory! The transfiguration of Jesus offers us a hint at what glory is about. Glory reveals something really great in this world, something to be stunned about, something that somehow dwarfs and overshadows all of our regular daily life. Often glory comes when we least expect it.
Glory is closely connected with one of the gifts of the Holy Spirit called "The Fear of the Lord" or "Wonder and Awe and Wow in God's Presence." An encounter with glory takes your breath away and, indeed, brings about a kind of fear-not a fear that makes you want to run and hide, but a fear that makes the whole world seem wonderful and all together holy; and oneself, as small and insignificant.
When you glimpse glory in your life, you're like Moses at the burning bush, you take off your shoes because the very ground seems holy or like Peter at the transfiguration you may start mumbling about "building tents" so you can stay in that moment forever. Or maybe it makes us want to get our phone out, take a picture quickly, and post it online right away and say to the world, "Look where I am!" but without deeply processing the experience in silence, awe, and reverence.
Creation, for most, if not all of us, is that place where we often stand in awe, are silent, we savor the beauty that is our world. Pope Francis, in his encyclical, "Laudato Si" writes, "From panoramic vistas to the tiniest living form, nature is a constant source of wonder and awe. It is also a continuing revelation of the divine. To sense each creature singing the hymn of its existence is to live joyfully in God's love and hope. This contemplation of creation allows us to discover in each thing a teaching which God wishes to hand on to us, since for the believer, to contemplate creation is to hear a message, to listen to a [sacred] voice."
To listen is one of the most valued of Benedictine virtues. Indeed, Benedict tells us to, "Listen [deeply] with the ear of the heart."The heart, for Benedict, meant the whole person -- every fiber of our being. To listen and to be open with everything we got. It's not possible to really listen without being open to conversion and the willingness to be changed. Silence is the immediate experience that something wonderful is happening inside of us.
In our busy life, that pushes us around too much with constant pinging of texts, calendars always filling up, and endless emails, let us be open nevertheless to savoring life, to be open to the transfigurations that come to us all the time. In the spirit of St. Benedict, we live the Liturgy of Life, doing our ordinary tasks of ordinary daily existence under the eye of God and in the spirit of reverence and thanksgiving. God's glory is everywhere.
Let me conclude with a poem entitled, "Stand in Awe" by the American conservationist, Wendell Berry.
"We must learn to acknowledge that [life] is full of mystery; we will never entirely understand it. We must abandon arrogance and stand in awe. We must recover the sense of the majesty of creation, and the ability to be worshipful in its presence. For I do not doubt that it is only on the condition of humility and reverence [in life] that our species will be able to remain in it."
I was looking at CNN.com the other day and an article interested me. It was entitled, "The Changing Face of Family." The article has many photos of people in different forms of relationships. It also tells of their love and dedication that sustains them living as families and the many challenges they experience. One person is quoted, "Family is all about giving and receiving love and affection. It's about feeling protected and connecting with other human beings." It's not easy. There are a lot of trials and tests, but it's worth it. Photos of love and commitment. I love them! These photos are on our Facebook page, our screen saver, on our desk, on our fridge, in our wallet or purse, wherever. They're the best pictures aren't they! Take a moment and bring to mind one photo of yours that shows love-it's beautiful, isn't it? But we know each photo also contains a deeper story. The people that we love are people that over and over and over again we choose to commit ourselves to and we choose to act with love in the best way we know how. Everyone loves the feeling of love that makes the heart melt or makes the chest expand and the love that feels spontaneous, easy, and free. Love feels great. But love, deep love, is a choice made thousands of times over and over again in our life. When I worked on this homily, I looked around my room at my photos of those I love. There's: my dad and I changing oil in my car; my mom and I clinking a glass of beer; a black and white photo of my maternal grandparents when they were young, arms around each other, ready to conquer the world; my sister and brother-in-law, laughing about who knows what, both wearing green at a St. Patrick's Day parade; my niece and two nephews (wow, it's been wonderful watching them grow up); and my community at St. John's, they're my brothers who day by day I pray with, eat with, and goof around with. I love them! Each one of those relationships has seen its share of testing. Absolutely. If we love anyone in this life, there will be tests, for sure. You can count on it. That's what it means to be human. Jesus, the human face of God, was tested three times in the gospel today. His tests were not about giving the correct scripture answers, although we might interpret that with a superficial reading. No, these tests were fundamentally aimed at who Jesus was, what he was about, and the tests would decide his future. His tests were really about what kind of continued relationship he was to have with his Father and with each and every one of us. Jesus was tested with us in mind. John 10:10, "I came that they may have life, and life more abundantly."
1st test = In his great hunger to change stones into bread. To take the quick and easy route. To end the test immediately. To not be strong.
2nd test = To gain the whole world with one bend of the knee. To grasp for something that is fundamentally against one's own convictions and conscience. To choose stuff over love.
3rd test = Throwing himself off the temple with the promise that angels would be his soft landing. To take advantage of and cheapen love.
What about the tests you're going through? Maybe you're confused about your future? Maybe your family is going through a difficult time? Maybe happiness seems to evade you? Maybe you're thinking about coming out of the closet? Maybe you feel overwhelmed? Maybe you just went through a test and are thinking, "What was that all about?" These are real tests. They're human tests. Whatever the tests you might be going through right now, or will go through, or have gone through, there are two choices really. 1) Implode, become a black hole, and get all bitter and think life is just unfair and distance yourself from love; or 2) See tests as ways for grace and love to work in you and to deepen your relationship with God and those you love: those in your photos. Love tested leads to deeper love. It really does. Love is always the sweetest after a difficult time of testing. That's when love becomes real and truly amazing! It really does. And finally, Happy Valentine's Day.
What to do when it's Super Bowl Sunday? First, you have to find the best place with the best and biggest HDTV. And you also have to have things to eat. Pizza, chips and dip, Buffalo wings. Yummy! Maybe before that, you have to choose a team to root for. The Broncos or the Panthers? I'm rooting for the Panthers because they haven't won a Super Bowl before. I've been asked, "Do monks at St. John's watch the Super Bowl?" You bet we do! But we don't watch it alone! Tonight we'll have one room for food and beverages and the game is shown in another room a small theatre in the Quad. 20' x 10' of Super Bowl screen awesomeness. But some of my brothers aren't sports fans, and won't watch the game but will come anyway for the snacks, adult beverages and a few laughs. Good.
What also to do on Super Bowl Sunday? It seems like all of you, like me, have also decided to go to Mass. Why? Why go to Mass? Good question.
Statistically in America, 37% of young adults call themselves, spiritual, but not religious. Or in another way of saying it, "religiously unaffiliated." I can really respect people who are spiritual. Often they are really trying to find God and they're good to their neighbors. They're authentic people. But one thing a spiritual, but not a religious person often lacks is the support of other people, they lack a faith community.
Young adults especially, are disillusioned, disenchanted, and in some cases, downright disgusted with organized religion. So while they still believe in God, they are leaving the church because of all its judgmental, hypocritical, and anti-everything people. One student recently asked at a Campus Ministry event, Why is the church often against things and not for things? Good question, that.
But the situation remains. We are people who still desire a deeper experience of community and the sacred. What to do? If I leave the church behind, who do I pray with? Who do I worship with? Who do I sit next to on a Sunday? Who will walk with me on my life-path?
If I leave the church behind, am I all alone in my search for God? And if I'm on my own, how do I set out on this search? Go to Amazon.com to the spirituality section, buy a book with the best customer reviews, download it, read it, and see what happens? Is my experience of God limited if it's just about me alone?
Any person can find God in the sunrise. If you find God in nature, great, but can you find God in cancer? Do you find God in depression? Maybe. But my guess is that you need community to wrestle with that. Individualized spirituality works ok for a while until life gets crazy. Then where do we turn? Community gives us a place to work life out when our assumptions and beliefs break down in the face of life and death and everything in between. Life is hard, why do it alone? God works through other people and situations creating a strong web of relationships. In today's gospel, Jesus calls his disciples; but he calls them to walk and work together. The same today.
Community is a great blessing, but a blessing that is challenging too.
It takes a certain maturity and step of faith to find church in the person sitting next to you who has a totally different world view than you do. Consider the recent Iowa caucuses: the Democrats and Republicans. America has an "us against them" mentality. How do we be with one another? Community is where the rubber meets the road. People challenge us, ask hard questions, disagree, need things from us, require our forgiveness. It's where we get to practice all the things we preach. It's where we break bread together. Author, James Joyce, once wrote that Catholic means, "Here come everybody." We can be so afraid of the demands of community. We don't want to offend people, so we're afraid to ask for help or simply be with one another. God does speak to us. Other people are put into our life so we can hear and follow the voice of God. God doesn't seem to speak out from the thunder of the sky, but through the quieter voices of friendship and community. In our relationships we discover our life-path, our vocation. And of course, vocation doesn't just mean those in the priesthood or religious life. Let's get over that. God has a plan for everyone!
In some ways it's easier to go it alone. If I could make up my own individualized religion, God would let me go to the Church of Buffalo Wild Wings every Sunday. The habanero mango is transcendent. Amen! I like that religion, but it's not going to do much to change me or the world. All I'll get out of that is a pile of chicken bones and a gut ache.
What to do when it's Super Bowl Sunday? You know, it's not very enjoyable to watch the Super Bowl alone? It's best to cheer with others, it's best to eat with others, it's best to crowd around the big-screen HDTV with others even though they might cheer for a different team. Or maybe it's best to just come together for the snacks and a few laughs. Fine.
What also to do on Super Bowl Sunday?
It's good to have all of you here. The CSB Mass is one of the highlights of my week. I know my life is much richer because of you. Every Sunday that I get to preside at Mass, and hopefully say something meaningful to help you on your journey of life, I'm grateful. Hashtag: BennieMassBlessed. So, keep coming back to Mass, keep coming back to community. Even better, invite others to church this coming week. Jesus tells us, "Be fishers of people." Let's meet God together. Ra ra Jesus!
Every morning at about 6:50, I walk out of my room at St. John's, walk down some stairs, enter the church, sit down, and pray Morning Prayer with my brother monks. Being with my brothers. It's amazing and crazy thing really having so many people praying together early in the morning. I sit with all my brothers. None are the same. Some have coffee breath; some wheeze and cough too much; some have a wonderful singing voices; some squirm all the time; some seem so centered; there are a couple suffering from cancer; many are FR's in their dorm and probably stayed up late talking with troubled undergrads yet still make it to prayer. Praying with my brothers. It's real. It's human. It's a good thing. Morning Prayer helps the rest of my day feeling sacred. It's my habit. And it's never really gotten old for some 19 years I've been doing it. God is the only real source of stability in life, so I think, "I better hang on to my prayer life and make it a habit."
Habits. Sometimes habits stick with us our whole lives, sometimes our habits change radically. Although the Son of God, Jesus changed habits. His life began in a small town learning and then doing the trade of a carpenter. It's pretty beautiful that for 33 years Jesus remained hidden and shared a human life like so many of us. But the Father was calling him to a new change, a new habit, of new way of being Jesus.
You can imagine, in the gospel today, Jesus in his hometown. He was up to be the reader in the synagogue. In last Sunday's gospel he read things like, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord."
Today's gospel continues the same scene. Jesus rolled up the scroll and basically said, "This is me now. This is what I'm going to do now, you're seeing it live, 'This is fulfilled in your hearing.'" You then could hear a pin drop, and then the home team started complaining, "What? What did he say?! Isn't this the son of Joseph?! Who does he think he is? Jesus, get back to your carpenter shop and act like you're supposed to!"
Jesus didn't listen to the home team, he listened to his Father. How was Jesus, and how are we able to step forward, to do something new? How are we able to live out who we're called to be? Rarely do we just decide something, and it continues easily and automatically. We have to change our habits - we change how we do our life. And that's a day by day decision. Choices made again and again become habits of being. I know there's some mornings, maybe I didn't sleep well, or the bed is just too warm and cozy, especially in winter, and I say, "I don't want to go to Morning Prayer (ok, I admit, sometimes I do stay in bed), but when I do intentionally get up and pray, I experience that often prayer is even better for me - that God "rewards" that sacrifice of praise. I feel it in me.
All of us have habits. Minor habits: how we put on our clothes, where we sit in class; Or major habits: how we decide over and over again about how we are to treat ourselves and our neighbor.
All moments are teaching moments. The philosopher, Confucius, once wrote, "If I am walking with two other men, each of them will serve as my teacher. I will pick out the good points of the one and imitate them and the bad points of the other and correct them in myself. You can and should learn from everyone, be it a crook or a saint. Every life is a story filled with lessons ripe for the picking."
I believe Benedictine spirituality has a very positive outlook on what life can be. St. Benedict's Rule viewed the human experiment as a place where people could live together in mutual peace and respect. Not easy, so Benedict called his monastery, "a school of the Lord's service." This school is all about learning to be aware of our habits - basically, moving from self-centeredness to generosity; from anger, judgement and blame to being the first to honor the other person; from fear to love. These are many choices that become habits. Basically, it's what kind of person I choose to be again and again. Reflection becomes awareness; awareness becomes choice; choice becomes habit; habit becomes who I am. It's takes a lifetime.
But how? We know that all moments are moments of stimulus and reaction. Life is about recognizing what needs to be changed in my life, and with daily patience and intentionality, create new habits that are life giving. In his book, The Power of Habit, Charles Duhigg writes, "Champions don't do extraordinary things. They do ordinary things, but they do them without thinking, too fast for the other team to react. They follow the habits they've learned over and over again."
And, of course, there is the grace of God. Wow, what a help! Grace is never far from a Christian. St. Benedict, with his heart always on the empowerment of grace, knew that a person could always better themselves. Life is a school. Jesus is our Teacher.
In the first reading, God speaks to us through the prophet Jeremiah, "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I dedicated you."
"I knew you." You. Is "you" a noun or a verb? We are always changing. You, me, we're not nouns, but verbs - lots of change, lots of familiar habits, and new one's too. God's grace is with us always. Have no fear of change. Be courageous.
Jesus said to them, "Today this Scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing." Powerful words! Fulfilled?! That sounds like it has two words in one - full and filled. Can Jesus be that?
Here's a story: "Why not? Why not!" that was the first thing Jesus said to me. I had never spoken to him before - hadn't said a word. "Why not," he asked. I knew he had me. I brought up excuses: "My life, you know...me...my past...not enough time...I guess it's because I'm not good enough." There was a sword hanging on the wall. He took it and gave it to me. "Here, with this sword, you can cut through any barriers." I took it and slipped away without saying a word. Back home I sat down and kept staring at that sword in my lap. I knew that what he said was true. But the next day I returned his sword. How can I live without my excuses?
The love of God is always for us, seeking us out, tries to cut through our barriers - our, I'm not-good-enough's. The love of God. A bit on love. Love is difficult. Love is hard. Love is sacrifice. For God, love even bleeds, dies, and lives again. Love doesn't let go. God's love calls us to belong to something holy, beautiful and fantastic. To belong!
Most of us use the terms "fitting in" and "belonging" interchangeably. Like many of you, I find myself trying to fit in social situations. We know how to hustle for approval and acceptance. We know how to look, we know how to make small talk, know how to make people smile, we know how to chameleon our way throughout the day.
But fitting in and belonging are not the same thing, and, in fact, fitting in gets in the way of belonging. When we try to fit in with God, we may never really believe that we're ever good enough and that we stand before an angry, disappointed God.
Belonging, on the other hand, doesn't require us to have everything right and perfect in our life; rather, it requires us to be and claim who we really are - above all, a child of God. To be a child of God is something we can jump in and out of. God has made us a child. Done.
We might argue, "Is being a child enough?"
In her book,The Soul of Money, Lynn Twist addresses the myth of scarcity. She writes, "for me, and for many of us, our first waking thought of the day is I didn't get enough sleep. The next one is I don't have enough time. Whether true or not, the thought of 'not enough' occurs to us automatically before we even think to question or examine it." We spent most of the hours and the days of our lives hearing, explaining, complaining, or worrying about what we don't have enough of. We're not thin enough, we're not smart enough, we're not good looking enough. When we're with others, we're often one second too late of being really cool. We're not strong enough or smart enough or successful enough, or have enough money. Ever. Before we sit up in bed, before our feet touch the floor, were already inadequate, already behind, already losing, already lacking something. At the end of the day, we go to sleep burdened by those thoughts that we have an unfulfilled life. These thoughts may not be our constant thoughts, but I would guess that all of us have been there at one time or another.
So, we have a choice to step back and let go of the mindset of scarcity. Once we let go of scarcity, we discover the surprising truth of sufficiency. By sufficiency, I don't mean a quantity of anything. Sufficiency isn't two steps up from nothing and one step short of everything. Sufficiency isn't an amount at all. It's an experience, a promise from God we claim, a declaration, a knowing that there is enough, and that we are enough - as is. We're a child of God. Done. Sufficiency is what happens to us when we allow ourselves to recognize how good things really are.
In closing, let me offer you a meditation from an ancient Christian writer, Saint Simeon. Experience yourself in this Saint's words to us. If you wish to close your eyes, it can help you focus.
I wake up today in Christ's body
as Christ awakens my body,
and my poor hand is Christ.
He enters my foot, and is infinitely me.
I move my hand, and wonderfully
my hand becomes Christ, becomes all of Him.
I move my foot, and at once
He appears like a flash of lightning.
Do my words seem crazy to you?
Too good to be true?
Then open your heart to Christ
and let yourself receive the one
who is opening to you so deeply.
For if I have any love for Him,
I wake up inside Christ's body
where all my body, all over,
every most hidden part of it,
is realized in joy in Him,
and He makes me, entirely, worthy.
Everything that is hurt, everything
that seemed to me dark, harsh, shameful,
broken, ugly, messed up, is in Him transformed
and recognized as whole, as lovely, and radiant in His light
in every last part of my body.
NASA's Mars rover, Curiosity, has snapped photos of rocky outcroppings that jut out from the alien soil, and scientists say they look like the remnants of an ancient river bed where water once flowed on the surface of the red planet. Scientists looked at all this and came to this conclusion: "This is a rock that was formed in the presence of water." Water is important, of course, because it's necessary for life. Curiosity's mission is to search for evidence that Mars was once capable of supporting life. If evidence of life is found on Mars, then that opens the probability that the whole cosmos is filled with life. Most likely, there is life all over the universe, we just want to see the evidence first hand.
What does the Curiosity rover have to do with today's feast, the Baptism of the Lord? Simply, water equals life.
Water. Most of us were baptized as children, perhaps a few here as adults. When we were baptized, our parents, guardians, or sponsors were placing each one of us before the life giving waters of God's grace. Today, when you walked in church, there is the baptismal font at the front. It's there because it's first through baptism which makes us People of God and members of the Church. By touching the waters and making the sign of the cross, we recommit ourselves to this very life. We recommit our baptism. Water. There is great power and significance in water. We are primordially tied to all things watery. Our bodies are 60% water, and our brains about 75% water. Some people are air-heads, but we're all water-heads. Our relationship with water is fundamental to our life.
Let me wax scientific. We are people who live on a very small, apparently unique, blue planet. Our small planet is blue because of water. From a million or even a billion miles away, earth appears blue. Primordial earth was seeded by ice-rich comets crashing to earth which melted into water. Much later, our ancestors came out of the water, evolved from simple-celled to complex-celled creatures - from swimming to crawling to walking. Creatures developed remarkably complex brains, as well, necessary to move successfully through nature encountering constant unexpected challenges, like college! From ancient times, God has been creating us, and through the power of water, continues to abide in the midst of a most marvelous creation. Our lives are a minuscule, temporary flash by comparison to the vastness and age of the universe. Yet, each one of us often feels called to commit ourselves to something deep and meaningful in our life regardless our smallness. In the universe, life begins in water. In the Christian life, water baptism is the life-giving sacrament which begins our journey and calling.
Medieval Benedictine, Saint Hildegaard of Bingen, wonderfully writes of God being the energy that causes us to be able to live, and move and have being. She write of God:
"I am the breeze that nourishes all things green.
I encourage blossoms to flourish with ripened fruits.
I am the life giving water coming from the dew
that causes the grasses to laugh with the joy of life.
So too I cause the greening of the soul that is watered in Me."
God as life-giving water for the greening of our life. Wonderful! Get a life! No matter what your calling and gifts, and they are there, let it be uniquely and authentically yours that you offer the world. Live your higher calling. Make a difference in other's lives - that's where simple, lasting happiness is.
As William Wordsworth once wrote, "No matter what your calling and service, let what you are doing be organic. Let it be in your bones. In this way, you will open the door by which the generosity of heaven and earth shall stream into you."
As Christians, we understand this event of Jesus' baptism as not just a one time event in history, 2000 years ago. The Bible is not a history book. Baptism is also our event - it's for us. Indeed when we were baptized, heaven was ripped open and heaven continues to be open for us. In this Jubilee Year of Mercy, four fundamental words, "The Doors are Open." The words of the Father to Jesus are also the Father's words to each one of us, "You are my beloved. My daughter, my son." Make your life great!