Sunday, October 26, 2014

You're Welcome


30th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Cycle A

The idea of welcoming has taken center stage at the Extraordinary Synod of the Family the past two weeks. And as usual the headlines have been sensational. Fill in the blank for the special interest group who is dissatisfied. This cardinal said something this group thought was unwelcoming. That bishop said something that group thought was welcoming, and so forth. The word of the day seems to be welcome.


I think we are all looking for welcome from our church. We all have our issues and problems and are broken by our sins. Why do some feel so excluded? What does it mean to be welcoming? I think it means different things to different people. To some it means live and let live. To others it means hate the sin but love the sinner. Many people want the church to change to meet their lifestyle choices, rather than them changing their lives to conform to the gospel. Some people have a political agenda. Some people are just plain mean.

Today we hear from the book of Exodus the call to hospitality. Do not oppress the alien among you, for you were once aliens yourself. Hospitality – welcoming the stranger – is a core virtue for Middle Eastern societies even today. Even before they were the chosen people, the Hebrews were wandering Bedouins. When they wandered around the desert, they relied upon the hospitality of other Bedouins sometimes for their very survival. And so being hospitable was a matter of life or death, and elaborate rituals sprung up around the welcoming of strangers.

Welcome strangers when their lives depend on it so that strangers will welcome you when your life depends on it. Isn’t that what loving you neighbor as yourself is all about? Don’t our lives depend upon it?

Every time I hold a class preparing parents for the baptism of their children, I try to get them to understand the awesomeness of their decision and exactly what they are committing to do. I’d say that most of them have been away from the Church for some time, but something about the responsibility of becoming a parent has made them come back to have their children baptized. We talk a lot about what it means to be a Catholic and what their rights and responsibilities are as a Catholic.

Many of them are surprised that they have rights as a baptized person. All they’d ever thought about was their responsibilities; the rules they have to follow. But one of the key rights we discuss is their right to feel welcome in the church. Usually they say that welcoming means being non-judgmental. They want to feel at home in the church itself. They want to walk in, even if they haven’t been in church for a long time, and feel that they have a place there.

And we don’t talk about why they haven’t been to Mass. We talk about how the baptism of their children is a new beginning, not just for their sons and daughters but for their entire families. We don’t get into any issues or misunderstandings they may have, that’s for later. We just ask them to come and see and be open to the gospel. The Mass is not the time or place to have a discussion with someone about their lifestyle choices. But we don’t sweep those issues under the rug. We talk about them in a different venue.

We try to welcome people like Jesus welcomed them. For Jesus, there was always an action and a reaction. He welcomed tax collectors and sinners into his company of disciples, but he then called them to reform their lives. He knew that by welcoming them he was not necessarily condoning their former lives. He was more concerned with what they were going to do from that point on.

“Come and see,” he says. Come join my disciples. And when you do come and see it is our job to give you the entire picture. And it is your job to seriously consider the gospel and then decide whether or not you can accept it and live it. The same Jesus who said I have not come to condemn you is the same Jesus who said “Will you also leave?” Remember that in John’s gospel all but 12 rejected Jesus’ message. Jesus didn’t water down the gospel just to pacify them. He called them to make a choice. He calls us to the same choice.

You know, it wasn’t just the tax collectors and sinners that Jesus welcomed and called to him. It was also good, church going folks like you and me. Just as the apostles sometimes had an “us-vs-them” mentality, seeing themselves as the righteous but the outsiders as sinners who had to reform, we do the same thing. We’re the good folks who have to welcome the bad folks, so that they can become like us. But we’re all sinners, we all have our own issues and problems, and we all have to welcome one another.

I think we all want the church to welcome our ideas and positions, but are we welcoming to the church as we try live the life of the gospel? We all want the church to change, but are we willing to change?

There is a story of a mystic, Maria Simma, who supposedly could communicate with the souls in purgatory. Sort of like in the movie The Sixth Sense. Typically she only listened to the souls when they came to her asking for prayers that they be released, but one day a woman came to the mystic asking her specifically about two people, a woman and a man from her town who had died several months earlier. Maria supposedly was able to contact these folks and reported back to the woman. She said that the woman had already been released into heaven but the man would have to stay in purgatory for a long, long time.

“How can that be?” the woman asked. “The woman was a notorious prostitute who committed suicide and the man was our parish priest, a very holy man! How could he still be in purgatory but the prostitute already be in heaven?” “Well,” the mystic answered, “the prostitute did kill herself by standing in front of an oncoming train, but her last words were ‘At least now, Lord, you won’t have to be disappointed in me any longer.’ But the parish priest refused her a Christian funeral and burial because of who she was and what she had done.”

This may be just a story, but I think you get the point. Mercy always triumphs over judgment. The Diocese of Springfield, Illinois released a study last month that tracked the main reasons people had left their parish and ultimately the Church. The number one reason given was something the priest or deacon had said or done  that offended the person.

I know that there have been times when I blew it. Technically I was right when I explained a certain teaching to someone with questions, but the way I said it or the venue I chose to say it in was wrong. Sometimes we are so busy we just fire off a curt response or comment without thinking about what the person is really asking or experiencing. That can come off as callous and unwelcoming. Sometimes we are just inflexible, self-righteous legalists, so sure in ourselves and our positions, and we drive people away. Most of the time we’re not even aware of what we’re doing. We just never see the folks again.

And oftentimes the teachings of the church seem unwelcoming because it’s not “anything goes”. The church does not change with the world; we are called to change the world. And just as Jesus did not accept every lifestyle as good -“Go and sin no more” - the church of Christ cannot either. But sometimes the way we say it is unthinking or highly theological or non-pastoral. That doesn’t mean the teaching is wrong, just our way of doing it may be. We can’t change the truth, but we can change our intent.

We need to be aware of our intent. Are we just being self-righteous or do we truly care about the person when we try to explain or correct? It is a struggle these days to balance welcoming. It takes effort and thoughtfulness and kindness. The message of the gospel is all inclusive and we’re all struggling to receive it and live it. All we are is one beggar helping another beggar to find bread.

And it takes time. When we welcome someone into our home, especially if it is a new guest, we usually spend a bit of time with them. We don’t leave them standing on the doorstep. We invite them in, take their coat, offer them something to eat and drink, and get to know them better. We engage in conversation, not condemnation. And we usually are on our best behavior. How easy it is to discount someone and their situation in the age of social media. How often do we lovingly take the time to truly welcome someone who is struggling?

But hospitality is not giving your guest the run of the house. The owner of the house opens the door but the visitor needs to respect the owner and the house. Making yourself at home does not mean you can trash the place. In that way both show hospitality.

Pope Francis was in the middle of the whirlwind surrounding the Synod on the Family. The core questions was always, “What will Francis do? What side will he come down on?” We he support our agenda or theirs?” Well, in true Francis style, he embraced and welcomed everyone as Jesus did. This is what he said.

 “And this is the Church, the vineyard of the Lord, the fertile Mother and the caring Teacher, who is not afraid to roll up her sleeves to pour oil and wine on people’s wounds; who doesn’t see humanity as a house of glass to judge or categorize people. This is the Church, One, Holy, Catholic, Apostolic and composed of sinners, needful of God’s mercy. This is the Church, the true bride of Christ, who seeks to be faithful to her spouse and to her doctrine. It is the Church that is not afraid to eat and drink with prostitutes and publicans. The Church that has the doors wide open to receive the needy, the penitent, and not only the just or those who believe they are perfect! The Church that is not ashamed of the fallen brother and pretends not to see him, but on the contrary feels involved and almost obliged to lift him up and to encourage him to take up the journey again and accompany him toward a definitive encounter with her Spouse, in the heavenly Jerusalem.”

 

 

Sunday, September 14, 2014

I Hate This Cross


Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross

Cycle A

I have just made a beautiful cross for a Catholic church remodeling project I am doing in Malibu, California. It is made of solid black walnut, and is in the shape of a modified Maltese cross, you know, the one with the flared out ends. I chose the wood for it carefully to accentuate the grain. There is even an intricate burl on the lower portion. I put a hand rubbed finish on it to make it look warm and smooth. It truly is a beautiful cross.

I hate this cross.

I hate it because of what I have to do to it next. This cross is to serve as the main sanctuary crucifix in the church, and so it has to be changed from a cross into a crucifix. I have to attach the corpus, or carved figure of Christ, to the cross. That’s what makes it a crucifix. And I have to do it by actually nailing the corpus to the wood of the cross. I have done this several times before with other crosses, and each time I get a feeling of anxiety while doing it. I hate to nail Jesus to the cross.

You may have heard that during the filming of the movie, The Passion of the Christ, Mel Gibson actually held the nails in place as they were being driven into Jesus’ hands, signifying that his sins, and ours, are what affix Jesus to his cross. It is a humbling thought. Every time I nail the hands and feet of the corpus to the cross I think, “What kind of a God do I have? What kind of a God would suffer so much just for me, so that I have the possibility of being with him forever in heaven, even though it is my sins that put him on that cross?”

For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son,
so that everyone who believes in him might not perish
but might have eternal life.

The cross has always been the central focus of the church, from the earliest days. The passion narratives were the first stories told by the Christians. When they told the story of the Christ they didn’t start with his birth. In fact, only two of the gospels even mention Jesus’ birth. They started with his passion and death. From early on the Church recognized the significance of Jesus’ death, and they honored it.

I hate this cross because it is too beautiful.

We have sanitized the cross. The cross of Calvary was an ugly thing. Rough and coarse and covered in blood. The crosses we see today are so beautiful we wear them as jewelry. They have lost meaning for most people. Even non-Christians and gang bangers wear them because they like the look of them. But usually the jewelry we wear are crosses, not crucifixes. We wear our crosses on the outside of our clothing. We wear our crucifixes under our clothing, next to our hearts. Why?

Are we afraid to show the world the true nature of our belief? Are we still scandalized by the horror of the truth of our Savior’s suffering? Without the cross there is no Christianity. Some Christians try to remove the cross from their theology. They talk of abundance and prosperity and how loving God will give you all the good things in life. They don’t want to face the reality of the suffering God, because they don’t want to face the reality of their own suffering. It’s almost like the embarrassing secret in the family that everyone knows but nobody talks about.

We hate the cross because of what it calls us to do. Jesus said that if we are to be his disciples we must pick up our crosses every day and follow him. He did not ask us to do anything he himself was not willing to do. If we are to follow the Master we must follow him in everything.

Jesus hated the cross, too. He didn’t want to carry it. He didn’t want to be nailed to it. He didn’t want to die on it. He didn’t want to suffer so much physical pain. He didn’t want to suffer the pain of taking all our sins upon himself. But he did. He asked that the cup be taken from him if that were his Father’s will. But when he realized that the Father wanted him to suffer upon the cross, he accepted that decision and embraced it.

Rather, he emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
coming in human likeness;
and found human in appearance,
he humbled himself,
becoming obedient to death,
even death on a cross.

We don’t go looking for our crosses, either. They just are. The cross is a fact of life, brought upon by the sinfulness of the world. We will have to take up our crosses every day whether we want to or not. The key to Jesus’ statement is not that we will have to take up our crosses but that we are to follow him after doing so. Jesus didn’t want to take up his cross, but he knew that he would have to, and so he made it worthwhile to do so. The cross to Jesus was not a sign of defeat but of victory. The resurrection gave worth to the cross. The hope of our own resurrection gives worth to our crosses.

It’s important that our images are crucifixes, not crosses. We Catholics have bodies on our crosses, because the importance of the cross is not the cross itself but the person on it. We do not shy away from Jesus’ death. We honor it. Jesus didn’t shy away from his own death. And he was glorified because of that. We know that if Jesus had not died on that cross we would not be saved. No matter how horrible that death was, it still had the greatest meaning for all humanity.

The genius of God’s plan of salvation for us is that he has taken the very thing that is the result of our failure – suffering and death – and has turned it into the vehicle of our greatest victory. Jesus was lifted up physically on that cross on Calvary, and because of that he was lifted up in exaltation in heaven. Why not us? If Jesus expects us to follow him on his way of the cross why wouldn’t he also want us to share in his exaltation?

Archbishop Fulten Sheen said that all people are born in order to live. Only one man, Jesus, was born to die. We have a beginning and our purpose is life. Jesus’ purpose was to die, and everything he did in his life led to his death.

And that is why we have a feast of the exaltation of the holy cross. Because without the cross there could be no resurrection. Without death there can be no life. The humiliation of the cross is actually the glory of Christ. If Jesus had not died on the cross he would not have been exalted. Without the cross we will not be exalted, either. And so we honor the cross and what it symbolizes, what it reminds us of. It shows us that ultimately, God wins. Ultimately, we win. A worthless piece of wood has become the sign of our own worthiness.

The cross is the ultimate sign of our obedience to the will of the Father. It was Jesus’ ultimate gift to the Father. And it is Jesus’ ultimate gift to us. In the cross we are truly one with Jesus as he is one with the Father. In the cross is the sign of our own unity with God. We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you, because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.

And that’s why I love this cross.

Saturday, August 9, 2014

Taming the Whirlwind


19th Sunday of Ordinary Time
Cycle A

It’s all around us. It comes at us from all sides and permeates all areas of our lives. It shakes us and buffets us and causes us great anxiety. It’s the thing we worry about the most and the thing that keeps us up at night. It affects all our relationships both positively and negatively. And it’s the thing that can keep us away from God, if we let it. It’s the whirlwind.

The whirlwind is our daily lives. It’s the stuff of our existence these days. It’s the meetings and reports, the emails and texts and phone calls and tweets and Facebook. It’s the kid’s homework and dry cleaning and figuring out what’s for dinner. It’s not necessarily a bad thing. It just is. We live within it and it lives within us. We need to live within it because that’s how our lives get done. But it is the immediate, the now. Oftentimes is what we reflexively do without much thought. But it’s not big-picture stuff. It’s not reflective or deep. For that we have to step out of the whirlwind for a time.

The whirlwind prepares us to meet God. It makes us ready to let go completely and reach out to God to save us. Elijah went and stood at the mouth of the cave. Peter stepped out of the boat.

Elijah is worried today. He has just run away to Mt. Horeb, escaping from the king who he thinks is trying to kill him. You see, Elijah has been saying some very politically incorrect things about the king lately, and the king has a way of killing off prophets who don’t please him. In fact, he has threatened to do just that to Elijah, so he has run off into the desert to hide. But he has forgotten to bring any food with him, so he lays down in the desert under a broom tree and asks God to let him die. Instead, God sends an angel to him with food and water. After eating and drinking, Elijah then has enough strength to travel forty days and forty nights to Mt. Horeb. Once there, he hides in a cave. And worries.

He worries that the people won’t listen to him. He worries that he will be killed if he is found. He worries about having enough to eat and drink. He worries about what might be living in the back of the cave. But most of all, he worries about what God might ask him to do. As he cowers there, the word of God comes to him and tells him, “What are you doing here? Go outside and wait for me.”

Elijah goes out and waits, worrying about what God will send his way. Will it be an earthquake, shaking him from his safe perch and forcing him to go and shake up the kingdom some more? Will it be fire, a burning deep within him that cannot be contained, that consumes him and compels him to speak the word of God? Will it be a driving wind, blowing him around helplessly before it, forcing him to give up control of his life to the Lord? Elijah looks for the Lord in the whirlwind, but he’s not there.

Then a tiny whispering sound is heard. It says, “Come Outside”.

Peter is worried today. For a while now he has been wondering just who this person Jesus is. He sees the miracles, hears the teachings, yet he just isn’t sure. Peter is worried about a lot of things. He has left behind his family and his business. How will they survive without him? People in Capernaum are laughing at him, running off after some teacher like a fool. Doesn’t he know he isn’t a child anymore? He has responsibilities. And Peter is unsure of himself. He always seems to be running off at the mouth, saying the wrong thing. Just the other day Jesus called him Satan, when all he was trying to do was show his concern for Jesus. He was so ashamed that he hung back in the crowd, embarrassed to even look Jesus in the eye.

It’s almost like this storm on the lake. Peter feels out of control. He feels buffeted by the winds and the waves of daily life that seem to be against him. But then the Word of God comes to him also, just like Elijah, and says to him, “Come”. Not what he wants to hear. Peter wants to cower in the safety of the boat, not venture out upon the very waters that threaten him. He worries that they will engulf him, and you know what, they do. He starts to sink. I guess that 1 percent caught up with him.

Then a tiny whispering sound is heard. “Don’t Worry.” And he is saved.

What do you do when you are worried? How do you handle the anxieties and uncertainties of the whirlwind? Do you run away and hide in your cave? Do you cower in your boat? Is everything blown out of proportion? Is everything an earthquake, or fire, or a driving wind to you? Where do you find peace?

We need to step out of the whirlwind in order to re-root ourselves in what is truly important. We need a firm foundation in the Lord in order to handle the whirlwind. And to do so we must find silence. Elijah found the Lord in the quiet. Jesus went off into the desert in solitude to pray. The apostles recognized Jesus as truly the Son of God only after he had quieted the storm.

Jesus can quiet the whirlwind.

But it’s we who have to get out of the boat. Jesus says “Come” and we have to step out in faith. The most effective way to quiet the whirlwind is through prayer. Many of us exercise regularly, or try to. We know that in order to be effective, we must exercise on a defined schedule at a specific time and place. And it requires self -discipline. It’s the same with prayer.

I think we tend to think of prayer as something we do, not something we experience. We talk too much when we pray, probably because we may be uncomfortable with it. Prayer is more a state of being than an action. And it requires silence.

How many of you have a place in your home where you pray? Maybe it’s in your bedroom or den, in your favorite chair. My prayer room is my den, with my comfy recliner, surrounded by pictures of my family and closest friends. I have a relic of St. Padre Pio that my father gave me. A bird feeder is right outside the window. I have found that the quietest time in our house is early in the morning, before the busyness of the day begins. And so years ago I started getting up about a half hour before anyone else, pour myself a cup of coffee, and retreat into my prayer den for a few minutes of quiet.

Sometimes I pray the liturgy of the hours, sometimes I say a rosary, and sometimes I just sit there and say “Good morning, Lord.” And then I just look at Him and He looks at me. For me, that’s enough of a daily grounding before I hit the whirlwind. Or it hits me.

The best part of regular prayer is you can’t do it wrong. You will look in many places for God. You will try to find him in the whirlwind. But the best place to find him is here, in your heart. If you start looking for Him within, soon you will recognize him more in your relationships, in your work, in your everyday life.

And that’s how you tame the whirlwind.