As God Sees

 The gospel story of hungry disciples plucking grain to eat, to eat on the Sabbath, a day that they just happened to be out of food, and the parallel story of David seeking out the high priest to feed himself and companions is a reminder to put Christ, ultimate truth, goodness and beauty at the forefront of our lives and keep law in perspective.  

Christ, telling the story of David, reminds his legalistic detractors that they do not know their own tradition.  As happens time and again, Jesus is on the defensive from people who are scandalised by what they see. 

Why?  Because what they see is outside of their experience.  And simply, they do no see as God sees.  They lack appreciation for truth, goodness and beauty.

 Having grown up in Vancouver, I was 22 years old the first time I encountered a Catholic Priest in a T-Shirt.  And, because this was new to me, I presumed he was somehow hypocritical or unholy.    

I later realised it was wrong of me to judge Fr. Jim as I did, but hey I am merely a mortal.  As 1 Samuel says I/we only see as mortals see.

We tend to see what outwardly appears; we tend not to see the truth, goodness, and beauty of the heart.  Because of this tendency within us, our compulsion to assess by what we see, we risk getting caught up in a game. 

We may, for good reason or not, feel the need to keep up appearances.  And that may not be a bad thing, so long as we never lose sight of the fact that God sees through us. 

The source of what He sees, the light of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty that we reflect, God is concerned with what matters; God assesses the heart. 

So what does my heart look like?

 This question is problematic because we are, arguably, the worst judges of ourselves.  But if we believe that God is faithful to those God loves, and that the Lord truly loves His own, we can rest assured that before God, anyway, each and every heart is honest, good, and beautiful. 

drowning my niece - poor girl.

We are rich in Grace as well as Sin

Money, Sex, Power: Because It Is So Intriguing

It is high time I publish something other than a homily.  So let it be done – my musings on sin and the conflict between faith and fear.  

Conservatism is a crippling ideology.   Rooted in, based on, and perpetuated by fear, conservatism is a paranoia of the unknown.  Given its anti-gospel nature, conservatism should not exist within believers of a Good and mysterious God.  And yet the inordinate urge to preserve, maintain, and posses, so often dominates our church.  So why do we hate freedom?  Is our faith imperfect?  In reality, we love freedom but are afraid to exercise it.  And yes, our faith is imperfect.

In Christianity, the essence of God is made known by God’s Word (Jesus Christ is the revelation of God as Love), but the revealed facts about God only lead to more mystery.  What is love?  And why would anyone believe in such?   The answer is faith, but our faith is imperfect.

When I reflect on the core of my faith as it challenges the human condition, some usual themes -the want for stability, security, certainty, and the affirmation of self-worth- consistently appear.  Perhaps these are my own issues, I am willing to concede that, but evidently I am not the only one.  

Recently I read a stellar book, Render to Rome: The Secret Life of Money in the Catholic Church, by Jason Berry.  Extremely well researched, Berry exposes the sins of an institution plagued by conservatism.  In fairness to Berry, he never uses the C word; his issue, not mine, is with an all male hierarchy.

  

Scandal rocks the church.

Legitimized cults, in my view, the Legionaries of Christ and the Society of St. John, Religious communities whose sins (re: money, sex, and power) have been exposed in recent years were enabled by the conservatism God's people.  Fear, the great enabler, has empowered the poisoned.  The poor in the pews, those longing for stability, certainty, and an affirmation of their quaint images of God , church, world and themselves, have allowed con-artists like Maciel Degollato, Carlos Urrutigoity and Angelo Sodano to use and abuse.  And for doing so, the people of God must account.  

Fear is in everyone, Christians are not immune, such feelings make us vulnerable.  When all we want to hear is what we already believe, we are easily duped.  We are told what we want to hear, and believe because we, the ignorant, have been affirmed.  This, a capitalising on vulnerabilities of frightened, naive and needy, etc, is abuse.  

Conservatism enables abusers (consider the behaviour of unregulated banks –enabled by conservative ideology).  In light of church scandals exposed by people like Jason Berry and Catholic media (see. National Catholic Reporter), it is fair to say that we, the frightened and therefore conservative people of God, have been abused, while we too have enabled.   For the latter, we must account!   

It is not easy to be free; to own (be responsible for) the church to which we belong, but it is our vocation.  As people of God, it is our duty to question authority and offer ourselves in service of Christ’s true mission.  In baptism we are anointed priest, prophet, king, and become sharers in the ministry of God Himself.  The task, therefore, of preaching the gospel is not reserved for the ordained but belongs to all baptised.  So let’s proclaim it!  We, the people of God, must account for our sins (for enabling abusers of money, sex and power).  We can defeat fear and embrace faith.  Like Christ, we will learn to liberate instead of conserve.  Or will we?   I am not so sure; my faith is imperfect.

   

Feast of Christ the King (Year A)

I imagine the separating, by Jesus, of sheep and goats is something only a farmer, a modern day shepherd, could truly appreciate. 

But the message of the gospel, the key to understanding what Jesus does, lies in the verb “to see”.  Matthew speaks of the Lord’s arrival amongst us as a coming in glory, a beauty visible and irresistible to any and all.

 

The sheep, to the right, says Jesus, saw and tended to the poor and to the lame.  They served the Lord, via his people, when they were in need.  The goats to the left saw nothing and did nothing.  Jesus tells them so and they admit such.  The question for us then is: are we awestruck enough to see and to appreciate God’s glory; to accept our own imperfectness before him? Can we see the God given goodness in flawed humanity, and respond to it?  Or need we separate, distinguish sheep from goats. 

What are we able to see?

The year was 1925. Europe and the colonies had only recently survived what became known as World War I.  Violent dictatorships were on the rise, international combat was, arguably, more destructive and less civilised than it had ever been; Christian Europe was as divided as ever.  If people of God ever needed leadership, a Messiah who would liberate or a Prince who would reign in their hearts, it was between the two world wars.  And so Pope Pius the XI, aware of the depressed state of humanity, particularly Catholics, invoked this feast in honour of Christ the one true King – a just protector of sheep and goats.

  
As citizens in a democratic society, accustomed to dialogue and consensus models, we do not easily perceive God as absolute authority and judge.  I do not naturally find comfort in a being who should care little about my opinion, an absolute monarch, so to speak, who would, in theory, possess no reason to respect my feelings.  Yet, on this feast of Christ the King, we celebrate a God who is Lord and Judge; and yet a God who is Servant and Saviour.  Jesus Christ, the King, is a God entitled to and deserving of honour and praise, yet a God who behaves as a good and loving Shepherd. 

 A story is told of a little girl who, with her mother, was crossing a bridge.  Before stepping onto the bridge the mother, instinctively cautious, said to her daughter, “Sweetheart, please hold my hand so that you don’t fall into the river.” The little girl replied, “No, mommy, you hold my hand!”  Puzzled, the mother shot back: “What’s the difference?”  “Mom,” the little girl said, “there is a big difference. If I hold your hand and something happens to me, I may let go. But if you hold my hand, I know for sure that no matter what happens, you will never let go.”

For people who like to be heard, and have their feelings honoured, inferiority is never desired, but attentive concern is always appreciated.  Personally, I take little comfort from a loss of control or responsibility, although I can see how some might.  But the idea that God actually cares when I am in trouble, that God is committed to my well-being, and that God never lets go, resonates.  If Christ the King is a Good Shepherd, he is welcomed to reign in my heart!

The world we live in is challenged.  To a certain degree, despair abounds in everyone.  And sometimes reality becomes so burdensome, we are so divided, that the goodness of Creation, the presence of God in our brothers and sisters, is invisible.  Though we long, we cannot to see. 

If this Feast of Christ as King does anything for us, might it be a reminder of the trustworthiness of God.  Might we believe that both the sheep and the goats are in good hands, that we can leave judgement to the Judge and allow Peace to reign in our hearts.

The fact is, that if all people, even all Christians, were able to see together, if we were awestruck by a the same glorious Lord, we would have little need to fight; we would have little need to draw lines between ourselves, and peace would reign in our hearts. 

In the care of the good Shepherd, may all find peace.  May Christ reign in our hearts. And no matter how despairing reality is, regardless of our ability to see his glory, may God never let go of us. 

Blessed is He/ We the Saints

The beatitudes stir various reactions.  “Too humiliating (meaning embarrassing)” remarks one of my confreres, “intimidating” says another.  The “formula for Christian living” says the American Bishops, and countless others before them.  “The perfect description of our Lord” (poor, meek, humble, etc) explain some, “and ourselves” others would add.  

The gospel most read at funerals, it is odd, ironic, fitting to hear the beatitudes on the feast of all saints.  All saints day, or the feast of all hollows (holy people) started in the fourth century to celebrate Christian martyrs – exemplary followers of the crucified messiah – so they believed.  Gradually, with the evolution of our definition of holiness, all saints day grew to include non-martyrs, and eventually (with greater reflection on scripture), I would argue, the entire people of God.  

While there remains some debate on this issue, about who this day really celebrates, one Saint Paul says unequivocally that each and every baptised person is and is called to be a saint.  Holy people, the communion of saints is the graced filled church, those baptised and set free to become that which we are and are not – like him – one with He who is one with us.  

As Christians, we live with the tension of being both now and not yet.  We know that we can always do better and that although we are already poor, meek, and humble of heart we can always become yet more united to our saviour Jesus Christ.  And we have the grace to it.  

In Nelson Mandela’s inaugural speech in 1994, he spoke to the people of South Africa about God’s grace, the fine line between fear and power, and what it does to us. 

For our sake, I will add “as Christians”

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

As children of God, the communion of saints, we have light to shine. The light God give to us is hope.  Hope in what we have, and hope in what is to come.  As John’s Epistles states: ‘we are God’s children now, what we will become is not yet revealed but we do know is this: that we will become like him.’ (3.2) 

Christ our Lord was the only perfect human being.  He lived and breathed the beatitudes in ways that we never will, but he did it with us.  As God’s holy people we have the grace of a God walks with us so that we can walk with him. 

May we not be embarrassed or intimidated by what he does, but rise up and in pride (hope) as we are, to have been included in his love.  May the holy baptised radiate God’s glory revealed in Christ and ourselves - poor, meek, and humble of heart. 

God of Surprise/Hope

Two young boys were always in trouble. So one day their mother sent them to the parish priest in the hope that he could help.

The first boy went in, sat down and his pastor asked him “Son, where is God?” a question to which the child gave no reply, so the priest asked again. “Where is God?” But again, he gave no answer, so the priest said “boy this is not a difficult question, where is God?”

By now the boy was not only shocked but frightened, he ran out of the church, found his brother and said: “We are in big trouble now, they’ve lost God and they are blaming us.”

The parable of the Sower, the image of seed spread randomly about, some on good earth, some on not so good earth, causes me to reflect on the oddities and surprises of God.  Why it seems as though some get more than others, while some are challenged, right from the start, by the harder facts of life: disease, disability, and poverty.  I wonder too why so much this universe exists unexposed to God’s Word, and therefore given very little chance to respond to it with any enthusiasm and faith.  I wonder how such an odd God is a God of hope.

History suggests that God likes to pick on the unlikely.  Surprise, God chose the persecuted people of Israel;  Surprise, God chose the little town of Bethlehem;  Surprise, God chose us.  

A friend of mine used to say, if you want to make God laugh tell Him your plans.  

Ours is a God of surprises.  

But then again, our God is consistent; always acting in and out of love for us. 

A giver of grace, consistently catching us off guard, Christ invites believers to change, to become better disciples, and Christ does so without warning.  And while we struggle with the burden of expectation, a load placed on ourselves entirely by ourselves, it is worthwhile to remember that God loved us first.

Dying and rising, God gave us hope in something, Someone, much bigger than ourselves.  If nothing else, what Jesus did, and continues to do, is the assurance that the God of surprises acts with purpose. 

Hope is believing that God, though strange, is faithful;  that God’s love is not measured or deterred by our mediocre replies to his overtures, and that even though the seed that falls on me does not bare all the fruit it can, God’s plans are fulfilled. 

This is our hope: that the cross of Jesus Christ is enough.   That what we, the world, fail to give back is covered by the ransom God paid on our behalf.  As St. Paul’s says – the challenges of this present time are small before the glory He presents.

To people of God, much love has been given.  May the Sower of surprises continue to grace us, and may we respond to Him with hope.  Or might we react as God expects -with sincere/mediocre enthusiasm and faith.