Homily for the Feast of the Ascension, Year B

Homily for the Feast of the Ascension, Year B

[2nd Reading is from Ephesians 4]

I heard someone on the radio this week say that whenever a President or government official starts a sentence with “I want to make this absolutely clear”, what follows is always totally ambiguous or off topic, or doesn’t answer the question.  I was reminded of this in the first reading when the Apostles ask Jesus a very direct question: Lord, is this time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” And what was Jesus answer? Like a good politician, he says: “I want to make this clear: It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority.” He really doesn’t answer the questions asked at all which was: is he going to restore the kingdom to Israel. But he does make a campaign promise to them: You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you, and you will be my witnesses.” We’ve all heard these promises. Right now the paper is full of presidential indictments that the president has not fulfilled his campaign promises – right!  After one term in office. But we are not a patient people, and neither were the Apostles.

I like to imagine what a thrilling and frightening time it must have been after the crucifixion. Jesus died.. they felt deserted. Jesus returned – they felt disbelief, amazement, finally relief. And just when they felt security again, he said that he had to go – and with a few promises, he leaves them again – standing there – looking up to heaven. How confused they must have been.

My mother’s oldest sister who was at my ordination and died recently had had dementia the last few years, or perhaps Alzheimer’s.  By last year the only person she recognized by name was my mother – who was ten months younger. My aunt always seemed confused unless my mother was around, and then she had someone to grab on to – and she did – she never let go of her hand even. It didn’t matter that she had other dedicated caregivers – her daughter who was with her 24/7 was known only as “that girl”.  But my mother – she had a name and Aunt May knew who she was. And whenever my mother would leave, she would get sad and all disoriented again.  In order to get her to do anything, they would have to promise that her sister Bertha was coming,  so she better behave or get ready, and she always did.

I see a little bit of that situation with the Apostles now.  I imagine they were disoriented and only felt at peace when jesus was there. They counted on him to make everything right both for themselves and for their people. When he wasn’t there, it was confusing, and even when he was there it was confusing – how did he get into the room? did he walk through walls? how did he appear. He tells them he has to go and they won’t see him any more. How frightening that must have been given all they went through. But he makes a promise – he will send the Holy Spirit and that will give them power. And Jesus does keep his promise – the one we will celebrate next week: Pentecost Sunday.

So what then is the Ascension all about?  We celebrate the Ascension as the feast of the enthronement of Jesus in heaven. From this time on God exercises his sovereignty over us through his Son, Jesus. And in turn Jesus promises that his church will be established on earth with the apostles as witnesses and spreaders of the faith to the whole earth. Jesus could no longer stay with his friends. he had already died, as we will have to one day – and had given himself up totally to His father for us. Now he had to go back to the Father, and he was only here long enough to tell us about what had happened and to give us comfort. Then he had to go.  However, as our second reading said: They were to be filled “with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace…one body and one Spirit.”

Our Gospel reading today is presumed to be a tacked on ending to Mark’s Gospel.  Those of you that took my course in Mark will remember that it is almost universally accepted that the author of Mark did not write these words, but they were added some 200 years or more later, probably by some well-meaning monk. That doesn’t make them worthless, however. What we have here is a compilation of 200 years of tradition that was added to the Gospel. It too is a description of the Ascension and develops the mandate of Jesus to spread the Gospel tot he whole world, an idea which is contained in other Gospels.  The controversial material is probably the signs that will accompany the apostles – driving out demons, speaking new languages, holding snakes in their hands, drinking poison and healing the sick. Surely we aren’t to take all of these literally as some Christian sects do.

So what does the Ascension mean for us today? If we are to be like Christ, it means that we must touch each other’s lives by being present to others, speaking words to others that nurture their growth, doing things that build up the life of the church, by silence as well, and by accepting our own leaving the earth and preparing people for our own good-byes. Preparing for a good death allows those we leave behind to feel a peacefulness and a warm presence.

We often have this kind of experience, simply in less dramatic ways. Parents, for instance, experience this, often excruciatingly, when a child grows up, grows away, and eventually goes away to start life on his or her own. A real death takes place here. An ascension has to happen, an old way of relating has to die, painful as that death is. Yet, it’s better that our children go away. The same is true everywhere in life. When we visit someone, it’s important that we come, it’s also important that we leave. Our leaving, painful though it is, is part of the gift of our visit. Our presence partly depends upon our absence.

The ascension deepens intimacy by giving us precisely a new presence, a deeper, richer one, but one which can only come about if our former way of being present is taken away. Perhaps we understand this best in the experience we have when our children grow up and leave home. It’s painful to see them grow away from us, painful to say that particular goodbye, painful to see them, precisely, ascend.

But, if their words could say what their hearts intuit, they would say what Jesus said before his ascension: “It’s better for you that I go away. There will be sadness now, but that sadness will turn to joy when, one day soon, you will have standing before you a wonderful adult son or daughter who is now in a position to give you the much deeper gift of his or her adulthood.”

So Jesus’ going away was in the long run, good for us and the result of that goodness will be seen next week when he comes back to us and is always present to us through the Holy Spirit. And that is the Good News I bring to you today!

 

Fr. Ron Stephens, St. Andrew’s Parish, Warrenton VA

Homily for the 6th Sunday of Easter, Year B

Homily for the 6th Sunday of Easter, Year B

Today’s readings contain some of the most often quoted sentences from the New Testament. Because of that, they sometimes are not really heard any more because they are too familiar. “Love one another.” “God is love.” “God sent his only-begotten son..” “Love one another as I have loved you.” These have become almost cliche, bumper-sticker quotations, and I don’t know that we ever really hear them any more. But, in Christ’s time they were radical sayings, and they are radical today as well.

Today also happens to be Mother’s Day, so to help us look at these passages afresh, I would like you to ignore all the references to Father, today, and to use the word Mother. We all know that God is both masculine and  feminine. When he created man and woman, he created them in his image. Because of the patriarchal society from which the readings come, God was referred to as masculine, and Jesus himself most often uses the Father, Abba, image. But God is a parent, and in our culture, parents come in two sexes, so I want to look at the readings today from the feminine, Mother point of view. In fact, I feel strongly that most of what is said today is from God’s feminine side.

The second reading, a letter from John, not the Gospel of John, does not speak of God as either masculine or feminine. In fact, every reference is simple to God, and there is only one “him” used. This reading is a hymn to love. For John, love is the important gift and virtue. It comes from God because God is the personification of Love. It was love that caused God to create, just as a couple creates a child by their loving coupling. For John, we can’t even know God unless we love.

We know that God is love and that she loves us this much because of the action of the incarnation. God lowered herself to become one of us, just as a mother stops thinking of herself and devotes all her time and energy to a newborn child. How can we not love what we create, even when the creation disappoints us at times?  And even more, God knew what kind of world she was sending her son into, knew he would be called to die in order to a greater good for the world. That is real love. When we love our fellow human beings so much, that we are willing to die for them.

Which is a good lead in to John’s Gospel today’ We learn love from our parents – our first experience of love in our lives is our interaction with our mothers. The unconditional love of a parent is such a great gift to a child because the child knows that , no matter what, the child will always be loved. And God is like that, Jesus says. Jesus learned love from his heavenly and earthly parents and is able then to love in return. Jesus tells his apostles that “as my mother has loved me, so also I have loved you. Jesus then uses the word which is translated “abide”, but which has the meaning of “live surrounded by”. Jesus wants us to live surrounded by his love, and the only thing that can pull us away from that is our sin, for that is what sin is – our pulling away from the love of God. Jesus himself role-modeled living in God’s love.

At this point Jesus introduces the really revolutionary concept that the apostles learn love from him as though he were the parent. They were to love each other in the same unconditional way he did and his parents did him. Even if it means dying for someone!

We are not called upon often to die for someone, but how many mothers who have watched a child succumb to cancer or other diseases have prayed that it would be them and not their child? They would gladly die for their child. How many parents give up things so that their children can have a better life? We must feel that way about each other.

And now a little noticed line, something that Jesus says that seems to me to be so important, but so overlooked: “I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you.” My mother particularly likes it when I get up to Canada to stay with her. I feel badly, sometimes, that my brother who is always there for my parents tends to get overlooked, but the coming home of the absent child seems to give greater joy. After my mother’s last stroke she was kind of depressed and not doing very well. But her joy at having me home seemed to change all that. My dad commented on how much better she was when I was around. That is what joy can do!

And Jesus wants us to be joyous! How often we ignore that! I know so many dour Christians who seem to spend their time fighting sin and putting others down, and just don’t seem happy.  If we really hear Jesus message, we will be happy-  joyous, in fact!

What I have noticed about most of you in this congregation is that you are a joyous people. You seem to really enjoy coming to celebrate and greeting each other, often staying around afterward and talking – enjoying each other. I don’t want coming here to be anything short of that. I want to proclaim the Good News to you, and Good News should make you feel good about yourself and your relationship to God.

Even in the first reading today, Peter is spreading the good news of God showing no partiality, of loving everyone, even the non-Jew. It is this joyous good news of Gentiles receiving the Spirit that brought about the change in the early church’s movement to admit everyone into the church. Good news!  And even more good news comes at the end of the Gospel today when Jesus takes down the barrier of class. There are no more servants and masters, only friends. See how these Christians love one another. That is the joy of our faith, that is the joy of our God, who is both mother and father, and that is the joy of Jesus who has learned from his parental role models.

I celebrate all mothers today in particular because I feel that mothers are the strongest personification of love and that we learn from them as our first teachers how to love. May we love each other as our mothers love us, and may the joy that Christ offers fill your hearts and stay with you each and every hour of the day, comforting you when inevitable suffering or pain passes by.  And this is the Good News we need to share with each other every day!

Fr. Ron Stephens, St. Andrew’s Church, Warrenton, VA

Carry the gospel with you

Gospel reading of the day:

John 12:12-16

When the great crowd that had come to the feast heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem, they took palm branches and went out to meet him, and cried out: “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, the king of Israel.” Jesus found an ass and sat upon it, as is written:

Fear no more, O daughter Zion; see, your king comes, seated upon an ass’s colt.

His disciples did not understand this at first, but when Jesus had been glorified they remembered that these things were written about him and that they had done this for him.

Reflection on the gospel reading: We now enter into Holy Week where we remember, in the deepest sense of the word, the events of the Lord’s passion and death. We should reflect on this week as a unity. It is a time in which we celebrate Jesus’ victory as we enter into his suffering. The gospel reading at the commencement of Mass today includes words of Hosanna, words of praise for the triumph of Jesus, but as the week unfolds, we come to understand that inherent in the victory that Jesus presents to us is abject suffering. Jesus comes riding on an ass: his royal entry into Jerusalem is as one who in humility and gentleness submits to the acclaims of the crowds, crowds who are unaware that the one they acclaim comes prepared to sacrifice himself so he may give paradoxical witness that in the most profound weakness lies the glorious entry of God into ordinary human affairs.

The entry of God into our human history is a recognition that among its many joys, life often is hard. We all know that it contains really terrible personal experiences, like cancer, alcoholism, bankruptcy, the death of a parent or child, or a loveless marriage. But there also are ordinary experiences that simply make us dull and listless. We can become deadened with the sameness of everything. Unending chores can weary us, and even what makes us happy eventually can grow stale. We may sense that our closest friends are still distant. We may grow sad as the new grows old, the days pass by, the bills come and luck does not, life goes on, but friends die. The victory of God in the suffering of Jesus is that these extraordinary and ordinary sufferings that ubiquitously afflict our human condition, no matter how much they may weigh us down, God indeed transforms with the promise of what comes beyond the cross. We must go through it to get through it, but the promise of Holy Week is that, if we trust in God, all will become new again.

Spiritual reading: Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Shout, daughter of Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you; righteous and having salvation, gentle and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey. ~ Zechariah 9:9

Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord, Year B

Homily for Palm Sunday, Year B

[My recommendation for this homily today is that it be used as an introduction to the reading of the Passion today, rather than as a commentary or homily afterwards. The power of the Passion should be its own homily...Fr. Ron]

Recently I have been reading a dense, difficult to read, book called “Jesus in Context” by Richard Horsley, a professor of theology in Boston. The thesis of the book, if I can summarize it accurately, was that the Gospels were written down over time, and that at first, stories we told, based on the memories of the people close to Jesus. If any of you have played the Memory Game, where someone starts a story or saying and it is passed around a circle, you know that the story changes as it goes around the circle, because each person remembers it a little differently.  Essentially, this is what Horsley says happened to the Gospels and is one of the reasons we have four different Gospels and each differs in some details. He also goes on to say that because of this, we should not be concentrating on small periscopes or passages out of context because originally it was the whole story that had meaning, not so much the small parts of the story taken out of context.

Obviously in the church each Sunday, we do exactly this.  We take something out of context and read just a small section of the longer work. Only if you come every week for an entire year might you hear the whole Gospel, making it difficult to see the forest for the trees.

At one point he uses this example.  If I brought in three bars of a Bach cantata, and the organist players the three bars, it wouldn’t make a lot of musical sense. It is too short to get the melody line or for people to see the overall movement or themes of the cantata. But essentially that is what we do each week is bring in three bars to listen to.

This week, however, with the longer Passion reading, we do get a chance to see the larger picture, and one of the benefits of this is that we get to feel the story, to experience it in a more emotional way rather than just an intellectual way.  If we really listen, we can’t help being moved by the events.  It is, still, out of context, though.

Mark’s Gospel has a movement to it, a story-line or plot which I have been trying to point out to you in each of my homilies.  In one sense it is a mystery story, with the hearers being in on the answer to the mystery from the beginning, but with the characters in the story unaware until the end. There is also a plot movement to Mark’s Gospel that puts the Passion into a context.

The Hebrew of Jesus’ time would not understand the American’s idea of separation of church and state. For the Hebrew it was all one. The hated Romans had conquered Judea but left the rule in the hands of the Jews, appointing a Jewish man as ruler. Many of the laws of the period were Jewish laws and we inseparable from religion. Jesus saw himself in Mark, as a prophet who was presenting an alternate vision of the world. He knew, either because he was the Messiah, or because he saw what happened to other prophets, that when they came into conflict with the ruling class, be it Roman or Hebrew, that the likelihood was of him being killed, just as John the Baptist had been.  Jesus decision to go into Jerusalem was a major one.  Had he stayed preaching in the countryside, he might not have come not conflict with the religious-political ficus of his day. Had he not entered Jerusalem to the acclaim of many people, had he not caused a ruckus in the Temple, he may not have been killed. But it was his conscious decision to go to Jerusalem.

That is the context of the Passion story is Mark.  Many people believe that this passion story is probably one of the earliest stories to be told about Jesus, and while there are a few details that differ in each of the Passion stories we have, the similarities are quite remarkable. The writers have Jesus say different things in each version, but that is because it is adapted to suit the theme of the story they are telling. What we need to see is the overall pattern, to hear the story freshly, to feel what the original hearers must have felt as they listened to the narrative.  It speaks volumes to us.  It affects our heart if we let it. In it we truly hear the Good News of our salvation.

Fr. Ron Stephens, St. Andrew’s Parish, Warrenton VA

Homily for the Second Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year B

Homily for the Second Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year B

In a typical home every day, a mother might call upstairs to her son or daughter by calling his or her name. The child will usually reply: What do you want, mom?

Similar scenes happen to us many times during a day. We call out to someone or they call to us, and we or they ask ‘what do you need or want?”

All the readings except the second use this pattern this morning: a call, a question, an answer. In the first reading Samuel confuses the call of God for the call of Eli. Over and over he hears someone calling his name. Thinking it is Eli, he runs to Eli and asks what he wants, what he needs him to do. This happens three times until Eli realizes what is happening – it is the Lord God who is calling Samuel. So Eli instructs Samuel to use the same pattern. When the voice calls, simply say: Tell me what you want. I am listening.

So Samuel does exactly what Eli recommends. And for simply answering the Lord with the words: “Speak, for your servant is listening,” God stays with Samuel and helps him in his preaching. God calls. We only have to listen and be open to doing God’s will.

The same pattern presents itself in the psalm today. The psalmist is open to God and is listening. The psalmist says: Here I am… I delight to do your will,” and what does God do for the psalmist?  “He put(s) a new song in his mouth, a song of praise to our God.”

Again, we only have to listen, be willing to do God’s will and God rewards.

In the Gospel the pattern is yet again repeated. This is the story of St. Andrew and St. John. They were two disciples of John the Baptist who heard John telling the crowd that Jesus was the Lamb of God, the one waited for.  The two followers of John the Baptist followed Jesus. Jesus becomes aware he is being followed and asks what they want. They simple say the word “Rabbi” or Teacher to indicate that they want to be taught, to learn. They are open to hearing Jesus. As a result Jesus invites them to the place where he was staying, and by listening to Jesus are converted to apostles. Andrew is so excited that he runs to his brother Peter telling Peter that they have found the Messiah, the Savior.

Three of the readings today, then, center on the call and our response to the call. In Scripture, this response is discipleship, the willingness to listen and be taught. Are we willing to take the time to listen to God? He calls to us in many ways and forms. We can listen through prayer.   Prayer can be spoken, meditative, centering on your reading or contemplative, through silence. It may be in the need of someone less fortunate that we run into on the street. It may be in the relative who needs our help.  It may be in the face of a child who looks lost or forlorn.

Our answer to God needs to be an open one – that we are open to listen and do what he asks. Too often, we are afraid of what might be asked, because our lives or so busy and burdened as it is. But I think we can take heart in the fact that all those who listened to the Lord and offered to do his will were rewarded – with faith, with a new song, with wisdom – and all with the promise that God will be with us.

The “call” that we speak of to religious life or the priesthood is certainly not the only call. We are all called. Only listen and hear.  You might be surprised.

I finished a book this week entitled “The Way of Jesus” by Bruce Chilton and at the end, he summarizes what it means to follow Jesus. I would like to read that summary to you right now: “Following Jesus is not fundamentally a matter of religious affiliation, a way to feel better about yourself, or a means to acquire your eternal reward. The path we are on is meant to lead us closer to God’s vision and purpose for this world – a world where, in our integrity and awareness of God’s Spirit, we love righteousness, seek insight, heal with forgiveness, and love neighbors as ourselves. These ways are our glory as human beings in the present, and the prophetic promise is that this glory endures forever, for the living and the dead.”

A note perhaps on the second reading which is out of context of the theme of the Mass, as it most often is, because we simply read the letters week by week in the order they were written. St. Paul is commenting on the holiness of the body. In Christian thought, if the body is going to be raised and if we are part of the body of Christ, there is a sacredness to our bodies and they should be used in ways that are maintaining that holiness. Although he is referring specifically to sexual acts outside of marriage, he could also be referring to whatever use we make of our bodies that is not holy – eating too much, drinking too much, not exercising to keep fit, and so on. Paul, here, sees sexuality as holy within a loving relationship. We are called to holiness through the price of Christ’s death, and so it is necessary for us keep our bodies in that state. So this, too, is a type of call.  If we are listening, we realize that unlike some religions, ours respects the human body, sees it as holy and something to be protected and kept as we would a vessel that contains our God. So that, too, is a type of call – a call to holiness.

Let us then pray that we listen to God’s call in its many forms and are willing to respond to that call as did Samuel long ago, Andrew and John and so many others in our time – from Martin Luther King to Mother Theresa to the neighbor next door who helps others through volunteering.

And this is the Good News of our call and response today!

Fr. Ron Stephens, St. Andrew’s Parish, Warrenton VA.

Homily for the 4th Sunday of Advent, Year B

Homily for the 4th Sunday of Advent, Year B

There are two distinct and opposing traditions in the Bible, one that opposes monarchy, kingship, as being bad and making people only slaves, and a pro-monarchy, pro-kingship tradition that sees that type of leadership as good. Both types are clearly seen in the Old Testament, but what we read today seems to be very much pro-monarchy. Israel’s second King, David was firmly established on the throne of Israel when he realized that even though he was firmly established as King and had a beautiful home, fit for a king, that God was still dwelling in a tent.  The ark of the covenant which had followed the people as they travelled back to their land, was still unhoused.  So David called Nathan to him and said that he wanted to build God a home, a temple. The prophet Nathan thought that was a wonderful idea. God had anointed David and was pleased with David. God was with David, so Nathan told him to go ahead and do what he planned to do.

But, as usual, God saw things in a different way. You can almost hear God laughing at David. How can you contain me. I am the Creator of all things. How can I be housed? And the God goes on to explain how he has taken care of his people, how he has shepherded them, and goes on to promise David that “I will raise up your offspring after you… I will be a father to him, and he shall be a son to me. Your throne shall be established forever.”

When we look back on this with Christian eyes, we can see that God has been housed in his own creation: In Jesus Christ he has become incarnate. The creator has become part of creation. And through the line of David has this happened.  So the prophecy has been fulfilled in Jesus: God is a father to Jesus, and Jesus is his son. The throne of David will last forever through Jesus. This is also how we can call Christ our King. This is what Paul talks about in the second reading today when he talks about the “revelation of the mystery”, the “secret” that has been “disclosed”, and how through the prophets and their prophecies fulfillment, Christ can be known not just to Israelites but to all people.

And so, the Gospel today is the fulfillment of that prophecy that came in a message to the prophet Nathan. Jesus is the culmination of that message, and it is through another message and messenger that it becomes known to a young, virginal, betrothed girl. Notice that both messages from God start off the same way: The Lord is with you. Also, as part of the message, both David and Mary are told that their prodigy will be made great. “I will make for you a great name like the name of the great ones of the earth,” God says to Nathan about David and his seed.  To Mary, the angel says: “He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David. He will reign…forever.”

The parallelism in these two stories is so complimentary and beautiful. Luke’s point, is of course, that Christ is the fulfillment of Jewish prophecy, and his birth begins a new age, that birth which we will celebrate throughout the world next week. And only God can bring this about.  It is only through divine intervention that this can happen. And what we are doing in Advent, doing today, is bringing what is past into the present. Jesus comes again every Christmas, and we get to experience the wonder of that miracle each year. That in Jesus we have seen and experienced God.

Lastly, I would like to comment on Mary’s acceptance of this divine intervention.  It is true that there were many myths from Greece and other Middle Eastern countries that had gods impregnating women. And it is also true, that people at this time didn’t know much but the very basics of how impregnation came about. They had, in fact, some bizarre ideas about it. One of the main differences, though, is in Mary’s acceptance of God’s gift in contrast to the rapes in most of the mythology when a God has sex with a mortal. What is important is not a scientific explanation of how it happened, though, even when our modern scientific minds might be interested. For Luke, it is simply the fact that the child was going to be holy, the offspring of God. And because, for Luke, God can do anything, he has the angel tell Mary that a barren cousin, past the age of child-bearing was also with child, one who would be the end of the Old testament, just as Mary’s child would be the beginning of the new. Mary’s response: “Let it be done to me according to your word” is the response that is a resounding “yes” to the story of our salvation, to the beginning of a new contract between God and his people, and the start of 2000 years of his reign which will never end. Unlike the Roman Emperor who was also called Son of God and Lord, this Lord would promise a kingdom of peace and social justice, not through war and conquering, but through love and caring. I will end today with a quotation from Marcus Borg which is a fitting conclusion to our Advent:

“Past, present, and future are brought together in Advent. It is a season of expectant anticipation, of anticipatory joy. It is also a season of repentant preparation for a future that is yet to come.” (Borg. First Christmas: What the Gospels Really Teach About Jesus. p. 156)

And this is the Good News we have been preparing for, the Good News we will celebrate for the 2011th time next week, and the Good News that we have inherited from our God: “Let it be done to me according to your word!”

Fr. Ron Stephens, St. Andrew’s Church, Warrenton VA

Homily for the Second Sunday of Advent, Year B

Homily for the Second Sunday of Advent, Year B

Such beautiful readings today and connected so well!  First of all, I want you to realize that the Gospel today is the beginning of Mark’s Gospel, the one we will be reading most of this new church year.  Mark had no scenes of Jesus’ birth or youth – he begins with what we heard today with just a simple introduction: “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” Then he immediately jumps into a scene which will be the thematic preparation for much of the rest of his Gospel.  If you remember from last year, Matthew’s Gospel had as an overreaching theme, that the kingdom of heaven was here now and would be fulfilled in the end. All of his choice of Jesus’ teachings were about that, and it came up in my homilies over and over again.

Mark’s Gospel does refer to this theme as well, but it is not the overriding theme. Mark’s overriding theme is the path, the way, the journey of the Christ. This theme is so strong that early Christians did not use the term Christian, but referred to themselves as followers of The Way. We use the term today as well, as in Way of the Cross, but over the centuries the term Christian has come to be our identifier.

So, Mark’s Gospel is all about the way, the path, the journey. The structural movement of his Gospel is the journey of Jesus from Galilee to Jerusalem. On the way we learn about the meaning of that journey as Jesus three times predicts what will happen when he gets to Jerusalem. The way of Jesus is the way of a martyr – the way is death and resurrection. We think that this was so predominate a theme in Mark because many people were being martyred for their beliefs at the time he wrote and he needed to give these people hope.

If that is the theme, therefore, Mark begins his Gospel by using a motif from the Old Testament that reminds us of a journey, a path, a way. There were two big journeys in the Old Testament – the one that Moses took his people on – the Exodus- when they left Egypt for their homeland, and the one after the Babylonian captivity when a new generation of Israelites, who had never even seen their Holy Land, were allowed to leave Babylon and go back home to Jerusalem.  It is this second journey or way that Mark chooses to use to begin his Gospel.

Mark begins by quoting the prophet Second Isaiah in a passage that is all about the journey back home. “See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you who will prepare your way; (the “way” being the journey back to Jerusalem) the voice of one crying in the wilderness; Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.” Because our First Reading today quotes this entire section of Isaiah’s prophecy, we can get to see what Mark was doing.

Let us look for a moment at Second Isaiah’s prophecy. Even though, as we learned a few weeks ago, King Cyrus had permitted Jewish exiles to go back to their home and even planned to rebuild their Temple, this was not an easy thing. The original Israelites, led into exile, were long dead and it was their sons, daughters and grandchildren that were living in Babylon now, a very weak community now, because they had no wealth, no identity as such, and little spirit left. To get back to Jerusalem, which they only knew about through stories and psalms was an arduous trip through deserts on foot for a thousand miles. It would be easy to see how most would choose to stay where they were, with what they knew, even though they had little.

Second Isaiah’s job as a prophet was to light a fire under these people and make them want to return, to go back. And Isaiah is up to the task.  With some of the most beautiful and well known words of the Bible, he lights that fire. He references himself as one called by God to do this. He is to comfort Israel, to speak to them tenderly and let them know that Israel has served its term.

Isaiah tries to convince the people that God will help them, provide for them on this journey and that he will make the journey easier. Those famous images of God making a straight highway through the desert for them, leveling all the obstacles in their way whether they be mountains or uneven ground. God will get them through it! And in the end there will be – glory! God’s glory will be revealed. The Temple will be back.

And then Isaiah moves to the shepherd images we know so well. When they are home and a people again, God will take care of them like a shepherd takes care of his flock – feed them, lead them, carry them if necessary.

Isaiah was successful in lighting the fire under the Israelites and they did return home.

Now, Mark uses this story, this return from exile motif, to begin his Gospel, and there is a new prophet lighting a fire under people.  This new prophet has the same message as the Second Isaiah, and his job was to straighten out or tell us how to do straighten the path that leads to a new glory which will be revealed – the glory of the Son of God, Jesus.

What then was John the Baptist to do?  He was to light a fire under people, to get them excited, re-invigorated, and to repent. The meaning of the word repentance has changed, unfortunately, and most of us were taught that it meant being sorry for our sins. And while there is a suggestion of that meaning, that is not what Mark meant. To repent is to turn back, to go back home – and for Mark, that home is God, is the kingdom of heaven, is Jesus himself. Prepare the way of the Lord! Prepare the path of the Lord!  Prepare to journey to the Lord! Prepare to follow Jesus on his journey from Galilee to Jerusalem! And what is going to help us make the road straight? Why, baptism, of course.

Then John explains that his baptism is just a hollow symbol, a shadow of what Jesus will bring to it.  Jesus will baptize with water, yes, but also with the Holy Spirit. The Temple is no longer the end of the journey, but each of us becomes a Temple of God.

For St. Paul in the Second Reading, as well as for the Gospel writers, the journey home will be complete when we die or at the end of time.  If we have “led lives of holiness and godliness”, as Paul says, have been proper receptacles for the Spirit, we can wait peacefully in the taste of today’s kingdom for a “new heaven and a new earth, where righteousness is at home”.

So, as you can see, there is a lot of history – and a lot of theology in today’s readings. They are used today, in this second Sunday of Advent, to remind us that we too are on the journey, we too can straighten the path home, we, too need to reflect on our baptism, our godliness and our holiness, with an eye always to the end of our journey when we will be home with our God, forgiven of sins and completely at peace.

In the church year we are just now remembering the beginning of that journey, and it starts with John the Baptist, and it ends with the Resurrection. Watch as we follow Mark through that journey this year and really prepare yourself to follow the way of Jesus, so that this Christmas, when we celebrate God becoming one of us to lead us home, we can come with peace and joy and know the glory of the Lord.

That is Mark’s good news and it is our Good News! Rejoice in it, and prepare!

Fr. Ron Stephens, St. Andrew’s Church, Warrenton VA

Homily for the 31st Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

Homily for the 31st Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

Today’s readings are indictments of those who have power and authority and use it wrongly. It is especially directed at religious leaders who misuse their religion and their status. With all of the horror in the news of priests who have abused children, these readings seem to me to be all the more strong and frightening.

The first reading is a direct reference to the behavior of priests in particular.  The prophet Malachi, speaking for God, chastises the priests of his period who have turned away from God and who are giving false instruction, and indeed cause the downfall of others in their turning away from their faith and from the true God.

I begin to wonder if there is something inherent in the whole idea of ‘priesthood’ that has attracted a certain type of person to it. What are the motives of young men and women who consider the priesthood as a viable life choice? I tend to think that things like an all male, non-sexual clergy might have attracted men in the past who were frightened of their sexuality. Or perhaps they were attracted to the almost monarchial power invested in the priesthood in the last century.  When I was a boy, the pastor and parish priest were treated like royalty, and often expected it. The recent movement to accepting vocations at a later age, attracting persons who have experienced life in many forms – dating, handling finances, working at a job – and the movement to ordain women might result in a more well-adjusted clergy.  I am sure the issue is complex – but it seems to go back all the way to Biblical times.  It existed then as now.

Or perhaps, people are just too trusting, because they expect a person who has devoted his or her self to ministry to be above reproach, with more charisms than the ordinary person. Perhaps it is the attitudes of the congregations which have brought about problems.

Then again, perhaps it is just that religious life is an intensely private life, and priests have not in the past known the joys of sharing a life with another.  This has in many cases led to alcoholism and extreme loneliness.

In any case, Malachai’s message from God is clear.  Priests have a duty to perform for the people and they must attempt to be above reproach and not teach others to stray. If they do not, they will be cursed, Malachai says.

The responsorial psalm today that we sing provides an answer for these priests. They must retain their humility and become like children. They will not raise their eyes too high, says the psalmist, or occupy themselves with things too far beyond them, but stay grounded in God. We hear that beautiful image of the soul – a baby who has been weaned from his mother’s breasts, yet longing for the milk she can give, and comforted by the words of the mother.

St. Paul uses somewhat the same image but instead of showing the negative aspects of ministry, Paul sings a hymn to the ministry of priesthood, the ministry of caring for others. It is that image that I hope will stay with you today: the mother who nurses her child is the image of ministry. Ministry is described as total care for others, not being a burden on others, speaking God’s word to the best of one’s ability and giving of oneself unselfishly. When a minister speaks and teaches in this way, the people can accept it as the word of God, Paul says.

The Gospel today follows basically the same theme as the other two readings except that Jesus is both specific and metaphorical in his comments. What he undoubtedly does do, however, is to criticize the religious priests or practitioners of his day as setting themselves up as the ultimate authorities while being hypocritical, in that what they say does not reflect what they do or ask others to do. Jesus is very specific in the things that he points out as examples of what he is criticizing. First, they do not practice what they teach. They make religion a burden with all their laws and demands and tell everyone they must obey, but they don’t do it themselves or help anyone else to do it. When they do do something, they make sure that everyone can see it. They dress in public in a way that makes them seem more important and they expect people to treat them as one’s father or one’s great teacher.

Jesus then uses exaggeration to make a point – to show the scribes and Pharisees how sinful and proud they are for not looking humbly to God as the source of all authority and fatherhood and teaching, and instead proclaiming themselves as the ultimate authorities, or father figures, or teachers. Nobody should be teated as a god except God, Jesus is saying.

It used to bother me that Jesus said to call no person “father” or “teacher” until I understood it in context and that he was speaking metaphorically. In his time, the term father meant not only the biological parent, but men who were ancestors (like father Abraham) or who were honored men in the community (as in “good father”). The same is true for teacher – the meaning of the word ‘rabbi’. So Jesus was not telling us not to call those who actually deserve the titles “father” or “teacher”  or “instructor” by birth or by honor, but for people not worthy of them to use the titles. St. Paul. For example, calls himself a teacher.

As Paul shows, then, there are some people who are spiritual fathers or can be called “Teacher”. What we cannot do is treat them as little gods.  There is a tendency for some people to treat priests and ministers as the be-all and end-all of religious matters. They won’t do anything for fear that the pastor might not approve, and they bow to his or her every wish. Just in the way that some cults treat the cult leader as a god – Jesus reminds that there is only one God, and that is our Father in heaven. Some priests may be good persons, and deserve the honorable title of spiritual father (or mother, in Cacina), but they must never see themselves as God. Paul himself refers to himself as father in 1 Corinthians: “For I became your father in Christ Jesus through the Gospel” So, the fact that you call me “Father Ron” is a tradition that goes back to Paul.

Jesus’ final comment is a repetition of something that Jesus has taught many times and it comes in many forms in the new Testament. Because it is said so often, we need to take it to heart: “Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.” This, like “the first shall be last and the last, first” is a running theme through the Gospels.

So, although Jesus and St. Paul and Malachai are speaking predominately of religious leaders, there is a message here for us all, of course. Humility, seeing ourselves in the proper perspective and relationship to others and God, is a quality that Jesus upholds over and over again.  It is so easy to lose our humility. In my role as teacher, I have noted the tendency of parents to overpraise their children these days to the point that if  someone does criticize a child, the child doesn’t know how to deal with it. Humility is not a popular trait today. With all our emphasis on positive self-concept and feeling good about ourselves, we may have gone in the other direction.

Humility is defined by Webster as having a modest view of one’s own importance. A realistic view, perhaps. And what humility does best, is cause us to see other people and their needs, and their strengths and their weaknesses. It helps improve our perspective and puts God in the position that he should be in. When we are humble and put others first, we will reap rewards in the future.

These are difficult readings today in their subject matter, but a clear way is given for us to behave and become better people. The way of humility, the way of Christ, who as God, humbled himself, is the way recommended to us. Can we do it? Can we lose ourselves? We can gain so much in the process. And this is the Good News of our salvation that we hear today.

Fr. Ron Stephens, St. Andrew’s Parish, Warrenton VA

Homily for the 28th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Year A

Homily for the 28th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Year A

In today’s first reading, we hear about God’s invitation to a sumptuous feast. This is the famous invitation from the Lord of Hosts, full of unrelenting promise. Come to “a feast of rich food and choice wines,” Isaiah says. And according to the normal way of Jewish writing, he repeats the same idea in different words: “juicy, rich food and pure, choice wines.” It is a banquet given when death is destroyed and sorrow is no more. It is the messianic banquet at the end of time when God will have completed the work of our redemption. While the messianic banquet is a future event, at the same time we already share in it now each time we come to the eucharistic banquet.

Today’s Gospel has a sumptuous feed too. In Jesus’ parable about the kingdom of heaven, a king prepared a feast, got his very best livestock fattened up, seasoned them up, readied them for cooking, and sent out his servants with invitations.

Clearly, both these feasts are no ordinary events. In addition to showcasing the lavishness of the feast, the stories highlight the graciousness of God who invites the guests and provides for their needs.

The two rounds of invitations have been variously explained. Perhaps an initial invitation was sent out in advance of the wedding and then a second, more proximate invitation, was sent as a reminder.

But… Some people refused outright to come. Others simply ignored the invitation as if it had not been given, and a number “laid hold of his servants, mistreated them, and killed them.” The king punished these and then, surprisingly, invited in street people. Food is meant to be enjoyed, not refused.

But with so many people starving in today’s world, how dare we fatten ourselves up with rich food and every other kind of riches? Wouldn’t it be so much better to abstain and deny ourselves? Isn’t the “First World” currently fattening itself on food far more lavish than the ancient world could ever even have imagined? Advertisements in the United States tell us we should luxuriate, we should pamper ourselves, we should not hold back. “Who says you can’t have it all,” marketers say. How are we to respond, we who try to be faithful to God and God’s promises?

The different voices we hear pull us in many directions and, after a while, we’re no longer sure who we are, what we believe in, or what will bring us life. Different voices tell us different things and each voice seems to carry its own truth.

On the one hand, there’s a powerful voice beckoning us towards self-sacrifice, self-renunciation, altruism, heroism, telling us that happiness lies in giving life away, that selfishness will make us unhappy, and that we will only be ourselves when we are big-hearted, generous, and put the needs of others before our own. Deep down, we all know the truth of that – it’s Jesus’ voice telling us that there is no greater love, nor no greater meaning, than to lay down one’s life for others. Francis of Assisi was right; we only receive by giving. And so we admire people who live that out and we feed our souls and those of our children with stories of heroism, selflessness, and bigness-of-heart.

But that’s not the only voice we hear. We hear as well a powerful, persistent voice seemingly calling us in the opposite direction. On the surface, this is the voice calling us towards pleasure, comfort, and security, the voice that tells us to take care of ourselves, to drink in life’s pleasures to the full, to seize the day while it’s still ours to seize.

So which is the real voice? Is one of these voices to be heeded and the other resisted?

This is a complex question and there’s more to it than meets the eye. Historically, the temptation, at least in religious circles, has been to over- simplistically identify the voice of Jesus with the voice that calls us toward self-sacrifice and asceticism: “Everything is about self- renunciation!” Indeed, it is. Jesus did say that, as did every great saint.

But Jesus and those others also said more and our failure to take heed of the rest of what they said has sometimes made for a spirituality that is a half-truth with some nasty consequences, namely, in the name of religion, we have sometimes become unhealthily fearful, timid, and guilt-ridden. Whenever this happens, the other voice, the one inviting us to enter more fully into life’s dance of energy, is not blotted out but driven underground and there, because we have neglected part of what God has called us to, instead of becoming martyrs, we become people with “martyr-complexes”, frustrated persons whose energies become negative and manipulative in the name of love and service.

Moreover, in the name of this half truth, we often end up having God fighting God, truth fighting truth, wisdom fighting energy, and spiritual health fighting physical health, because we’ve put self-renunciation in false opposition to the challenge to also enter into the wonderful God-given energy of this planet where beauty, romance, creativity, physical health, wit, wine-drinking, and good humor also extend part of God’s authentic invitation.

How to find a balance in all of this? If both voices invite us to truth and yet they seem in opposition to each other, where do we go with this?

As you consider that question, remember that Jesus did both: he fasted and he feasted. You recall that he abstained from food for forty days when he began his public ministry. But later on he had occasion to say, mockingly, “The Son of Man came eating and drinking and they said, ‘Look, he is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners’.”

Which is it for us, then, fasting or feasting? I think the answer is simply said and difficult to grow into. I think we are meant to receive humbly and to give to others as well. The mistake is to adopt a stance of only receiving (getting, grabbing) or on the other hand, only giving. The readings invite us to come in, to open up, eat, enjoy what is there. To receive as Jesus did.

Jesus went deep and accepted everything as coming from God’s hand. But when it was time to let go of it all—life, friends, peace and possessions—he did that with love.

Receive and give. Jesus wants us to receive his life and then give it out to the world.

Of course, there are some who refuse to come. They prefer to remain stuck in their oppressive attitudes, their discriminatory relationships with others, their violent approach to solving social problems. They prefer revenge to forgiveness. They prefer the superiority of the ‘some’ to the equality of all. They see victimization but blame the victims. They are the invited guests who are unfit to come.

There are those others, however, whose love for God expresses itself in eagerness to do good for others. They are the ones who live in the house of the Lord, preferring love, forgiveness and equality. They will welcome the coming of the kingdom with the cry: let us rejoice and be glad that God has saved us!

And what clothes are we to wear so that we don’t get thrown out? Paul wrote in his Letter to the Galatians that if we are baptized in Christ, we must be clothed in him. He is the only adequate banquet garment. And it is his love, we read in the Letter to the Colossians, that must be the clothing to complete and unify all others we wear. Yes, every child of the earth is called to the feast. But if any of us actually get there, it will only be because we are “all decked out” with Christ, in God.

If we are well dressed in Christ, if we accept the invitation to the banquet, we will know that our God is the just and loving God whose ways are not our ways, and that all are welcome to the feast – we have only to accept the invitation!  And this is the Good News and the invitation of today’s readings!

Fr. Ron Stephens, St. Andrew’s Parish, Warrenton VA

 

Carry the gospel with you

Gospel reading of the day:

Luke 9:51-56

When the days for Jesus to be taken up were fulfilled, he resolutely determined to journey to Jerusalem, and he sent messengers ahead of him. On the way they entered a Samaritan village to prepare for his reception there, but they would not welcome him because the destination of his journey was Jerusalem. When the disciples James and John saw this they asked, “Lord, do you want us to call down fire from heaven to consume them?” Jesus turned and rebuked them, and they journeyed to another village.

Reflection on the gospel reading: This passage marks the end in Luke’s gospel of Jesus’ ministry in Galilee and his turn toward the final period of his mission to humanity. While the other gospel writers suggest that Jesus goes up to Jerusalem several times to celebrate the holy days of his people, repeatedly making the trip apparently over the course of a number of years, Luke seems to suggest that Jesus goes to Jerusalem but once. With this literary license, the evangelist makes the point that Jerusalem and everything that happens there, including the Lord’s passion, death, resurrection, and ascension, is the meaning and object of Jesus’ entire ministry.

Saint of the day: Born at Pouy, Gascony, France, in 1580 into a peasant family, Vincent de Paul died at Paris, September 27, 1660. He made his humanities studies at Dax with the Cordeliers, and his theological studies, interrupted by a short stay at Saragossa, were made at Toulouse where he graduated in theology. Ordained in 1600, he remained at Toulouse or in its vicinity acting as tutor while continuing his own studies

The deathbed confession of a dying servant opened Vincent’s eyes to the crying spiritual needs of the peasantry of France. This seems to have been a crucial moment in the life of the man from a small farm in Gascony, France, who had become a priest with little more ambition than to have a comfortable life.

It was the Countess de Gondi (whose servant he had helped) who persuaded her husband to endow and support a group of able and zealous missionaries who would work among the poor, the vassals and tenants and the country people in general. Vincent was too humble to accept leadership at first, but after working for some time in Paris among imprisoned galley-slaves, he returned to be the leader of what is now known as the Congregation of the Mission, or the Vincentians. These priests, with vows of poverty, chastity, obedience and stability, were to devote themselves entirely to the people in smaller towns and villages.

Later Vincent established confraternities of charity for the spiritual and physical relief of the poor and sick of each parish. From these, with the help of St. Louise de Marillac, came the Daughters of Charity, “whose convent is the sickroom, whose chapel is the parish church, whose cloister is the streets of the city.” He organized the rich women of Paris to collect funds for his missionary projects, founded several hospitals, collected relief funds for the victims of war and ransomed over 1,200 galley slaves from North Africa. He was zealous in conducting retreats for clergy at a time when there was great laxity, abuse and ignorance among them. He was a pioneer in clerical training and was instrumental in establishing seminaries.

Most remarkably, Vincent was by temperament a very irascible person—even his friends admitted it. He said that except for the grace of God he would have been “hard and repulsive, rough and cross.” But he became a tender and affectionate man, very sensitive to the needs of others.

Spiritual reading: What saves a man is to take a step. Then another step. It is always the same step, but you have to take it. (Antoine de Saint-Exupery)