Reflection for Sunday, July 12th by John Mark Keyes

15th Sunday in Ordinary Time

For printable version: Reflection – July 12 – John Mark Keyes

 

What is a prophet? Are they just the people recorded as prophets in the Bible, like Moses or Ezekiel? Are there modern prophets? Have you ever met one? Do you know about anyone you would call a prophet?

One seemingly obvious answer might be that prophets are people who prophesy. But this raises even more questions. Is it foretelling the future? Is it different from telling fortunes?

Well, I think I have asked enough questions. Let’s see if we can find some answers, and of course a good place to start is with the readings for both this Sunday and the last since they have a fair bit to say about prophets and prophesying.

Last Sunday, the emphasis was on the difficulty of being a prophet, the lack of respect they encounter, especially in their own land. What we learned is that people don’t always listen to prophets or they reject what they hear.

This Sunday’s readings tell us few more things.

In the first reading, Amaziah the priest of Bethel recognizes Amos as a “seer”, but tells him not to prophesy at Bethel, “for it is the king’s sanctuary”.

Amaziah’s advice is based on politics and worldly power. Basically, he is saying that prophesying is all well and good as long as it doesn’t conflict with the Government.

So, don’t rock the boat with talk about how the rich oppress the poor or how corrupt the legal system is. Prophets are supposed to toe the line.

Amos’s answer is quite interesting. He at first denies that he is a prophet. He says he is just a farmer, a herdsman and dresser of sycamore trees. But in the next breath, he says that he is doing what God told him to do: “prophesy to my people Israel”.

His answer demonstrates two important things about prophets and prophesying.

The first is that their prophesying is rooted in God, it is speaking what God wants us to hear. The Greek roots of this word are “speaking for”, in this case speaking for God.

The second thing Amos demonstrates is that what we are talking about here is action rather than status. “Prophet” is simply a label we give to some people; what really counts is not the label, but what a person does.

So Amos is not a prophet, but he prophesies. And if this is not quite what the king would want to hear, then so be it.

These days, this is called speaking truth to power.

This can be a difficult thing to do, even if you are on the inside with a position as an adviser to someone in power and that person has a firm idea of what they want to do.

You are left with a choice: do you toe the line and soft-pedal your advice? Or do you give your advice and take the consequences? Or do you resign and stop giving advice to power and instead speak to those who have no power?

Amaziah, the priest took the first choice. Amos, the farmer, took the second one. It’s not hard to tell which one was the prophet.

It’s also not hard to see that prophets did not live only in biblical times. There are still people among us who speak the inconvenient truth of God’s word.

One of the best examples is Archbishop Oscar Romero in El Salvador who ended up paying the ultimate price for what he said.

He had been a somewhat conservative cleric, distancing himself from his brethren in the El Salvadorean clergy who were more involved in the political life of his country.

But a few weeks after his consecration as archbishop in 1977, a close friend, Rutilio Grande, a Jesuit priest, was murdered. Romero reacted to his murder, saying: “When I looked at Rutilio lying there dead, I thought, ‘If they have killed him for doing what he did, then I too have to walk the same path.'”

Romero became an outspoken critic of the government and a passionate defender of the dispossessed.

In his last sermon, on Sunday March 23, 1980, Romero explained his vocation: “I have no ambition of power, and because of that I freely tell those in power what is good and what is bad, and I do the same with any political group — it is my duty.”

His sermon continued: “I want to make a special appeal to soldiers, national guardsmen, and policemen: each of you is one of us. The peasants you kill are your own brothers and sisters. When you hear a man telling you to kill, remember God’s words, ‘thou shalt not kill.’ No soldier is obliged to obey a law contrary to the law of God. In the name of God, in the name of our tormented people, I beseech you, I implore you; in the name of God I command you to stop the repression!”

The next evening at about 6:30pm, a gunman shot Romero as he celebrated Mass at a small chapel in the hospital where he lived.

35 years later on May 23 this year Oscar Romero was beatified and his spirit seems to be alive and well in Pope Francis. In today’s newspapers, the Pope is reported to be in Bolivia visiting inmates in a notorious prison, listening to their stories of suffering and deprivation and speaking out on their behalf against a demeaning and corrupt judicial system, as he has spoken in the past to denounce capital punishment and solitary confinement of prisoners.

Very few of us are called to prophesy like Amos, Oscar Romero of the Pope. Or called as the Apostles were in the Gospel to cast out demons and heal the sick. But we are called nonetheless to share their commitment to live out the Word of God in our lives. Called to be part of the plan that Paul mentions in the second reading, “a plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in Christ, things in heaven and things on earth.”

We may not have to stand up to the power of the State as they did, but we can stand up to ideas that circulate about the righteousness of punishing the guilty, about making the poor take responsibility for their poverty and about protecting our borders from burdensome refugees.

If we do not speak up about these things, they will solidify as norms of our society.

We are called to prophesy in the sense of standing up for what is right and shaking off the dust that obscures the truth.

 

JMK

 

The reflection owes much to “Remembering Romero: Amos the Prophet v. Amaziah the Priest”, Journey with Jesus, July 11, 2010.

Reflection for Sunday, July 5th by Mike Britton

14th Sunday in Ordinary Time

For printable version: Reflection_June5

 

Text:  Ezekiel 2:3-5; 2 Corinthians 12:7-10; Mark 6:1-6.

There’s a term for what the people of Nazareth did to Jesus, isn’t there?  We use it most often in the context of career, but it can apply in other areas of life just as well.  When someone dismisses us as being limited to our past or current role, lacking the potential to achieve something new, we say that we’ve been “pigeonholed”, and that’s exactly what the Nazarenes did to the carpenter’s son they all thought they knew.

I know it has happened to me, and I didn’t like it one bit, when I eventually became aware of it.  It’s often not expressed as openly as it was two thousand years ago, not least because here and now, we claim to recognize the importance of agency and self-determination.  You’ve probably each been victims of it at some point.  We can each be deemed too young or too old, too gay or bi or “undecided”, too lazy, too black, too foreign, too female, too transgender, too blind or deaf or mobility-impaired, too feminine or masculine, too uneducated, too poor, too shy, too pushy, too something to get that job or promotion, to be trusted as a leader, to become a star, to make a difference, to amount to much, to be worth loving.

This kind of prejudice—pre-judgment—attacks our agency.  I’m a pretty confident guy, but if I’m given a consistent message that I won’t measure up, I start to doubt myself, and to believe that constraint.  It’s a lot safer to believe in a limitation than in a capability, because whatever my potential, I’m pretty sure I can live down to any limitation I accept and so “prove” myself and others right.  We get suckered into pigeonholing ourselves.

I’ve been on the flip side of this too, as I think many of us have:  I’ve made up my mind about people and treated my assumptions as more real than the people themselves.  As with most bad habits, a bit of mindfulness can go a long way toward remedying this.  You and I can examine our thoughts about people, recognize our snap judgments, and maybe let go and open ourselves to seeing them as we all are:  works in progress, intended for and fully capable of ultimate union with God.  We can support, rather than impede, each other in our journey toward that union.

Jesus hit a wall in Nazareth, and found that because almost nobody believed in him, he could do almost nothing.  At first glance, this looks like a great example of that self-limitation, where his capability is limited by his own willingness to accept the townsfolk’s view, prevalent in pretty much all the world at that time, that having been born a carpenter, a carpenter he must stay.  Jesus, though, clearly wasn’t buying it, and rebuked them; why, then, could he do no great works?

The answer, I think, lies in the fact that Jesus’ miracles were not merely his own independent initiatives, but were manifestations of shared intent between God and person.  Jesus is the incarnation of God’s Word and will, and so miracles happen “Through him, with him, and in him,” as we proclaim at the Eucharist.  Last week, we heard how a woman who touched Jesus’ clothes in the hope of healing was cured, and Jesus said to her, “‘Daughter, your faith has healed you.’”[1]  Today, we are reminded that the converse can be true too:  lack of faith can prevent us from being healed.

The people of Nazareth weren’t just pigeonholing Jesus:  they were pigeonholing God.  God’s magnitude is uncomfortable, because it is beyond our comprehension; far easier to worship an image of a tamer god that fits into our worldview and doesn’t challenge us.  We are all Nazarenes sometimes, failing to see and hear because we have set in our minds that God will come to us only in this way or that.  As Ezekiel discovered, God’s Word will find a way to be heard, even if from surprising quarters.  As Jesus said on another occasion, “‘With humankind this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God.’”[2]

Before I conclude, I want to examine Paul’s situation and relate it to this notion of pigeonholes—fit it in, perhaps.  If we hold to a rigid ideal model of people and dismiss those who don’t fit it, we may also glorify others who do, and may even count ourselves in that elite group.  Paul may have recognized a risk of this in himself, and come to recognize the “thorn” as a reminder that we are not divided between weak and strong, worthy and unworthy, but that we are all—even Apostles—imperfect people drawn together and offered a path toward God through Jesus.

Many years ago, Fr. Chris Rushton concluded a homily here with the simple message, “Never discourage.”  I want to reiterate that today.  There is nothing you or I or anyone you will ever meet cannot do, if it be done with God.  Let’s learn to see the world and each other with open eyes, so that we can find God in the most unexpected places.  Even the blind can see like this, with God’s limitless and transforming love.

[1] Mark 5:34

[2] Mark 10:27

 

Reflection for Sunday, June 28th by Fr. Andy Boyer

13th Sunday in Ordinary Time

For printable version: 13th Sunday in Ordinary Time Homily

 

It is striking that we just heard a two thousand-year old story. Two thousand years it’s been around and two thousand years it’s been told and retold. And here we are today, still hearing and resonating with that old story from the Mid-East. Why? What’s its attraction? The answer is, basically, that this story tells us why we are Christians. This story reveals why Jesus captured the people who first heard him, and why he captures us today.

The outline of this familiar story is simple. Jairus, the leader of the synagogue beseeches Jesus to come and heal his daughter. Jesus agrees to come to this important man’s house – but on the way, he is interrupted by an unimportant woman who, unlike Jairus, doesn’t even have a name. And here’s where we begin to get captivated.

He was on an important mission – and here she was irritatingly interrupting, grabbing at the hem of his garment. Can’t she see he’s preoccupied, has things to do? He doesn’t have time for her. But this unusual man does the unexpected and from his actions, from this story, I learn the five things that tell me why I am a Christian.

First of all, this Jesus not only had time for the unimportant, but a preference for them. Remember, Jesus was with the synagogue leader, a high-powered man – and yet he stops to encounter a marginalized woman. That in itself is remarkable. In that time and place in history, when women had no standing, much less contaminated woman, much less a poor woman – this was revolutionary. As the saying would go in modern times, Jesus showed a preferential option for the poor. And right away, this attitude raised the hope that he will pause for you and I as well.

Second, Jesus has time for losers. He who has the habit of seeing people on the margins senses that here is a woman with losses. Down and out, having given up on her doctors and maybe by her doctors, she is a loser easily relegated to life’s sidelines. But not for Jesus. Precisely because she is sidelined, she catches his attention. That raises the hope that he will notice you and I as well; that, in fact, he has.

Third, Jesus has time for affirmation. So far, this woman has been identified only by her bleeding and her pain. But Jesus pauses – he wants to see a face and hear a name. He takes time to see her, not as intrusion or nonentity, but as a human being in need. He calls her “daughter.”And furthermore, he affirms her by giving her credit. “Your faith had made you well.” This raises the hope that he will see you and I not as a face in the crowd, but as who we are, and call us by name. We, like millions of others, find that compelling.

Fourth, Jesus ignores the naysayers. I can hear the complaints of exasperation at his demand to know who touched him. “How can you, ask in this crowd, who touched you?” And when he reaches Jairus’ house, more negative voices. “You’re too late. She’s dead. Why bother?” And when he did bother, they laughed. This raises the hope that the people who put you and I down, who are always negative toward us, who laugh at us, are wrong and that Jesus is right to deal with us and see us alive and not dead as they think.

Fifth, the story, when it’s all said and done, reminds us of a deep truth. Too often we feel that in order to be a good Christian, we have to try hard and believe this or that, whether we, in fact, actually do believe it or not; that we first have to straighten out our life and get it together, and feel this or that in our hearts in order to be pious and worthy.

But listen again to this story. In the stories of Jairus and the woman, nobody does anything except cry out in the face of death and sickness. No one, as far as I can tell, believes, or feels, or thinks. As a writer, Robert F. Capon put it: “Jesus came to raise the dead. The only qualification for the gift of the gospel is to be dead. You don’t have to be smart. You don’t have to be good. You don’t have to be wise. You don’t have to be wonderful. You don’t have to be anything. You just have to be dead. That’s it.” And this raises the hope that you and I don’t have to be virtuous or “worthy” or even spiritually alive for Jesus to raise us up. In fact, it seems the more “dead” we are, the more he cares.

We learn that even if we’re dead, spiritually or physically, we qualify even more as a candidate for his concern. So we, like so many others throughout the ages, ultimately ask: What kind of person is this? Is it any wonder we would rally around his love and join with others that also do so and call ourselves a church?

You know, it’s funny how the mind works. I thought of this gospel one day when I was watching an interview on TV. The person being interviewed was a heroic mother who had singlehandedly raised a large family. In spite of all the frustrations, disappointments, and obstacles, she had persevered, and every one of her children had made remarkable achievements, not only in schooling, but also in their vocation. It was an inspiring story worth celebrating, for it revealed the heights and depths of human greatness. But during the interview, the mother was asked her secret by the reporter who said “I suppose you loved all your children equally, making sure that all got the same treatment.”

The mother’s answer was stunning and brought me back to this gospel. She replied, “I loved them. I loved them all, each one of them, but not equally. I loved the one the most that was down until he was up. I loved the one the most that was weak until she was strong. I loved the one the most that was hurt until he was healed. I loved the one the most that was lost until she was found.”

 

That’s why I’m a Christian.

Reflection for June 7th, 2015 by Eleanor Rabnett

Body and Blood of the Lord

For printable version: Reflection for June 7, 2015 Body and Blood of Christ

The readings this morning have told us the story of a God who is deeply in love with and committed to his people.  Beginning with a reading from the book of Exodus we learn about a covenant of blood and sacrifice.

Paul then speaks to us of a new covenant.  A covenant of love, living in and a part of each of us. If you Google the word ‘covenant’ you will find the theological definition of a covenant as being an agreement that brings about a relationship of commitment between God and his people.

In the gospel Jesus says to us “this bread is broken, my body is broken for you.  Just as this cup of wine is poured out, my blood is shed for you.”  Jesus was speaking of a new covenant – not one dependant on obedience or law but a covenant of love – between God and you and me.  It flows from God to you and to me, back and forth from each of us to the other and back to God.  A communion of love.  The Body and Blood of Christ

For the past couple of weeks I have thought and reflected on this covenant, this bond of love.  I’ve found myself reflecting on fleeting images that would come and go.  Whispered thoughts that seemed to be behind a veil yet I knew them to be there – but to put into words to describe it all?  This is a great mystery that we know intimately within our beings.

St Augustine in one of his sermons said “you will not understand, unless you believe.”  Even with great belief it may be difficult to explain, for this understanding may be hidden deep within us.

The best that I can do is to share the words of others who are perhaps both  wiser than I and more capable of sharing their experiences of the Body and Blood of Christ.  I suspect they experience it all very similarly to myself but may better able to put them into words.

Fr. Ron Rolheiser, an Oblate of Mary Immaculate calls the Eucharist – God’s Way of Embracing Us.  He explains that we are all human beings, physical creatures and so we need something physical – which is represented here with the Body and Blood of Christ.

He says that Jesus “gave us the Eucharist, His physical embrace, his kiss, – a ritual within which he holds us to his heart”.   Pause  A ritual within which God holds us to his heart – I invite you for a moment to close your eyes and sit in that thought   pause    OK now you can open your eyes again, but hold on where you have just been.

G.K. Chesterton wrote: “There comes a time, usually late in the afternoon, when the little child tires of playing policeman and robbers. It’s then that he begins to torment the cat!” Mothers, with young children, are only too familiar with this late afternoon hour and its particular dynamic. There comes an hour, usually just before supper, when a child’s energy is low, when it is tired and whining, and when the mother has exhausted both her patience and her repertoire of warnings: “Leave that alone! Don’t do that!” The child, tense and miserable, is clinging to her leg. At that point, she knows what to do. She picks up the child. Touch, not word, is what’s needed. In her arms, the child grows calm and tension leaves its body.(1)

Ron continues:  “We are that tense, over-wrought child, perennially tormenting the cat. There comes a point, even with God, when words aren’t enough. God has to pick us up, like a mother her child. Physical embrace is what’s needed. Skin needs to be touched. God knows that. It’s why Jesus gave us the Eucharist.”(2)

In Ron’s book “Our One Great Act of Fidelity – Waiting for Christ in the Eucharist”  Part three is titled –A Spirituality of the Eucharist – Receive, Give Thanks, Break, Share.  He writes that “The Eucharist is not intended to be simply a ritual prayer within which we participate regularly, but is also meant to be something that touches and colours every area of our lives.(3)

The Eucharist needs to be a defining attitude, a way we meet life, receive it, and share it with others.  It needs to be a spirituality, a way we undergo the presence of God and others in this world(4).

This is what we celebrate this Sunday, this is what we take with us into our daily lives – from this community and into our homes, into our work places and into our school rooms and even into our play.  We receive the gifts of the bread and wine, we give thanks, we break and pour and we share with each other.

I want to leave you with a few words that Fr. Andy spoke on Friday in his homily at Josephine Flaherty’s funeral.  He said:  “Jesus took us, blessed us, broke us and gave us – a true relationship of love”.

We are the Body and Blood of Christ.  Happy Feast Day!

 

Authorities:

Exodus 24:3-8

Hebrews 9:11-15

Mark 14:12-16, 22-26

Sunday Missal – Living With Christ – page 416

 

1. From Eucharist as God’s Physical Embrace – 2001-02-25

2. Ibid

3. Our One Great Act of Fidelity – Waiting for Christ in the Eucharist by Ronald Rolheiser, OMI

4. Ibid.

Getting Into the Flow of God

Reflection on Trinity Sunday, May 31, 2015 by David Perry

For printable version: Getting Into the Flow of the Trinity by Dave Perry for May 31, 2015
I’d like to kick off this reflection by asking for your blessing. Take a moment to pray this prayer for me…

The Prayer of Blessing
Brother / Sister ____________                                                        You are of us … of me.                                                                            We are not separate.I Bless You …                                                            Yet not I – But Christ in me – Blesses You.                                            WE give you permission to be who you are.                                        To Love and Create;                                                                                To   Fall and to Fail;                                                                                   And to Rise Again into the LOVE –                                                           That You Already are.

Thanks for your prayer … now let’s unpack what that prayer has to teach us…

When I was 13 entered a citywide tennis tournament. My folks took me to The Ottawa Athletic Club. We walked in and I’ve never been inside a ‘Club’ before. As I register for the Singles Draw – the guy asks me if I’d like to also play doubles. I didn’t want to. I don’t like it as much, plus I didn’t know anyone else. He says, no problem – they’ll take care of it and match me up. I reluctantly agreed.

Well in my first singles match I get smoked. I might have won a couple games, but I was out of the Singles Draw. Now, the Doubles was another story. We won our first game. We won our second game. I should add at this point that the guy I’m teamed up with is amazing … he’s serving cannon balls. Yeah, it turns out he was the number 1 seed in the tournament … and the best junior in Ottawa. We make it to the finals – which we win. Now I’m not sure how many points I even participated in … let alone how many I won. My partner was simply that talented and dominating over our opponents.

Now here was my dilemma … maybe you can see it. I never knew what to do with that victory. How do I describe it even? I can’t say I won the doubles title – though I did. Or even that we won the title…that’s not accurate either. A couple years I actually prayed “God, what was that about? Please teach me something.”

By that point in my life … I’d come to know – pretty well, I thought – the writings of St Paul. Such as the second reading this weekend … “You received a spirit of adoption which cries ‘Abba’ Father.“
This may have affected the answer … what I got about the tennis victory. We won because the other guy carried me, and I rode on his coat-tails. Basically he won the majority of the points (if not all them), and I was along for the ride.

With this – I could really open up to the heart of Paul’s ‘gospel.’ For Paul – his term – “living In Christ – a term he uses 26 times — is him saying “all of life is a riding on the coat-tails of the Holy Spirit.”

Look at the reading … It’s the Spirit in us that cries “Abba, Father.” In Galatians Ch 2 … He says, and NOT symbolically, “It’s not I who lives, but Christ who lives in me” …“It’s not I who lives, but Christ who lives in me” In chapter 3 …Paul goes on to tell us that IN CHRIST … there are no categories … no distinctions … no male or female; Jew or gentile, black or white, slave or free.

I want to highlight this spiritual masterpiece of Paul. We usually hear pieces of Paul where he is made out to be a moralist … or a sexist … or a puritan. Some social justice folks don’t like that he seemed to ignore slavery as a problem. But it’s true that we frequently hear pieces of Paul … on grace, freedom, life in the Spirit…like today). But think for a moment …. in your church life (Catholic or otherwise) – how many times have you heard a teaching specifically on “It’s no longer I who lives, But Christ who lives in me?” Probably not too often.

Let me give you a sense of how ridiculous this is. Say you went to study science and took a course on Isaac Newton … and they never mentioned that he discovered gravity. They never even mentioned that he had any interest in it at all.

That’s just as ridiculous, as not knowing the heart of Paul who says “for me to Live is Christ.” This revelation is what jazzed Paul – because it was born out of his encounter with the Risen Lord … He experiences being drawn into the flow of God … where he knew – that his life was merely a riding on the coat-tails of the Spirit. For Paul this is the foundation of God’s universal health care plan. Everybody’s covered.

The issue for him is that everyone is in the Flow of the Spirit, and they can know it. This is the issue! Not your life circumstances — slave or free … married or not … gay or not. Freedom for Paul, is an inside job. The issue is to pray and know who’s praying. To heal and to know who’s healing. To breathe and to know who’s breathing. To serve at the Supper Table and know who’s serving. Even perception … to see God … is to ride on the coat-tails of the Spirit who sees and knows and merely gives us a glimpse of that knowing.

For 1700 years we’ve basically ignored the heart and mind of Paul. And what’s it been replaced with? This weekend marks the end of the work of the Truth and Reconciliation Process around the pain and abuse of aboriginal children caused by the residential school system in Canada … over 100 years of trying to “kill the Indian in the Child.” Beyond the physical, sexual and psychological abuse … which is surely bad enough – is the Christian narrative being offered – both then and still today … whether Catholic or bible fundamentalist … it was / and is / essentially a “burn, burn, burn” mentality. Burn the Indian out of the Indian, burn the gay out of the gay; burn pleasure out of human sexuality; burn the human out of the human … if you don’t get purified in this life; well we’ve got purgatory to burn out all that is “offensive” to God. And if that doesn’t work – well you burn for eternity.

Does any of that sound like Jesus who proclaimed the “Kingdom of God is among you” or the heart of Paul that states, “it’s not I who lives, but Christ who lives in me?” Jesus critiqued the church of his day, saying you lay heavy burdens on people, and don’t lend a finger to help them. Have we not, for most of our lives (and the centuries before us) been denied access to THE narrative of hope and life in the Spirit?

And by the way, if you’re a woman, or you’re gay … and you think the church isn’t working for; let me tell you … that burn, burn, burn narrative doesn’t work for anyone. And we, as with Aboriginals … when you take away the only story line that makes sense … that gives life and hope … and replace it with that kind of moralistic reward-punishment system…then stamp it with authority… You’re going to get despair, lost-ness, and the resulting addictions and distractions that the little self needs to survive the loss of a life giving narrative.

Thomas Merton says, and I agree by experience, that stuff we call “sins” … are really symptoms of the greater pain of one who sees themselves as outside the radius of God. The problem for Merton, as for Paul, is one of identity … one has to learn to see themselves inside God.

Let me wrap this into the Trinity – which is what we celebrate this weekend.

One day I was supply teaching a grade 11 world religions class. It was a hot Friday afternoon … the kids ambled into the hot portable classroom after a school BBQ … half the class didn’t even show. No lesson plan was left. This was perfect. I thought I’d be playful and see what they’re learning in Catholic school so far. So I asked specifically “Who’s the fourth person of the Trinity?”

One guy raised his hand and says Bob Marley. Which is a great answer … he’s being a little flip. But that’s cool … But I only give full marks for Bruce Springsteen. Onto the next young man who is hung up on the math problem, “Sir, you can’t have 4 people in a trinity.” I respond,” look we’re Catholics and we’ve got three persons in One God, so don’t be giving me your math anxiety. Soon, a hand goes up at the back … now I’ve got the lights off to keep the classroom cool … so I can’t really see her well. But I say “okay miss, who’s the fourth person of the Trinity?” And she says “I am. It’s each of us.”

In the Gospel today we hear about the commission given to the disciples … to go forth — baptizing in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Baptizing really means an immersion … an experience. But before that even, how about we start with us?

Remember when I said that for Merton and Paul, the issue is that one has to learn to see themselves inside God … or inside this flow of love. Now get a load of this … this is GOD’s job! It’s the work of the Spirit to draw us into the flow … to show us what we need to see. OUR job – is to give God the permission.

Can we give God permission to immerse us in the Divine Dance of Love?

The Trinity … this mysterious flow of love between persons … abides in the soul of everyone … my soul, your soul. How about we give God the green light to do unto us whatever it is we need to awaken … to be resurrected in the “who” … of who we really are.

Our vocation is to live our lives immersed in the Dance of Love as the fourth person of the Trinity. Is this a narrative you can live with?

I’d like to offer two words to nurture our participation in the Divine Dance … practice and permission.

Practice is remembering who we really are. When I asked you to pray that prayer at the beginning– it reminds us that praying is one thing, but knowing who’s praying is quite another.

So forgive someone today … let them off the hook … but remember who’s is letting them off the hook, and who is riding on the coat-tails of the Spirit.

Give thanks for one thing today, and remember it’s the Spirit in you giving thanks.

And let’s give God permission … the green light … to act in us; Teach us, show us, draw us into the Dance of Love and this great knowing. Pray this as often as you think to … pray without ceasing, Paul says. (just remember who’s praying).

I think one of the reasons we need Church … we need each other … is — because the weight of this mystery of living in Christ is too big … too good yet too fleeting … too much of a challenge for our mind – which alone can’t bear this much good news. It can’t possibly be this good can it?

It is this good. Paul knew … every Christian mystic has known it. And we can know it … if we give God permission to awaken us, touch us, draw us into the dance. We’re actually already there … we just don’t know it.

Trinity Sunday Homily for Mat 31st, 2015

by Fr. Ken Forester

For printable version: Homily_Trinity Sunday B

 

FORMER NATIONAL CHIEF SHAWN ATLEO speaks about the victims: “There is real learning happening in Canada right now through the work of the truth and reconciliation commission, sparked by the settlement agreement and the powerful stories of survivors. And I might add, the incredible energy , enthusiasm and engagement of young people, knowing that they got aunties , uncles , grandparents, great grandparents and those who have gone on, that suffered  through the incredible difficult chapter in our shared history. What they’re saying is we must transform, transform for our own families. The survivors are saying we need to recognize that, yes,  we were victimized, even those who came in the generations after, were part of the cycle of trauma and these difficulties and social ills still prevail, they are still a reality in our community, but we can say that it’s this time in our history that we can remove ourselves from being only described as victims, to be recognized as strong survivors because that’s what we are , resilience in the face, having overcome incredible odds to accomplish  the things we are seeing in our communities. “ Unquote

I hear him saying that choice is still there, to choose to create conditions to reclaim indigenous identity. The move from victim to survivor is done through the difficult path of forgiveness. Today we pray for First Nations, Inuit and Métis for the courage to choose forgiveness. “Forgiveness is the final form of love.” Reinhold Niebuhr. Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “Forgiveness is not an occasional act; it is a permanent attitude.” In fact it is a process; it’s not a one-shot deal.  It’s a daily and lifelong practice to move through layers and layers of hurt and grief and re-open the heart to compassion and kindness. Gandhi has said, “The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.”

We see that miracle happening in many elders today. Just a few weeks ago I heard an elder in Edmonton circle speak of his rebirth through forgiveness of the pain he endured in Residential Schools. Young man Omar Kadar. His witness puts flesh on Mark Twain’s beautiful expression: “Forgiveness is the fragrance the violet leaves on the heal of the one who has crushed it.”

Truth and Reconciliation:  Often we contemporary non-aboriginals have difficulty accepting the truth of our sin. Why? Because I was not there. How can I assume the blame for actions that are not mine? Many of those who were part of the Residential School system feel unjustly judged because they dedicated themselves and worked seven days a week to serve the children in their care. The Anglican Primate expressed it this way: “Though individual participants may have had nobler intentions, the underlying colonial aim was to break Indigenous cultures, and to assimilate the children into the bottom rung of a hierarchical society.” The system was oppressive and destructive.

TRUTH: We have disrespected First Nations with our prejudices and racism and still do. Truth: We often intentionally do evil. But perhaps just as often we do things that are evil without full intention or will, because we are immersed in an oppressive system. These things cause pain to others, and we remain with shame and guilt. St. Peter addresses the people and says; “You killed the author of life.” Speaking of Jesus Christ, but, “I know you acted in ignorance, as did your rulers.” Did he say, “Therefore there is no problem.”? NO! He goes on to say you must repent; “Repent, therefore, and turn to God so that your sins may be wiped out.”  So Peter speaks of sin that is done without our full will. These evil acts of ours whether done intentionally or unintentionally, as well as sins of omission, failing to do the good, need the healing forgiveness of the Creator and the forgiveness of First Nations. Today we pray that we non-aboriginals own the truth of the injury caused by ourselves and by the unjust system of a dominant colonial society that continues today. Let us own our sin and repent!

Sean Atleo speaks to the non-aboriginal, “You as well are a treaty person irrespective of where you reside and if you are not of indigenous heritage know that you have also inherited this legacy, this history and you can also play a part in reconciliation…That first step is just being taken now.”

Just a word about this feast of the Trinity that we celebrate today.Words to speak of the Divine. How do we speak of our experience of the Divine?  So how do we understand the Trinity? We don’t! God, by definition, is beyond conceptualization, beyond imagination, beyond language. The Christian belief that God is a trinity helps underscore how rich the mystery of God is and how our experience of God is always richer than our concepts and language about God.

Although the dogma of the Trinity was officially formulated in the fourth  century, no formula can ever capture the reality of God. Polytheism rightly sensed the divine hidden under every rock.

To what does this call us?

To humility. All of us need to be more humble in our language about God. The concept of God needs to stretch, not shrink, the human imagination. Often in the past in our relationship with First Nations People, we were too quick to dismiss their spirituality and label it as error. Christians had the correct and only language to speak of God. Our education system in the arts, science and even theology was offered as the only correct vision of mankind, the world and the divine. We taught religion but failed to recognize spirituality.

Tomorrow we have a ceremonial walk of reconciliation. A significant step on this journey toward reconciliation could come from a deeper awareness of the richness of First Nations Spirituality. Today we recognize that we Christians may have had a rich revelation of the essence of God through the doctrine of the Trinity, but the interpretation of scripture and our image of the Divine put God in the heavens, and humans as those ordained to dominate and master all other life, with the privilege to exploit and extract the resources and minerals for our consumption. Our property. Colonial culture was the lens through which we read scripture. We paint ourselves antagonistic toward Mother Earth. Those who are reflective today, recognize that the vision of the Divine as Creator God, the Great Spirit and the deeply held experience of interconnectness of all creation proclaims a gospel the world needs to hear today. Respecting native spirituality, we can claim a renewed vision for our world. This can be a lived Reconciliation based on Respect. Mike Cachagee, an elder who spoke last night at the Kairos event , expressed this when he said “Reconciliation is working together for a good cause to arrive at a good life.”

We are created in the image of God who is one. Sr. Priscilla Solomon said it well: “We have failed to respect each other and the land. That old fabric of life must go. We must take apart the threads of colonization and create a new cloth of right relationships among brothers and sisters, making this land truly home for us all.”

All my relations!

Pentecost Homily for May 24th, 2015 by Fr. Andre Boyer

Pentecost Sunday

For printable version: Pentecost Homily

These past six months in our church year have been quite a journey – a journey which records the landmark events in the life of Jesus. It’s the story of the central mystery of Christianity – the story of the incarnation. We have celebrated this remarkable story for over 2000 years now.

 

We think of the incarnation, most of us think of it this way: God walked on this earth, physically, for thirty-three years, he died, and he rose. When he left, he sent the Holy Spirit to be present among us – but the actual physical body of Jesus was gone forever.

 

Jesus was here on earth healing, teaching, and revealing God in all of God’s compassion and love for 33 years. But he is not actually here anymore. The incarnation – that time when God was physically present and walked among us is over. And while the Holy Spirit is real – the Spirit is not the actual physical presence of God. There is a lovely little story that you’ve probably heard before, about a child who woke up one night after a frightening nightmare. She was convinced that there were all kinds of monsters and goblins under her bed and in the corners of her room. She ran to her parents’ bedroom and after her mother had calmed her down, she took the child back to her own room and said, “You don’t need to be afraid, you aren’t alone here. God is right here with you in your room.” The little girl said, “I know that God is here but I need someone in my room that has some skin on!”

 

We all need a God who has some skin on. We need God to be present here and now, in the flesh, in 2015 – right here in Ottawa – someone we can heard and touch and see.

 

Most of us don’t find God in some obscure setting – like a remote mountain monastery. Most of us need to find God in the kitchen, in the backyard, in the parking lot, and on the phone. We need God to hold us when we are discouraged. We need God to give us a gentle kick in the butt when we ignore someone in need. We need a God with some skin.

 

Ronald Rolheiser, in his book – The Holy Longing – suggests that our limited understanding of the incarnation is what makes it so hard for us to find that real, live, physically present God in our lives today. He notes that our rather short-sighted perspective gives the impression that the incarnation was a thirty-three year experiment; a one-shot excursion by God into human history…and now – it’s over.

 

The incarnation is still going on – it’s just as physically real today as it was when Jesus walked the dusty roads of Palestine.

 

When the Holy Spirit came to fill up those believers on that very first Pentecost – God once again took flesh. God got some skin. But in another way, through the Holy Spirit, God took flesh once again – and ever since, God has been sending us the Holy Spirit for that same reason. By giving us the Holy Spirit, God awakens in each of us the gifts that God needs to continue to be here and present in our world.

 

That first Pentecost, God became dependent upon human beings in a whole new way – and God has been dependent on us ever since.

 

The season of Pentecost has arrived. It’s sometimes called the Season of Ordinary Time – it’s that long six months or so when nothing too exciting happens in the liturgical calendar, when the vestments are always green. It lasts until the Season of Advent arrives. Pentecost is perhaps the most important season of the church year – because it’s the season when we are reminded once again that we can be renewed in the Body of Christ and continue to make sure that God has skin. It’s the season when we are called to specifically allow those gifts with which God has blessed us, to be used so that those who need God in their lives – a real, physical God – will be able to find that God. Jesus did it 2000 years ago – but now God is depending on us to do it.

 

St. Teresa of Avila captured it so well when she wrote:

 

Christ has no body now but yours,

No hands but yours,

No feet but yours.

Yours are the eyes through which

Christ’s compassion must look out on the world.

Yours are the feet with which

He is to go about doing good.

Yours are the hands with which

He is to Bless now.

 

During this Season of Pentecost – what are each of us going to do to ensure that the incarnation continues to live on in us as the Body of Christ – so that all those in our communities, who are so in need of God’s unconditional love, will be able to find it.

 

A God…who will hold them when they need to be held, who will fix a leaky faucet for a cup of coffee, who will comfort and reassure them when they are afraid, who will act in solidarity with them over the offences of residential schools and join in prayer for reconciliation.

 

A God…who will laugh with them when they are delighted, who will run an errand for them when they are homebound, who will pick up the phone to let someone know that they are being thought of, who will mourn with them when they grieve,

 

A God…who will house them when they are homeless, feed them when they are hungry, and visit them when they are in prison, who will sit silently with them when they simply need a quiet companion by their side.

 

What are our gifts from the Spirit?

Are we ready – to allow God to use them during this season of Ordinary Time?

Reflection for May 17th, 2015 by Robert Sykes

Ascension of The Lord

For printable version: Reflection for May 16, 2015 by Robert Sykes

First Reading: Acts 1. 1-11 Psalm 47

Second Reading: Ephesians 4. 1-13

Gospel Acclamation: Matthew 28. 19, 20

Gospel: Mark 16. 15-2o

Wow, what an incredible set of demands, images, and expectations we have been presented with today. When we think of difficult passages of the bible, we tend mostly to think of the hard choices it seems to ask of us. About loving unconditionally, and challenging social norms, putting our spiritual well-being above that of our temporal well-being. For many of us these are tough aspects of a Christian life to live faithfully. We fill our days with concessions and platitudes to make them a little easier to follow through with, but also a little easier to excuse ourselves when we don’t follow through. However, those are the demands of a Christian life, in the sense of witness, living our faith, showing the world who we are as Christians and who Jesus was as the Christ. Today’s readings are a bit different; today’s readings are not so much about how to be Christian as what it means for us to call Jesus, Christ – our Saviour, but also our Lord, our God, the Son of Man.

These sorts of passages present us with a different set of difficulties, the sort that have less to do with our public ethic, but every bit as much to do with our credibility and identity as Christians. However, unlike the lifestyle we choose for living our faith, these difficulties cannot easily be squared away with an appeal to “public good”, “good living”, or common cultural decency. These difficulties call into question the very reasonability of our faith in the first place. Most of us probably just gloss over the Harry Potter-esque parts of such passages. The image of Jesus ascending on a cloud to some heavenly throne is pretty fantastical. We might write it off as a miracle, or just a fantasy of early church writers. Certainly the scientists and pragmatists among us have such trouble. These passages are not just a potential problem for believers, but they are fuel for ridicule from certain secularist “intellectuals” and militant atheists. Saying, “that’s just the imagination of the author”, or “God can do anything”, these are platitudes no less frustrating to an understanding of our faith than “I gave money last week”, or “He didn’t mean to literally turn the other cheek” are frustrating to our lived ethics.

What it all comes down to is cosmology. Some of you may know the term – cosmology is the study of the universe/creation – and of those most probably have fears or concern about the work of astrophysicists like Einstein or Stephen Hawking. Others may be thinking, “Didn’t we solve this with Galileo?”. Don’t worry, and no we didn’t. In my opinion, Christian cosmology is probably the number one intellectual impediment not only to bringing new intellectuals into the faith, but stunting our leadership inside the church from including future scientists, critical politicians, and all around great new minds. We have all kinds of great leadership from those interested in social action, justice, and Christian outreach, but we continue to lose ground on the public floor over issues of less immediate pragmatism. Some of us will fall prey to a false secular ideal, “I am Catholic, but I leave that for Sundays and raising my kids in a loving home… It has nothing to do with my [science, office, social politics]”. Others of us will just avoid the issue by living a good life according to what Jesus said we should do, how we should act, we might even be inclined to tell our children and teens not worry about the less “realistic” elements of the Bible. When the simplicity of our faith is simply to do either, we are failing.

If we are to “proclaim the gospel to all creation”, “witnesses … to earth’s remotest end”, “be prophets, … evangelists, … pastors and teachers”, then we are going to have to do more than simply live a good Christian life! Part of that life is believing in the divinity of Christ, and that means sharing that divinity with others, and that requires us to speak at their level, in their tongues! No secular scientist is going to believe that our values are good and worthy because in our mind a man flew into the sky after rising from the dead. If anything that scientist is going to write us off as silly, superstitious, even crazy. Some, those that are generous in spirit, will see the truth in our values and at least appreciate those… Secular Christians… People that think the Bible is a good source of moral teaching, but dismiss its “literal” truth, to them Jesus was a man with a socio-political understanding way beyond its time, but JUST a visionary man. To be fair, that is a big reason why we focus on the good works, and not the cosmology, of the Bible.

We can do more. When we imagine the ascension of Jesus, we often use the same imagery as other Biblical ascensions. It makes sense to, that is how they are described in the Bible. However, only one of our passages talks about clouds and quite literally rising in the air. There is a simple reason for this, the Jewish context of the day was that heaven was that place of the realm above the earth. If you have ever seen the night sky out far beyond the city lights, it is not difficult to see the dome of heaven. It is not surprising that early cosmologists saw it the same way. But even at the time the New Testament was written not everyone believed heaven was a place hovering over the world. Their world was filled with different philosophical traditions which resulted in different cosmologies. In Paul’s letter, we read just about the ascension, with allusions to rising and falling in a literal sense, but nothing about the sky or clouds. This is because Paul, although Jewish, was educated in those different philosophies, and while the audience being addressed in Acts are Jews, the Ephesians were not. The cosmology there, regarding heaven, was likely more similar to our own… Heaven was a place, but not a place in this world, and not a place simply outside the earth. Not up there [point above] or simply in here [point to the heart]. God existed entirely outside the physical form of reality. Paul’s letter is expressly, literally, telling us that to say Jesus ascended is to believe that first Christ had to become part of the real world. That God came to earth, just the same as Jesus left the earth.

Can we understand this? Is this something we can talk to secularists, scientists, and even just our skeptical selves about? Can we have an open, honest discussion about all the things our intellectuals “know” are true? Can we accept what they teach us; learn it as well as they do, and still assert the absolute literal truth that Jesus was God? That God not only exists; not only is interested in our “pale blue dot”, but that God came here, lived with us, died with us and for us; left, and absolutely promised to return! Can we do that? Because if we can’t… If we can’t find a way, like Paul tried to, and appeal to the intellect while respecting the fullness of our beliefs… Not only will we fail to be relevant to a world much bigger than our own little parish, but we will fail to live up to Jesus’ last task, and we cannot allow ourselves to do that.

Reflection for May 10th, 2015 by Joan O’Connell

The 6th Sunday of Easter

For printable version: May 10 2015 Reflection

What a rich set of readings we have listened to today.  So many important lessons to ponder.  However, it’s not hard to pick up on the key one – love.  The word love is used ten times in the Second Reading and nine times in the Gospel.  Very appropriate for Mother’s Day week-end, don’t you think.

The First Reading it seems may be meant to set the context because, without it, it might be easier to dismiss some people from the umbrella of God’s love, and of ours.

So that we don’t misunderstand, the First Reading makes it clear that God shows no partiality to anyone.  He loves us all and all the same [pause] and he is available to all.  And to drive the point home, the Holy Spirit descends on everyone, even the Gentiles, which in Peter’s day apparently would have been a shocking thing to contemplate.  We hear the words, “The circumcised believers who had accompanied Peter were astounded that the gift of the Holy Spirit should have been poured out on the Gentiles also.”  It must have been a scales falling from the eyes moment.  Probably some of the believers couldn’t accept it.

So when we contemplate the Second Reading and the Gospel, we have no choice but to hear the message of love in the context of everyone being included.

Jesus himself uses the word love in John’s Gospel reading.  And here we receive a direct command from Jesus, which I don’t think he did very often.  “This I command you: love one another”.

Wow.  How can we argue with that?  And yet we do.  Oh, we might say to ourselves “OK; message understood.  I’m going to do it.  I want to do what you ask of me.  I will try my best

But then we live our lives and they show us that this isn’t as easy as it might sound at first in our zeal to be one of Jesus’ followers.  After all, we’re talking about human beings here – they’re not all so easy to love and we’re not always so loving.

Sometimes it is easy to love.  Of course, I love my family and my friends.  That’s usually a given, although sadly not always.  Some people are just easy to love; they are pleasant and easy to be around.  You have fun with them and interesting conversations.  They accept the true you and you feel secure with them.  And as a result, you are willing to do a lot for them – a form of laying down your life for your friends.

Some people are a little more challenging.  We have to try harder to love them; maybe go out of our way; consciously recall Jesus’ words.  Some of these people may be friends, co-workers, even family members.  Maybe fellow parishioners.

But then we run into some people, or we hear about them on the news, and we have to remind ourselves that God loves them too and so must we. And we shake ourselves and say “Really? How can this be?”  We might even channel our inner Pharisee and say “but I’m not like him, her, them”.  It is an ongoing challenge that we are presented with.

I have one of those difficult-to-love people in my life; no one any of you would know.  She has an unhappy, limited life with a number of mental and physical health challenges. And she has no friends, or family members who want anything to do with her.  One of the reasons being, at least from my perspective, is that she has basically alienated everyone and blames everyone else for her problems.  I find myself in the situation of one day feeling extremely sorry for her and wanting to help and the next day getting totally exasperated.  I confess that I really don’t want to call her a friend or think of her that way as that would ask more of me than I am prepared to give if I’m being perfectly honest with myself.  Right now, she is my ongoing challenge.

If we are looking for a concrete, modern day role model of what all inclusive love might look like, Pope Francis certainly springs to my mind.  We probably all remember that first year of his papacy when he went to a prison to perform the Holy Thursday washing of the feet rite.  Who did he include – a woman, a Muslim woman, prisoners.  The shocked and sometimes critical commentary on his very deliberate choice might bring to mind the reaction of Jesus’ and Peter’s followers when the Holy Spirit descended on the Gentiles.

Not only do we see in Pope Francis an example of an inclusive love but so often his face seems to radiate joy.  Anyone can see that it is genuine.  So many photos of him smiling and happy to see someone.  Sort of how we hope people react to us; what we hope God’s reaction would be when he sees us.

In the Gospel, Jesus says, “I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and your joy might be complete.”  I picture Pope Francis when I hear those words.

So with all our human weakness, prejudices, selfishness, how can we possibly live up to Jesus’ command to love one another.  We certainly can’t do it on our own.  If so, the world would be a very happy place.  As a wise friend said, we have to be transformed into love.

And the Gospel gives us a clue as to how this might happen.  We are to remain in Jesus’ love.   What does that mean?  Maybe it might mean remain, as in don’t leave the embrace of his love.  But isn’t it so easy to forget to do this in the busyness of our lives?

We need to make time for Jesus – waiting for the bus, walking the dog, in the car during rush hour, first thing in the morning before the day starts.  If we can do this, perhaps we will be more likely to hear the Spirit voice helping us to love, and his wisdom when we are really challenged to love.

And of course we will fail sometimes because we are human.  But we can be reassured that when we do fail, God still loves us – not because we are good but because God is good.