bukas palad

Sharon's Christmas Prayer

2011-12-25T01:32:00.001-05:00

She was five,

sure of the facts,

and recited them

with slow solemnity

convinced every word

was revelation.

She said

they were so poor

they had only peanut butter and jelly sandwiches

to eat

and they went a long way from home

without getting lost. The lady rode

a donkey, the man walked, and the baby

was inside the lady.

They had to stay in a stable

with an ox and an ass (hee-hee)

but the Three Rich Men found them

because a star lited the roof.

Shepherds came and you could

pet the sheep but not feed them.

Then the baby was borned.

And do you know who he was?

Her quarter eyes inflated

to silver dollars.

The baby was God.

And she jumped in the air

whirled around, dove into the sofa

and buried her head under the cushion

which is the only proper response

to the Good News of the Incarnation.

by John Shea, The Hour of the Unexpected

photo: photobucket

Advent 2011: Week 4 - Peace

2011-12-22T19:57:00.000-05:00

For Saturday, 24 December

“In the tender compassion of our God the dawn from on highshall break upon us, to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow ofdeath, and to guide our feet into the way of peace." (Luke 1. 77-78)

All our Advent waiting and preparation climaxes in thismoment: we stand today at the threshold of Christmas. We are here even if ourAdvent journey has been less than it should be, or our spiritual conversionless than we had hoped for. We are here because of God: accompanied here not to simply witness the dawning of God’s tender compassion in Jesus, but graced to live inJesus’ light that dispels darkness, defeats death and guides us intoeverlasting peace with Godself. Today, God's grace turns us away from all thatweighs us down and despairs us to the certain hope Jesus is for us andfor our salvation. Indeed, it is good and right that we be excited, hopeful andeager to rejoice: God’s dawn is coming anew! God is indeed with us!

How are you feeling this Christmas Eve? What excites you?What concerns you? How would you like to entrust these feelings to Jesus, God's gift, to our world?

Look back on your Advent journey. Recall a gift of this timewith God that has sustained nourished and enriched you to this day. Closeyour eyes and savour this gift as God dawning into your life anew. Speak a few wordsof thanksgiving to close this Advent time of prayer.

For Friday, 23 December

When the time arrived for Elizabeth to have her child shegave birth to a son. Her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shownhis great mercy toward her, and they rejoiced with her. (Luke 1.57-58)

People rejoiced with Elizabeth because they were focused onher joy of giving birth, not on their own needs. Their celebration with herechoes God’s self-giving involvement in our lives for our wellbeing andhappiness. Nothing expresses this truth more than God’s self-gift of Jesus wecelebrate at Christmas. Advent, then, prepares us for Christmasself-giving: God's, that we receive, and ours, that we can share. The poor and needy call us to care for them and give them hope. Family and friends invite us to return to our rightful place at the table, and so, make love real. Enemies ask us for forgiveness for a peace of mind that deepens their faith in God's compassion. All of these speak of a grace this season offers us: rejoicing inanother’s happiness, as God rejoices in us through Jesus.

What does God’s self-giving ways mean to you? How have youexperienced God’s self-giving in your life? Would you like to give like Godthis Christmas? To whom will you gift yourself to?

Recall how someone’s generous, self-giving ways made adifference in your life. Savour the goodness, then make aphone call or write a note to thank this person this Christmastime.

For Thursday, 22 December

“God has come to the help of his servant Israel for heremembered his promise of mercy, the promise he made to our fathers, to Abrahamand his children for ever." (Luke 1.54-55)

This line that Mary proclaims speaks of God’s faithfulnessto humankind through the ages. God expresses faithfulness in mercy androots it in love. This reality proclaims who God is and who we are to God. Wecelebrate it most especially at Christmas in the gift of Jesus. Through hislife, death and resurrection, Jesus reveals God’s faithfulness to all peoples:God created us to save us for communion with Godself. The peace of Christmas,then, is Jesus' promise of the fullness of life with God.

How do you feel about God’s faithfulness in your life? Inwhat ways have you experienced God’s fidelity in recent times? What has God's fidelity taught you about yourself?

Think of someone you had let down before. Consider doingsomething for this person this Christmas to express your care and love, your friendship and fidelity.

For Wednesday, 21 December

Mary set out in those days and traveled to the hill countryin haste to a town of Judah,where she entered the house of Zechariah and greetedElizabeth. (Luke 1.39-40)

Today’s Gospel reading invites us to reflect on the phrase“to bear”. Mary bears or carries Jesus in her womb. She also bears, that is,brings Jesus to Elizabeth. Finally, she will bear, as in give birth, to Jesus.These three ways of understanding “to bear” speak of the discipleship Mary modelsfor us in these final days of Advent. She invites us to practise a discipleship that remembers, celebrates and believes. We are called to remember that we already bear Jesus in us because of our baptism. We are missioned tocelebrate that Jesus is our world’s radiant light andabundant life. We are graced to believe that our Christ-like words and actions will givebirth to Jesus in others.

How have you lived God’s call to bear Jesus this Advent? Inthese final Advent days, how can you bear Jesus more generously and more joyfully?Is there someone you should bear Jesus to this Christmas?

Spend some time with Mary. Invite her to teach you how tobear Jesus like she did.

For Tuesday, 20 December

Then the angel said to her, "Do not be afraid,Mary, for you have found favor with God. Behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall name him Jesus". (Luke 1.30-31)

Mary’s obedient and trusting “yes” finds favor with Godbecause she recognizes who God is and what God is asking of her. God’s favoralso witnesses to Mary’s capacity to become the mother of Jesus in spite of heryouth. Like Mary, God invites us daily to do great things to make God morepresent and real in our world. God calls because our human nature is createdgood and ordained to do good. This challenges us to embrace and celebrate thetruth that we have already won God’s favor.

How does it feel to know that God favors you, and yourability to do great things? How do you want to respond to this truth of who Godis and who you are?

Recall an experience when another affirmed and encouragedyou or valued and loved you. Sit with your memories of that experience forawhile. Then, give thanks for the gift that this is in your life.

For Monday, 19 December

The angel said to Zechariah, “Do not be afraid, Zechariah, because your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you shall name him John. And you will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth, for he will be a great in the sight of the Lord” (Luke 1.13-15)

We can have peace that God answers our prayers, and bestows happiness on us. God answers Elizabeth and Zechariah’s prayer for a child with the joyful gift of Elizabeth’s pregnancy. But God’s gift of John the Baptist to them is really for the joy of others; John will draw others to Jesus. We too have had our prayers answered. Whether God has gifted us with spouses or children, with friends or mentors, with success in school or at work, with employment, shelter and food, or, with good health and peace of mind, our joy can be truly celebratory when we share these gifts to delight others.

Do you share the gifts in your life? Are you being invited to do so more generously? How can you share them and bring joy to others?

Consider gifting the gift of yourself to family and friends this Christmas, rather than a material gift. This might be spending more time with another, helping someone in need, or even apologizing to someone you've hurt.

For Sunday, 18 December

Mary said, “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word”. (Luke 1.38)

Saying “yes” is never easy. Whether it is investing in a budding friendship, starting a new job, relocating to a new home, committing to having children or starting over after loss and death, saying “yes” always challenges: we’re being asked to take the road less traveled. Saying “yes” to God’s ways is even tougher: we do not know what God has planned. In today’s Gospel reading, Mary’s “yes” is not a surrender into uncertainty. Rather, she places herself in God’s hands by trusting in God’s promised goodness. She models for us a faith-filled response, one based on God’s faithfulness in her life. This assures her peace: God is in control.

What has God been inviting you to this Advent? How have you responded to this invitation? Is there something more you are being invited to?

Recall a time when you said “yes”, took the road less traveled and that has made all the difference. Savour the goodness of that experience as gift of God.

photo: nancysdailydish.blogspot.com

Advent 2011: Week 3 - Joy

2011-12-15T21:14:00.000-05:00

For Saturday, 17 December

Thus the total number of generations from Abraham to David is fourteen generations; from David to the Babylonian exile, fourteen generations; from the Babylonian exile to the Christ, fourteen generations. (Matthew 1.17)

The genealogy of Jesus explains his ancestral background. More significantly, it reminds us that Jesus received his belief in God through his ancestors. Like Jesus’ forebears, our parents and their parents, our siblings and our relatives, are our first teachers of the faith we have. We, in turn, are called to pass on our faith to our children and our children’s children in time to come. That all of us are called to share and hand on the story of faith in God is the joyful reality of who we are: God's co-partners in helping others come to faith in God.

Who in your family or amongst your friends has taught you about God? What did he or she do to help you grow in relationship with God? How do you feel about God’s gift of this person in your life?

Spend some time considering how you are handing on the Christian faith to others. Ask the Lord for the graces you need to do this joyfully.

For Friday, December 16

Jesus said to the Jews, “…the works that the Father gave me to accomplish, these works that I perform testify on my behalf that the Father has sent me." (John 5.36)

The Gospels record the many works Jesus performed for others: preaching and teaching; healing and miracle making. Through Jesus’ works, God revealed Godself to humankind. This is why Advent points us to the name of Jesus that speaks most eloquently of God loving us so much to become one like us--Emmanuel, God-with-us. This good news is joyful: by becoming one like us, God reminds us of the goodness of our humanity, a goodness God claims as God’s very own.

Do you value the goodness of your humanity? Have you celebrated the wonder that it is, as Jesus who is Emmanuel reveals to us? Can you let God claim your humanity as his very own?

Spend a few minutes in prayer and share with the Lord all that is good about your humanity, as well as those areas needing improvement on. Ask for the graces you need.

For Thursday, 15 December

This is the one about whom Scripture says: “Behold, I amsending my messenger ahead of you, he will prepare your way before you.” (Luke 7.27)

In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus speaks to the crowds aboutJohn the Baptist whose role was to prepare the way for his coming. John didthis by directing his followers’ gaze onto Jesus and making him more present intheir lives. John could not do this, however, without dying to the human needto put self first. Only then could he joyfully make room for Jesus in his ownlife and in the lives of others. This is what John meant when he said, “Jesus must increase while I mustdecrease”.

Do you want Jesus to be morepresent in your life in these last two weeks of Advent? Why so? What can you do to make Jesus more present?

Spend some time meditating on John the Baptist’s line, “Jesus must increase while I must decrease". As you do so, pay attention to how the Lord is meeting in your prayer.

For Wednesday, 14 December

Jesus said to [John the Baptist’s disciples] in reply,"Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind regain theirsight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised,the poor have the good news proclaimed to them." (Luke 7.22)

Today’s good news is the wondrous miracles Jesus does: theyheal; they uplift; they bring life. They manifest God’s saving love forhumankind. The greater wonder is experiencing God in the person of Jesus. Wetoo experience the joy of Jesus laboring for our good in the simple, everyday“miracles” of our life. A parent who makes sure food is on the table. A spousewho forgives. A fellow worker or classmate who smiles. A friend who offers ashoulder to lean on.

What “miracles’ are you most thankful for today? How do theyhelp you experience Jesus’ presence in your life? Can you let yourself savour God's goodness in all of this?

Do a Christ-like act for a stranger or someone you do notreally know.

For Tuesday, 13 December

Jesus said to [the chief priests and the elders of the people], "Amen, I say to you, tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the Kingdom of God before you. When John came to you in the way of righteousness, you did not believe him; but tax collectors and prostitutes did." (Matthew 21.31b-32a)

Jesus calls the Jewish leaders to conversion. He calls them because God wants to share the fullness of divine life with humankind. Today, Jesus is calling us to God too. He calls because we can fool ourselves that everything is alright, and we do not need conversion. The truth is that we are all sinners who are in need of constant conversion. The joy is that God gives us examples in people around us who have changed their lives for God. They model for us a life of conversion.

Is Jesus inviting you to a change of heart and a change of ways? Why is he inviting you? What do you want to do with Jesus’ invitation?

Call to mind someone whose change of life to live in God’s ways can be a model for your on-going conversion. Ask Jesus for the grace to do like this person has.

For Monday, 12 December

Blessed are you who believed that what was spoken to youby the Lord would be fulfilled (Luke1.45)

Elizabeth speaks these lines to Mary who visits her in herpregnancy. They tell us about the depth of Mary’s faith in the Lord: she heardand she believed. Mary’s faith must have inspired Elizabeth and given her joy.It must also have challenged her to deepen her own faith in the Lord.

Whose faith inspires you? Why? How does this person’sfaith in the Lord challenge you? And, what are you doing about this challenge?

Consider a way you can share your faith to inspire anotherperson today.

For Sunday, 11 December

A man named John was sent from God. He came for testimony, to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He was not the light, but came to testify to the light. (John 1.6-8)

John the Baptist’s mission was to point others to Jesus. In doing this, he faced opposition that ended in his death. Yet, his ministry brought joy to those who encountered Jesus: they experienced him as God’s true light in the world.

Have you been a John the Baptist to others at home or at work? Who were these persons? How did you point them to Jesus?

Spend some time asking God for the grace to continue being a John the Baptist.

photo by kjerstin

Advent 2011: Week 2 - Love

2011-12-08T20:29:00.000-05:00

For Saturday, 10 December

The disciples asked Jesus, "Why do the scribes say that Elijah must come first?" He said in reply, "Elijah will indeed come and restore all things; but I tell you that Elijah has already come...." Then the disciples understood that he was speaking to them of John the Baptist. (Matthew 17: 10-13)

The prophet Elijah proclaimed God’s promise to restore the exiled Israelites by sending a Messiah. John the Baptist continued Elijah’s prophetic ministry; he announced Jesus as the Messiah. In our lives, there are family and friends who are God’s prophets; they remind us of God laboring lovingly in our lives and the world for our wellbeing and happiness.

Who are these prophets God has sent into your life? How have they helped you experienced God’s goodness? What does their presence in your life say about who you are to God?

Take time to thank one of these prophets in your life.

For Friday, 9 December

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." But wisdom is vindicated by her works. (Matthew 11.19)

The Lord comes to meet us in the people and events of our lives. Sometimes, his presence in them disturbs us; we experience him in a way that does not fit our expectations. Yet, these moments remain graced: the Lord is present, inviting us to trust and to grow through them. This is how the Lord forms us to be wise.

Recall a time when the Lord’s presence disturbed you. How did you feel? How did you respond? What did you learn from meeting the Lord then?

Surprise someone this weekend in a charitable way that speaks of God’s loving presence.

For Thursday, 8 December

The angel Gabriel was sent from God…to a virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph… and the virgin's name was Mary. And coming to her, he said, "Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you." (Luke 1.26-28)

Mary’s humanity allows us to connect with her. We find in her something of ourselves: a young one growing up; a parent who loves; a person of faith. Today, we see God honoring her when the Angel Gabriel salutes her, saying “Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you.” God hails us too by sending people to affirm our goodness, to celebrate our worthiness, to lift up our humanness.

Imagine the Angel Gabriel coming and saying to you, “Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you”? What moves you most about his greeting? How do you feel that that he recognizes the Lord is with you? Is there a response you’d like to make?

Be God's angel to another by acknowledging her goodness with words that uplift or bless.

For Wednesday, 7 December

Jesus said to the crowds: "Come to me, all you wholabor and are burdened, and I will give you rest." (Matthew 11.28)

The end of the year can be a stressful time for many. Examsto sit for and papers to write. Hoping one’s job is secure and trusting that one’sbank account has enough to feed the kids. Keeping alive in the winter cold and staying safe in the monsoon rains. Presents to buy and cookies to bake for Christmas Day. In the midst of all this, Jesus offers us rest. Rest that will not take away these concerns, nor lessen them. But rest that will allow us to experience, once again, the love of God who is always with us.

What are your labors, burdens and pains today? Do youbelieve Jesus will give you rest? Can you entrust these concerns into his care?

Sit with the Lord in prayer and share your concerns with him.Listen to his response. Rest in his presence.

For Tuesday, 6 December

Jesus said to his disciples: “If a man has a hundred sheep and one of them goes astray, will he not leave the ninety-nine in the hills and go in search of the stray? (Matthew 18.12)

Isn’t it foolish that the man would leave ninety-nine sheep, all that he possesses, to go look for the one who strayed? And why would he search out the stray if it is not as precious to him? This too is how God relates to us, whether in the messiness of our lives or in the comfort we dwell in. God seeks us out because we are God’s beloved, loved not because of our weakness but because we have no other image or likeness but God’s. We are God’s very own.

How about sitting quietly for a few moments, closing your eyes and savoring how precious you are to God? How do you feel? What is God saying about who you really are to Godself?

Seek out someone who is in need of being helped, saved or loved these days.

For Monday, 5 December

Jesus said to the one who was paralyzed, "I say toyou, rise, pick up your stretcher, and go home." He stood up immediatelybefore them, picked up what he had been lying on, and went home, glorifying God (Luke 5.24b-25)

God’s love is a healing love. It restores us to our truest identity, God’s own, as it also restores us to our rightful inheritance, friendship with God. God sent Jesus so that we might experience this love now, even as we await its fullness to come in death. This is the goodness of God’s love the paralytic experienced. He responded by obeying Jesus and glorifying God.

When have you experienced Jesus’ healing? How did yourespond to it? What more could you have done as thanksgiving?

Recall the goodness of someone who helped you heal in a timeof pain or suffering. Offer a prayer for this person’s kindness.

For Sunday, 4 December

John the Baptist appeared in the desert proclaiming abaptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. (Mark 1.4)

John the Baptist’s call to repentance can sound brutallyhonest and harsh. We may not want to hear it, aware as we are of oursinfulness and guilt. But if we dare to listen carefully, we might hear thesoft, assuring words of God’s forgiving and saving love calling us to amend, tomake our lives anew, and to come home to God’s friendship and to relationships withothers.

What are you in need of conversion from? What do you want totransform your life for?

Identify an aspect of your life you would like to improve onthis week.

photo by yain hassan

Advent 2011: Week 1 - Hope

2011-12-02T19:50:00.000-05:00

For Saturday, 3 December

Jesus sent out these Twelveafter instructing them thus, "Go to the lost sheep of the house of Israel”. (Matthew 10.6)

Today’s Advent readings remind us of God’s yearning to be with those far from Godself. The First Reading speaks of God wanting to nourish, heal and guide Israel to fullness of life. The Gospel Reading is about Jesus’ mission of preaching, healing and teaching to help save the lost ones of the house of Israel. It is remarkable that Jesus, the Son of God, sought out twelve disciples to help him accomplish his mission.

Are you helping Jesus to save those who are lost? Who are these lost ones? How are you saving them? Or, are you one of those who needs Jesus to save you? Why so?

Do a kind act for someone who feels lost and forsaken this weekend.

For Friday, 2 December

Jesus said to the blind men,"Do you believe that I can do this?" "Yes, Lord," they saidto him. (Matthew 9.28b)

An Advent image is of a peoplein darkness awaiting God’s radiant light. Painters, writers and composers haveimaged this as in terms of looking out into the dark night to the twinklingstars or the breaking dawn. These blind mean were in the darkness of theirblindness, yet they believed in the promised sight Jesus could restore.Perhaps, this is Jesus’ challenge to us today: “Can you believe in difficulttimes?”

What is the quality of yourbelief in Jesus? Can you really entrust yourself into his care?

Let go and let the Lord care for youthrough another person’s love today.

For Thursday, 1 December

Jesus said to his disciples: "Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the Kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven. (Matthew 7.21)

It is timely that Advent is at the end of the year. From this vantage point, we can look back and take stock, as we can also look forward and plan anew. More significantly, Advent is a spiritual time to evaluate the quality of our relationship with God.

What or whom is the focus of your life today? Is God in it? Or, do you have to refocus to better fix your gaze on God?

Recall your feelings of an experience when you followed God’s will. Savour them.

For Wednesday, 30 November

Jesus said to them,"Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men." At once theyleft their nets and followed him. (Matthew 4.19-20)

Jesus called his disciples to alife they had never imagined. Theirs was now a life of being in intimate friendshipwith him. Through Jesus’ friendship, they learnt to call God, “Father”, and toshare the Father’s love with others. This was the something more they did notexpect when he called them to follow him. Today, Jesus is also calling us tosomething more.

What might this ‘more’ be in yourlife? If you say yes to this ‘more’, what will you have to say no to?

Ask for the grace to say ‘yes’to Jesus' call in your life.

For Tuesday, 29 November

Jesus said, "I give youpraise Father…for although you have hidden these things from the wise and thelearned you have revealed them to the childlike". (Luke 10.21)

The glee of children atChristmas reminds us what a wondrous season it is. For them, everything aboutChristmas is gift. They enjoy because they gladly receive. Their mirth anddelight remind us of Jesus’ words today. He reminds us that we will truly know God whenwe can appreciate that all in life is gift and that all God asks of us is toreceive with grateful hearts.

What do you appreciate aspure gift in your life today? Why is this gift? How do you wish to thank thegiver of this gift?

Delight another with a gift of a word or a deed to brighten her day.

For Monday, 28 November

"Lord, my servant islying at home paralyzed, suffering dreadfully." Jesus said to him, "Iwill come and cure him." (Matthew8.6-7)

Advent is a graced time toreflect on possibilities: possibilities to change our ways and to renew ourlives. This is a time for possible conversion and transformation. We can takefirst steps towards this by trusting in Jesus.Jesus is God's light for us in darkness, God's forgiveness for ourreconciliation and God's love for us to live fully.

In what areas of your life doyou need the Lord’s healing?

Spend some time in prayer askingthe Lord for the healing or conversion you need.

For Sunday, 27 November

Watch, therefore; you do not know when the Lord of the house is coming. (Mark 13.35a)

Advent invites us to look forward to Christmas when we celebrate the truth that God became one like us so that we can become more like God. But Advent also challenges us: we are to participate in -- and not passively await -- God's saving love.

How do you want to prepare spiritually for Christmas? What can you do to keep a better Advent ‘watch’ this year?

Share your Advent preparations with the Lord in prayer.

photo: www.ngtalks.com

Advent 2011: A Time of Waiting

2011-11-25T23:29:00.001-05:00

Our time is a time of waiting; waiting is its specialdestiny. And every time is a time of waiting, a waiting for the breaking in ofeternity. All time runs forward. All time, both history and in personal life,is expectation. Time is itself waiting, waiting not for another time, but forthat which is eternal. (Paul Tillich)

You are invited to come and join us daily on an Advent journey of spiritual reflections here in this space from 27 November to 24 December.

photo: from www.halotis.com

Images of God: Thanksgiving

2011-11-23T12:01:00.001-05:00

It is Sunday morning in the psychiatric ward. Outside, the downtownskyscrapers glisten in the bright morning sunlight. Some of patients, locked inhere for weeks as they recover from addictions and mental illness, file intothe day room. They’ve come for the weekly inter-faith prayer. The newlyappointed hospital chaplain greets them with a nod and a smile. Some wave inacknowledgement. Others pipe a cheery “hello!” Together, they read, reflect andshare a passage on hope. At the end, he announces a Communion service forCatholics. The non-Catholics bid farewell and depart.

She stays behind: a twenty-six year old African-American veteran of theongoing war in Iraq. A patient for a week, she is coming to terms with livingafter a failed suicide attempt. She comes, hesitantly. She asks timidly butwith great faith: “Can I please receive Communion?” The chaplain wonders if she is in a state of grace to receive communion. Her eyes look into his. They are tearing and longing. They are asking him to be priestly--to reach outcompassionately, to love unconditionally, to help her reconcile with God. They are asking him to trust: to trust grace at work.

He sits with all present at this table of the Lord, an ordinary dinningtable. On it, he lays down the pyx containing the consecrated hosts. It restson a handtowel a patient had earlier laid out like a corporal. He welcomes alland prays with them. Then, he gives Holy Communion to each and everyone,including this young lady, saying as he does, “The Body of Christ”.

from my journeys with God's people

photo: one by adsj (st ignatius chapel, seattle university, july 2010)

Images of God: Forgiveness

2011-11-19T16:24:00.001-05:00

With a plate of food and a glass of wine, he joined others from thecompany at the table. All around colleagues and friends were mingling at theThanksgiving dinner. There was a festive air. Amidst the merriment, he noticedtheir boss looking around, his hands empty, his face concerned for theirwellbeing. Caring, he called out to his superior, “Aren’t you going to havesomething to eat.” Looking straight at him, his boss snapped back, “What areyou trying to say? That I’ve not been eating all week?!” He stomped off in ahuff. His outburst surprised the VP of Human Resources who felt misunderstood. All the places were now taken saved one, directly opposite him. Plate inhand, his boss sat there. Still nursing his hurt, the VP wanted to ignore him.But each time he looked up, there was his boss chewing his pork roast in fruit compote. He decided toconsider the man: what he saw was someone under stress; what he remembered washis kindness, particularly, the kindness of one forgiving him his erroneous mistakesas he began in the company. If not for such forgiveness, he would never have survived those times, risen to his present office and enjoyed the goodness of life. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, the VP decided to reach out to his boss. He smiled a hello.

from my journeys with God's people

photo: inside 84, beacon street by adsj (boston, october 2010)

Images of God: Inspiration

2011-11-11T21:59:00.001-05:00

He walked the beach. Tired, dejected, disillusioned. The waves came crashing down, wetting him with every spray. They echoed his inner mood as he plodded on. Plodding to nowhere; just plodding. Interiorly, he felt his world had crashed. The critics panned his latest collection of poems. “Trite,” one lamented. “Hardly the brilliance of his earlier poems,” another judged. “Perhaps, he’s got nothing more to say,” an influential literary journal opined. “Why write poetry?” he grieved. Then, he saw it. Amidst the pebbles and shells, an almost pristine cone shell. He ran towards it like he used to as a kid playing “find the cone” with his Dad on the beach. Like the little boy he once was, he picked it up, held it to his ear and closed his eyes. And he listened. Listened to the sound of the ocean of infinity. Listened to its roar opening up to the silent truth that his poems, his words were never his but God’s creation. Words to render for another in cadence, metaphor and rhyme something of the divine. He looked out to the sea: a few first lines of a poem were cresting in the whites of the blue, blue waves reaching out to him.

photo: from my friend, adrian danker from germany.

Autumn: Putting Things in Perspective

2011-11-09T11:15:00.001-05:00

In Blackwater Woods
by Mary Oliver

Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars

of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,

the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders

of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is

nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned

in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side

is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

photo: children in autumn light by adsj (brighton, massachusetts, november 2011)

Images of God: Clarity

2011-11-06T00:45:00.001-04:00

"A priest told me this story. As a young deacon, he was sent to a parish in London to train for a summer. During his first week working in the parish, he found an old down-and-out man at the back of the church one evening. He was eating a burger and drinking a bottle of Guinness. The correct young priest to be went up to him and informed him that this was a church not a restaurant and asked him to leave. The old man took no notice of him and just continued to babble away to himself. The deacon went later in exasperation to the parish priest. He smiled and said, "Ah, that is David.' Years ago he had come over from Ireland with his young wife and family. He had a great job. They were very happy and had the prospects for a wonderful future. One day a car hit David. He lost his memory totally and could never again remember who he was or recognize his family anymore. He ended up on the street. He made the back this church his shelter during the day. This story changed the young deacon's view of the old man. Over summer he often watched him muttering away to himself at the back of the church. He had a very unusual way of praying. He would kneel into a pew and babble while milling the air with his outstretched hands. The deacon never heard him utter a clear word or a coherent sentence; yet the touching image of this haunted and forsaken man always at prayer at the back of the church began to move him. On his last evening there, he went down and knelt beside the man. He told him that tomorrow he would return to Ireland to finish his study and become a priest. He asked the old man to say something to him about what a priest should be. For one moment the old man focused, looked at him and said: 'The sympathy of God.' It was the only sentence anyone had ever heard him say."

from "Minding the Threshold," by John O'Donohue

photo: church lights by adsj (st patrick's cathedral, new york city, january 2011)

All Saints and All Souls

2011-10-31T22:07:00.000-04:00

Our faith and hope--so often hard to see and to believe in as true--comes alive when we remember the deep love one has shared with us throughout her life, a sharing that has been so selfless, so joyful, so like Christ with us, embodying and revealing God's love.

Which Church saints and ordinary men and women who were saintly inspire you to grow in your faith?
Who among your family and friends are saints to you today? Why so?
How do you wish to remember family and friends who've shared God's love and passed on in these days?

artwork: detail from communion of saints tapestries, by john nava (los angeles cathedral)

Images of God: Sustenance

2011-10-28T14:36:00.001-04:00

The cold autumn wind swept down the narrow downtown street, bringing with it a persistent drizzle. He snugged his tattooed arms deeper into his worn out raincoat to keep warm. “Spare some change, please,” he chimed as the well-heeled couple strode out of the doors towards the nearby Macy’s. They strode by. He looked fit but his shabby, tattered sweater and army fatigues, his unshaven stubble and his few bags of possessions told a different story. Many coming out, now nourished at Eucharist, looked at him; some nodded but moved on briskly. Others crossed the empty street; always an easier route out. He looked into his outstretched hand: not enough. Then, he felt a tug. An older homeless vet halved his sandwich from the nearby 7-11, and nodding, invited him to eat.

from my journeys with God's people

photo: http://oracularcook.files.wordpress.com

Images of God: Presence

2011-10-21T20:17:00.002-04:00

He sought to find God in ordinary daily life. For a long time now, his prayer was dry. Yet, he continued sitting in prayer each morning. Praying with each day's readings and a cup of coffee whilst looking out to dawning morning, he continued to ask for this grace.

One Saturday afternoon, he was preparing a fruit salad for the monthly neighborhood elders’ lunch. He cut up watermelon and cantaloupe. Throwing them into his recently deceased wife’s favourite glass bowl, he added strawberries and blueberries, some pineapple and mandarins. As he sprinkled some sugar and nutmeg and tossed the fruit in a dash of Kahlua, he sensed God standing next to him. Very real; very present. The moment was surprising yet assuring. He looked up; the room was suffused with mid-day light. Life suddenly felt good and bright. He paused and smiled. Then, he continued tossing the fruit.

from my journeys with God's people

photo: cherries by adsj (june, 2010 at 15 avon street, cambridge)

Images of God: Lifeline

2011-10-14T19:43:00.001-04:00

Sheshared about an image of Jesus standing on a brown hill at dusk, rolling out a ribbon. Itfluttered in the wind. She watched, mesmerized by the sight of Jesus rolling out the thin purple line waving, curving and meandering against the orange tinted sunset.Rolling it out copiously to her, even though she stood a long way awaystruggling to take it because of the messiness of her life. Through the barbed prison fences, this is how she would like to see Jesus. He would be smiling and beckoning her. Assured, she would reach out and catch the ribbon. It will feel good in her hands:silky, rich, comforting. She will smile. Jesus will smile too. And they will break into heartfelt giggles and laughter.

from my journeys with God's people

artwork: allfreebrush.com

Praying in Ordinary Time...

2011-10-01T16:53:00.002-04:00

For all of us who arechallenged daily to see anew the better, the good, the beautiful,the divine in one another and in creation.

Next Time

by Mary Oliver

Next time what I'd do is look at

the earth before saying anything. I'd stop

just before going into a house

and be an emperor for a minute

and listen better to the wind

or to the air being still.

When anyone talked to me, whether

blame or praise or just passing time,

I'd watch the face, how the mouth

has to work, and see any strain, any

sign of what lifted the voice.

And for all, I'd know more -- the earth

bracing itself and soaring, the air

finding every leaf and feather over

forest and water, and for every person

the body glowing inside the clothes

like a light.

photo: on the A Train by adsj (manhattan, nyc, july 2011)

Praying in the sun...

2011-09-01T10:11:00.002-04:00

The Summer Day

by Mary Oliver

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean -
the one who who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down -
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly
washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know exactly how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
How to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

With thanks to Brian P, my retreat director, for sharing this.

photo: a summer sunday afternoon by adsj (washington square, nyc, july 2011)

Homily: Widening Our Tents

2011-07-26T21:30:00.010-04:00

Memorial of St Joachim and St Anne,

Parents of the Blessed Virgin Mary

Readings of the Day: Exodus 33.7-11; 34.5b; 28 / Psalm 103.6-13 /Matthew 13.36-43

"The Lord is kind and merciful."

We join with the psalmist of old to proclaim

this truth of who God is this evening.

This truth is expressed in our reading from Exodus

of Moses meeting God in the tent.

Here, in this man-made space,

Moses and the Israelites come to consult God.

But the ironic beauty of this encounter

is that God deigns to dwell in this tent,

conceived in human thought and fashioned with human hands.

Even more delightful is God speaking face to face with Moses,

“as one man speaks to another.”

And in this conversation, God reveals Godself

as “a merciful and gracious God

slow to anger and rich in kindness and fidelity,”

whose goodness extends not only to the Israelites saved

but to all generations to come.

God’s decision to dwell with Israel

enlarges the tent that Moses pitched:

it is not just a place of encounter.

God in kindness transforms limited, human craft

into the boundless sacred ark, God’s dwelling place,

not only for Godself but for humankind to be with God always.

In this place, then, Moses not only comes to know God

but stays with a merciful God who saves humankind

for nothing less than eternal covenant.

“Widening the tent”

can help us better celebrate today’s feast of Joachim and Anne.

We know nothing of them scripturally.

But tradition invites us to meditate on Joachim and Anne,

as God’s faithful people.

In their prayer, charity and fidelity, they call our attention to

God’s quiet invitation that we necessarily widen

the tent of our human faith

to welcome the messianic saving action

of a kind and merciful God into our lives and the world.

But widening our faith-filled lives,

this space where God dwells in you and me,

can only come to be if we dare to heed Jesus’ words

as they are really meant in today’s Gospel,

“Whoever has ears ought to hear.”

What Jesus’ call is is for us to open, expand, broaden ourselves

to and for God, in ways God only wishes.

We who have ears so often claim

that the parable of the weeds and the wheat

is about the good and the evil, the dutiful and the disobedient,

the saved saints and the unsaved sinners.

About two groups of people:

those who will be admitted into

and those who will be cast out

of communion with God.

I’d like to think that Jesus speaks more profoundly about God

who saves all, including ourselves, in kindness and mercy.

I’d like to believe that if Jesus were here,

he would challenge all thus:

listen, hear, understand:
know that each and everyone, including you,
my beloved companions,
are filled with weeds and wheat.
Weeds smother, suffocate,
the wheat from growing to its full potential.
Your weeds diminish
your giftedness to widen the tent of your life and faith
to God and for others,
and in this way, to live to the full.

So, we who have ears cannot help but hear

in today’s readings, a call to pause,

to reflect honestly on, and to grow up from this:

we build our own tents

-- tents communal, political, racial;

-- tents patriarchal and sexual;

-- tents theological.

And yes, there in these spaces, we will indeed find God

for God is always present to us.

But could it be that in these very tents,

shaped by reason, culture and prayer,

God is,

in God’s continuing kindness and mercy,

challenging us to enlarge,

to broaden, to widen even more these spaces

for God to be God,

and for us to be a little more human, and a lot more divine?

This is the final homily I preached to Xavier Jesuit Community this summer.

photo: farmlands by adsj (french countryside; july 2009)

Homily: Saying Yes

2011-07-19T21:13:00.009-04:00

Gospel Reading: Matthew 12: 46-50 (Doing God's Will and becoming part of the family)

It all begins with a 'yes,' doesn’t it?

Hopes come true

when we say 'yes' to making them real.

Human life finds expression and fulfillment

when we say 'yes' to living it fully.

Faith becomes meaningful

when we say 'yes' to service and generosity for others.

And it is indeed a 'yes'

that begins a gift of friendship

and the wonder of relationship that it can become.

Today’s Gospel reading calls

attention to our 'yes' to God.

More than an obedient, dutiful 'yes,'

Matthew invites you and me to reflect on

our 'yes' to relationship with God through friendship with Jesus

and through this 'yes,' on our interactions with others.

Matthew records Jesus speaking of this relationship in familial terms:

to listen to God’s will, he teaches,

helps one become his brother, and sister and mother.

The phrase 'to become' invites us to appreciate

that friendship with Jesus is about transformation:

of a self who can reclaim her rightful inheritance

as God’s good and beloved creation,

of social interactions that can indeed express and live

God’s familial love,

of human living as indeed the child-like glee of just communion

with God and one another.

But how does this transformation take place?

We can find a glimpse of an answer, I’d like to suggest,

in the silent but every present image of Mary in today’s Gospel,

whose 'yes' in the Annunciation is to share in God’s saving life.

Mary’s finite fiat opens her finitude

to God’s unconditional, infinite 'yes'

to realizing the wondrous reality humankind is created to become,

imaged in God’s likeness.

Saying 'yes,' then,

is about opening oneself to another

who can help each of us realize our human potential for the divine

Mary’s 'yes' opened her young self

to God’s Spirit who enters and transforms her into Mother of God,

into bearer of God’s Word,

in herself and to the world.

Sharing life in and bearing God’s Word

is Jesus’ call to his disciples then,

and to us this evening.

For us who call ourselves companions of Jesus,

we come to share in and bear God’s Word

more truly in the small, everyday 'yeses'

we make in our lives and community:

to shadows that invite us to conversion,

to lights that guide, strengthen and enliven our lives and faith,

to times and tides that draw us into closer familial bonds with God and the world.

Friendship with Jesus then transforms our relationship with God

and our interactions with others

because it is a communion of continuing perfection

that God began and we are only asked to cooperate with our 'yeses.'

Dear friends, what 'yes' today have you and I made to become more Jesus’ family?

This is a homily I preached at this evening's Eucharist at Xavier Jesuit Community.

photo: together by adsj (yosemite park, california, june 2010)

Homily: A Benedictine Way of Looking

2011-07-11T19:21:00.021-04:00

Readings: Exodus 1:8-14, 22; Psalm 124: 1b-3, 4-6, 7-8; Matthew 10: 34-11.1

Our help is in the name of the Lord.

We recited this refrain in today’s psalm.
The psalmist composed it to remember
God’s saving action in Israel’s history.
The Israelites heard it in their communal recitation,
and once again, experienced God’s redeeming love in their midst.

To hear God’s Word is also the very first instruction of the Rule,
written by the saint we commemorate today, Benedict.
He writes: “Listen carefully my child
to your master’s precepts and incline the ear of your heart.”

A story is told in Benedictine circles of the importance of listening to God’s word:

One evening, Benedict joined the novice master and his novices for Vespers.
As they recited the Office, there was a knock at the door.
It was faint at first.
The novice master ignored it,
insisting that all focus on worshipping God.
But the knocking grew louder and louder;
it became more insistent.

Unable to ignore anymore,
a young novice got up, went to the door and opened it.
A beggar stood before him. He asked for food.
The novice gave him some.

Upon returning to the chapel,
the novice master berated the young man
for being distracted,
rebellious, unfaithful
to the God who must be worshipped
in chant and word, with bows and incense,
in strict liturgical observance and in holy monastic silence.

Benedict listened. When the novice master was done, he said:
"Good Master, you are right:
we should offer God
our attention and reverance, our praise and worship.
But is it not far better, and more
Christian, to hear the knock of one in need
and to open the doors of our hearts to him?
For who else would knock when we pray but the Lord himself."

Indeed, to hear God knocking is to hear the name of God,
as God wishes to present Godself to us in each moment.

Have we not encountered God whose name is
-- disturbance…
that demands we stop and reflect on God’s challenge or correction?
-- or, sacrifice and love…
that invite us to respond with no other gift but the free gift of ourselves in return?
-- or even, audacity and courage…
that we break the rules so that God’s greater glory can shine through our human presumption and small mindedness?

The young novice, like Benedict, like the psalmist,
heard the name of the Lord.
Each heard him, this Lord,
whose words we too hear in today’s Gospel reading:
Before father and mother, before sibling and friend,
Before all else, I am.

To put the Lord Jesus first --
to put on his intimate love for the Father
and to put the Spirit of this Love for others
-- before self is what saves.
It saved the young novice:
from a pious but unlived faith,
from rule-bound religious observances,
from self-righteousness,
to the liberating, expansive communion
of daily sharing life and faith in God with others.

And Benedict, joyful at seeing this, would have,
I imagine, cried out with the psalmist,
"Our help is indeed in the name of the Lord."

Dear friends, how have you heard the Lord’s name today? How has he been your help?

This is a homily I preached today on the Feast of St Benedict at our weekday Mass in Xavier Jesuit Community.

photo: alone by adsj (east 21st street, new york city; july 2011)

Homily: Looking

2011-06-25T19:40:00.007-04:00

Gospel Reading: Matthew 7: 1-5 (The splinter in my brother’s eye; the wooden beam in mine)

We all want to be known for our goodness. To have others

judge our actions good,

value our good character,

praise our good self.

Often, when we experience this, we celebrate the goodness of our being human.

But we are sometimes less than human in our interactions with others.

When we judge another unworthy, we deny his personhood.

When we judge another’s actions to be suspect, we reject her goodness.

When we judge others for their faults, failings and sins, we condemn them as inhuman.

Today’s Gospel reading is traditionally understood to be about hypocrisy.

About how we judge others for their sins, when we ourselves are sinners.

Jesus calls his disciples and us

to stop seeing the splinters in another’s eye

while forgetting the wooden beams in ours.

I’d like to think that Jesus calls us to do this

so that we can more clearly see,

more honestly appreciate,

that the other whom we judge is as good as we are in our sinfulness.

Perhaps, what Jesus also calls us to today

is to more honestly appreciate the sum of all our parts, that is,

the humanness of my brothers and sisters and the humanness of myself.

When we look at another and judge him bad, deviant, other,

we fixate ourselves on individual moments

of difference, of contradiction, of dismay, of disappointment.

What Jesus calls us to in today’s Gospel reading

is to remember that each of us is a complex mix

of good and bad,

of words that inspire another and mouths that put down one we dislike,

of hearts that uplift another and hands that tear down the other’s dignity.

And this is the ironic beauty of who you and I really are.

This is the same beauty God sees in us.

Jesus teaches us that God does see the flawed, the weak and the sinful selves that we are.

But God also sees the goodness, the kindness and the graciousness that we are too.

More significantly, God sees the hopeful promise in each of us to become better.

This is the glint in our humanity that seizes God’s gaze.

What God sees in this is the human potential to transcend our lesser selves.

That Jesus reaches out

to save the adulterous woman,

to include Matthew the tax collector among his disciples,

to forgive Peter for his betrayal

speaks of God’s enchantment with humankind.

God’s enchantment is rooted in God’s faith in human goodness

and in the human capacity to realize this goodness

both in our lives and in the lives of others.

And so, we might want to reflect today

not only on Jesus' call to each one of us to stop being the hypocrite

but also on the saving grace

that we can challenge another when we are prepared to appreciate

that who my brother and sister are

is nothing less than the totality of their being fully human,

that tapestry of lights and shadows,

so exquisite, so human, and so much the human life

God has chosen as God’s beloved own.

This is a homily I preached at our weekday Mass in Xavier Jesuit Community on 20 June 2011.

photo: looking by adsj (paris, july 2009)

Cartography: the grace of place

2011-05-29T09:52:00.007-04:00

The Empire State Building. Everywhere you go in New York City, you will see it. You can’t miss its distinct shape and pinnacle, especially at night when it is illuminated in red, white and blue lights for this Memorial Day weekend. It is NYC’s focal point. For many a New Yorker, the Empire State Building is their reference point. It orientates them: it gives them a sense of rootedness and a sense of place. One knows where one is in NYC in relation to this iconic building.

This is a lesson I learned in this first week of living and working in NYC. Whenever I wandered into a new neighborhood that I’d not walked through before, like TriBeCa and NoHo, or even in places I’ve come to know like Gramercy and Midtown, and I sensed I was lost, I simply had to look up to see the Empire State to know where I was. Then, knowing my place in relation to it, I found my way back home. A friend describes this assuring sense the Empire State Building offers as the grace of place.

This is what cartography can also be about: the grace of helping ancient mariners, local residents and modern day holiday makers to know where they are, to get from point A to point B and to find direction when lost. It is the grace of being saved and feeling safe. This prompted me to reflect on Christian cartography: what would it look like and how would it be for us to map and chart our lives with Jesus as our focal point? How would such a cartography orientate or make a difference in the way Christians navigate through life and do ministry and service?

I don’t have any definitive answers for this is a work in progress. Perhaps, my continuing walks around NYC will enlighten me. But for now, these are some thoughts to share. If you and I confess belief in Jesus as our way, our truth and our life to and in God, then, we might want to spend some time to re-look at our Christian landscape of faith and life, and ask ourselves: What is my relationship to Jesus as I go about life? Is he my focal point? Do I take him as my reference in my daily relationships with God and others in ways that give life, build communion and do no harm?

Whatever our answers are to these questions, the lesson of being on the streets in New York City and looking up to see the Empire State Building offers us an insight into bringing a Christian cartography to life. Amidst the realities of our lives, we need only lift up our faith-filled gazes--and those we minister to and live life with--to better see that Jesus is not only with us but that he gives us the grace of our place with God and one another: we are all always in God’s gracious and saving relationship.

Photo taken at the corner of 5th Avenue and 23rd Street, Manhattan, NYC, by adsj

"All beginnings are hard"

2011-05-16T21:02:00.008-04:00

“All beginnings are hard.
I can remember hearing my mother murmur those words while I lay in bed with fever. ‘Children are often sick, darling. That’s the way it is, with children. All beginnings are hard. You’ll be all right soon.’
I remember bursting into tears one evening because a passage of Bible commentary had proved too difficult for me to understand. I was about nice years old at the time. ‘You want to understand everything immediately?’ my father said. ‘Just like that? You only began to study this commentary last week. All beginnings are hard. You have to work at the job of studying. Go over it again and again.’
The man who later guided me in my studies would welcome me warmly into his apartment and, when we sat at his desk, say to me in his gentle voice, ‘Be patient, David. The midrash says, ‘All beginnings are hard.’ You cannot swallow all the world at one time.’
I say this to myself today when I stand before a new class at the beginning of a school year or am about to start a new book or research paper. All beginnings are hard. Teaching the way I do is particularly hard, for I touch the raw nerves of faith, the beginning of all things. Often students are shaken. I say to them what was said to me: ‘Be patient. You are learning in a new way of understanding the Bible. All beginnings are hard.’ And sometimes, I add what I have learned on my own: ‘Especially a beginning you make by yourself. That’s the hardest beginning of all.’”

Chaim Potok, In the Beginning

photo: land and sky, at sedalia, colorado, august 2010 by adsj

Easter: All it took was a minute...

2011-04-24T00:43:00.005-04:00

What if it took a minute of assurance to free one from death-like fear? Of peace to soothe the unbearable pain of death? Of clarity to pierce the numbing confusion of loss?

These could have possibly been some of the experiences felt that first Easter morning. They might have been for the women who went to the tomb: hearing the Angel proclaimed Jesus’ resurrection, it took them a few moments to realize this truth, and fearful yet overjoyed, they ran to announce this to the apostles. These could also have been Mary Magdalene’s: she admonished the gardener for Jesus’ missing body but upon hearing him call her name paused only to sense his reverberating voice within her to be that of the Risen Jesus greeting her. And, truly, they must have been John’s experiences as he ran with Peter to the empty tomb, looked in, saw Jesus’ burial shroud folded up, and, taking a deep breath, believed.

And what if all it takes this Easter is just a minute for you and me--amidst our Easter liturgies and celebrations-- to see anew what is the unimaginable? To recognize hope alive when all is despaired? To believe again when having faith seems so hard to do?

Perhaps, then, by pausing a bit, closing our eyes and keeping silent, we can savour…really, really savour...the joyful truth of what we celebrate this Easter Day: Christ has risen; He has redeemed us with God's favor!

A Blessed Easter to one and all!

artwork: empty tomb by barbara adams

Lent: And they spread their cloaks...

2011-04-17T13:42:00.009-04:00

Many a Palm Sunday Mass would have began this weekend with the Procession of Palms, which included a reading of Matthew 21.1-11. This passage describes the crowds jubilantly welcoming Jesus into Jerusalem by waving palms and taking off their cloaks to spread them on the road before the donkey Jesus rode on to enter the city.

For the poor among the crowd, a cloak would have been an expensive item to own. If they had one, it would probably have been a prized possession, clothing and protecting them in their poverty and vulnerability. But their cloaks are expensive in another sense: it gave them wellbeing and dignity.

The action of taking off their own cloaks and spreading them on the ground to welcome Jesus speaks to me of their generosity to give of their best--not just their garments but their whole selves to one who is coming to give them his most prized possession--his life so that they might have life in God. And so, I ask myself, “What about me? What cloak have I offered this Lent to welcome Jesus who saved us once, and still saves all, from sin and death?”

Looking back on Lent, I’ve to confess that as much as I have tried my best to fast, pray and share, I have held back a part of myself, cocooning it in the safe, secure and comfortable folds of my cloak. Indeed, I could have done better. Perhaps, it is time to unfasten my cloak and to lay it down totally, like the poor challenge me to do today. Would this be your Lenten experience too?

This coming Holy Week climaxes in our celebrations of Jesus’ death and resurrection. The beauty of the Paschal Mystery we will celebrate is its affirmation that God still gives the very the best of Godself--without cost or concern and in spite of our Lenten shortcomings--to us. And so, we can take heart that the invitation Lent began with is still God’s gift for us to rejoice in: to open ourselves and enter more deeply into the selfless love of God-who-is-for-us, loving us into fullness of life as only God-who-is-with-us on the Cross can.

Of Gods and Men

2011-04-15T22:35:00.008-04:00

Xavier Beauvois' film, Of Gods and Men, tells the story of eight French Christian monks who live in harmony with their Muslim neighbours in a monastery perched in the mountains of North Africa in the 1990s. When Islamic fundamentalists begin to terrorize the region, the monks are faced with the question of departing to safety or staying with the people they care for only to face possible death. This film is loosely based on the life of the Cistercian monks of Tibhirine in Algeria, from 1993 until their kidnapping and death in 1996.

As I watched it this evening, these cherished words from Karl Rahner's You are the Silence came to mind:

Then you will be the last word, the only word that lasts, never to be forgotten. Then, when in death all things will fall silent, and I will have finished learning and suffering, there will begin that great silence, where you alone will speak, the Word from eternity to eternity. Then will cease all human speaking; to be and to know, to know and to experience, will have become the same thing. I will know as I am known, I will sense what you have said to me: yourself. No human word, no idea, will stand between you and me. You yourself will be the only word of jubilation, of love and of life, which fills every corner of my soul.

Lent: Space for Grace

2011-03-30T08:47:00.005-04:00

A painful experience many of us have is facing and accepting emptiness in our lives.

I have been reflecting on this in recent days. Several incidents have led me here. Watching fellow Jesuits grapple with deaths of loved ones and Jesuit brothers. Accompanying a good friend in her struggles to come to terms with a friendship she hopes for but will never be. And, as I leafed through memories, recalling places lived and faces known that I have departed from in my life’s journey.

When emptiness stares us in the face, we often look for other distractions to fill it up with. Sometimes, we deny it is part of our living and we banish it away to the darkest corner of our forgetfulness. Truth be told, we would rather keep running away from it.

Yet, Lent asks us to enter emptiness. Accidents, events nor others create this. Rather, it is God. If we listen carefully to our Lenten readings, we will hear God calling us to rend open our hearts and to enter them. If we do so, we might find an emptiness. An emptiness of a hurt not forgiven. Of a falsity that is not our true selves. Of promising beginnings squandered.

I think many of us hesitate to enter this space. I know I do, now and again. We recoil from entering it because we know that there we will have to acknowledge our regrets and faults, even confess parts of ourselves that are dark, sad and embarrassing. Some of us fear being swallowed up by the emptiness, while others experience it as an ache that cries out to be understood and comforted.

Lent presents you and me with time and reason to retreat into our hearts. There, we can prayerfully contemplate the emptiness within. As we reflect on our struggles with it, so often fixated on self--on how good or bad I am; on how much I am a success or a failure--we will surprisingly find ourselves having stepped into an opening, like a clearing in the woods. And then, we will perceive this truth: here, always with us, is God. God who comforts my Jesuit brothers in their loss with promised new life and communion for all. God who is guiding my friend through her pain to greater freedom. God who taught me that partings are not ends but necessary beginnings to grow up from. God who is ever faithful and never abandons.

Thus, Lenten prayer, like Lenten fasting and almsgiving, can remind us of our liberating dependence on God. As such, this emptiness cannot be a void. Rather, it is the necessary space for grace. In this grace-filled place, we come to see who God is and who we truly are. This entitles us to reclaim, once again, our rightful inheritance, communion with God. Lent invites us into the desert of our hearts not to experience barrenness but to savor God faithfully reclaiming us into loving intimacy.

Perhaps, this is why running away from emptiness is not as life-giving as embracing it. Honestly, this is never easy to do, but taking first steps this Lent can lead us there.

photo: tree at the trappist monastery, spencer, massachusetts by adsj

Of Songs and God

2011-03-19T22:44:00.007-04:00

Have you had an experience of listening to a song over and over again? Finding it enlivening you? Finding it inviting you to deeper reflection? Finding it pointing you back to the memory of a face or a place, be it happy or sad?

Adele’s Rolling in the Deep has been playing on my iPod of late. Its lyrics speak of the human heart. Its notes beat an infectious danceable rhythm. Her rich, melodious voice captures the song’s cadences. It’s a joy to listen to. But more than this, it sings to me of friendship, gifted as it is by good friend with whom I share music and theology, faith and Jesuit life with.

As I walked to and from school listening to it now and again, I wondered about the place of songs in our lives. In particular, about how sharing songs in friendship can lead us to the surprising gift of encountering God anew. How can this be?

In the Old Testament, prophets and psalmists used lamentations and psalms to invite the Israelites to hear and remember God’s faithful goodness. The Israelites collected and used them in communal liturgy to celebrate God’s love in their midst, especially in times of oppression, suffering and exile. In their listening to and singing these songs, they also found inspired hope in God’s promised future salvation to carry on living.

The Gospels, on the other hand, record no songs sung by Jesus or his disciples. It does however speak of Jesus attending a wedding feast, where there would have been music to enjoy, to sing along with and to dance to. For me, this image of festivity expresses God’s unfailing delight in and loving concern for humankind through Jesus’ words and deeds. In forgiving, healing and uplifting the poor, the broken and the sinful, Jesus was God’s living song the Jews not only heard but witnessed it sung. As Christians, we see in Jesus God loving us too for what we are, God’s own, and not for who we think we have to become to please God.

Indeed, hearing and seeing are ways to encounter God. I believe these are how songs shared among friends can also lead us into deeper friendship with God.

When a friend shares a song, we don’t just hear the music or lyrics: we see the person. A song shared can speak of a friend's infectious delight with life; and do we not find ourselves rejoicing, laughing and singing along with her too? Also, who amongst us is not touched by a song that gives voice to a friend’s pain or hurt, and with which we accompany him by echoing compassionately his refrain for hope? Indeed, when friends share songs, they share more than a melody: they share themselves. For songs shared among friends tell us a little bit more about each other, as it also continues composing their friendship. In a song shared, then, the real present is each other’s presence.

But this sharing is not just human; it is traced with the divine. In sharing self, in giving up a little more of our innermost, private selves to become a little more public and more present to each other, we act in God’s likeness: generosity of self. Freely and lovingly, we too empty ourselves, like God once did, to come to one another as Jesus showed in hopeful trust to be friend, and so, share life and faith.

And can it not be that in this generosity we meet God a little more clearly and surely in our sharing songs?

photo from futurenextlevel.blogspot.com

Lent: Ashes

2011-03-12T22:40:00.002-05:00

Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.

With these words, priests and lay ministers signed many a forehead with ashes on Ash Wednesday, which began Lent last week. We, Christians, understand Lent as a graced time: it calls us to conversion. To turn away from sinful ways of living that diminish our dignity and scar our wellbeing and to live life more fully in God and with one another. Lent invites us then to live as we are created for.

But who are we to live life? The ashes we were signed with can help us answer this question. They speak of our roots: out of dust, out of the worthless nothingness, God fashioned with great love and in deep reverence the splendor of creation, humankind. They express the reality of God loving us into existence for no other purpose than to live life joyfully with God and one another.

These ashes express more, however. Signed on our foreheads in the form of the cross they are transformed: they are not nothingness, as they are redeemed preciousness. God creating us out of nothingness is God seeing in its dust and ashes the inestimable beauty of what our humanity is, the finite form of God’s infinite Love. This is who you and I are called to become more really in Lent and why we can live fully.

Thus, the cross of ashes on our foreheads at Lent's beginning must remind us that God birthed us into existence for life, not death. Our Lenten prayer, fast and almsgiving are to help us remember, celebrate and believe in this truth of Christian faith: God created us to save us, not condemned us.

Lent directs our gaze to the Cross that expresses this truth most visibly. There hanging on its wooden beams is one like us whose faithful love of God and compassionate love for humankind so pleased God that God raised him from the dead. Jesus on the Cross is the fullness that humanity can become: totally self-giving love. Jesus raised from the dead is what human self-giving love is destined for: communion with God and one another. Both speak of the fullness of Beauty, that is always human and divine: God loved us into living and we can live God in our loving.

This is the hope-filled reality of being human and believing in God the Church invites us to reflect on in Lent. Indeed, this is the reason Lent can be our joyful season.

Have a blessed Lent, my friends.

photo: the herald, malaysia

Christmas Greetings

2010-12-24T00:34:00.003-05:00

On the Mystery of the Incarnation

It's when we face for a moment

the worst our kind can do, and shudder to know

the taint in our own selves, that awe

cracks the mind's shell and enters the heart:

not to a flower, not to a dolphin,

to no innocent form

but to this creature vainly sure

it and no other god-like, God

(out of compassion for our ugly

failure to evolve) entrusts,

as guest, as brother,

the Word.

Denise Levertov

painting: newborn king by dan freed

Homily: Can We See? (4th Sunday of Advent)

2010-12-20T09:29:00.011-05:00

Gospel Reading: Matthew 1.18-25 (Joseph Takes Mary as His Wife)

As a little boy, waiting eagerly for Christmas to come,
I would often listen to a Christmas carol with these lines:
Said the night wind to the little lamb, do you see what I see?
Way up in the sky, little lamb, do you see what I see?

What do we see? How do we see?

I’d like to think that Advent invites to see anew,
To see what we ordinarily take for granted, or what we don’t really want to see.
After all, Advent is really a time preparing us to see Jesus at Christmas,
to see not his physical birth that was 2000 years ago, or his coming in glory as the Risen Lord,
but to see the goodness of Jesus in our lives today, and to celebrate this.

When I arrived at the School of Theology and Ministry for the first time,
I found myself seated with others in a circle and introducing ourselves.
As we did so, I found myself looking at my fellow classmates:
some of us, the lay faithful, preparing to become lay ministers;
the rest of us, Jesuits, Redemptorists and Capuchins, preparing for ordination.

As I looked at them, I asked myself,

who or what am I really looking at?
Am I looking at how different or similar they are to me?
Am I looking at another who can be a friend?
Or worse, am I screening out possible competitors?
Is my gaze fixating him into the saint’s role because he appears holy,
Or is my gaze discriminating her because her more progressive views?

Do you, like me, sometimes find yourselves,
looking at another only to label him as this or that kind of person?
To be honest, we all do. It is part of human nature.

St Joseph did that too. In today’s Gospel, he looked at Mary.
He did not see the young girl he was engaged to
and expecting to love, to marry, to have a family with.
He saw instead a pregnant woman,
whose pregnancy raised more confusion and questions
His human gaze fixated her as unfaithful, ungodly, sinful.
To Joseph, pregnant Mary was not worthy to be his wife.
He felt it was better to quietly divorced her, put her aside, cast her out of his life.

If we are honest, we are sometimes like Joseph:
We look at others and cast them aside when they do not fit
our expectations of who and what a person should be. So, we might
distance ourselves from immigrants with foreign tongues and foreign ways,
condemned the vagrants and beggars as good-for-nothing and do little to lift them up,
debase the uneducated thinking they are fit only for demeaning work.

Like Joseph, we would rather set ourselves apart from these lesser ones.
Have nothing to do with them. Let them fend for themselves.
They are they; I am me.
We build fences between us because this makes for good neighbors.

When we do this, however, we misuse the gift of vision, the gift to look.
It is gift because our eyes are made to see another’s goodness,
not her shortcomings or his sinfulness, as we are prone to do.
To be made in God’s image and likeness is to see the world with God’s loving eyes.

Joseph’s eyes could not see Mary as she really is: one created for God, one bearing Godself.
Our eyes that fixate the lesser amongst us do not see them as they are: God’s own.
What Joseph and we need is “to see anew.”

Joseph learns to see again by listening to the angel in his dream.
The angel speaks the truth of Mary’s pregnancy.
Only then does Joseph see Mary anew:
“Behold the virgin shall be with child and bear a son, and they shall call him Emmanuel.”

What about us? Can we see God in the excluded, the discriminated, the oppressed? How so?
I believe we can. We can by following Joseph’s example.
He teaches us not to see what is before us but who is before us, one destined for God.
Mary was not just a pregnant girl who seemed to have betrayed their engagement.
She was pregnant with God.

When we join Joseph and look at the excluded, the discriminated, the oppressed
—the pregnant Marys in this world—we will find God-with-them.
Like Mary, they bear God.

They bear God in their pains and suffering, in their dreams and hopes.
Like Mary, they bear God to us, the Josephs with limited vision.

The Gospel is silent about what Joseph said to Mary after the dream.
All Matthew tells us is that Joseph took Mary into his home.
Where words are silent, actions speak.

Joseph speaks to Mary with his touch.

He welcomes, affirms and honours her with his embrace.
If we are moved by this intimacy Joseph has for Mary,
it is because we know that touch speaks more than words
of God’s compassion, forgiveness and restoration.

Touch reminds us we are valuable and valued by another, and by God.
Joseph’s vocabulary of touch, of caring for Mary, can also be the visible language
of our looking at the lesser in our world.
Our seeing them as God’s own finds expression

when we reach out and touch them in respect and concern to life them up.

Today’s Gospel’s challenges us with this reality
as we continue our Christmas preparations:
Advent is as good a time as any, if not the best time,
to look more honestly and with greater compassion at:

-- the homeless, God’s creation, on our streets.
who we can bring warm meals and safe shelter to.

--the sexually different, God’s beloved, who are family and friends,
we can invite to feast, to sing, to laugh, to be one with us at the Christmas meal.

-- the criminals, whom God forgives and forgives, locked away,
but whom we can visit and clothe them with Christmas cheer.

-- the poor and the unemployed, the lowly God will always lift up,
who hope for a Christmas miracle that we can make real with our care and generosity.

May be on this Fourth Sunday of Advent,
you and I are being challenged to be like Joseph,
to look at the Marys in our lives who ask us this Christmas:
“Who am I really to you?” “Can you care for me, please?”

Advent 2010: To Jesus Through Mary (4)

2010-12-19T22:31:00.003-05:00

We have come to the final week of our Advent prayer slides for this year. We invite you in this final set of slides to enjoy the joyful expectation of Jesus' coming at Christmastime.

More PowerPoint presentations from adriandankersj

As with previous prayer slides, begin by clicking on the arrow in the middle of the slide above. Then, enlarge the slide by clicking on the small rectangle to the right of the bar below the slides. Use the arrow keys on bottom left hand corner of the bar or your mouse to help you move through the slides.

May this final set of prayer slides be your joy this final week of Advent.

Advent 2010: To Jesus Through Mary (3)

2010-12-13T17:10:00.004-05:00

This week we continue with our third set of slides to pray for Jesus' coming this Christmas.

See more presentations by adriansj | Upload your own PowerPoint presentations

As before, you may begin your prayer by clicking on the arrow in the middle of the slide above. Then, enlarge the screen by clicking on the square box at the bottom right of the bar below the artwork. You may use the either the arrows on the bar (to your left) or your mouse to move through the prayer slides.

May this time of prayer remind you how wondrous it is to be loved by God.

Advent 2010: To Jesus Through Mary (2)

2010-12-05T07:32:00.003-05:00

We continue with our second set of guided prayer slides our Advent contemplation, "To Jesus Through Mary."

See more presentations by adriansj Upload your own PowerPoint presentations

We invite you to begin praying by enlarging the screen. You can do this by clicking on the rectangle in the bar below the painting above. When you are in full screen mode, use either the arrows in the bar at the bottom of the full screen or your mouse help you move along.

Take your time to pray. Follow God's Spirit that moves within you. May your time with the Lord remind you of God's Peace, Jesus.

Homily: The Road Less Traveled (2nd Sunday of Advent)

2010-12-04T20:51:00.017-05:00

Gospel Reading: Matthew 3:1-12 (Prepare the way of the Lord)

Two roads diverged in a wood, and

I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made the difference.

Do you remember a road that you walked down before,

a road that made a difference in your life?

Perhaps, it was

a road in the woods you took -- like Robert Frost whose lines I quoted -– one that led to a surprising discovery.

Or, it was a road to that first day at school or to a new workplace, and with it, a hopeful beginning.

Or, it might have been the road to new friendship marked by love and laughter,

or marriage, with the happiness of a new life shared.

May be, you are looking ahead to 2011 and hoping to take new roads in your life:

from suburban Burlington to exotic Singapore;

from economic uncertainty to steady income.

New roads from suffering to healing, from hatred to forgiveness,

from a year that hasn't been great to the hope of a brighter new year in 2012.

The road we take and walk on.

The road that gets us from here to there.

The road. This is the image today’s gospel invites us to ponder on.

John the Baptist cries out,

Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths.

This way, these paths are

the road Jesus takes to meet us.

They can also be our Advent road to Jesus.

What kind of a road will this be?

We have a clue in John the Baptist’s call to repentance.

John the Baptist challenged all he called

to repent, to have a change of heart,

to walk the straight and narrow path that leads to Jesus

who will come to baptize with the Holy Spirit.

Jesus who is “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace" (Isaiah 9:6).

He who is the long awaited Messiah,

God's Word made flesh and splendor of the Father.

Jesus who comes to save us

and to bring us into God's marvelous light.

John the Baptist’s message of repentance is difficult to hear;

they confront; they challenge; they call his hearers to make their lives right.

He calls them, and us, to nothing less than taking and walking the road less traveled to God.

But his words are hope-filled.

The road to Jesus is the road to peace.

A peace in which opposites unite, differences are reconciled.

As the Prophet Isaiah tells us in today's First Reading

this is an extravagant peace where

“the wolf and the lamb together eat,”

“the leopard and the kid lie down side by side,”

“the calf, the young lion and the little child play.”

With three more weeks to go before Christmas,

John the Baptist’s challenge is timely for all of us,

and perhaps, necessary for some of us.

He is inviting us to pause and to ask ourselves,

“What is the quality of my Advent journey, my preparation for Christmas, the road I am taking to meet Jesus?

Am I too fixated on shopping for presents and gifts?

Am I too preoccupied with baking cookies and gathering ingredients for the Christmas meal?

Am I simply wallowing in the feel-good Christmas lights and carols I see and hear?

Or, am I not even bothered that Jesus comes to meet me this Christmas time?

If we are honest, we might recognize in John the Baptist’ message God's voice:

inviting us to change our lives,

to take the road less traveled this Advent.

How can we begin to walk this road?

We can start by re-imaging Advent anew.

More than preparing for Christmas festivities and merrymaking,

this is the season of joyful expectation:

the joyful expectation of coming home.

To prepare the way for the Lord

is to prepare for Jesus’ coming home,

coming home to the one place God wants to be --

with you and me, in us and among us.

Jesus, Emmanuel, God-with-us, is coming home.

He is coming home to us by doing something so inconceivable of God:

by emptying himself of his majesty and might to become one like us, human.

And Jesus does this by taking the road less traveled.

And now, we are being invited to take a road less traveled to meet him.

I believe all of us here look eagerly with hope to Christmas,

to Jesus’ coming, to his radiant light dispelling the darkness in our lives.

We can do this because we know Jesus has come,

and we believe Jesus will come.

We know and we believe because we experience Jesus in our everyday life:

in our laughter as the goodness of life;

in our tears as consoling comfort;

in our pain as healing balm;

in our mistakes as words and embrace of forgiveness.

We have these experiences of Jesus through our family and friends.

Indeed, these make our exclamation of reliving again Jesus' birth at Christmas a joyful song like Simeon's:

“My eyes have seen the salvation of our God.”

Now, if the gift we wake up to on Christmas morning

as we're snuggled up in our warm beds, with snow falling around us and the first yawns of our family waking us up,

is Jesus, God's most wondrous gift:

is it not worth then for you and me

to take a walk this Advent to Jesus by transforming our lives?

And wouldn't our first steps be to take the road less traveled?

photo by d l ennis

This homily was preached earlier today at the Vigil Mass for the Second Sunday of Advent at St Malachy Parish, Burlington, Massachusetts.

Advent 2010: To Jesus Through Mary (1)

2010-11-27T21:55:00.015-05:00

Today we begin Advent, a time when Christians look forward in hope to Jesus' coming at Christmas. In these weeks of Christmas, I invite you to a time of prayer and reflection using prayer slides that will be uploaded to this blog each Sunday of Advent. Our theme for this year's prayer is "To Jesus Through Mary."

Below you will find the slides for this First Sunday of Advent.

See more presentations by adriansj | Upload your own PowerPoint presentations

To begin your prayer, click on the arrow in the middle of the prayer slide above. Then, click on the rightmost box at the bottom of the slide to enlarge the slide. Use the arrows on the left-hand side of the bar below the prayer slide to navigate yourself through the prayer.

Do remember that this is your time with God in prayer. Allow God's Spirit to move you onward through the slides. If you find yourself pausing at a word, a phrase or an image, stay with this for awhile. God is meeting you there. Spend some time with God.

May your prayer today be blessed and holy.

Homily: Staying

2010-11-05T23:47:00.006-04:00

Gospel Reading: Luke 19:1-10 (Zacchaeus)

Do you remember

when your classmate or workmate became your best friend?

when your date blossomed into the friend you married for life?

when someone everybody disliked reached out and you responded in friendship?

Perhaps, that moment happened over a meal:

Mom’s packed lunch in the canteen;

that first dinner with the in-laws;

a doughnut and coffee at Starbucks.

As you ate together, you probably let down your guard,

became comfortable being yourselves,

sharing more and more

who you each really are, what you truly think and feel.

Honestly. Acceptingly. Joyfully.

Indeed, inviting someone to the table to eat with you

can be that defining moment when

a stranger becomes a friend,

a face in the crowd becomes a name on our lips,

a nobody becomes somebody we cherish.

What we see here with eyes of faith is transformation:

ordinary interaction becomes relationships that matter,

friendships that love.

This is the image Luke invites you and me to reflect on in today’s gospel.

Jesus and Zacchaeus feasting together.

They feast together

not as rabbi and tax collector,

not as holy and sinful,

but as friends,

as the Son of God in friendship with a son of man and woman.

How does their friendship come to be?

In Jesus inviting and Zacchaeus accepting.

Jesus enters Jericho, into Zachaeus’everyday life.

And meeting Zacchaeus there, Jesus invites himself to Zacchaeus’ home

Zacchaeus accepts, and Jesus comes and stays with him.

Jesus enters; Jesus comes; Jesus stays.

Isn’t this how Jesus also meets us in friendship?

Entering into our lives

into our laughter to laugh with us

and into our grief to grieve with us?

Coming into our lives

to heal us in our suffering with life-giving words?

to teach us when we are lost with his Godly life?

Why does Jesus come in friendship

to someone like Zacchaeus, much despised by the Jews for being a tax collector?

to some like you and me who strive to be God’s holy people,

yet disappoint God and ourselves with our less than holy human lives?

Perhaps, he comes because he hears the truth

of who God really is in his life and for our lives.

We hear this same truth in the Book of Wisdom we read earlier:

For you, God, love all things that are and loathe nothing you have made (Wisdom 11: 24).

I believe this is the reason Jesus reaches out in friendship:

to remind us that God made us good and to help us live the good life with God.

This is the reason Jesus enters and comes,

but, more importantly, the reason he stays with us.

Jesus stays with us in God’s love…

in God’s love that seeks us out in our sinfulness

that embraces back us, again and again, into in his forgiving love,

that brings us home into his divine life.

Here, we are at home:

we have entered into God’s home; we have come into God’s presence.

As we enter and come to Mass today,

we too are taking those steps Jesus makes in forging friendship.

With our steps, we enter into God’s friendship through Jesus;

we come to God in Jesus’ Spirit.

Zaccaheus took these steps too.

Hearing Jesus’ invitation, he welcomed Jesus’ friendship.

Jesus with him; Jesus transforming him; Jesus helping him to repent and save his life.

This is the Good News we hear today.

But the real miracle Luke wants us to focus on is:

Zacchaeus staying in Jesus’ company, as Jesus stayed with him.

In a few moments, we will gather around the altar.

Jesus invites us to this altar, his table of plenty,

to this our Eucharist together.

Like Zachaeus, we come, saint and sinner alike.

We come because we believe Jesus will feed us who hunger and thirst with his friendship

We come because we hear Jesus say:

I have entered your life, called you by name for you are mine;

I have come so you might have life and have it to the full;

be not afraid, I am with you always, staying close beside you.

And today, we might also hear him say, But, you, will you stay with me too?

This is a Sunday homily I delivered as a requirement for my class in liturgical preaching.

artwork: zacchaeus being called down from the tree by william hole

Homily: Do Our Words and Actions Match Our Hearts?

2010-10-16T14:19:00.008-04:00

Gospel Reading: Luke 11.37-41 (The Pharisee who ritually cleans)

Imagine an apple

pregnant with juice that satisfies.

You bite into it.

But its rotting interior disgusts you.

Imagine a coloured vessel

standing in the morning sunlight: it shimmers; it sparkles; it shines.

Enchanted, you reach for it.

But its plastic feel saddens you.

Imagine a friend

who says: “I care for you; I am here for you; I love you; you are my friend.”

You get to know her better.

Then, you discover her actions don’t always match her words.

And, you feel cheated. (I would too.)

An apple; a vessel; a friend.

We value each of these

in different ways, for different reasons.

But in our eyes, we behold each of them beautiful.

Sometimes however they disappoint us:

they are less than beautiful; they are ugly.

I‘d like to believe Jesus has such an experience

when he beholds the Pharisee in today’s Gospel.

God created the Pharisee.

In his image and likeness, God created him good.

In God’s eyes, he is beautiful.

However, when Pharisee ritually cleans the cup and dish,

but neglects to cleans out the plunder and evil in their hearts,

he disfigures his beauty.

Even though he observes God’s Law,

and appears good and holy,

his heart remains dark and ugly.

His action diminishes the beauty of God in him.

Hypocrisy is his sin.

It scars, it stains, it soils his beauty.

This saddens Jesus.

It disappoints him.

It angers him

because the Pharisee forgets who he really is: God’s beloved

who is beautiful in God’s eyes,

and who is called to see beauty in others.

Jesus confronts the Pharisee.

But he also confronts you and me right here, right now…

we who are sometimes as hypocritical as the Pharisees, are we not?

We say we are Christians

but our actions are sometimes not Chris-like:

we do not care for the stranger;

we refuse to forgive our enemies.

We confess we believe in God

but often we put our trust and hope in other gods:

idol gods we call riches, fame and honour.

We proclaim that we are God’s people,

redeemed and part of God’s kingdom

but we exclude others from it:

we oppress the lesser; we discriminate the different; we condemned the sinful.

Today, Jesus challenges us.

He is asking: are you who proclaim God’s Kingdom,

God’s saving action of Peace, Justice and Love, to one and all,

are you making this Good News alive with your lips only,

or with your heart too?

Jesus’ challenge is harsh.

It is because he wants us to pause, to step back and to honestly examine

the quality of how we are living our humanity:

are we doing this beautifully

in God, with God and for God and all his peoples?

Jesus does this because he loves and cares for us:

he wants us to mend our ways and to become better persons,

people who can live beautiful lives for ourselves and others.

As we come to the Eucharist,

I wonder how you and I will answer Jesus’ question:

Do your words and actions match your heart?

This is a homily I prepared and preached as part of my class in liturgical preaching.

photo: mother and child by adsj (new york; june 2010)

Homily: Wonderfully Made to Hear God

2010-09-28T10:02:00.012-04:00

Gospel Reading: Luke 8: 4-15 (Parable of the Sower)

Sssh.

Can you hear it?

Do you hear God’s voice?

Will you really listen to God’s Word in your life?

I believe Jesus is asking us these questions at this time and in this place.

In the parable we read,

Jesus tells us that God is the sower, scattering seeds.

These seeds promise life.

They are God’s Word. Indeed, they promise life to the full.

This is the Good News Jesus preaches to us.

We hear God’s Good News often.

In scripture and at Mass. At home and in our religious communities.

In our theological studies and through our friends.

Yes, we are familiar with God’s message.

Sadly, we don’t always receive God’s Word well,

make God's Word fully part of of our lives,

or share God's Word with others joyfully.

Jesus tells us we don’t do this because we might be

too distracted by worldly attractions,

too fixated with our sinfulness,

too intoxicated with our addictions.

And, if you and I are honest,

we would confess that we sometimes don’t want to hear God’s voice.

We would rather hear our voice.

We want to fall in love with our voice and to follow it.

In these moments, our voices proudly and loudly say,

“Thanks, God, but no thanks. It’s not about you. It’s about, me, I and myself.”

And, isn’t it deliciously satisfying to hear our own voices?

I know it is. For a while at least.

Then, do you like me find life lacking, empty, despairing?

Jesus reminds us today that God’s Word gives us life, life to the full.

It will bear fruit a hundred fold in our lives, if we but let it.

How can we do this? By hearing and listening to God.

But, aren’t you and I already doing this in our lives?

When you care for another in pain, aren’t you your brother’s keeper?

When you bring hope to one in despair, one in blindness, don’t you free your sister, lift her up, help her see again.

And, when we make sacrifices, forgive our enemies, restore life to others, are we not picking up our crosses and following Jesus?

Yes, we do hear God’s Word.

We do let God's Word dwell in us.

We do share God's Word with others.

Jesus says, “Whoever has ears to hear ought to hear.”

So, what should we be really hearing from God today?

Perhaps, this:

We can hear God’s word.

We can because we are, as the psalmist says, wonderfully made for God.

We were created, filled with God’s grace.

God’s grace will always help us hear God’s Word.

God’s grace will open us up to let God Word bear fruit a hundred fold

in you and me, and in everyone we share God’s message of life with.

Yes, this is Good News.

But there’s even better Good News.

If we have truly listened to Jesus in today’s parable,

we might have heard God really saying these life-giving words to us:

I know you can

I hope you do

I believe you will.

This is a homily for daily Mass that I prepared as part of my class in liturgical preaching this semester.

photo: eager stillness broods over the realm of boyhood dreams by ian francisco

The Sum of All Our Parts

2010-08-30T15:14:00.013-04:00

“A monk’s life must be judged by all its parts, not just the end.”

I read this line in Remy Rougeau’s novel, All We Know of Heaven, which was an insightful summer read. Rougeau tells the story of nineteen year old, Antoine, who joins a Cistercian monastery in Manitoba and his experiences of being formed as a monk. An early experience Antoine has in the monastery is facing death. He is asked to sit with elderly Brother Eli who is dying. Accompanying him is another aged and sickly confrere. As he listens to Eli mumbling and the old confrere grumbling, he realizes that these men have never reconciled their differences. Each is in pain; each is grieving the finality of a lost opportunity to make peace. Antoine brings his anger and dismay at their stubbornness to the Abbot whose wise response is the line above.

The Abbot’s words struck a chord with me as my brothers and I go about setting up our new home in Brighton. As we unpack, put things in place and create a rhythm of life, we inevitably run into the differing opinions and sensibilities each of us has about how we are to live, pray and interact. A quiet tension permeates as we work to build community. As we do so, I find myself at times annoyed by another, as I am sure some of my actions must have also annoyed others.

The Abbot’s advice reminds me that our Christian way of looking at one another cannot be fixated solely on individual moments of difference, contradiction, dismay, or even mistrust. Each of us is more than these moments. Each of us is a complex mix of good and bad, of light and darkness, of kindness and selfishness, of hearts that uplift another and mouths that put down someone we dislike. These myriad aspects make up the totality of who you and I really are.

Antoine sees the truth of this at the moment of Eli’s death: the grumbling older monk holds Eli’s hand as he breathes his last. Perhaps in this moment Rougeau wants his reader to confront this truth about being human and about relating as human persons: when we interact with another, we relate to her as the totality that she is. And the sum of all her parts is always worthy of respect and love because these make up the goodness that she is.

I’d like to believe that this too is how God interacts with us. God does see the sinful, the limited, the weak that we are. But God also sees the goodness, the kindness, the compassion we are too. More significantly, God sees the hopeful promise in each of us to become better. This is the glint in our humanity that seizes God’s gaze and warms his heart. God delights in the human potential to transcend our lesser selves. That Jesus reaches out to the adulterous woman, to Matthew the tax collector, and to Peter after his betrayal speaks of God’s enchantment with us. God's enchantment is rooted in his faith in our goodness and our capacity to realize this goodness both in our lives and in the lives of others.

And so, as my brothers and I go about creating our abode, I pray we will recognize in one another the totality of who we are, and celebrate this goodness we each bring to our new home.

Would this be your prayer too at home, in school or at work today?

artwork: solitude by emmanuel o’herlihy, osb cam

Gazing and Dancing

2010-08-23T13:09:00.008-04:00

Keeping your eyes on the Lord.

Often we think this phrase is about sitting in prayer and staying focus on God. It is. But it also invites us to a way of interacting with God in daily life.

In the Old Testament we read of King David bringing up the Ark from Baala to Jerusalem (2 Samuel 6). He does this in procession; he leads and the Israelites accompany. There is music, movement and singing. Sacrifices and offerings, worship and blessings are made to the God who wants to dwell in their midst. The scene is festive. David expresses this delightfully by dancing before the Lord. As he dances, he keeps his gaze on the Lord. But David also faces jealousy and hatred as he does this. Saul’s daughter, Michal, despises David’s dance, and she rebukes him. David answers that he dances because this is what the Lord asks of him.

I’d like to believe that God calls all of us, like David, to keep our eyes on him as we go about our everyday life. Why would God make this invitation?

Keeping our gaze on God helps us remember that we are always in God’s presence. It is not that we need to come into his presence. Rather, God has come into ours; he is with us amidst our daily joys and struggles.

Also, keeping our gaze on God invites us to be nothing less than ourselves. More importantly, it invites us to become the persons God wants us to be. David is king but in this scene God only asks this of him: “Then David, girt with a linen apron, came dancing before the Lord with abandon.”

Finally, to keep our gaze on God is to give ourselves permission to dance to the Lord’s tune. That is, to be carried along by God’s action in our lives and to let God realize his design for us.

Like David, who strives to please God and who also dismays God, now and again, I cannot help but join him to confess that God does love us so much to keep inviting us into God’s good company. Perhaps, this how God keeps his own gaze on us so that God can dance with and for us.

Now shouldn’t this reality of God-with-us encourage us today to keep our eyes on God, and to dance before God, with abandon and delight?

artwork: dancer not dancing by helen wilson

At Day's End

2010-06-06T16:29:00.006-04:00

At the end of the day, you’re another day older.

This lyric from Les Miserables has been on my mind this week as I spent it packing up my room and parts of our house as we prepare to move from Cambridge to Brighton. While I am grateful for another box or two packed away, I find myself asking, “What can it mean that we grow older each day?”

Yes, it does mean we age physically. But it can also mean growing up a little bit better, a little more wiser than I am today as I look forward to tomorrow. I’d like to think this is a Christian way to appreciate growing older each day. It is about maturing into the persons we were created to become.

In his humanity, Jesus models the way we can do this. He ended each day looking back on his experience of God’s presence in the people and events he had and in the sharing of God’s love he enjoyed. He did this in prayer. His was a prayer of thanksgiving for God’s blessings but also for God’s action in his life.

Jesus’ example of thanksgiving offers us three ways to mature in wisdom in God. First, we can recognize that we are in fact rich: we do already have much in life. The poor teach us this in their generous sharing of smiles and nods even as we avoid their outstretched hands. Second, we can celebrate that this wealth will always be ours: God cannot not give abundantly because we are his. We only need to pause and marvel that we are alive, even with our faults and sins, to acknowledge this. Third, we can share our wealth with others because we will always have more than enough. Our ability to make time for others is proof of this.

Perhaps, to be wise is to have the humility to know that our who, what and why questions about the meaning of our lives find their answer in God daily.

Might this then not be a better way to understand what it means to grow older at the end of each day?

photo: autumn sunset over the charles river by adsj

A New Springtime

2010-05-23T09:26:00.006-04:00

Springtime is fast coming to an end: the hotter afternoons promise the long awaited summer warmth so many in Boston have longed for since winter. As I cycled along the Charles yesterday, I asked myself, how did I miss springtime?

I remember enjoying the warmth as the snow melted away and delighting in the green, green grass of our backyard peeping through. I recall seeing the first buds that dramatically burst forth into a myriad spectacle of kaleidoscopic blossoms at Easter. And I reminisce about people’s frosty pursed smiles in winter breaking into wide, happy grins with spring’s advent.

Often times, however, my spring days were spent in study or ministry. I was too preoccupied with these that I didn’t stop long enough to lift up my head to gaze on the subtle life-giving changes taking place around me. Truth be told, I didn’t relish the quiet springtime transformation well. Such is my regret.

The Apostle Paul wrote that we live and move and have our being in the Spirit. This Spirit is the faith of Jesus. His faith is characterized by his total self-giving love for God, whose goodness gives, and for neighbour, who is God’s desired recipient of his goodness. His is a faith springing forth from savouring God’s goodness fully; his lingering with people at table or in conversation illustrates this. And filled with glee, awe and thanksgiving, he shared this faith that it is very good that humankind and God are already in communion. At Pentecost, Jesus gifted his apostles with this Spirit of his faith.

We too are gifted with this Spirit. In this Spirit, we savour God’s goodness in the people, the moments and the realities in our lives. In this Spirit, we come to confess the undeniable truth: we are still God’s beloved even in our darkest trials and most shameful sins. And in this Spirit, we thank God for all we have, both blessed and challenging, by sharing his goodness with one and all. This is our Christian faith; it is Jesus’ faith. At Pentecost, the Church celebrates Jesus’ gift of the Spirit that invites us as a Christian community into the new springtime of living more fully like he did.

Today is Pentecost. Today, my prayer is to grow up more in the Spirit of the faith of Jesus with one and all.

Would this be your prayer too today?

photo: springtime tulips by adsj