FIRST SUNDAY OF LENT A

Today on the First Sunday of Lent we have two of the most powerful and evocative stories in the Bible. 

First is the account of Adam and Eve  in paradise  and along comes this snake with a smooth line and some new ideas. Next thing you know, temptation triumphs, all is lost, and the man and the woman are left with fig leaves, regrets, and a sour after-taste. Then, in a powerful contrast, Jesus is driven from his baptism into the wilderness—which is just about as far from paradise as you can get. There, unlike Adam and Eve who were surrounded by ease and plenty, Jesus is exhausted, starving, and alone as he struggles with his time of temptation and challenge.

What makes the story of Adam and Eve a true story is not that it describes accurately something that happened a long time ago. What makes the story of Adam and Eve a true story is that it describes exactly what life is like here and now—it tells the truth, not just about them, but about us. Over and over, we find ourselves just like them—forced to decide what to do with something which, on one hand, looks really good, seems useful and popular, and that just might teach us a thing or two—but which, on the other hand, we strongly suspect is not what God thinks best for us. And we have to choose.  

Notice again what’s going on in Jesus’ temptation. He has fasted and prayed for a long time—for as long as it takes—that’s what “40 days” means—and he’s famished. He’s exhausted, worn out, from the weather and the loneliness and the effort it takes to sustain something like this.

He’s not at his best. This is when the temptations hit Jesus,  strength and energy were all gone.

We know about this, too  when we face strong, or compelling, or addicting, or beautiful, or just plain hard, temptations and we have run out of resources.

No matter how strong we were to start with, we are pulled instead along lines that are against our will but defined by our appetites and our ego. it’s a matter of being empty. That’s where Jesus was—he was famished; and he was tempted, really tempted.

Look at what happens: Jesus does not say one word of his own. Instead, he quotes scripture in a simple and straightforward way that is unlike how he uses scripture virtually anywhere else in the Gospels.

Jesus has no words, no resistance, no strength of his own—he’s simply holding on to the Father and letting the Father’s words and the Father’s mind come through him.

Jesus’ response to the tempter is not a victory of personal, spiritual strength. Instead, his victory is the gift that comes from surrender. (Now, think again about Adam and Eve.)

Doubtless, his time in the wilderness gave Jesus a stronger and more disciplined relationship with the Father; and as a fully-human being, he had to pay attention to such matters, just like we do. But it also gave him something else, something more, something we see in his story of temptations.

His time in the wilderness gave Jesus the insight and the courage to surrender, and so to depend, not on his own best efforts, but on an emptiness that can only be filled by the Father, and that can only be filled by a gift of grace.

Several months after this all happened, Jesus said to his disciples: when you are handed over to your enemies, “Do not worry about how you are to speak or what you are to say, for what you are to say will be given to you at that time.” Imagine that Jesus could taste the dust of the desert and hear again the voice of the tempter and remember that hunger that reached out even to the stones around him. He knew what he was talking about. 

At the end of the day, the spiritual life is never about us, about what we can and cannot do. At the end of the day, it is always about God, and about God’s gifts—gifts of grace, gifts that do not fail.             

 

ASH WEDNESDAY: Day of Fast and Abstinence

The Ash Wednesday liturgy is possibly the most meaningful liturgy in our liturgical Prayer. It offers us an opportunity to stop, reflect on who we are and whose we are, adopt an attitude of humility, hit the reset button, and begin again.

The Church has long recognized how challenging it is to keep these core promises that constitute walking in the Way of Christ. This is why we set aside these forty days each year for self-examination and repentance; prayer, fasting, and self-denial; to read and meditate on God’s holy Word. The ashes of Ash Wednesday remind us not only of our mortality and need for regular repentance but also that it is only by God’s “gracious gift that we are given everlasting life” through Jesus Christ.

Although we are to remember that we are dust, and to dust we shall return, we ought never to forget that we are Holy Dust, created and inspired by the very breath and Spirit of God, as described in Genesis chapter 2: “The Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground  and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.”  Just as Moses was reminded by the burning bush that he was standing on Holy Ground, so the ashes of Ash Wednesday remind us that  we are made Holy from the moment of our very first breath. Receiving these ashes is meant to remind us of these humbling and defining truths.

Next to the Cross itself, however, there is no more tender and revealing moment in God’s Word than that proclaimed on Ash Wednesday by the prophet Joel, who calls the people of God to a solemn assembly to pray for deliverance. Yet, amid this call to return to the Lord with all our hearts, the prophet reminds us of God’s very essence, and then imagines just how much the Lord our God loves us:

 ‘Now, now – it is the Lord who speaks

come back to me with all your heart,

fasting, weeping, mourning.’

Let your hearts be broken, not your garments torn,

turn to the Lord your God again,

for he is all tenderness and compassion,

slow to anger, rich in graciousness,

and ready to relent.

Who knows if he will not turn again, will not relent,

will not leave a blessing as he passes,

oblation and libation

for the Lord your God?’

Do we hear this? When we are  unable to turn our hearts and minds back to God on our own, the prophet imagines that the Lord God himself will make the appointed sacrifices himself, leaving a grain offering and a drink offering on our behalf – which offerings constitute the essence of our Holy Communion. We are those people who, like the prophet, can imagine that God enters our lives and leaves an offering and blessing for us because our God is the God who is “all tenderness and compassion, slow to anger, rich in graciousness, and ready to relent”

 Ash Wednesday: A day to stop, reflect on who we are and whose we are, adopt an attitude of humility, and hit the reset button of our life in Christ. A day to remember that we are dust, but that we are Holy Dust, animated by God’s own breath. For it is God’s own Spirit that enlivens us and sustains us, day in and day out. A day to remember that God loves us so much as to make sacrifices for us when we are unable to do so ourselves. A day to allow God in Christ to forgive us so that we might live the residue of our lives reflecting the very love that God has for us and for all of creation. A day that we may remind ourselves with great humility to love God, love all others, and love all of creation itself. For that is what it means to be the Holy Dust of God! 

 

SEVENTH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME A

We are called to the holiness of God. That is the extraordinary claim made in both the First Reading and the Gospel this Sunday.

Yet how is it possible that we can be perfect as our Father in heaven is perfect? Jesus explains that we must be imitators of God as His beloved children

As God does, we must love without limit—with a love that does not distinguish between friend and foe, overcoming evil with good 

Jesus Himself, in His Passion and death, gave us the perfect example of the love that we are called to.

The holiness codes of Leviticus are not about setting God’s people up on a pedestal, out of reach of everyone else. Rather, God calls on her children to be set apart in their recognition that the world’s habit of turning people into commodities is no way to operate.

In the age of social media, treating each other as commodities is as easy as hitting “like” or swiping right (or left).  In the on line world, You’re a brand. I’m a brand. We’re all brands, whether we aim to be or not. As soon as we decide to fill in your “about me” sections on Twitter, Instagram, Tinder, etc., we decide how we want the digital world to see us—we brand ourselves. With every picture, article, or video posting, we put out a product that we hope will be accepted by our audience. We participate in self-commodification, which, while not exclusive to social media, is made much easier in this era perhaps than ever before.

When we fall into the trap of online self-commodification. It can be tempting, even for the most well-adjusted among us, to compete with others to enhance our sense of self-worth. In sensing a lack of self-worth, we might try to improve ourselves, striving for a misguided notion of perfection. In doing so, we separate ourselves from one another in some not-so-healthy ways.

These divisions lead to exclusion, to intolerance, and to the anger God in Jesus Christ calls us to replace with compassion. God calls us back together. God calls us to live in our diversity, seeking unity under the umbrella truth that each one of us is a beloved child of God.

As Jesus toured around from town to town, he embodied God’s call to come together. He reminded the people that holiness is not about achieving a standard of perfection but about all kinds of people embracing a perfect, unified love.

The meek, the hungry, the poor and oppressed Jesus calls them “blessed.” He even calls on them to love their enemies. He practices what he preaches, and because Jesus is an effective teacher and the incarnate revelation of God, people still respond as only people do when they recognize Truth.

Jesus helps us realize that God’s kingdom is not an exclusive perfect people club with a privacy gate and a bouncer at the door; the kingdom of God is what we live when we choose to see each other as beloved children of God instead of as commodities to be bought, sold, judged, and discarded. Living in God’s kingdom is like awakening from what Thomas Merton called a “dream of separateness,” which is much more nightmare than dream.

We follow Jesus not only because he appeared to be an exceptional human, but because of his truly divine ability to birth the kingdom of God in every given moment. We have been saved to share in His holiness and perfection. So let us glorify Him by our lives lived in His service, loving as He loves. And we can participate in this kingdom, here and now.

 

SIXTH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME A

Today’s gospel says a lot about what we would hear if we listen to our hearts and if we listen to God’s heart.

 We know the heart is more than a physical organ. “Heart” means the core of ourselves in all our aspects. We talk about the human heart as the seat of loving, compassion, tenderness, and courage. Our language knows this:  to know something by heart is to know it perfectly.  To seek with your whole heart is to pursue, search for diligently, strive for something with all the perseverance you can muster.

Jesus is sitting with his disciples, teaching them what it means to follow in the path he would have them walk. Jesus is giving words to the love of God’s heart. We hear a section of the Sermon on the Mount, a section that began  “ Do not imagine that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets.,” and “ For I tell you, if your virtue goes no deeper than that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never get into the kingdom of heaven.”  What follows in today’s Gospel are the illustrations and implications of those statements.

 Jesus lists some of the big commandments: You shall not kill, you shall not commit adultery, you shall not swear falsely. The disciples would say, we’ve heard that before. We know that’s what God wants for us. But then Jesus goes  on explaining what they mean in their fullness – by going to the heart of the matter. He explains what they mean if we are to love as God loves, because the law tells us what is in God’s heart. Law exposes God’s desires of how we would live with one another. Law also exposes the difference between our hearts and God’s heart.

God listens to our hearts and knows that even if we can keep the commandment not to kill one another, we still hate and despise others.  God listens to our hearts and knows that even if we can keep a commandment not to commit adultery, we still can disrespect others by treating them as less than fully human.

God listens to our hearts and knows that even if we can keep from swearing falsely, we are still willing to manipulate others with our words, to lead others astray by what we say, to let our words be meaningless rather than let our yes mean yes and our no mean no.

Our hearts, though we are made in the image of God, do not keep time with the beating of God’s heart.  And so, in God’s mercy, in the teaching of Jesus,  God would have us love in a way that respects the dignity of every human being.

 
And here again the law shows us God’s love, by showing us our failing and driving us into the arms of our merciful God. St. Augustine put it this way: “The law was given for this purpose: to make you, being great, little; to show that you do not have in yourself the strength to attain righteousness, and for you, thus helpless, unworthy, and destitute, to flee to grace.” The grace of God is there, offered for us. We need only take it.

Does all this talk of law and our failing to keep it bring you sadness?  John Donne in a sermon, said once in a sermon  it is a holy sadness, because a sense of our sin is “God’s key to the door of his mercy, put into thy hand.” God’s heart is a rich treasure house of mercy to which our sense of sin is the key.

Discovering our failure to love as God loves is not then a cause for despair, it is a call back to God, into the arms of God, who loves and strengthens us, and sends us out to love again; bids us love more fully, more perfectly, because although showing perfect love is impossible for us, nothing is impossible with God.

The sound of our hearts and the sound of God’s heart are different now, so, we are given law, that we might know more completely how to love, and when we fail – because we do fail – we are given the key to God’s heart, the key to the vast treasure of God’s mercy that stands ready for us to take. The key to a heart that offers us true pleasure, true love.

Take heart. Because our God is a God of love. Our God is love. In that we can be sure.

 

FIFTH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME A

In Jesus’ day, salt was often connected with purity. The Romans believed that salt was the purest of all things because it came from pure things: the sun and the sea. It was used by the Jews to purify their offerings to God. If we modern Christians are to be the salt of the earth, we must accept a pure and high standard in speech, thought, and behaviour keeping ourselves unspotted by the worlds self-centeredness. Jesus calls us to be a cleansing presence, constantly witnessing to the good that is found in God and the values of God’s realm.

In ancient times, salt was valued as a basic ingredient of a good life. As salt in the world, we can serve as a basic nutrient for others. We can become nurturing agents for those around us, caring, helping, enriching, teaching, and bringing them to Christ. Salt was also used to aid healing. As salt in the world, we can promote healing through prayer, caring for others, and supporting the least, the lost, and the lonely. Relationships can be melted by applying the warmth of Christian love. We can take that love and wear down the indifference or lack of feeling that often overtakes human beings.

Salt has, for centuries, served as a preservative to prevent food from spoiling. If we, as salt in the world, become preservatives of God’s goodness, we can help prevent spoiling and corruption wherever we find it. As followers of Jesus, we are committed to preserving Christian principles that keep ourselves and others from going bad.

It might be instructive to note something Jesus did not say. He did not tell his disciples to become the pepper of the earth. Pepper calls attention to itself, as opposed to salt that, when properly used, only highlights what it flavours. Jesus does not expect us to call attention to ourselves in our salting efforts. Rather, we are to make others more acceptable, more meaningful, more loving.

We focus on the immediate context of Jesus’ charge for the disciples to become his salty followers. It came immediately after his expression of the beatitudes. So, the seasoning takes on the character of the values he exhorted.

Salt is found in boxes in our pantries or shakers on our dining-room tables. For the salt to become effective, to do its work, however, it must be released from its container. God can release us from what entraps us so we can truly salt the people of the earth.

Like the salt in the packet or container, God can release us to do the work Jesus commands us to do, to make a difference in the world: giving hope where there is no hope; forgiving where there is sin; embracing where there is loneliness and despair; tolerating where there is prejudice; reconciling where there is conflict; bringing justice where there is wrong; providing food where there is hunger; giving comfort where there is distress or disease.

Jesus empowers us to purify, to heal, to nurture, to thaw the frozen, to preserve, and to season the people of the earth. The power of God supports and sustains us and stands with us if we risk whatever it takes to become salt to the world. And when we fail in this effort, God will raise us up and renew us and give us strength to persevere, again and again.

 The liturgy shows us this week that the Church, and every Christian, is called to fulfill Israel’s mission.

By our faith and good works, we are to make the light of God’s life break forth in the darkness, as we sing in this week’s Psalm.

This week’s readings remind us that our faith can never be a private affair, something we can hide as if under a basket. We are meant to be salt for the earth and light for the world

We are to pour ourselves out for the afflicted, for all who are poor, hungry, naked, and enslaved.as Isaiah tells us in the First Reading. We are to be a ray of God’s mercy

So let us pray that we, like St. Paul in the Epistle, might proclaim with our whole lives “Christ, and him crucified.”