How Does God Come to You

  

 

Last Sunday when I came home after attending the cathedral Polka Mass, my wife Sue could barely walk. She had severe pain in her right knee. On Monday, she called the doctor and in an hour she was being examined by Dr. Steve. I was praying up a storm that nothing was broken., He diagnosed that it appeared to be a severe strain of the ligaments but he ordered an Xray to be sure nothing was broken. During this past week, Sue iced her knee, took her pain meds. On the way to the airport, she texted her litter mate, she volunteers at the animal shelter and spoke this message: “I am feeling much better.” When she looked at her phone to see what it recorded, it read: “I am feeling smashed”:

 

Stupid cell phone, she’s not drunk, but feeling better. Sometimes things happen that don’t meet our expectation. That’s what happening in our gospel story about two disciples who are walking away from Jerusalem and heading back to their home in Emmaus. We find them having a conversation about what happened at the crucifixion and they are sadly disappointed and afraid that they might be next.

 

Then this stranger joins them on the road, and they invite him to travel along. They get a little sarcastic because when the stranger asks them “what’s up” their response is a little rude when they say: “Where have you been?”

 

The key words in their conversation was the phrase: “They had hoped.”

They had put their trust in Jesus being a great prophet and teacher that he would liberate the Jews from slavery, from the Roman oppression. Instead, Jesus was crucified and laid in a tomb. Perhaps, they feared for their own lives and wanted to get out of town become they would be killed for being followers of Jesus.

 

Then, this stranger explains the Scriptures, how the Messiah had to suffer and die and rise again. They are impressed by his words and invite him to their home that includes dinner and when he breaks the bread, somehow their eyes are open and they recognize Jesus, He is truly alive. And what do we hear, he disappears.

 

So what does the road to Emmaus have to teach us? On the journey of life, there are many ups and downs. Our emotions range from elation one day to despair the next. For example, our lives are full of expectations, the same expectations - mistaken as they may be - which the two disciples had. "They had hoped" that Jesus would be the one who would restore the rule to Israel. They were disappointed to realize that this was not to be. We too have many expectations for our own lives. As our lives progress, many of the expectations which we originally had remain unfulfilled. Our lives move on in directions which we would never have guessed, almost as if they were being guided by something that is beyond us. We can respond to this unexpected direction in either of two ways: the way that the disciples did, i.e., with disillusionment because our expectations have not been met, or with contentment, because we know that there is a greater force at work, a force in whose hands we will always be safe.

 

On Thursday, I was asked to provide support to employees whose coworker died over the weekend. Tersea came to share that she had worked with Laura for three years as her assistant. Laura was a case worker who worked with disabled adults. She was a compassionate worker, but over the weekend something happened and on Monday the supervisor pulls in her team and shares that Laura suddenly died. How, when, why, no one knows. Teresa is in shock and crying and very sad. Teresa is a caregiver of her 90 year-old dad.  She is exhausted providing meals, cleaning the house, taking him to doctor appointments. So I help her make a plan to get some relief, to help clean the house and suggest take time for herself to rest. She has a brother who she could call to stay with her dad while she gets away with some girlfriends. She always wanted to go to Branson , Kansas for the music festival.

 

So when our expectations are not met, our health goes sour, our jobs are exhausting, our anxiety is out of control because of the war in Ukraine and Iraq, or we fear deportation, or the high price of gas and food and we can’t pay our rent.

So how do we achieve this contentment, this feeling of safety in the midst of all the adversity which life throws at us? We can achieve this contentment by realizing that Christ has stayed with us, just as he did with the two disciples. When we feel overwhelmed by life, when we feel that we just can't go on, when we feel all alone, we need to realize that we are not alone, that Christ is still with us. In the depths of our despair, we need to realize that Christ has been there before us.

How does Christ come to you? Where have you found Jesus? Where do you expect to find Jesus? You may not recognize the Lord at first but keep looking all the same.

Consider the following story. On Friday, I started my day at 6:30am EST, I met the bishop at 1pm to catch our plane from Buffalo to Chicago. At 4pm we are sitting at the airport waiting for next plane connection to Vegas, and Bishop John pulls out a doggie bag in which he made beef sandwiches and chips. I get us some water and soda and we are munching our snacks. This is where I see God. We land in Vegas at 9pm and Bishop John is standing in line for half an hour at the Budget car rental counter, this is where I see God again. We arrive at the Santa Fe Hotel and Monica meets us with our room key with a big welcome hug. This is where I see God. Finally in our room, it’s 2:30 in the morning our time. I have been up for the past 18 hours and we are both hungry so we check our room and head back on the elevator to find some grub, We spot a sub shop in the hotel and I order a beef cheese sandwich for both of us to share and chips and take back to our room. It’s 3am and these sandwiches taste delicious since we were starving. This is where I see God.

Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends that when our expectations lead us to despair we do not give up hope. For God walks with us in because we know that there is a greater force at work, a force that is God’s love in whose hands we will always be safe.

A Faith That Leads to Maturity

     

It’s something of a tradition that the gospel passage we get for Easter 2 is always this story of “Doubting Thomas (John 20:19-31). However, you can hardly blame Thomas for being a little skeptical. It’s not like people get raised from the dead every day!

Yes, poor Thomas looks like a doubting, faithless doofus in John’s gospel. He, therefore, stands in stark contrast to Peter, who looks like a doofus in all four gospels. I mean, how would you like it if the one thing everyone remembered about you was the fact you shot your big pie hole off about being faithful to Jesus even unto death, and then—the second things got a little uneasy—you denied you even knew the guy? And not once, but three times?

I’d hate to have been Good Friday Peter, wouldn’t you? The guy must’ve been feeling a boatload of emotions, and none of them were good. In a braggadocio moment the night before he swore he’d stand by Jesus even if he had to die for him. He was ready to draw his sword and do battle to protect his rabbi, but when the temple police slapped the cuffs on Jesus, Peter ran away like the others. Then he denied he was Jesus’ disciple. I don’t think this was calculated. I think fear just oozed out of him before he knew what he was saying. 

The gospels tell us Peter wept bitterly that night. I imagine him slumped in some dark, dirty corner of Jerusalem ally, his head between his knees, his body heaving with sobs. What were those tears about? Shame and self-loathing when a man sees himself as being weak and cowardly? Disgust at his own hypocrisy? Grief for the certain death of the friend, teacher, and leader whom he so dearly loved? Utter despair and disillusionment for the movement which promised to be about joy and liberation, but which has turned out to be about nothing at all?

But then came Easter. Peter encountered the risen Jesus and something in him was resurrected too. Peter became like an addict who has conquered addiction. Like a woman escaping an abusive partner. Like a hostage set free. In the power of Christ’s resurrection, he shed the demons of fear, shame, guilt, and self-doubt and became the rock Jesus had prophesied he’d become. He’d become a real adult—whatever his chronological age might’ve been at that moment.

It’s believed he eventually left Judea and Galilee to share the joy he found in Jesus around the Mediterranean world. His journey took him to Antioch in Syria, across the sea to Corinth in Greece, and finally to Rome. 

By the time the epistle we call 1 Peter was written (probably sometime in the late 90’s of the Common Era), Peter would be dead. It’s doubtful the Galilean fisherman could write in such sophisticated Greek, so the letter was probably composed by a disciple who had known Peter in Rome. 

The letter would’ve been written to that Roman church, and I’m sure that congregation could relate to Peter’s story. Some of them may have lived through the Great Fire of 64 CE and seen everything they owned destroyed. They may have known the terror of flaming death all around them with no place to run, escaping only by crawling through the sewer. They certainly knew the grief of losing beloved leaders as both Peter and Paul would be executed by the imperial authorities. They also knew disappointment as they waited for Jesus’ return and Jesus appeared to be taking his good, sweet time about coming back. Worst of all, they were living under persecution for their faith, marginalized and even criminalized for loving the Savior they’d never met in the flesh.

But through all of this, they received the outcome of their faith just as their leader Peter had done. Some may have been peasants, and some were even slaves, but they loved Jesus and knew Jesus loved them. In turn, they could love one another. They could rejoice even in their suffering because the earthly authorities which took Peter from them could not take away their baptism, their love, or their hope. 

What is the outcome of our faith? I like to think it’s real maturity—a maturity which leads us to be like those early Christians who so resonated with Peter’s story.

Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends that we are to be a community of love; forgiveness for ourselves and others; courage in the face of chaos, doubt, and uncertainty; selflessness; and, finally, peace. May your faith bring you to that peace, my friends. 

 

Easter at Divine Mercy One Year Ago

  

I asked the congregation to follow me over to the side altar where Fr Erick had placed a stature of Jesus lying in the tomb. I uncovered the stature and whispered: “How could this have happened.” Then I shared that this moment was the darkness in our lives and shared a sad story that Fr Erick and I were informed on Wednesday that a parishioner caring for her mom in her home had died and went to heaven.

However, I pointed to the beautiful painting of the image that showed the resurrection of the Divine Mercy of Jesus. Yes, there is darkness in our lives but let me share some wonderful moments of the resurrection.

On Saturday, Fr. Erick asked me to baptize a child. Thinking it would be a baby, instead I was pouring the waters of baptism over the forehead of three-year Mateo. Fr. Matt was baptizing little Matthew and told his parents and godparents that he is now a child of God. Lots of smiles. A true Resurrection moment.

Then Fr. Erick asked me to join him to celebrate a renewal of marriage vows for a couple from Mexico to be held at the wedding chapel in a casino. Fr, Erick offered the traditional Mexican blessings that included the rosary lasso, candles and coins asking God to bless thirty years of fidelity love and devotion. However, the casino wedding coordinator told Fr Erick he had only one hour to complete the ceremony, in another words watch you time.

This wedding coordinator shared she lived in New York City and I replied I’m from Buffalo. Instant connection, but then she asked if after the ceremony I would offer her and her staff a blessing. When the couple and family were having pictures taken, the coordinator brought in seven members of the wedding staff to whom I offered this blessing.

 “May God bless each of you for the joy you bring couples and families celebrating their union, may God keep you and your family safe and in good health.”

As they raised their heads they each were wiping tears from their eyes I believe this was another resurrection moment because they realized that God loves them as his sons and daughters and will be to help them in their times of darkness.

Yes, one more resurrection moment occurred in the grocery store where Fr. Erick picked up 150 little bread loaves to give to his parishioners on Easter morning. A lady who had cancer was checking out and Fr. Erick said I had blessed her last Easter. Thankfully, she was in remission. She came to give me a hug and more tears and I offered a blessing for continued healing.

Yes, there is darkness that may last a day or for many seasons, but we need to be aware of the moments where God makes his love known and that comes whenever we offer God’s compassion and mercy.

Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends this Easter. May we all enjoy the truth that Christ is Risen. Christ is Risen, Indeed!

 

 

 

It's a Dirty Job

  

Did you ever hear anyone say, “It’s a dirty job, but someone’s got to do it?” What’s the dirtiest job you’ve ever had?

My dirtiest job occurred yesterday after a historic rain storm. The photo above shows the damage to our driveway hill as the flood waters created foot deep trenches that prevented us from driving. So, with shovel in hand I started to fill in the trenches with stone that washed over the side of the hill. Four hours later I had the driveway hill filled in with stone so we could drive on the hill.

However, last night another major rain storm came over our region. This morning, I walked back to the hill and this is what I discovered. I was in shock but got out the shovel and started filling in with more stones. 

 

I called Brad, my guardian angel builder, who understood my dilemma and who contacted Cam, the excavator. After another four hours and two new underground drains the driveway was back in usable condition. 

My boots were muddy and my hands bloody from hauling stones, but somebody had to do this job. That reminds me of other dirty jobs.

Collecting garbage, stocking grocery shelves, milking cows, picking crops, cleaning hotel rooms, bathing our feeble loved ones. These jobs don’t pay a lot of money, and they don’t get you invited to black-tie fundraisers. But someone has to do them because the people who perform these tasks are very important and special who choose to do these dirty jobs.

But much more shocking than shoveling stone into a damaged driveway is the image of our Lord and Savior on his knees, washing the dirty, sweaty feet of his all-too-often clueless disciples—even the one who he knew was about to rat him out to the authorities. Our Holy Thursday gospel tells us Peter was pretty freaked out seeing his beloved and esteemed rabbi doing the dirty work assigned to a slave or the lowest person on any household totem pole. I’ll bet the others were weirded out by this too, but the evangelist doesn’t tell us. But Jesus explained this act of service—an act others might see as degrading—was a demonstration of how he expects us to live our lives. We are to love as he loves: without hierarchy or judgment. We are to love others as ourselves. We can no longer demonize or vilify. We can’t say the poor deserve what they get. We can’t look down on anyone. We are to love, forgive, assist, and share.

We’re told that as Jesus broke the bread that night, he gave thanks. You’d wonder what he was giving thanks for, considering he was about to be betrayed, abandoned, arrested, beaten, mocked and crucified. But Jesus was thankful. I imagine he was thankful for God’s unfailing presence even in the midst of chaos and grief. And he was thankful for the ones he loved, for the disciples to whom he demonstrated a radical form of servant-love. As Jesus and the disciples ate that last meal in remembrance of God’s faithfulness, so we eat it now in remembrance of Jesus’ self-emptying love for us.

We call the night when we share this feast Maundy Thursday. It’s the night when he gave us two commandments. First, that we eat this meal to remember not only God’s power to deliver God’s people, but to remember how Jesus suffered to deliver us. Second, when we come together around this table, we are reminded of Jesus’ command to love one another as servants—even if that means sometimes we have to do the dirty work.

Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends. A blessed Three Days, my friends. May Christ’s love shine in your heart. Special thanks to my guardian angels, Brad, Cam and Chris for repairing the rain storm damaged driveway.

 

Choose a Donkey Over a Horse

     

Jesus rides into Jerusalem on a donkey. Question, why would Jesus choose to come to town on a donkey?

The donkey teaches disciples, then and now, how much bravery it takes to follow the suffering servant. It takes courage to choose destiny over fear. 

First, the disciples learned to serve with humility. Sometimes I think it was hard to be a disciple. They had an inside relationship with Jesus. The Gospels say he even gave them the power to preach and heal the sick in his name.

They watched the power of God, and witnessed the miraculous regularly. It’s hard to go from the main actor on stage to a stagehand behind the curtain. It must have confused them when Jesus said, “Go ahead of me, there you’ll find a donkey tied, bring it back to me.”

Humility is demanding. Instead of working miracles and healing the sick, we find the disciples on “donkey duty.” Heal the sick, of course. Work miracles, absolutely. Humble themselves for “donkey detail” was a tough pill to swallow. 

The disciples seem confused about how to retrieve a donkey. Jesus has to tell them how, “Go, find it. Bring it back to me.” Lessons in humility are tough. Jesus makes sure our souls are not always center stage. He knows it’s not good for the soul to continually be popular. When we become celebrities, it generates cult worshipers instead of followers of Jesus. “Humble yourself and go find a donkey.”

The second lesson the disciples learned was to deny power and celebrity. Humility denies the enticement of power and popularity.  In the 1^stcentury, the temptation to choose power was ever-present. The Jews expected a King. A man who would liberate the Holy Land from Roman control. They hoped it would be Jesus. 

Here is where the Gospel reading of the donkey becomes fascinating: A few days before Jesus entered the city, Pilate entered on a horse. It was a message to the Jews that Rome’s power over them surpassed their hopes for a Messiah. Pilate chose a horse. Jesus chose a donkey. Jesus wasn’t in orate chariots pulled by well-bred horses. There was no sword at his side nor armor on his chest. He did not enter the city gates as a show of force. He entered as a servant on a beast of burden. 

This is what Jesus expected of his disciples. He refused power, and he didn’t accept a throne. He knew he was there to suffer for the sake of others. Yet Jesus laid his power down to pick up his cross. 

What did the disciples learn on Palm Sunday? They realized that humility is the way of the Kingdom, and popularity is the way of the world. Then they learned that a servant lives and dies for others. 

Servants are not popular. The crowds that followed Jesus into Jerusalem quickly diminished when he disappointed them.  I’ve learned the crowd usually leaves when they are disheartened. Few stick around and heroically choose love. The crowds will usually return to Egypt before they walk through the desert of disappointment. Disappointment tests life, faith, hope, and even love. When we expect a horse and get a donkey, we’re tempted to walk away.

Did Jesus deserve a horse? Of course he did. But a servant chooses a donkey – the way of a cross – instead of the horse of a conqueror.  

The metaphor of the donkey answers the question, “who is this Jesus?” He is the one who dies so others can live. The horse, Pilate’s horse, always tempts our hearts to say, “I did better than the rest of my friends. I’m smarter, and I have more natural gifts, God favored me.”

The donkey, Jesus’s donkey, offers our hearts the chance to say, “How can I choose love over pride? How can I use my gifts to serve others? How can I share my blessings with the world?”

The question we should ask ourselves is “what transportation will we choose to carry us through life?”

Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends that during this difficult time in our country, we choose to be a servant instead of a conqueror. During Holy Week reach out to a neighbor or someone you know in need and lend a helping hand.

 

 

 

I Really, Really Believe

  

One thing strikes me really powerfully in the story of the Raising of Lazarus. It’s just two words, "Jesus wept." He wept. Now this is his beautiful humanity coming forth. We know that Lazarus and Mary and Martha, they were close friends of Jesus. He wept for his friend. And I think that's powerful. It's powerful to understand that weeping can be a holy moment, and that sometimes we're tempted to hold back our tears, but weeping can be profoundly human and profoundly healing.

How many times when I am onsite providing grief support to a person whose coworker had died that the person in front of me is holding back tears. Yet, let them come. Tears are a source of comfort. They help to relieve the sadness and bring calm to the body and soul.

The story of the Raising of Lazarus is a crucial, climactic moment in John’s gospel where we really get to experience a living Jesus. You realize this is the turning point where events start to race downhill toward Jesus’ crucifixion. This is where we might start to see the Son of God look more like us. In this story we see Jesus crying, feeling both love and grief. From here on we’ll see him feeling apprehensive about his fate. We’ll hear him pray for his disciples. He’ll even humble himself to be their servant and wash their feet. He’ll tell them to love each other as he has loved them. We’ll even see him, as he suffers on the cross, make arrangements for the care of his ageing mother. Now we see Jesus’ true humanity. 

I think John wants to give us this picture of a genuine and relatable Messiah so that we may believe in him. When we meet someone and we share in their vulnerability, don’t we have a new relationship with them? Don’t they become more genuine? Don’t we believe in them more? To “believe” in John’s gospel doesn’t mean simply to assent that something may be true. The word in Greek is pisteuo (pisteuw). It means to put trust and confidence in something. When Martha says in verse 27, “Yes, Lord, I believe,” the Greek form of that word means “I really, really believe!”

The gospel calls us to believe in the things of Christ—love, compassion, prayer, humble service, and care for others. Belief in Christ means God can bring new life out of death. No matter where we are on life’s highway, it ain’t over ‘til it’s over. There is always a word of faith to proclaim, a deed of love to be done, a blessing to hope for. 

Lord I pray for all my Sonshine Friends that like Martha despite the tears, despite the sadness, despite our doubts, we can say: “Yes, Lord, I really, really believe!”

While the gospel story is about the promise of a new life with the Lord, I had the humble privilege of being asked to serve as the wedding photographer for Ben and Saiesha’s wedding. Being a wedding photographer means you can pick up on the little, unexpected moments.

 

The promises they made to one another include love, compassion, prayers and humble service and care for one another till death. Hopefully, the photo above captures the God moment when they spoke these vows to one another. The unexpected moment in the gospel had to be when Lazarus eyes were open and Martha and Mary were shocked to see their brother alive again. I am sure there were tears, but these were tears of joy. My unexpected moment is when Fr. Don, the dad of the groom, smiled after he had told his son to kiss Saieha, his new daughter-in-law.

 

 

 

 

 

How's Your Vision

  

In about a month, I will have the humble privilege to travel with Bishop Mack to confirm the children and young adults at Divine Mercy Parish  in Las Vegas. Fr. Erick has many beautiful ministries for his Hispanic families. I have an invitation to take a day trip to the Grand Canyon. Now a million photos are posted daily on the internet. No doubt millions of images of the Grand Canyon have been uploaded. Instead of the usual tourist shot, I hope to capture a moment in time that can best be describes as stunning. Question, where is this location?

In the ninth chapter of John’s gospel, a young man who has his life radically changed that he gets snarky with the religious authorities. These religious authorities are so set in their ways they couldn’t recognize God’s actions if it bit them in the butt. His parents are so afraid of ostracism they’re ready to throw their disabled son under the bus. Then there are  bystanders who don’t believe in miracles even when they see one, and we have the usual clueless disciples.

The disciples have concluded that being born blind has to suck. Admittedly, blindness has its drawbacks. The disciples think because this poor guy has to sit on the street corner with his cup in hand asking for spare change that God must be mad at him or his folks for something. It must be comforting for the disciples—and for the rest of us, too—to think there’s a reason for everything. 

In this story the Pharisees are again cast in the role of the bad guys, and they really live up to it. In fact, I think their behavior here is a quintessential example of what it is to be real dumb-assed jerks. 

So how do these Pharisees see the world? These guys have such a rigid world view that nothing can shake them. Jesus can’t be holy because a truly holy person would observe the Law of Moses and never do any kind of work on the Sabbath. Period. Forget compassion. Forget mercy. The law is the law, and they are its smug and self-righteous guardians.

This makes me ask: what absolutes might we believe? There is but one true expression of the Christian faith. Male homosexuals are all pedophiles. Women are not as smart as men. Every American should have the right to own a firearm. My brother-in-law is selfish? Big business is out to screw you. Foreigners sponge off our country. Everybody should pull themselves up by their bootstraps. Some people never change. Everything is their fault. 

Conservative or progressive, rich or poor, Black or white, we all have ideas in our heads which we think are unshakable. We think we see it all clearly, but maybe we don’t. And sometimes we just need to surrender. That’s what repentance is—changing our minds. Admitting there’s another way to look at things. The 18^th century ship captain John Newton once believed it was okay to transport Africans to the New World as slaves, but God opened his eyes to the truth. In return, Newton, who went blind in later life, wrote the poem which became the lyrics for “Amazing Grace:” 

“I once was lost, but now I’m found, was blind, but now I see.” 

Is there a place in your life open to mystery? Or a place in your heart open to change? Can you accept you might be wrong?

Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends that this Lent is meaningful and brings you a new vision. May you see differently as if looking through the eyes of Jesus.

Looking differently taking a stunning image of the Grand Canyon means doing some planning. My secret tip is to download a site on google called “Fine Art Grand Canyon” and scan all the photos tourist have taken of this wonder of the world.  After a 5 minutes search, I found the following image above that I plan to take on my photo adventure.