VIP Seating

 

Boy do we ever love status. I guess that’s why facebook is so appealing. We can really show ourselves off like we’re all still trying to be the cool kids in high school. With the ability to publish our every thought and activity to hundreds of “friends” at once, Mr. Zukerberg has successfully managed to keep America in a perpetual state of adolescence. I’m just glad the acne doesn’t come with it.

 

But status, prestige, and big rewards are the things Jesus warns us about in the Gospel. Jesus has been invited to a dinner party at some big-shot Pharisee’s house. It’s pretty clear the host didn’t invite Jesus in the hope of a reciprocal invitation to an equally swanky soiree. Nope. Jesus doesn’t have those kinds of bucks. But I suspect the itinerant rabbi’s fame is what put him on the A-list. All the other guests are looking at this peasant preacher, the current flavor of the month around Israel, and wondering what he’s going to do and say. Maybe some of them only showed up because they heard the famous Jesus of Nazareth would be attending. If we can’t be a celebrity, you know, we at least like to say we’ve met one.

 

Jesus is watching them, too. He sees how they jockey for position, everybody trying to get the VIP seats at the table to show off their stature within the community. The moral is pretty obvious: Don’t go around puffing yourself up, because somebody will—inevitably—come along and let the air out of you. Then you’ll be disgraced. Which is bad. There are some folks who would prefer cancer to humiliation.

 

I’d like to point out, however, that I don’t think there’s any real sin in being successful or well-regarded. In a brilliant speech he gave at King’s College, C.S. Lewis likened having status to inheriting a fortune from your maiden aunt. If she dies and leaves you a ton of money, there’s nothing wrong with that. The sin is in coveting it. That is, if you want the old broad to kick off so she can leave you her loot, you better get yourself right with God. The hunger for status, fame, adulations, or what have you is the real problem. It’s like a drunk’s thirst for booze. A little bit is too much, and a lifetime of praise is never enough. It will be cool for a while, but will eventually leave you unsatisfied. You’ll discover your fellow high-status people are just as messed up and insecure as you are.

 

What would the world look like, I wonder, were we to put all the effort and resources we put into making ourselves look successful and important into providing mercy and aid for the “unimportant” people of the earth? Those “little people,” you see, are pretty big and important in God’s eyes. And so are you.

 

Just remind yourself. Once a man loved you so much that he went to death on a cross for you. You were that important. You mattered that much to him. Is there any job or honor you’re going to get, any swanky friend you’re going to make, any award you’ll win or applause you’ll receive that will matter more to you than the knowledge of how much God already loves you? I mean, come on. Do you really give a crap about where you sit at the table? Because at the head of the table or at the foot, the end of the meal will be the same.

 

Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends who take time for the “little ones” in your community. You who take meal on wheels to your neighbors, or volunteers at local food cupboard to deliver groceries, or  volunteer at your local fire department, or take your senior relative shopping for groceries or a doctor appointment. May God’s peace go with you this week, my friends.

 

The Healing Community

 

 

Last week, on one of my critical incident trauma calls I experienced a miracle. I was informed that an electrician had been electrocuted. I was debriefing his coworkers and to my surprise and delight the electrician not only survived but he attended the debriefing to thank his fellow coworkers for saving his life. This was a God moment for me where the gratitude of this survivor brought his coworkers closer together with a firm commitment to be more diligent and safe doing their dangerous work.

Sadly, in the same week I was deployed to provide grief support to a different employer whose regional manager suffered a heart attack and died while out of town with his coworkers at a conference. One coworker who was friends with the manager shared he made the call to tell the spouse what had happened. It was hardest thing he ever had to do. What do you say at this tragic moment of loss?

I remember sitting with this coworker as he shared how this spouse shared the sense of isolation she felt. Everything in the world seemed absurdly trivial in the face of her loss, and she experienced a profound sense of separation. She told him with no small amount of bitterness, “People tell me they know how I feel. Well, they don’t.”

Isn’t that the truth?

When we experience a serious, life-changing loss the whole world seems to slip away from us. We enter some kind of invisible bubble from whose interior we can see the rest of the world and all the people in it, but we no longer feel any sense of connection to it or them. Grief and pain isolate. And it’s not just our own feelings, but the rest of the world tends to sneak softly away from our suffering. What do you say to someone who has just been diagnosed with cancer? How do you approach a couple whose child just committed suicide? Is there a proper way to comfort my senior neighbor who had fallen out of her bed and taken to the hospital and then transferred to a nursing home to perhaps never to return to her home.

The anguish felt by the woman in the gospel story may not be only the orthopedic ailment which has crippled her for years. It might also be the awful sense of “otherness”—a sense of not being part of a community. It’s significant, I think, that this unnamed woman did not approach Jesus. Rather, Jesus saw her, knew she was suffering, and called out to her. He broke through that invisible bubble which kept her at a distance from those who understood illness and infirmity only as God’s punishments for some kind of disobedience.

I can’t help but wonder what the woman was feeling when she came to the synagogue. She certainly didn’t come seeking or expecting the guest rabbi from Nazareth to make her ailing back straight again. Did she come just to be in the presence of the sacred, to hear the words of comfort from the scrolls? Did she stand in the rear, not mixing with the other women, keeping her eyes on the ground, accepting that her infirmity was her permanent burden to bear for her sins?

The work Jesus performed on this particular Sabbath was a work of restoration. By restoring this woman to wholeness, Jesus restored her to the community. She was able—and quite joyful—to enter into the praise of God with all the others who had come to that holy place of worship. Jesus was quite clear that the disability which had afflicted this poor lady for eighteen years was not a sign of God’s frowning judgment. He went on to call her a “daughter of Abraham”—further establishing her as one of the family, re-connecting her, and breaking the bubble of suffering which had made her a pariah.

Let me share something very profound and the real reason to come to church this Sunday. This is the joyful blessing of the Sabbath. It’s the ability to gather as community. I must confess that, in the pre-COVID-19 days, I thought the internet would be a wonderful a tool for the Gospel. I knew a priest who bragged that he had 22 million followers on the internet watching him. But he was wrong. There is absolutely nothing to substitute being in the company of your church family on the Sabbath. Our need for warm, interpersonal contact is both nourishing and healing. Yes, there are those who fear betraying their emotions in the sacred space. Perhaps they worry that their anxieties, fears, or griefs will intrude on the devotion of their fellow congregants. I say if such frailties are not excused and embraced by a Christian community that community isn’t doing its job. We don’t always have to know how to approach a hurting brother or sister. We’ll do 90% of our care by simply showing up.

I agree with that spouse whose husband died suddenly at his company’s conference. Many will claim they understand when they really don’t. You don’t need to understand someone in order to love them. We can all do that. And whenever we gather for Sabbath worship, we can look to the one on the cross. He understands us all.

Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends and I truly appreciate you for taking the time to read my blog and praying for the 60 people on our prayer list. You don’t know them and you don’t understand the hurt and isolation they feel with their illness, but your willingness to pray for them is good enough.  Please remember the Sabbath day and be in the company of your Christian family. They need you.

 

 

Families Fight. What Would Jesus Do?

 

Families fight. What would Jesus do?

Families fight. That’s an ugly truth. People who are supposed to love and protect each other can often be split apart. It always hurts. 

Polish National Catholics of all people are aware of how families can bicker. Our whole denomination was formed by a dust-up with our Roman brothers and sisters. Today I see a pretty humongous division over the very definition of what it means to be a Christian in America. I feel a little bit of barf coming up in my mouth at the very mention of the term “Christian Nationalism.” Some of our coreligionists use Christian identity as an excuse to promote intolerance, bigotry, and a reactionary mindset which, to my way of thinking, slanders the name of our Lord and Savior. 

I don’t see how “Christian” it is slashing aid to low-income families or cutting out funding for research to eliminate disease. I can’t understand how we solve the gun violence crisis by letting everyone carry a gun. And faith in God’s deliverance is one thing, but ignoring the crisis of climate change is putting the Lord Our God to the test—a test we’re not going to pass.

No question about it: there are divisions within our family. There are people in North Java who think attending Holy Family Catholic parish gets you a ticket to hell. This is simply cruel and a lie. My former parish where I had the humble privilege to serve as shepherd for 12 years are the most generous, compassionate and hard-working farm families in Wyoming County. If your Catholic parish is closing or you are searching for a loving faith community, take yourself to North Java and experience the love of Jesus first hand. Everyone smiles and greets one another at the door and gives you a cup of coffee after the service and asks what can I do for you this week. One more thing, the children in Wyoming county all want to church  because Renee their religious teacher, is the most, fun, dynamic and enthusiastic religious education teacher bringing those kids closer to Jesus every Sunday. Get the word out, bring your kids to Renee and meet Jesus.

Whether we’re arguing public policy, church doctrine, or if it’s just a squabble between a parent and a child or a couple of in-laws, each of us thinks we’re arguing from the moral high ground. Our challenge should always be to discern if we’re arguing in obedience to Christ Jesus or from our own pride and stubbornness. Is our indignation born out of faith or a desire to maintain a tribal loyalty? Are we trying to help one another or cling to an ideal which no longer exists or even applies? 

What would Jesus do? Can we find it in ourselves to speak and fight for truth but do it out of love? Can there be controversy without contempt? Can we be unyielding without dehumanizing the person with whom we disagree? And are we willing to accept divisions without being complacent about them? 

Faith in Jesus has never guaranteed perfect harmony among believers. Just check out the New Testament if you don’t believe me—it’s full of family squabbles. But the beautiful thing is that in Christ, our squabbles can still be full of compassion.

Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends, especially those who attend Holy Family in North Java, Holy Mother of the Rosary Cathedral n Lancaster, Holy Trinity in Woodlawn, Divine Mercy in Las Vergas, St. Jude the Apostle in San Antonia and all those churches who are held in contempt by the bias and prejudice of their neighbors. Bless them for their courage, perseverance and faith in your love for one another and all their neighbors.

 

Fear or Faith Which one is it going to Be?

 

I’m not saying there isn’t plenty to worry about these days. In the reading this morning, Abram is worrying that God won’t ever come through on his promise. He and his missus Sarai have been planning for and expecting a baby, but one just isn’t forthcoming. Abe’s getting discouraged, and his big fear is he will never achieve the desire of his heart—a son and heir. God reassures the old boy that he’ll get what he wants. It’s just not going to be right away. So Abe says, “Okay,” and the Lord reckons it to him as righteousness.

If you’re ever wondering what righteousness looks like, there it is. It’s faith. Not mere assent to a doctrine, but the living belief that it’s the Father’s good pleasure to give us what we need (although not always what we want!). Our baptism is a reminder of God’s grace and goodness. It’s the reminder that we matter to God so we can operate out of faith and not out of fear.

After all, there are really only two ways to live: by faith or by fear. Some may suggest there’s a third way—manly self-reliance. I’m not so sure that’s going to work when your company downsizes you or you or your family member gets a life-changing diagnosis. You’ll be looking to rely on something more than yourself. No. It’s pretty much faith or fear. And we have to decide how we’re going to live.

In our Gospel story, Jesus’ admonition to live fearlessly comes with a pretty scary suggestion. Who wants to sell everything they have and give the money to the poor? Shouldn’t you be saving a little something in case of a stock market collapse or a hurricane or the zombie apocalypse? I think what the Lord is really challenging us to do here is get outside of ourselves. Fear is the result of self-preoccupation Jesus is urging us to pull our heads out and be part of the world around us. His suggestion about selling our possessions and giving to the poor is a recipe for faithful living. When we transfer some of the blessings God gave us to others—be it through donation of our cash or the donation of our time as volunteers—we’re making two statements of faith. First, we’re saying that we’re going to get along just fine on what’s left over. If we give ten bucks to the Charotte Comfort Home (hospice in North Java), we won’t be ten bucks short at the end of the pay period. We made a choice to trust in God for our own preservation. Second, we’ve said through our gift or volunteering that what we’ve done will matter. We believe someone’s life is going to be just that much better because we’ve reallocated some of our own blessings for the benefit of others.

Another part of this Gospel lesson is a parable Jesus teaches about servants (that could be us) staying alert for the return of their master (that could be Jesus). There are two ways I think you could look at this. You could go the “end-of-the-world-is-coming-soon” rout and start interpreting every story you hear on the news as a harbinger of the Apocalypse, the Second Coming, the End Times, or whatever. That’s a sure-fire way to live in fear.

The other way to look at this is the Matthew 25 rout where Jesus tells us, “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” What I mean is we should always be on the lookout for meeting Jesus. He could be present in a neighbor, a family member, someone in need, a panhandler on the street, or an immigrant behind the counter at Dunkin Donuts. Any chance encounter might be an opportunity to draw closer to God by drawing closer to the ones around us.

Finally, the last part of this Gospel lesson is a weird kind of warning. Yes, if the homeowner knew what hour the thief was coming, he’d have met the guy at the window with a loaded Smith & Wesson. The problem is, we don’t know when stuff is going to happen. Like the arrival of a baby, life-changing moments occur, and we can’t always control them. So, it’s not about what happens, but about how we react. You can live in fear and sit at home all night with your Smith & Wesson on your lap just in case a burglar should try to break in, or you can go out among fellow human beings, risk loving them, and find your purpose.

Fear? Faith? Which one is it going to be?

Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends that we choose to live in faith and focus our resources on lifting a helping hand to anyone who needs our help today. Maybe you like to volunteer at an animal shelter or my wife Sue reported there are lots of kittens at the shelter who need a loving home. If interested in adopting a kitten contact: info@vol4animals.org –or call (585)343-6410 option 7