The Communities of New Skete

Reflections on the Gospel story of the woman with the issue of blood.

Mk 5:24b-34; Rom. 12:6-19; Tobit 8:4b-8, 10, 13, 15-17

The popular spiritual writer Henri Nouwen, who by the way had visited here, and who died just a few years ago, once wrote, “You know…my whole life I have been complaining that my work was constantly interrupted, until I discovered that my interruptions were my work.” In today’s Gospel, we hear that the Lord is interrupted on his way to see the ailing daughter of the local synagogue leader. He is detained; the young girl dies. We can recall that on a later occasion his friend Lazarus, too, died while he was waiting to go see him. His behavior and responses in both cases were both astounding and provocative!

A woman now reaches down and touches the hem of his garment, and she finds the cure that has been so elusive for her. We might wonder, who is this anonymous person interrupting Jesus’ work?

In what condition was she after twelve long years of suffering and with the anguish? She had been betrayed by her own body, by her own people and religious leaders, and even by her doctors. She could neither hide from nor embrace the society she lived in. And probably she was thought to be forsaken even by God. Now what did she have to lose that she had not lost already? In desperation here was her final opportunity. If she did obtain some relief, would this Master really take it away from her if and when he found out who had touched him, as Jesus phrased it.

Some writers have described her as meek and mild because she was ill and because she did not confront Christ directly. She knew was socially ostracized by her condition anyway, an untouchable, but the kind of person she was does not care what people think. What kind of person would spend all they had seeking a cure, and then reach out yet again? She was not unlike the Blind man who dramatically interrupted Jesus by constantly yelling out to him for mercy. As their last resort they both took heaven by storm. It certainly took some determination for her to force herself through the dense crowd surrounding Jesus and stop him in his tracks by breaking a taboo the way she did. She had nothing more to give, but she certainly was not just going to give up and dawdle along toward death!

She is able to muster up the dignity and courage to reveal her heart without embarrassment when caught out as she was.

And so in fact when Jesus does confront her, it is only to perfect what she started. He graciously receives her long-suffering faith and gently reflects it back to her. Along with her cure he opens up for her a complete healing and new wholeness of life. As the Good Shepherd he invites her now to recognize and share in what might be called the hospitality of faith. I think we might even say he revealed the kingdom of God and welcomed her into it. Finally now, she was freed of the burdens of those three betrayals to her well-being.

Afterward we are not told whether she later followed Jesus along with the other women and disciples. Yet it does seem right that she would begin to help in the Lord’s work with infinite gratitude and to continue to grow in her new life. On these occasions, the ones who are healed became by that very fact members of the household of the saved: they had sought for and found the pearl of great price.

It was by their faith and desire that they were finally healed, but as we see over and over again, this happened only when they approached Jesus. When they met him they clearly had to encounter their own souls. No more pretenses, facades, hiding from view, and staying out of the way. This seems to be one of the paradoxes of the experience of faith, that the kingdom of God may be within us, but we cannot access it except through someone else. Without also trusting in someone outside ourselves we cannot reach those wonders inside ourselves.

This is how the mystery of faith makes us whole, because we are not and cannot be whole alone. The poet John Donne wrote, as we all know, that “No man is an island.” Although great faith may dwell within us, in order to survive and thrive we cannot go it alone; we cannot simply remain alone and do it alone. Even as adults, we are helpless alone.

So the Lord gave these people and us, too, this good news: It is your own faith that has saved you! Without activating faith and acting on faith (as we explore the unknown), the best cure is at best a cure—and by itself it will not necessarily take us into life more abundant. Only a living faith constantly brings us into life’s new beginnings, which are truly life-giving interruptions of our old and tired ways of being.

Reflections on the Gospel story of the healing of the blind man

Mic. 7:8-10, 18-20; 2 Tim. 2:1-10; Luke 18:35-43

From everything I’ve read it seems to me that Jesus did not go around announcing that he is the expected Messiah and has come to save the world, and neither did he say, I’m here to heal your every wound or ill. Yet when the disciples of John the Baptist came to Jesus and asked whether he, Jesus, is the one they have been waiting for, he said: Tell John what you see, those who are blind see, the sick are made well, the lame walk, and the poor have the word of God shown to them.

The Lord also said this: The things you see that I do, you will do, and even greater things than these. And we can see some of this happening in the healing arts today, and through the volunteer medical people who travel around inside and outside of the US.

I can imagine that if some of us had developed the great gift of evoking spontaneous healing in others, we might want to begin, after our own communities, with visiting the clinic in Cambridge, on to the SW VT Medical Ctr., and then to Albany with St. Peter’s Hospital, Albany Med. and the rest. And what a following we would attract to assist us in this humane and godly work!

We would quickly agree that there are not enough hours in the day to do this, much less to move on to NYC, Africa, Asia, or even simply the earthquake zone in Haiti! What a fantasy this is!

Yet inevitably, and more seriously, we and they discover that we often or maybe, inevitably, value less whatever we are given for free, or what we might receive without the asking. The corresponding interior change, the inner healing, and joyful gratitude do not really come about. In the end we are no different or better off.

Almost as an answer to this peculiar situation, Jesus said that heaven can only be taken by storm, that it is better to be either hot or cold, and consequently the tepid and lukewarm don’t have a chance, to put it nicely.

We can see this illustrated in today’s Gospel story. In fact, I noticed, if I am not mistaken, that there are five accounts in the gospels of the miracle of giving sight to someone who is blind, when Jesus was near the towns of Jericho and Bethsaida or else in Jerusalem. One story is about two men who ask for their sight to be restored, and several other stories are with the poor fellow we read about today; and let’s not forget about the man born blind who had several run-ins with the Pharisees.

We can notice in these a bit of how Jesus used his gifts; somehow he was moved only by the Spirit and he did not act out of a desire for personal satisfaction. (We see that He encouraged and made it possible for a determined seeker to attain healing, and a cure, along with the word of salvation or redemption).

So here was Jesus with a band of travelers, listening and teaching as they moved along. He would say something, and those near him would pass it on down the line (hopefully hearing and repeating it correctly!) Now they approach a village and hear some loud shouting, which interrupts their conversation, and they tell the man to shut up, and probably gave him a few shekels. But he would have none of this: he didn’t want to be out there begging for food, he wanted a life! Obviously he had already heard all about the miracles and compassion of Jesus.

So with all the shush’s and insisting that he be quiet, he must have seen his chances in life running out pretty quickly: and this was just too much! From deep in his soul and his belly, he literally screamed out his request: Jesus, Master, Son of David! This was a pretty startling appeal and tribute at the same time, and finally Jesus stopped and asked him what he wanted.

Beloved Rabbi, that I might see! He certainly was taking heaven by storm! Or, as some might translate it, by violence! His desire and passion were unmistakable. The man could already see what many were blind to about Jesus. And Jesus made use of this in granting him what he wanted.

In another of these stories, the man begins to see light and shadow, with people vaguely moving about looking more like trees. So then Jesus completes the task and grants him his full sightedness.
I thought of how often we too can go through times of half-seeing, half-sightedness, with half insights half of the time, as well as with half understanding, uncertainty, and indecision.

But if this is true, at least we do have that half! We can examine what we do know, and what we have glimpsed or tasted. In this life we can only see certain things through a glass darkly, in St. Paul’s words. Might it not be that only God could know and see it all? It seems so obvious we cannot be God, yet when decisions have to be made, and choices deliberated on, it is a tough discipline to not get stuck because of what you think you don’t know.

In his healings, and teachings, Jesus was bringing God’s invitation to us. Jesus welcomes us with the hospitality of faith into the house of God, into the kingdom of God. This is now an invisible spiritual state, a country not of this world, and not subject to the laws and corruptions of this world. The eyes of faith open up for us the possibilities of new life, renewal, dreaming and envisioning and foreseeing, and the knowing of the heart. This call, sometimes joyful and fearful at the same time, opens to us a new way of seeing the world, in the light of God’s grace and love, rather than laboring to see God through the distorting prism of the world and its attitudes, as one writer put it. The first is an opening of our eyes and the second a blind futility.

All of us can at least half see, and this is the beginning of the healing of human nature and of our souls. For now, we can see to our fullest extent though our faith and devotion.

Reflections on Christmas

Jer. 23:3-6; Gal. 4:4-7; Mt. 2:1-12

These days it seems Christmas is referred to more as the Yuletide or the Holiday Season, with cards and banners saying Seasons Greetings and Happy Holidays. Some of this is probably an attempt to be socially sensitive, or maybe even unreligious, but somehow friendly and full of good will toward all.

Good old Christmas, like Thanksgiving, certainly brings to mind, for us who are a little older, the nostalgia and customs of the past. Many of us had special Christmas Eve foods, like the lush Italian-style seafood dinner, or the plain caraway seed and sauerkraut soup. Now Christmas is overwhelmed with it a full gamut of decorations from traditional to snowy winter-festival images – but these are usually a lot more tasteful than some recent Halloween extravaganzas. Today the main focus is the exchange of gifts, something that seems so important for our own self-respect, at least, and for our image in the eyes of others.

Those of us who attend church and listen to the stories surrounding the birth of the Christ might reflect that we may have been imitating the wise men from the East in our gift-giving. More likely, of course, our tradition of gifts is based on the pastoral example of the great bishop St. Nicholas, who has now morphed into good old St. Nick and Santa.

Fortunately, Santa’s “making a list and checking it twice whether we are naughty or nice” has largely become irrelevant, though it may provoke slight twinges of guilt in us. But we always have that warm feeling when we reflect that, yes, we do receive gifts, so we’re nice after all! On this occasion we are more outgoing in our social rituals, and even pleased with ourselves, for not being a Scrooge. Thankfully, unless we are out of a good job, most work has closed down, and it’s time for families and friends to make contact and gather together. Then at New Year’s we sincerely vow to continue doing all the right things for ourselves and each other in the days and months to come.

These great moments of widespread holiday celebration are a needed break and distraction from the chaos, drudgery, and bad news that surround us. Here in the Western world we take this time for granted, even as the holiday becomes more consumer oriented and the economy goes sour.

Yet we also need to be able to step aside from the celebration activity for a moment, if only for our own sanity. What gives give balance to all the energy spent, and the sentimentality that easily arises now, is the birth and presence of the child. St. Francis knew this when he set up the first live Christmas crèche. The child opens its arms to us and we are hooked. It is so natural and instantaneous that we respond immediately. Any child does this to us, and every child is special, but today the services, the list of prophecies and the repetition of carols, point to this particular child.

Where does this child lead us, as Isaiah says? To places beyond what is needed in getting our daily bread and the rush to make a living. We don’t have to go far to discover this right there in Jesus’ own words. The gospels proclaim the message, or call, and the answer is revealed, we can read it. Yet it is so hard to put it all together—my life, our lives, the Lord Jesus, politics, illness, suffering and death.

There are and have been people who handle this a lot better than we have. Sometimes maybe the answers they find exceed what is even possible at this moment for you or me. The holy or noteworthy people whom we can recall, whether on the church’s calendar or not, portray a deeper experience and understanding. They knew and felt the meaning of the child’s presence, who Christ is, and how God is his and our Father. As for ourselves, we might notice or be drawn to the kinds of people who seem to have that light, that energy. Sometimes we meet someone who is honestly compassionate and kind. We say, O yes, I see — that’s what I want to be like, at least a little bit more.

But sooner rather than later the shadowy negativities of our routines, our genes and health, our society and feelings snag us. Or a sneaky resistance moves in like a fog regarding our good intentions; distractions, procrastination, or a certain forgetfulness follows our initial rousing attempts to remedy our everyday plight and respond to needs of our neighbor and even ourselves. I constantly fall back into old unproductive or overly self-indulgent habits.

Even more serious, we might not realize how we avoid looking at ourselves. Unconsciously we can easily be hiding certain distasteful but crucial realities, alongside our warmth and friendship, love, and concern for those in need. We remain unaware of those hidden, tyrannical attitudes of what we might call our inner Herod, which become visible for brief moments when we least expect.

There is a way forward when this happens (if we are not totally asleep). First is to jump back to our new ways with confidence. Get back into our canoe we fell out of. Like a child who falls over when learning to walk, it just cries and gets up or just stands up again with a huge smile. Trust that this is the only thing to do, rather than lament or feel sorry for ourselves and give up. The grace of the Holy Spirit that is abundantly present always and everywhere is just waiting to work with us.

The help we ultimately seek uniquely tailors itself to each of us as individuals. The grace of divine life in us is reflected in the living mirror of our soul as the daystar and dawning sun that is Jesus. This child still pierces through 20 centuries with open arms to shake us out of our old routine ways! He resonates with that hidden but innocent and trusting child hiding here in our hearts waiting and ready to cry out for our attention and a respected place in our daily lives! The Lord wants to help us feed our own inner being and care for our heart beating beneath our personalities and job descriptions. To be a healthy person entails nurturing and listening to what is hidden inside us.

All the Christmas story images beckon us to look for the wandering star within, to feel the still point of desire, as did the magi and the shepherds kneeling in deep feeling and respect, or the prodigal son kneeling with tears, and vulnerable, after returning to himself from his mindless travels. At least once, we might gently pay attention to the silence there, but then again, and yet again: it is not a dark emptiness, and it’s not a scary version of who I really am, but rather the embrace of divine presence and fullness, God as if a little child yet wise beyond ourselves.

Those wise men returned East as enlivened prophets of the good news they had sought; the shepherds excitedly ran and spread the word; the returning son found his home, in his joy at seeing the light.

We can look outwards with that light on our faces as well, and more than just once in a while. We can easily be kind as Christ was, for that is truly our own deepest self.

Reflections on the Feasts of the Entry into the Temple and St. Cecilia

Sir.24:9-12; Heb. 12:11-18; Lk. 2:41-52

This weekend we celebrate the feastdays of the Theotokos Entering the Temple and of St. Cecilia. We switched the Feast of the Theotokos on the calendar for yesterday, with the feast of St. Cecilia on the calendar for today. St. Cecilia is the classical and even archetypal patron saint of musicians, especially lute players, organists, and singers, and also of poets. Dozens of churches are named after her around the world, as well as one of the largest and most successful independent chorales in New York City, which happens not to be associated with any church.

St. Cecilia was born into a wealthy Christian family in the persecuted church of the city of Rome in the third century. She was married and lived in her family’s villa across the Tiber from the center of old Rome, in the district of Trastevere. She was visibly active, burying the bodies of martyrs and supporting the community there who made use of the church and secret catacombs on her property. The warmth and intensity of her love of Christ was instrumental in converting her husband at the very beginning of their marriage, and she continued her work even when he and his brother and a close soldier friend were arrested for being Christian. Eventually the local government prefect placed her under house arrest, and then in the face of her outspokenness and continual—and maybe defiant—singing of Christian hymns a soldier was ordered to execute her. He botched his attempts at suffocation and beheading and finally fled the scene in a panic. She was left bleeding to death, and as she lingered on, the story is that even then she heroically continued with her well-known singing along with those who came to her assistance. She was buried with the other martyrs in the catacombs along the famous Appian Way leading out of Rome.

Ten years ago some of us visited the church that has been rebuilt several times over her home, and you can go down into the catacombs beneath it and even view the steam bath where she died. She is portrayed prostrate as she lay dying by a famous and stunning statue in white marble located beneath the altar in the basilica.

St. Cecilia has been painted so often as a sweet young maiden and musician, but her strength in attracting people to Christ along with the threat she posed in the face of persecution suggest that she was also someone much more formidable than this and a person to be reckoned with in the early church.
Her status as the patron and inspiration of music are evidence of her education in one of the fundamental bodies of learning in the ancient world. She portrays the energy, spontaneity, and healing powers of music. But more than this, she became a powerful and radiant icon of transformation through her devotion and her experience of the love of Christ. We can see her as they have generations for fifteen centuries as the embodiment of an ancient archetype, or a built-in pattern we each have, that of someone who initiates and guides us deeper into the mysteries of the spirit, along with the active work of love of neighbor.

It so happens a woman also named Cecilia was my godmother when I was baptized as a child. Our connection was not close after that, but as I grew up I slowly became aware of St. Cecelia’s iconic energy growing in my subconscious. Especially since I loved music, art, and poetry, she eventually emerged within me as a sort of wise mentor. In a way I began to see her as a strong invitation to go further in trying to develop an adult sense of responsibility and spiritual work.

Along that same topic we see in today’s Gospel story how Jesus had to walk the path of growing up just like anyone else, and already as a twelve-year-old how he sought out the wisdom and experience of the great Temple teachers. It seems he was probably not all afraid to speak his mind and to ask some good questions. This initiative and energy obviously pushed him through adolescence and into manhood, and we can see it dramatic demonstrated during the rest of his life. He became aware now that his life and inspiration lay with his Father in heaven. At any rate he returned home for now with his parents, and as he got older it says he continued to grow not only in the learning of the Torah but in a deeper wisdom and grace.

Today is also the 46th anniversary of the assassination of John F. Kennedy, our thirty-fifth president. A lot has been written about the background and formation of his character and charismatic personality. Aside from what we may think politically, he did take up the job of his vocation and destiny in remarkable ways and was inspired by an extraordinary brilliance in spite of his human failings and some huge suffering. Recently it’s been said he became a model especially for men in this country at the time, another sort of archetype that was soon eclipsed when we really needed it, and which is still needed for both men and women in our culture of narcissism, as it is sometimes described. It’s kind of telling that some more recent book titles are, “Men Growing Up To Be Boys”, and “Stiffed: The Betrayal of the American Male”.

I suspect Cecilia, too, and the other martyrs and saints, must have had their own human failings and, in her case, were thorns in the side of the Emperors. But in the case of the Theotokos, she embarked on, or and entered into, her spiritual journey at a very young age, which may say something to us about the spiritual life of children. She did not die before her time but matured through all the joys and sorrows that we commemorate in Holy Week and the Great Feasts. Sometimes it has been said that her example was misunderstood and misused, either in the name of a skewed piety or from a rigid sense of traditional social order and religious subservience. But there is no doubt throughout two millennia of her centrality in Christian devotion and the profound and magnificent effect her immense greatness has had on religion, spirituality, music, art, and poetry.

All these people leave a rich and wonderful legacy to celebrate and a spiritual model to somehow, in some little ways at least, to emulate and use of for the sake of our life in Christ.

Christ is in our midst!

Reflections of a Monk on Exaltation of the Holy Cross Monday
Is. 19:25-27, 11:10-12; 1 Cor. 1:17-28; Jn. 19:13-35

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen

In the movie “Traitor”, the FBI questions the hero’s mother to find out who’s side he’s on. Here the mother is the unique source of insight into her son, but sometimes, you know, we might have to say “She would say that, or “only a mother could love the person” and forget about it.

This very issue is one the Gospels try to avoid. They may show Mary’s opinion of her son but only in a veiled way and less than we would like, even with the birth narratives and other occasions. We know Mary was among Jesus’ followers and stood at the foot of the Cross. The rest is left to tradition and a lot of it unwritten. For the ancient church, it would have been a tactical error to use her testimony in those times of hostility and persecution. That would only leave it open to accusations of family prejudice and then dismissal when it was trying to live and preach Christ and his message.

As for the apostles, at first they didn’t hold much sway with Jesus’ opponents anyway. Jesus even had to defend them at times. Some were fishermen, but one wonders, what else did they do everyday, in those days before the passion and resurrection? Of course I am over-simplifying somewhat, but a good bit of their story, too, is left to tradition. The same for the women followers: I’m sure they didn’t only stand around and be attentive to the words of Christ. It is not hard to imagine some of them concerned about going to the market, cooking and cleaning up.

The point is, what signs or evidence do we have, as the Pharisees (and others, I’m sure), demanded or wished for, without the testimony of family and friends who knew him closely? Who or what would confirm Jesus’ divine authority, the legitimacy of the faith, and, by the way, the real stature of Mary and the apostles?

Those who were hostile to Jesus did not see as his words, his miracles, and his healings as proofs. Certainly they are signs of something new, but only for “those who have ears to hear and eyes to see.” Signs are usually indications, signals, or even flags and banners to rally behind. By definition they only point to other realities.

Jesus told to his adversaries that the only sign to be given will be the sign of Jonah. The prophet Jonah, as the respected but controversial story unfolds, had been thrown deliberately into the sea during a storm while he was on his way to Nineveh. He was then swallowed by a whale but three days later disgorged onto the beach. It was controversial because here was a prophet from Israel successfully bringing outsiders into repentance at God’s own behest.

At any rate these events were seen to represent, as we know, Jesus’ cross and his burial for three days. But more than this, the cross has been transformed from an image of oppression and execution, and now it veils the deeper reality that Jesus passed through death, and after three days burial, into the resurrection from the dead. Because of who Jesus was, death has been relativized. The sign of the cross has become a sign of eternal life.

This is dramatic, but critical. Those who think it’s all a myth, and those who are unable or refuse to see its radical truth, are really the worse for it. Everyone has to cross the threshold to the larger life “no heart can imagine”. The Cross challenges us to walk freely and confidently in the footsteps of Christ. This is powerful and heroic Path takes us into life abundant even as we are going through all the joys and tragedies of living and dying.

In the discussion of signs, I think Jesus is saying what both Isaiah and John’s gospel were getting at. Something like this:
I am the sign. If I am not among the lowliest, I am not the One who is supposed to come, to fulfill the promise of the ages. I and the children the Lord has given me are signs. They are my witnesses; they know the teaching; they too have seen and have arrived at the truth.

As dawn signals daytime, so am I the rising sun of that new life. Those who know this know from the depths of their souls. The wise and clever and the seekers of proofs and arguments will not find it. The real proof is in the living and doing, and by their fruits you shall know them. As I told the disciples of John the Baptist, what do you see happening here? The blind see, the lame are made to walk, the despairing have the word of life given them. By this John will recognize me.

I came with the Spirit friendly to humanity and was not recognized or figured out. But some caught the fire and woke up, and the light went on in them.

I am revelation, enlightenment, and transformation. Yet at first only the few, the struggling, will find me. As Peter said, “I believe, help my unbelief,” my lack of trust.

Listen, discern, and follow the deepest Spirit with in you. Endure the testing and purification and the suffering that is part of it. Those taught by the Spirit will not be suppressed. Even in their dying they are mine, and their blood will only seed the faith as they go on to life. Trust in God and trust in me for I am the right Way. You cannot make it alone.

Then St. Paul encourages us by writing: Be partners with one another under the sign of the Cross. By your mutual self-giving, by forgetting any self-seeking, let the Holy Spirit make you into the body of Christ, a sign for the world. He tells us: Find your courage and generosity, my friends, and live only for that fullness of life and that unsurpassed love. Your gratitude will seem plain foolish to the world, but you can say “But yes, we are truly fools for the sake of the Cross, the resurrection, and life eternal,” since Christ is in our midst! He is and shall be!

Reflections on the 8th Sunday after Pentecost
Ezech. 3:1-11; Rom. 9:1-5; Matt. 12:30-42

About 25 years ago an artist-theologian wrote that Christians walk a path at the intersection of two dark and unfathomable abysses. Particularly artists and iconographers come to understand how and why we are mediators between the two. There is the abyss of the world’s rejection of God. And there is the vast abyss of the mystery of God.

Jesus was the great mediator and bridge to help us pass over between them. He repeatedly quotes the radical message of the ancient prophets, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” In fact he did as Ezekiel wrote, “Son of man, eat this scroll: swallow it so it becomes a part of you. Speak it out.”

For example he would not accept a law that insisted someone should suffer one moment longer than necessary, even without immediate danger to life. He did not hesitate to heal someone right then and there. This disturbed the inertia of the institutions and formulas of his time for divine salvation. He gave heart, courage and spirit to people manipulated and paralyzed by fear and a need for security.

And so in Jesus humanity was crossing into a new reality. As we heard today, authorities of those times who were invested in political and religious control, when faced with the phenomenon of Jesus, seemed to fall on the side of something ungodly and evil. So he turned the tables on them: “don’t ask for proofs you won’t accept. If you are not for me then you are against me.” Even we can use this classic phrase to examine our own hearts.

On the other hand when the disciples saw strangers using Jesus name to heal, he said something very different, “if they are not against me then they are for me.” We ourselves can apply this standard to anyone who is doing what is right and good: there is no good reason to stop them even when they are not followers of Christ. Who are we to put a fence around the abyss of the love of God?

Our own inner sense of recognition and knowing what is right and good is often prompted by the Holy Spirit, a voice within us no louder than a whisper. In our Christian journey part of the practice is listening to this wisdom that often conflicts with what we may be used to thinking or doing.

By ignoring it, we fall prey to the fears and arguments that lead us by the nose into the abyss of the un-knowledge of God. Then we might not be able to recognize goodness, truth and beauty in unfamiliar garb even when we do try to be skeptical and discerning. We make some really thoughtless, compulsive or harmful choices. We mess up and may end up in a kind of hell. Somehow with help we need to move from this dark rut onto the other side, the so-called abyss of the embrace of God, which we can call forgiveness since words cannot fully describe the love of God. How often can we afford to ignore, make excuses, or put off the learning and training we need to hear the call within us or assess a situation around us?

An opposite example Jesus mentioned, as we heard, were the Ninevites, who were unrelated to Israel, but they still responded positively when the prophet Jonah brought them the warning of imminent disaster.

The gospel antagonists were neither responsive nor innocent. They refused to recognize God walking right in front of them and talking to them! They insisted without question on retaining their own narrow logical outlook and ended up siding with evil! Is this what that strange old phrase blasphemy or sin against the Holy Spirit really means? Those authorized teachers thought they had cleaned house and side-stepped any wrong-doing. But they were only empty shells without any engagement with the fullness of love, and so even worse things than before made a home in them.

When we clean our inner house or clean up our act, we also need to review what it means to listen and move into a deeper kind of love. It may seem we have to deny our love of life, and the effort can make us feel like we are dying; it is so hard … because we actually have to do it; it may even seem that God’s will is for us to be a puppet of God. Not at all! We are only asked to put aside all the running about and apparent liberties that children enjoy. Some people have to eat their own foolish words, not a happy experience. But we are asked to eat and digest the Word being given to us, and in this case it turns out to be a toast to life and as Ezekiel says it will taste like nectar. This is the Pascha or Passover journey from apparent life to apparent death. It is a bridge to the real life we see in the saints and other people we admire.

Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, for example: “The Muses love the woods, and I have come hither to court the awful Powers in this sober solitude. Whatsoever is highest, wisest, best: favor me! I will listen and then speak.” Trust in the mystery of God brings maturity and a depth of love and life that lasts through thick and thin. It can open us and expose us to the wonderful and terrifying universe of millions of possibilities that coax and bid us to follow and create, to incarnate the divine love in our own unique way whether or not we are artists. Emerson also noted that “In the presence of nature, a wild delight runs through man, in spite of real sorrows.”

In Jesus, God entered our tragedies and pain and our darkest, most constricted and powerless places. Like with him, that mysterious affirmation from the abyss of love can enable us to bear even the deepest sorrows and defeat, with profound courage and strength of will. Christ is in our midst!

Sermon 83 [28June09] Scripture Readings: Mt6:22-34;1Pt 3:13-22;Is49:13-19

You know the expression: beauty is in the eye of the beholder? This immediately raises the question, how clear is my vision? The gospel lesson begins with the phrase: “The lamp of the body is the eye.” A lamp throws light so that we can see. Our eye allows us to see. So, when we open our eyes we let a flood of light into our consciousness. We need light to see, and not just external light but also internal light, that light which is our perception of reality or how we understand what we see. The gospel goes on to say “if that interior light is darkened, what darkness that will be!” That darkness could be cynicism, fatalism, defeatism, fear, depression, disillusionment, or despair, whereas, the light could be joy, beauty, appreciation, expectation, enthusiasm, peacefulness, optimism, encouragement, and hope. The gospel phrase is a poetic way of talking about how we see the world. And how we see the world has an enormous impact on how we live our lives.
In today’s gospel, we are being asked to see the world with God’s eyes rather than our own.
God, the creator of the universe and all it contains including all aspects of the human condition.
God, “the only lover of humankind.”
God, who through the holy spirit is “everywhere present and fills all things.”
God, who loves all and forgives all and gives all as a free gift. It is that perspective that we are called to adopt.
This does not mean that we should put on a pair of rose colored glasses and imagine that everything is great even as the house is burning down! Its does not mean that we live in denial when we get the news that we have a terminal disease. Rather, it means that as we pass through this life, we are able to meet whatever comes our way without panicking because we have faith that God will provide what we need. None of us will complete the journey of this life without running over many bumps in the road. We will also experience great joys and satisfactions.
The gospel then goes on to say if the eye is sound your whole body will be filled with light. Sometimes it translates “sound” as “singular”, which can mean singularly focused on the light, which is God. If we are one with God’s light then we begin to see with God’s eyes. And we are always free to let that light in or to pull down the shades. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” What do we let in and what do we filter out?
A few months ago a neighbor lost their small prefab home in a fire. Recently that home was replaced with what appears to be a prefab building that is much larger than the one that burned down. As it turned out, their insurance covered the cost of the replacement and the replacement was secured via an auction at a reduced price. So, the bad economic times, actually benefited this elderly couple. I do not know how they approached this disaster-turned-boon, but it shows that good can come from what appears to be bad. In the face of problems we can throw up our hands in despair or we can search for alternative possibilities.
Searching for possibilities implies work on our part. Sometimes this gospel can be interpreted as telling us that God provides so we don’t need to do anything. After all, it seems to say the birds do nothing and the flowers do nothing yet God provides for them. This is not really a true understanding of that passage. The birds, for example, have to do a lot to care for themselves and their young. They do what they do naturally, according to the gifts God has given them. We as humans need to do the same.
In this gospel the evil is not work but anxiety. And at the root of anxiety is a lack of faith and trust. Whether we want to acknowledge it or not, anxiety is all about control. Whose in control of our life anyway? If we think we can rely on no one, especially not God, then we will be forever worrying about “what am I to drink or what am I to wear.” If we have faith, then the urge to worry dissipates. We know that God will help us through whatever crisis we are facing. St. Peter also exhorts us to have no fear in the face of persecution, remembering that our hope is in Jesus Christ. And Isaiah calls for “shouts of joy … since the Lord has consoled his people” and in the midst of destruction God speaks of rebuilding. This is the beauty God beholds.
This gospel always reminds me of Mad Magazine and Alfred E. Newman’s famous line: “What, me worry?!” Christ says: “Oh you who have so little faith, do not worry.” We have been listening to a series of talks on Radical Self-acceptance by Tara Brach and in passing she told the old Jewish Mother joke in which the mother writes to her son: “Start worrying: details to follow.” How we see the world affects how with live our lives. If we begin with the premise that things are bad and can only get worse, then we will live in a way that fulfils that expectation. On the other hand, if we approach every moment in life as pregnant with possibilities, if we choose to see beauty around us and not just decay and litter then we will begin to see the world as God created it to be.
Christ is in our midst!

1 Kings 19:19-21; Rom. 1:7-17; Mt. 9:9-13

St. Matthew, like all his neighbors, hated the Roman occupiers. But being a really smart guy, he thought: I can make the best of this situation and live a decent and comfortable life. Let’s go with the realities! He knew how to write up reports, do accounting, keep records, and deal with people. So he sold out to the Romans.

But as a tax collector, he became alienated from his own people, the synagogue and God. He worked for Rome but did not have the rights of a citizen. Worse still, he was enmeshed in a system of oppression, which can turn abusive even to those who try to cooperate and do the best they can with it.

Along comes the well-spoken of healer and teacher Jesus, not from the establishment but just maybe destined to be an opposition leader. He claimed authority and yet was loved by the people. The powers that be were wary of Jesus and they could not buy or entrap him…

A feeling of liberation, a dream of personal freedom, probably buried in his heart for years, flares up in Matthew at the sight of Jesus. Then a look, a wave of the hand, a word and a call—and Matthew is shocked into attention. He sees how despicable his bondage is and how it turned him sour. In the next instant he gambles all for this chance to make something better of his life. Is it really possible to leave all that behind, begin anew, a bit wiser, and learn from the Master?
Jesus invites him and he freely responds. He joins the group of disciples and does not care whether they approve or hold his past against him, or are simply surprised.

He heard Jesus say that it is not those who think they are well and all set, but those apparently sick at heart and still searching, and the so-called sinners, who need the physician’s help or a teacher! Jesus peeled away the rotten bandages and the dead skin of the human wound, to expose the simplicity and beauty of the fragile human heart. Jesus was confident and courageous, a person of knowledge and depth, able to stand up for what he was doing and defend his friends. Truly altruistic, 100 percent un-self-centered, but God-centered and showing the love of God: He was not ethically self-righteous, or a representative of a school of divisive social or religious observances and of conventional arbitrary customs or oppressive standards. He offered to ordinary people the mercy of God instead of a menu of anger and guilt. He desired to shelter them, he said, as a hen with her chicks; he needed workers for his Father as would the harvester of ripe wheat.
In so many ways He says: I am the sign of God, I am the gate of heaven, I am the way to the truth, I am the persecuted and risen, I am with you always, I am the divine Spirit, I gather the marginalized and the poor and the rich. Come to me everyone who labors and is over-burdened… !
Jesus did not fulfill a promise of an easy new life for Matthew, but the life and growth of the soul and liberation of spirit which surpassed political freedom, and where, paradoxically, he said …you will find rest for your souls!

In a recent book called Power, Ambition, Glory, about leadership business secrets, Steve Forbes uses a Christian monastery as the perfect example of right attitude even for the business world: He says the secret is that the monks are not profit-driven people who happen to have a sideline interest in service for public relations purposes. Rather, they are in the business of serving God by serving one another and their neighbors. They are spiritual people who happen to run businesses; He points to charity, or what in its much larger sense the monks call caritas, which means living from the heart: it begins with a transformational change of heart, and this is what they join the monastery to find and what the monastic life provides.

This all overflows into their work and relationships with suppliers, customers, neighbors and visitors.

And so this brings us back to selflessness: the famous poet T.S. Eliot defined life as “one long purification of motive.” Forbes says for monastics this means keeping a watch on my own inner motivations; respecting deeper values until it becomes second nature; intense mutual training for each member and of new members, individual personal accountability; and finally using monastic practices to keep centered and alert within oneself in the middle of the distractions and necessities of life.

This is part of the work of Christ today and an attitude of following the gospel recorded in the name of Matthew: Matthew himself had finally discovered the pearl of great price, the treasure buried in the field.

Christ is in our midst.

Homily at Michael Csernica’s burial service, New Skete 6-20-09.
Glory to Jesus Christ!

In recent years I have been privileged to be present with so many people we know and love as they have passed away. I am always amazed at that journey an ill and dying person travels, especially when surrounded by family, friends, and hospice. I still feel awestruck and a bit hesitant in the presence of this mystery. Maybe only the miracle of birth is anything like it.

Each of us is so different, of course, and it seems to me individuals are also unique in how they act and react in their passing from this life. Tragedy, pain, conflict, anger, denial, and tears, are all a part of dying, but so are love, deep feeling, new ways of acting, peace, and the healing of troubled relationships in the midst of so much sadness and loss. We move a little closer to one another, even relaxing into a kind of forgiveness when that is needed.

Many of us have also seen or felt great determination and courage in those most difficult times imaginable, and how it has been enough just to put one foot in front of the other and remember to breathe. We may have asked ourselves about the things we did or did not do – but also the questions why now, why them not me, why have I survived so much – yet I have also heard in these crises the advise to be kind to yourself and carry a loving attitude toward yourself and toward each other.

All of those who lie buried here at New Skete are a part of our daily lives: and we pray for them and pass by their markers. But at every new death we become more profoundly aware of our belief handed down from generations before us. In a way beyond our senses, as good or not as good as they are, Michael’s life as well as all the others’ continues in another sphere of existence that is so real yet, beyond any words to describe it. The holy apostles knew this after the death of Jesus; believers and unbelievers before us have felt or somehow experienced it.

At one time or another we ourselves might have been witness to the certainty and unusual signs and signals that those we love who have just died are here with us. But we know too that they are going into the light and love of Christ that is greater than space and time as we know it.
All of us have a limited time to pursue new and wiser ways of living together on this earth. This can be both liberating and painful. And like those whom we mourn, we too can learn how crucial it is to get it right with the people we know, and with ourselves, and with God. Then when our own final moment of lucidity comes, we might even faintly smile and whisper in the hearing of whoever is present, “I love you.”

Is 43:1-7, Ac 5:27-42, Mt 5: 1-12; Second Sunday after Pentecost

Thoughts of a Nun

To be human is to listen to the rest of the world with a tender heart, and to learn to live with our arms open and our souls seared with a sense of responsibility for everything that is. Any human who does this is surely a saint. How do we become this kind of human as we celebrate all the saints today?

Most scripture scholars agree that the sermon on the Mount containing the beatitudes is a collection of the teachings of Jesus done over a much longer time than one sitting down and opening of his mouth. This sermon is the concentrated memory of many hours of heart to heart communion between the disciples and their master. Delving into the meanings of these blessings from today’s gospel would certainly cause us to be fully human if we could understand them the way Jesus meant them.

How much of this concentrated teaching of Jesus do we understand? How do we understand it?

For instance, the poor in spirit are not those who are destitute. Material poverty is not a good thing. Jesus would never have called living in slums or on the streets and not having enough to eat a blessed condition to be in. One aim of Christianity, even of just humanity, is to eliminate that kind of poverty. The poor are blessed because having realized their own helplessness, have put their whole trust in God to lead them. They are living in the Kingdom of God, wanting to do what God wants of them. The Evangelist Matthew wanted to make sure his listeners did not think being poor financially meant an automatic ticket to the kingdom of God.

In the next Blessed, the Greek term for Mourning means the greatest of grieves one might have. Such as for a very dear one who has died. Another way of saying this is: Blessed are those who are intensely sorry for the sorrow and the suffering in this world. Undoubtedly it also means blessed are they who are sorry for their own sins and failings. The joy of forgiving and of being forgiven is the greatest of comforts. The essential kindness of our fellow human beings reaching out also shows us the comfort and compassion of God.

Aristotle defined meekness as the middle between excessive anger and excessive angerlessness. It is the happy medium between too much and too little anger.
A rule of thumb for this type of meekness could be to not get angry over insult and injury done to oneself but be only right to be angry at injuries done to others. Another understanding, perhaps a better one, of meekness is lofty–heartedness meaning a true humility which banishes all pride. Without this humility a person cannot learn, for the first step to learning is the realization of our own ignorance. This humility or awareness of our own ignorance allows for a certain kind of gentleness in our approach to life.

Hungering and thirsting for righteousness, in other words, goodness. In the time of Jesus there were those who would literally die because of no food or water. Even today there are places where this is so. It is not our condition or state but if it were, do we value goodness as much as we would value food or drink if we were starving or dying of thirst? Most of us have an instinctive desire for goodness. Are we prepared though to make the effort and sacrifices real goodness requires? Think what the world might be like if we desired goodness more than anything else.

The Lord’s prayer; “Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us” and “Blessed are the merciful for they shall receive mercy” seem almost synonymous and are pretty clear in meaning. In looking up some of the words in the Greek though, the meaning of mercy (Chesedh) means the ability to get right inside the other person’s skin so that we see, think and feel as that person does. We are able to experience what the other is experiencing. Think how much easier it would be to understand, to sympathize, even forgive and be kind in a helpful way if we were experiencing what the other was experiencing. In a sense, did not God do just that? In Jesus God became human, being able to see things, feel things and think things as a human.

To be human is to listen to the rest of the world with a tender heart, and to learn to live with our arms open and our souls seared with a sense of responsibility for everything that is. That is what Jesus does. He has shown us the way. We don’t have to go to other countries or nations. Be this kind of human to the person next to us. Let us continue pondering these teachings and learn how to live them as the saints did, each of us in our own way.

Christ is in our midst!