The Communities of New Skete

Scripture Reading: Jr 3:12b-15,19-22; 1Jn 3:7-20; Lk 15:11-32

Reflections from a Monk

I have to admit, I’m uncomfortable with how this Sunday is designated by the tradition: The Sunday of the Prodigal Son. It can cause us to hear the parable in a way that focuses attention primarily on the younger son, who leaves home, squanders his inheritance, and then finally comes to himself, returns home and experiences his father’s unconditional love and forgiveness. And it is that on one level.

But if we hear it only on that level, we’ll inevitably hear the parable sentimentally: “Oh look, it’s a beautiful metaphor for how God takes back the wayward sinner no matter what…” And as a result, none of us will change, because most likely we won’t see ourselves in the story. The point of the parable is that both of the sons are alienated from the father: yet only the younger son knows it. The older son assumes that he’s the good son, the faithful and dutiful son. He has followed the rules to the letter. It never occurs to him that he’s just as alienated as his brother and it takes the whole story to make this clear. Today might be more properly called, “The Sunday of the Two Sons”, and I’ll give you a hint: It takes dead aim at each of us, no matter how spiritually we may be living.

The context is crucial. You didn’t hear it today, but the beginning of the chapter in which this story is found tells us that tax collectors and sinners were drawing near to Jesus and that the scribes and Pharisees were deeply disturbed by this: “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” This is the attitude Jesus takes aim at in the parable – the self-righteousness that is blind to its own alienation. It’s not hard to imagine that when they heard the parable, the scribes and Pharisees would have been infuriated, for they would have realized that Jesus saw them as the “elder” brother, totally jealous over the father’s lavishness.

So Jesus was addressing the parable as much to the scribes and Pharisees as he was to the tax collectors and sinners, and the parable concludes with a powerful plea for them to change their minds and hearts, to let them be broken and renewed. It makes me wonder: Looking around here, I think it’s safe to say that there aren’t too many “younger” brother types among us, at least as we are now. But what about the “older” brother … I wonder if we can fit into his shoes? The parable challenges us to hear our own indignation when we discover that all our piety and devotion won’t merit any special consideration from God: we won’t earn a higher spot in heaven – that drunkards, thieves and profligates will stand elbow to elbow with us, benefiting from the same mercy, the same compassion. Given that, might we even catch ourselves saying, “Why bother?? What’s the point of being devout, fervent… What advantage does it bring me, anyway?”

Bingo: there’s the source of the alienation. Whenever spirituality is mired in ego, we find ourselves like the elder brother, in a far-off land as well (even tho we’re sleeping in our own bed); we can’t see the forest through the trees… What must he have thought when he heard the father say, “My son, you are with me always, and all I have is yours…”? The son was totally unaware of his true reality, with what he was living with. The question remains: does this realization create a gratitude that naturally seeks to respond to the grace it has experienced?

This reminds me of a story: it seems that there was a freighter that went through a violent storm off the coast of South America in which the ship was damaged. The water supply was also lost and soon the crew on the freighter was parched with thirst. Seeing another ship approach, they signaled it requesting some water. The ship signaled back, “Lower your buckets into the ocean…” When they did, they pulled up fresh, sweet water from the sea. Turns out that though they were out of sight of land, they were floating several miles off the mouth of the Amazon river, in which the water continued to be fresh well into the ocean.

Let us lower our buckets where we are and find the sweet water of Divine love that is freely offered, if only we have the humility to accept it, and the graciousness to share it with others.

Scripture Reading: Is 42: 5-12; Heb 7:11-19; Lk 2:25-38

Reflections from a Monk

The Feast of the Encounter brings to and end the period in the church calendar that began with Christmas and is known as the season of lights. So can we now take down our Christmas lights?
I remember years ago, when Boeing, then the giant in the airline industry, was badly hit by a nationwide economic downturn. Their headquarters was in Seattle, and wags were putting out the line: would the last person leaving Seattle please turn out the lights! Here we are in an economic crisis again and it is tempting to turn out the lights on hope. Even with a new administration in Washington, honeymoons don’t last forever and the problems are not going to be easy to solve. Our society’s usual drive for the quick fix and the quick buck will be challenged by this period of retrenchment that is global in scope. Today’s gospel reminds us that societies facing crises is nothing new.

St Luke skillfully weaves both the light and the ever present shadow into the events and rituals surrounding the birth, circumcision, purification, presentation and baptism of Jesus. The Light of this season, foretold by Isaiah, is the realization of God’s intervention into the human condition through Jesus Christ. The incarnation is a message of hope that opens the pathway to our salvation. But St. Luke also notices that when there is light, the light throws shadows. Simeon’s oracle about Jesus says that “he will be the cause of the fall and the rise of many in Israel, [and is] destined to be a sign that is opposed.” Simeon also speaks of a sword piercing Mary’s soul, an image alluded to in the Theotokion text: “a sword of sorrow pierced your soul.” It is a image of pain we will all experience in life.

Life is not about a steady progression of joy and happiness, we all face crises and need to deal with them. How we deal with them and where we turn for guidance and support is crucial. Sometimes the support we crave and need is found “in our very midst,” as we say about the cross. But we may not see it or take advantage of it or we may have allowed it to slip away from us.

The image of the fall and rise of many is a prediction about the fate of people who are forced to make choices in the face of a crisis. For Jews in Jesus’ time the crisis was the challenge Jesus as Messiah posed to their faith. Should they accept or reject Jesus as the promised Savior. Some would fall over this stumbling block and oppose Jesus, while others would follow Jesus and rise with him into the promised Kingdom.

Many face that same crisis today. What does God or Jesus Christ have to do with me and my life? What does God have to do with the mess we’re in today? Nothing, if we do not have a habit of taking our concerns and crises to God in prayer. Nothing, if we live a life that is disconnected from any understanding of God’s presence within our human reality. If we seek to bring that presence into our own reality then we would have to step down from our contented position of thinking that we are in control of our destinies. We need to fall from our perch of self-assurance, self-sufficiency, self-confidence, self-reliance, self-importance and descend as did Jesus Christ in Gethsemane, to the place where we accept that God’s will is the ultimate power in our lives and in the world. God is with us through the crisis, God lifts us up and helps us carry our crosses. Ritually, we have that image imprinted on our body and our psyche at our baptism by descending with Christ into the depths only to rise from the water to new life.

The Gospel also shows us Mary and Joseph acting in obedience to the covenant, which Isaiah’s prophecy recalls, made between God and the community. Mary and Joseph performed certain rituals in accord with Jewish law. They did so as a natural expression of their societal and religious commitments and not as if these acts were foreign intrusions into their lives. We are familiar with the rituals in our own lives and society, yet, they seldom are associated with God. We have just witnessed the inauguration of a new president, a ritual we engage in every four years. We observe the annual ritual of the President going to Congress to give the State of the Union address. Such State events have a religious invocation but they are not outgrowths of a covenant with God. Go to a baseball game and everyone stands for the 7th inning stretch. The Super Bowl has its rituals. Graduations, school proms and New Years Eve all have their rituals. We are unlikely to wonder about the workings of the Divine power in them as Mary and Joseph wondered about all that Simeon and Anna were telling them about their baby Jesus. Some may attend socially required ceremonies around births, weddings and funerals and Easter and Christmas services, but they are often just blips on the computer screen of their lives rather than milestones in their journey to God.

If we see our lives as being a journey to God then we can give some thought and prayer to the example Mary and Joseph give us today in their faithfulness to their community’s covenant with God. We may begin to see and invest in the rituals of our lives and faith a deepening awareness of God’s presence and active involvement in our lives. Rather than succumb to the temptation to turn out the lights on hope, we can begin to learn to live in hope through faith, no matter what the immediate circumstances of our lives might be.

The celebration of the light of Christ during this period reminds us that ordinary events can take on extraordinary power in our lives if we are attuned to their deeper meaning. If we have faith and believe in God’s presence in our lives, as Isaiah reminds us, then we will look for signs of that reality in all that we do. This can happen when the rituals are an integral part of our understanding of who we are and how God’s presence in the events of our time give these actions a deeper meaning. Our hope, as read in Hebrews, is only enduring if it is rooted in a belief that God is with us in this journey.

Mary and Joseph, pray to God for us that we may see your example as a sign from God that we too can be strengthened for the challenges ahead by our faith and trust in God’s love and concern for us. Help us to see God’s love in our daily lives and to bring it to mind in all that we do. Amen.