A Leap of Faith2/29/2020 A Leap of Faith
1st Sunday of Lent Today’s Leap Day and so you see a shepherd leaping in the photo above. If you’re thinking to yourself, “It’s Lent not Christmas. Is FB losing it?” Yes, and no. If you think about it, the great “leap of faith” that we take at Christmas is believing that the Eternal God could/would become flesh and blood, living a human life like one of us. The “leap of faith” that we take in Lent is that Jesus Christ is fully human, like us in all things but sin. The first Sunday of Lent always calls us to reflect on his humanity in the story of the Temptation. For some reason I was led by the Spirit not to spend my prayer time reflecting on the temptations as Matthew presents them in his Gospel but rather on a single line at the end of the passage. “And angels came and ministered to him.” I have always glossed over that line. But this time I began to give flesh and blood to those “angels,” wondering whether they could have been angels of the humankind who found Jesus and ministered to him. As I contemplated the human Jesus, I realized that he was as much in need of someone ministering to him as we are when we are famished from fasting or exhausted by life’s challenges. When I saw the image of the shepherd leaping, I went back in my memory banks and remembered the story that this image inspired at Christmas time. It was titled “Know Well!” Well, what do you know! I took the leap and began to write a “sequel.” Malachi’s Message Do you remember the story of the First No-El? No? It’s a story of Elijah, a shepherd boy and his favorite sheep, Elisha, who were the first of all the shepherds to come to the manger and see with their very own eyes, the new-born child whom the angels were singing about. Elijah became known as the flying shepherd because he leapt with such joy and ran so fast that it seemed like he was flying. But as so often happens in life, the joy of the moment faded and Elijah, and his parents Naomi and Noah went on their nomadic ways, shepherding their flocks wherever they could find pastures for grazing. But Elijah never forgot the moment when he saw that new-born whom they called Jesus. As always happens, time passes. The years went by, thirty to be exact. Elijah had married a lovely woman named Mala and together they had two children. Malachi (which means messenger) and Miriam (Which means sea of sorrow.) Miriam was known for her sadness, always worrying and watching out for her younger brother, Malachi. She would see him standing upon a great rock and call out to him, “Come down from there! You could fall and hurt yourself.” And Malachi would shout back “God is my rock, my fortress, my strength! Why should I be afraid?” And Miriam would sigh and say, “By the waters of Babylon, we sat down and wept!” And Malachi would say “I have turned your mourning into dancing, and he would start dancing on the rock. This, of course, would make Miriam even more anxious and she would say “Better that you pray with these words, ‘For God will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all of your way.” And Malachi, would finish the psalm, “On their hands they will bear you up so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.” And Miriam would sigh and say, “Oh Malachi, what will ever become of you!” It was the season when the Judean desert would bloom and Elijah and his family along with other nomadic shepherds would make their way there for their sheep to safely graze. Malachi loved these desert times. Whenever he had the chance he would, wander off and explore the caves that were part of the desert landscape. Of course, Miriam would worry when Malachi went wandering off. She would follow him from a distance making sure he didn’t get himself into any trouble! One day, Miriam saw Malachi entering into one of the caves. She decided to wait outside to surprise him when he came out. But to her great surprise, Malachi came rushing out in great distress. “Malachi, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost? Or did some wild beast frighten you?” “No, no ghost or beast but there’s a man in there, sitting on the ground and leaning against the wall of the cave. He can barely speak. His voice is as dry as these desert sands. He asked for water. He has no strength. It looks like he hasn’t eaten anything in many days. I wondered if he had a fever since his eyes were burning so brightly.” Miriam, of course, was anxious and worried. “We need to leave him. We don’t know who he is. He could be a criminal in hiding. They may be looking for him to put him to death. Maybe the Romans want to crucify him.” “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Miriam. I don’t think he’s hiding anything. You know the story of our ancestor Elijah. Our father bears his name. Remember how he dwelt in a cave and knew the Holy One in a still small voice. I wonder if this man came to the cave to find God and hear God’s voice? But now we must minister to him. He needs us.” Malachi went back into the cave and Miriam with him, they saw the man, so weak, thirsty and hungry. Miriam spoke first, “Sir, my name is Miriam and here is water for you. “You will drink water from the springs of salvation.” And Malachi spoke, “Sir, take this and eat. This bread will bring you back to life. It will be manna in the desert for you” And the man ate and drank and began to regain his strength. It was Miriam who spoke. “You must come with us. Our father Elijah and out mother Mala will care for you. You look so weary. You can find rest in our tent.” The man did not speak a word but went with Malachi and Miriam. When Elijah saw his children returning to their tent, accompanied by a stranger, he wondered, “Where in the world have my children been? And who is this stranger? Of course, he will be welcome at our table, for all are welcome to eat and drink as a sign of God’s kingdom” After some hours of rest, the stranger woke to the sounds of a family meal and the smells of lamb roasting. He joined them for the meal and afterwards all gathered around the embers of the fire to warm themselves on this chill desert night. Finally, the stranger spoke. Elijah and Mala, these children of yours, today were angels for me. I have been living in the desert, in a cave dwelling for the past 40 days. I came to listen for the voice of God to try to understand how our God has called me to proclaim his kingdom. I do believe I heard God’s voice at times whispering to me. But then just yesterday the voice I heard was no whisper. It was a cacophony of sound that I could barely understand. I’m sure it was the Tempter’s voice, challenging me, testing me, telling me that I would have everything this world has to offer, if I let his will be done in me. At that very moment, I heard another voice, a whisper again within my ears. ‘Know well, you are my beloved Son on whom my favor rests.’ These were the same words I heard when I was baptized by John in the Jordan and I knew well that this Tempter would have no power over me, nor would I ever let his will be done.” The stranger noticed the tears streaming down Elijah’s face. “What is it, Elijah?” Has my story moved you so? Elijah, filled with emotion spoke, “Know well, know well, Those were the words I heard from angels on a hillside 30 years ago. I thought they were calling me by my nickname, “No-el” But they were announcing the birth of a child born in a manger, one who was to be our savior. As my children have heard so many times, that was the night when this poor shepherd went leaping across the fields, hastening to Bethlehem, joyfully dancing to see the new-born whose name was Jesus. I found him asleep with his mother, Miriam and father Joseph there. And Elijah noticed the tears streaming down the stranger’s face. Know well, Elijah. That child? Here I am. And Malachi, both shepherd and angel began to leap for joy, knowing well that this was no stranger, this was Jesus.
3 Comments
Not so- Fast!2/28/2020 2-28
Not So – Fast! Friday after Ash Wednesday Last year on the Friday after Ash Wednesday, “Fast” was the word that captured my imagination. You can read that reflection following a poem I wrote this morning seeing a squirrel at sunrise. Squirrel Scramble I saw a squirrel squatting on a stone wall holding fast for a few seconds. I wondered if he were feasting his eyes on the golden kernel of sunrise as I was or was he in search of kernels of another kind? Was he aching for acorns, or fasting from feasting ? Was he searching for stores or asking for more than oaks can provide? “Squirrels do not live on acorns alone.” I saw a squirrel Scurrying away Holding fast no more. Had his hunger tempted him To break fast from this glorious feast for the eyes, this golden kernel of sunrise? Had his aching for acorns consumed him? Has his searching for sturdy oaks blurred his vision of sun’s rising over a rock of ages, symbol of steadfast love? I saw myself in a squirrel scampering away from steadfast Rock and squirrel fortifying me with wisdom’s kernels. Fast, yes, when it comes to acorns Fast, no, when it’s time for slow Hold fast to the One who Holds you Fast! (2019) I keep stumbling on these words that have the same sounds but multiple meanings. Fast/Firm. Fast/Quick Fast/Food (abstaining from). In Lent, the meaning of fast that holds fast and that comes fast and first to mind is fast in reference to food. Not fast-food but fasting “from” food. We know the health and spiritual benefits of refraining from food. Fasting cleanses, purifies and makes us more aware of the gift of nourishment when we have it. Fasting is a healthy spiritual discipline. But, not so fast! In today’s scripture the prophet Isaiah is reminding the people of Israel that a “fast” that is self-serving is not what God wants. In very powerful and clear language God speaks: This, rather, is the fasting that I wish: releasing those bound unjustly, untying the thongs of the yoke; Setting free the oppressed, breaking every yoke; Sharing your bread with the hungry, sheltering the oppressed and the homeless; Clothing the naked when you see them, The fast that God desires is not self-centered but one that is focused on the needs of the “other.” The question for us in this Lenten season, is how we can best use the healthy, spiritual discipline of fasting not just as a means of “self” improvement but as a way of heightening our awareness of God’s presence and our compassion for the “other.” Slowing down, when it’s possible, can give you time and space to ask yourself, “What is it that holds me fast?” Am I going too fast to recognize God’s grace in my life? How can I fast in such a way that it awakens my hunger for God and compassion for others? So…. fast ….but not so fast…lest you forget to hold fast to what really matters. If that squirrel had not been so fast to scamper away for breakfast, this is what he would have seen. What a Whorl!2/27/2020 IMG_1556 from Robert VerEecke on Vimeo.
Thursday after Ash Wednesday
It’s quite a “whorl” this morning. After more than a month of serene seas, you can see how it’s whirling and swirling now. It’s quite a sight and a sound! I was going to call today’s reflection. Safe and Sound, since I was inside in a safe place but listening to the howling sounds of the winds. When I went to pray, however, I was struck by the contrast between the storm, winding its way and the words of Moses and Jesus on this second day of Lent. Both speak in a way that is straightforward and clear. Both “lay it on the line.” Moses says, “I set before you this day, life and prosperity and death and doom. Choose life.” Jesus says, Then he said to all, “If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it. Hearing these words, you could imagine that the choice is clear and it’s a straight path to salvation. That’s when I thought of life as more of a “whorl” than a straight line. Here’s what came to me: 2-27 What a Whorl! What a whorl we live in! Is a life line straight? an arrow from here to there? Not on your life! No, life’s eddy finding, twisting, turning, swirling, whirling, storm’s imprinting pooling and pulling this way and that and always whipping up a fury and frenzy. Virile or viral? Our human weakness all at once in a whorl. Yes. Yesterday a straight path from ashes to Easter. (By the time we get to Phoenix. He’ll be rising.) Even ashes etched in straight line cross-roads, as if the journey would have clear markings! No, look closely! Ashes bear the whorls Of human fingers Imprinted on brows, beating the odds of death’s victory over life. What whorl we do when ways are not straight and one strays, skipping along life’s yellow trick road with its mindless, heartless and cowardly lines? “Choose life” Moses remans. “Lose life” Jesus reminds. If the world we live in were not such a whorl of choosing and losing, perhaps the path would be straight as an arrow from here to there from ashes to Easter. At least this whorl we live bears the marks of him who imprinted his life on this world. Thumbs up! IMG_0632 from Robert VerEecke on Vimeo. Stardust-Ash Wednesday2/26/2020 Ash Wednesday
I hadn’t planned to do another entry for Ash Wednesday since I’m facilitating a day of prayer today but I had to share one of my favorite Ash Wednesday photos.as well as this morning’s Ash Wednesday sky. Very gray but with a glimpse of sunlight rending the clouds. I entitled this Stardust since I remembered a homily that Fr. JA Loftus gave years ago at the Jesuit Urban Center when he quoted a famous passage from a Polish Rabbi which I found this morning. "Everyone must have two pockets, with a note in each pocket, so that he or she can reach into one or the other, depending on the need. When feeling lowly and depressed, discouraged or disconsolate, one should reach into the right pocket and there find the words, 'The world was created for me." But when feeling high and mighty, one should reach into the left pocket and find the words, " I am but dust and ashes."m but dust and ashes." (Gen. 18:27)1” We need to remember that we are dust and ashes and yet we are infinitely loved as we are. We are amazingly “stars” in God’s eyes? Can you believe that? And it is said we are made of “stardust" after all! A World of Difference2/25/2020 Mardi Gras and Ash Wednesday
The reading from the letter of James sounds like a prelude for tomorrow, Ash Wednesday. It certainly is bleak! It’s not the kind of scripture you would hope to hear on Mardi Gras which is always a day of indulgence and love for the things of the world like parties and processions and parades. (Photo above) In James’ view, the “world” is God’s enemy, even though God is the creator of this world. The “world” is the source of vice and his “advice” is to forget the world and remember God. Do you not know that to be a lover of the world means enmity with God? Therefore, whoever wants to be a lover of the world makes himself an enemy of God. I confess that I am a “lover of the world” and I certainly don’t feel like an enemy of God. Along with Ignatius of Loyola, I find the challenge is to “find God in all things.” The world is ours for the loving and the living with all its graces and gifts, its flaws and failures. There’s a world of difference in seeing the world as the source of beauty and God’s love and seeing it only as the source of temptation and sin. How can you not love a world that produced a Mozart and Michelangelo, artists, architects, philosophers, scientists and countless more brilliant and creative minds? How can you not love a world where most days you wake up to a beautiful sunrise see the sun’s setting at the end of the day? How can you not love a world of differences? A world inhabited by so many varieties of species, plant and animal and people of different languages and cultures and religious beliefs? Tomorrow/Today is Ash Wednesday when the Church begins a time of prayer, fasting, and armsgiving (Yes, I know that’s almsgiving) It’s traditionally a period of penance and self-denial. It begins with a signing of the cross with ashes on the forehead and the words, “Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return” or “Turn away from sin and believe the Gospel.” I’m sure that Ash Wednesday would be James’ favorite day of the year! So submit yourselves to God. Resist the Devil, and he will flee from you. Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you. Cleanse your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you of two minds. Begin to lament, to mourn, to weep. Let your laughter be turned into mourning and your joy into dejection. Humble yourselves before the Lord and he will exalt you. There is a world of difference between James’ words which excoriate and Jesus’ words which ask us to have the mind and heart of one who serves and the attitude of a little child open to the wonder and mystery of life. Then he sat down, called the Twelve, and said to them, “If anyone wishes to be first, he shall be the last of all and the servant of all.” Taking a child, he placed it in their midst, and putting his arms around it, he said to them, “Whoever receives one child such as this in my name, receives me; and whoever receives me, receives not me but the One who sent me.” Ash Wednesday is the beginning of an annual journey which invites us to walk with Jesus and know more deeply his love for this world. It is why two years ago when Ash Wednesday coincided with Valentine’s day, I signed people’s foreheads with the ashes and said “Remember that you are loved, and to love you shall return.” If I were to rewrite James’ letter it might be something like this. So surrender yourselves to God who is Love Resist what is not of God and you will find yourself. Let God’s love be a magnet, drawing you close. Reach out your hands, you loved sinners, Share your hearts and be of one mind. Begin each morning with Amen and always keep Christ in mind. Let your mourning be turned into dancing and your dejection into jubilation. Love the Lord with your whole heart, soul, mind and strength and God will exalt you in return. All A Quiver2/24/2020 Monday of the 7th Week in Ordinary Time I owe the title of this morning’s reflection to Paul Mariani, poet, teacher, author and so much more. I’m reading his book The Mystery Of It All: The Vocation of Poetry in the Twilight of Modernity. Paul Mariani is an expert in the poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins and his first chapter in the book which speaks of the poetry of Hopkins and his influence is entitled “On the Quiver of Mystery.” If it weren’t for Mariani’s choice of the word “quiver” quoted from Hopkins himself speaking of the mystery of the Trinity, I doubt that I would have described myself as “all aquiver” this morning as I went for a walk on a path that I have often walked before. All A Quiver Was it the bird songs heard this Hopkins morning that set my ears aquiver? Their quavering voices lasting longer than a quaver and me all aquiver. Or was is the deciduous trees seen this Hopkins morning that set my mind’s eye aquiver? Their branches bare, they bare themselves, half-naked now stripped of spring and summer revealing patches of blue with arms outstretched. Or was it the sheep, the Scottish cow, Or the miniature mules felt this Hopkins morning that set my hands aquiver? Wanting to touch and feel their Coats, coarse and wooly, of course. Were these creatures of our God and King, key to my quivering? Or was it the balsam wreaths with their Christmas scent on this Hopkins morning that set my soul aquiver? Still green but not forever The nose knows. Noel swells anew And I am all aquiver. Or was it this day’s Gospel read this Hopkins morning that set my heart aquiver? He draws from his quiver of stories, not missing the mark No harmatia here except the sin of unbelief. But who could blame a father seeing his son quivering and quaking? But Jesus calms the storm within and without, instressed and outstretched his heart and the father’s all aquiver. Could it be that the divine marksman was drawing from the quiver of creation, shooting arrows of awe as Hopkins himself heard and felt and saw? A poet’s Eros and A-gape? And all is on the quiver of mystery. Grrrudges2/23/2020 7th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Here’s the homily that I’ll be giving this morning for the conclusion of a 4 day retreat. Can anyone guess what I’m holding onto? I’ll give you a hint. It begins with GRRR…. I’ll tell you what it is. It’s a grudge. Don’t you love that word? It begins with angerrrr and ends with udge. What does udge mean? It doesn’t mean but it sure feels. Like sludge, trudge. If you put “udge” on a scale it would probably break it with its weight. And do you know where the word comes from? It’s from an old French word grochier. That means grumble or complain. . Then in English it becomes grutch and then grudge. It's also where we get the word "grouch" from. So grouch and grudge go hand in hand. So, I’m holding onto this grudge and I hear today’s scriptures: Take no revenge and cherish no grudge against any of your people. You shall love your neighbor as yourself. I am the LORD.” “You have heard that it was said, You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy. But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, But there’s part of me that doesn’t want to let go. Holding on to a grudge feels pretty good. It reminds me that I’ve been hurt, offended, passed over, mistreated, judged. In a way this grudge feels like an old friend. I can count on this grudge to show up when I think of, so and so, or, this and that, in my life. But still I hear the invitation to let go of the grudge. Could it be that this grudge is a false friend? Really not a friend at all but an enemy? I’m thinking of the story of the Samaritan. A certain lawyer wanting to justify himself asked Jesus “And who is my neighbor.?” And Jesus said, A certain man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell in with robbers who beat him, stripped him and left him for dead.” What if the question to Jesus were “And who is my enemy?” And Jesus told this parable, There was a person going down a road who fell in with robbers. The robbers names were Hatred, Resentment, Prejudice. They beat him, stripped him leaving him alive but “half human.” When his neighbors passed by, they kept their distance. They wanted nothing to do with this “less than human” being. But another, saw him and recognized him as one who had turned against him and thought he was his enemy. It was that person who stopped, bound up his wounds and gave him back his humanity by embracing him with love and respect. And then Jesus, said, so who is your enemy? And I answered, My enemy is me. It's what’s inside me and not someone outside. It’s the grudges I hold onto or rather that take hold of me and won’t let me go. And Jesus said, Pray for your enemies. Pray to let go of the hurts and the hates. And in prayer I noticed that the grudge that I was holding on to, or better, that was holding onto me, was releasing its grip on me. And the grace was in the gentle nudge of Jesus, inviting me to be let go of the grudge and the grouch in me and go "hand in hand" with him. Ignoramus? Yahoo!2/21/2020 Friday of the Sixth Week in Ordinary Time
If you read yesterday’s reflection on “yoo hoo” as a way of getting someone’s attention, I hope today’s Ignoramus? Yahoo! will capture yours. Do you want proof, you ignoramus, that faith without works is useless? It was the insult “ignoramus” that ignited my reflection this morning. Not that I should be surprised by James’ harsh words. There are many throughout his letter. But calling one of his “beloved brothers and sisters” an “ignoramus” strikes me as extreme. The more I thought about the word, however, I began to see what an ignoramus I am. Not in the slur sense of the word, but in its original Latin meaning, “We do not know.” I learned this morning that the word “ignoramus” was written on bills of indictment when the evidence presented seemed insufficient to justify prosecution. In these cases ignoramus indicated "we take no notice of (i.e., we do not recognize) this indictment." In the 17th century it began to be used as an insult. The more we age, the more we are able to say “Ignoramus.” We don’t know all the answers. Life’s meaning is elusive. Most days we need to stand awestruck before the mystery of it all and say that we are not “in the know” And yet, Yahoo! We are known and loved as we are by the ultimate mystery whom we call God. As we stand before the Cross of Christ we must humbly say “Ignoramus,” we don’t know or understand his sacrificial love for us. And like those first disciples we have to say “Ignoramus” when it comes to our knowing when and where we will encounter the Risen Christ, on a beach, on the road, in a garden or in an upper room. And so, I say Yahoo! not in the slur sense as a put down but rather raising up a voice in celebration of not knowing and knowing all at once. Yoo Hoo!2/20/2020 Thursday of the Sixth Week in Ordinary Time
"Yoo Hoo" is not a reference to the chocolate drink that after all these years is still on the market. The expression “Yoo Hoo!” caught my attention when it appeared as an answer to an acrostic clue which was "Hey, Is anyone at home?" Does anyone say, “Yoo Hoo” anymore? This morning had its “yoo hoo” moments. It may have been the sky with its promise of a beautiful sunrise that seemed to say, “Yoo Hoo, I’m over here! Let me show “you who” I am.” Or it may have been the reading from James which caught my attention, “You who show partiality to the rich and neglect the poor become judges with evil designs.” (That’s a paraphrase but I wanted to use another “you who.”) Hearing this passage, I remembered a time years ago when our second reader at St Ignatius, Al Bornemann dressed up in the shabbiest clothes he could find and walked to the pulpit to read. He was embodying the reading from James and in fact, everyone was staring! For if a man with gold rings and fine clothes comes into your assembly, and a poor person with shabby clothes also comes in, and you pay attention to the one wearing the fine clothes and say, “Sit here, please,” while you say to the poor one, “Stand there,” or “Sit at my feet,” have you not made distinctions among yourselves and become judges with evil designs? Or it may have been the Gospel which is another “attention getter.” Jesus, on the road to Caesarea Phillipi asks his disciples who people say that he is. After they respond, he says to them “ But you, who do you say that I am?” Isn’t that the most important question for those of us who, like Peter, call Jesus the Christ? Isn’t the Risen Jesus, like the sunrise, saying something like “You who profess your belief in me, pay attention. I’m here. Let me show you who I am.” Another “you who” that came to mind this morning was the song “On Eagles’ Wings” which begins: You who dwell in the shelter of the Lord And abide in his shadow by night Say to the Lord, my refuge, My rock in whom I trust And God will raise you up on eagle’s wings, Bear you on the breath of dawn Make you to shine like the sun And hold you in the palm of his hand. I hope and pray that “you who are so dear to Jesus, will hear his “yoo hoo!” to you today. Double Take2/19/2020 Wednesday of the 6th Week in Ordinary Time
I was gazing out my window at a grey and gloomy sky this morning. The ocean was more active than it had been of late and so I found some relief from the gloom focusing on the waves, white-capped and crashing over the rocks. But then I did a “double take.” A slight change of focus “up and to the left” and I was astonished by what I saw and what I had been missing. The sky was cleft with a blue band separating gloom and glow. Had I not changed my focus and looked again, I would have missed the beauty of the morning. (photo above.) Today’s Gospel has Jesus healing a blind man. It’s so peculiar since Jesus has to “take two” (another kind of double take.) It’s only the second time that the man can see clearly. The first time his vision is blurred and he sees people but “they look like trees walking.” Scripture scholars say that this symbolizes how gradual faith in Jesus is. It doesn’t come automatically. The disciples don’t “get it.” I’d rather think of it as one of the more humorous moments in Mark’s Gospel. I can hear Jesus asking the man “Did I do ok? Can you see?” And after the man talks about trees walking, Jesus says, “Oops! If at first, you don’t succeed….” The “double take” for us may be to look more closely at Jesus’ humanity and humor. Are we willing to take a closer look at Jesus? Are we at all like the man whom Jesus gives sight to who at first doesn't see clearly? Our vision is sometimes blurred. We may not "believe our eyes" but we can believe and trust that Jesus will enable us to see more clearly. But then again, "I see these trees and they look like people walking." AuthorAs an ordained Catholic priest for 45 years and a member of the Jesuits for 57 years, I've had a great deal of "spiritual" experience! This is a place where I can continue to share my thoughts about God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit and what it means to live the "mystery of God." Categories |
Proudly powered by Weebly