Fourth Sumday of Lent

Every time I hear the Gospel narrative of the prodigal son, I am struck by the nearness of both of the sons behaviors. I can see in myself the tendency to be sometimes callous if I am not careful, and to focus only on myself without realizing the impact to others. I can also see in myself the tendency toward vain self-righteous indignation sometimes when I am feeling sorry for myself. Both of these are two of humanities most common foibles, and both of the sons in this narrative display these things brilliantly.

The youngest son, who we always seem to focus on most, perhaps because his actions are so overtly self-centered and immoral demonstrates very clearly just how callous we can be. He asks for his share of his inheritance, which in the culture of the time was like saying to his father that he didn’t want to have to wait any longer for him to die, so just cough up the money now. I can’t even imagine how his father must have felt. Yet he complies with his sons wishes and gives him what he asks for – fathers do that, including our Father in Heaven. They give to us in the hope that we will be happy, and that perhaps we will be productive. Yet this is not always the case, sometimes, like the younger son in our narrative we squander their gifts to us, and go far astray from what they have taught us.

Yet, there is always hope in any fathers heart that his child will come back to him and be reconciled. He is always ready to greet them and welcome them home when they make even the slightest effort. He simply wants his child back and to bring him home. This is not predicated on judgement, because the humbling act of their returning is sufficient for the moment. The lessons to be imparted will come in time.

The other side of the coin to this is observed in the older son, who feels he has been cheated because he has seen how his brother the more overt transgressor has been greeted with compassion and merciful love. He thinks this compassionate response somehow cheapens what he has with his father. That he is somehow more deserving of reward. Yet he does not realize that the reward is already there, he has been in unity with his father that whole time and their love remains strong, which should be reward enough for anyone. The consistent closeness is the reward.

When we sin, and separate ourselves from our Father in Heaven, his desire and hope is that we come back to him, no matter what we have done. If we approach in humility and with true repentance, then we have learned, and He will welcome us home joyfully. If we are fortunate enough that we have never left His company, we should rejoice ourselves each and every day. Yet we should do this in such a way that we are careful not be too self-congratulating, but with humility and always with a vigilant eye toward any vanity on our part.

In this Lenten season, we have much to consider in our own self-examination so that we too can either rejoice in being able to return to the love of our Father, or be grateful that we have been able to remain with Him.

Apostolic authority and Succession

When we discuss Apostolic Succession, and the authority granted not only to Jesus’ Apostles, as well as to those who would come after them, it is crucial to our understanding to look upon this with a keen eye toward context. The biblical content, and indeed the very phrasing that our Lord used was predicated on the knowledge of the audience being addressed, and the accommodations of speech made factoring in the common knowledge and customs of the time. We need to remember the letters, or ”small books” that comprise the bible, since that is what the word bible actually means, were written by men who were steeped in the knowledge of the Jewish faith and customs they grew up with. This includes also the words of Jesus himself. He did not find it necessary to delve into what would have been considered to be both redundant, and superfluous commentary since his audience, both Jew and likely gentile would likely have been aware of the practical assumptions made in conversation and interactions based on pervasive social and cultural norms.

With all this said, when Jesus commissioned the twelve, to go out and to heal, and forgive sins, and to drive out demons (John 20:21-23), this would have been seen as the acts of those to whom authority had been granted. This is also true of how those twelve were addressed in closed and intimate conversation. Jesus had many disciples, which simply means students, but he only had the twelve Apostles, which denotes someone who has been given a mission. In particular, when Jesus told Simon Peter that upon him, as the rock which his new name denoted, he would build His Church (Matthew 16:18-19), this would have been viewed as a unique and significant role of leadership within His Church, from the viewpoint of the people and the other Apostles.

These roles would also have been seen by the people as enduring. Just as the Levitical priestly roles were passed down, it would have been assumed that men would eventually die, and that they would have successors appointed who would carry on the same work (Acts 1:20-26, 2 Timothy 2:2, Titus 1:5, 1 Timothy 3:1-7), and with the same granted authority passed on by conveyance of the Spirit through imposition of hands and anointing. Jesus himself said plainly that no one knew the time of place when all things would come to fulfillment, not even the Son, only the Father, so he certainly would have taken into account the likely necessity of the roles of the Apostles continuing through an undefined period of time.

Jesus also was very deliberate in choosing his audience for certain discussions. He did not grant the people full knowledge of the parables that He spoke. He did not create a common authority to forgive sins, or heal, or drive out demonic influence. Nor did he publicly proclaim to the people to perform the breaking of the bread or the offering of the cup, these instructions to fully understand and do these things were given only to his Apostles, something that would have spoken clearly in terms of His intent to anyone of the time. Additionally, the timing of the instructions that he gave pertaining to the celebration of the Eucharist in particular was certainly chosen with care, He gave this commission at the last meal He would share with his Apostles, which would have driven home the paramount nature of His instructions and by whom they would be carried out.

Like so many things as we read through scripture, it is both inaccurate and imprecise to try to understand its content without due deference to contextual influence. This make it all the more critical that as we try to understand the intentions of our Lords teachings, we do not get allow ourselves to fall into bad practice and assume that the translated words can be viewed without cultural and social understanding. It is equally important to look at not only the translated text, but also the accounts in the original language in which it was recorded, and factor this into our understanding.

Third Sunday of Lent

There is a certain familiarity with our Gospel that really touched me today. I don’t consider myself to be a true gardener, but I do love having tree’s in my yard that serve a practical purpose, and in North Carolina we can grow just about any kind of fruit tree, including figs. A few years ago, I happened to purchase a small fig tree that I thought could be a good source of shade in the yard, as well as some fresh fruit. It was quite tiny when I got it, and when planted in my yard it did grow, though not as I had hoped for. It remained skinny and scraggly for several years and did not produce much in the way of figs. My initial thought was to simply cut it down and try something else in the same spot. I was planning to do just that, when I happened across an article about how to care for these tree’s and realized I had not really done my part in caring for this scrawny plant, so I took just a few steps to see what would happen. I put down a bit of compost and loosened the soil around it a bit to allow for better drainage, and in short order I noticed a marked change in the little tree. It became fuller and actually had quite a few figs on it even though it was later in the growing season. It simply responded to some basic care, and being given a bit of time. I still have that tree in my yard, and to this day it produces more figs than we can use (if anyone needs any fresh figs, let me know).

The lesson of time, patience, and a little care were not lost on me. It actually made me realize how often in my own life I have been blessed by others who had not written me off despite my shortcomings and instead guided me with patience and kindness and allowed me to benefit and grow from their influence. This is especially true of our Lord who must have found me exasperating at times in my ignorance and stubbornness, and yet who exercised the greatest patience with me, and even blessed me with His extra care because He knew I needed a bit more attention to grow and prosper.

In this Lenten season, as we prepare ourselves through repentance and self-examination, something we might ponder is how well we are caring for those around us who we may sometimes find difficult or frustrating. This is one of the challenges that we need to be keenly aware of as followers of Christ. It’s very easy to spend time with those we enjoy, but it comes very hard sometimes to dedicate time to those in our lives who we do not find so easy. Yet this makes it all the more important for us to focus on these people, because they are Gods children too, and He expects us to care for them as He does. This is the call. In showing loving patience to them, we show our love and respect for Him who thought enough of each of us to die on the cross for us – no exceptions. The saddest thing on this earth is someone who is truly left alone and without care, it goes against God’s will, and it defies our truest nature to allow this. If we want to pick a truly meaningful Lenten resolution (it’s not too late to change or add to yours), consider making an effort to reach out to someone whose life you have not touched in some time. You may be pleasantly surprised at the eventual results.

Second Sunday of Lent

What does it mean to be transfigured? The definition I looked up said it is to be transformed in a glorified or spiritual way. To take on a new appearance that reflects divine or spiritual beauty. For most of my life, I assumed that this was something that was reserved for Jesus alone, just as we hear about in today’s Gospel. Yet as I have gotten older and been able to witness what are sometimes truly amazing changes within people I have encountered, I am not so sure my original assumption was completely correct if we take the definition literally. While we may not radiate the same glorified form as our Lord – amazing transformation that can be witnessed by others is still possible.

It’s true that we all go through changes as we live our lives, and not all of them for the better. We can even make some progress in our development as people, and as followers of Christ, that while good, are not quite on the level of what would be considered a transformative. Yet, in a precious minority of instances, radical transformation can occur. When I think of Saint Francis of Assisi, or Saint Augustine, and how each spent their youth I see evidence for this kind of change. To go from truly dark places in life, completely focused on things of this earth, and to then burst forth as new creations born of Spirit so that flesh and earthly desires are no longer of much importance is such a complete metamorphosis that it requires grace as its catalyst.

No saint or sinner can will this to happen, no internal fortitude or strength is sufficient to trigger this kind of transformation; if we think we are so endowed that we can do this without God’s intervention, we are arrogant to the point of foolishness. Instead, we need to humble ourselves profoundly and completely, and express our deepest longing to God to grant us spiritual movement to leverage the side of ourselves born of water and the Spirit and take us beyond what our fleshly inclinations so desperately and erringly cling to. In this season of Lent, the time is perfect to pursue this grace of transformation. To use this time of penance and preparation to express a desire to God for the kind of spiritual radiance that can demonstrate to others what is possible through prayer, love of God, and generously granted grace that we embrace with our whole selves.

When Peter, James, and John saw our Lord in his radiant transfigured form, we hear that their first reaction was fear, and perhaps so, since they had never witnessed anything like this before. I suspect this was coupled also with awe and wonder. To see the glory of God so closely and personally manifest within their teacher had to be both humbling, but also inspiring. They gained strength and confidence from this for the time to come when they would witness Jesus’ crucifixion. Our Lord knew this experience and seed of change within them would be needed.

Like any good students Jesus’ three disciples sought to emulate their master in all things, perhaps even those heaven born. We too should look upon this time of Lent as transformative and pray for the grace of experiencing this in a truly radical way.

First Sunday of Lent

There has never been a time when God has not watched over and cared for us. From the days of creation, to the time of the oppression that the people of Israel endured and were rescued from, to the days of Jesus time here on earth, right up to this very day – He is ever watchful and loving.

In our earliest days He was stern and commanding because we were young and rebellious and were easily led down wrong paths. We had no roots in the land. Gradually though, we grew as a people, through His grace, and became more than nomadic tribes, we took root in Israel. We learned and worked to educate others about Israels God. We stopped wondering, and we built our homes, cities, and places of worship. We matured and grew and sought knowledge of our Creator.

In his time, our Lord came to us in our own fleshly manifestation, and walked among us, taught us, healed our bodies, and gave his own for our sake so that our souls might be healed and we could be reconciled with our Father in heaven. He took the suffering that should have been ours upon himself and gave everything of Himself for us so that nothing was left. He did this out of love.

Yet with all this history of love and caring, we sometimes doubt. We think that the God of the universe who did all this for us, somehow may not understand us and what we deal with in our daily struggles. It doesn’t make sense if we really think about it. This is especially true in light of todays Gospel. There is literally nothing that the devil did not try to get our Lord to give in to temptation. The narrative doesn’t fully do justice to what our Lord endured and stood fast against. We all know that Satan has many means at his disposal to try to tempt us, and he certainly did not spare effort when he encountered our Lord in human form. This, however, is the whole point, he tried everything and failed. Our Lord would not give in to sin, and yet experienced all the powerful temptations we do because He was one of us in the flesh. This should give us a great deal of confidence in both his understanding of all that we are subject to, and also in His mercy because he has been through it and knows how difficult it can be to remain unscathed. Difficult, yes, but not impossible, He proved that as he was both God and man. He gave us a model to follow, a success to take confidence in, and an unwavering love so that we are to be assured of his forgiveness for each of us when we stumble and come to him in repentance and humility. No temptation is not understood, no sin is beyond His forgiveness, and no person beyond his loving gift of redemption.

Eighth Sunday in Ordinary time

One of my favorite quotes ever is from Hamlet when Polonius states that “brevity is the soul of wit”. Truer words have rarely been spoken. What we say speaks volumes about who we are, and what we believe. Subsequently the more we say, the more opportunities there are for us to make that impression about ourselves either positive or negative. From a purely analytical point of view, we are likely to make a far more favorable impression by limiting our words and giving greater thought to the things we do say. (talk about the antithesis of most behavior observed in the various forms of media).

Shakespeare was not the first one to utter words along these lines. In our first reading from the book of Sirach, we hear something philosophically similar – “When a sieve is shaken, the husks appear; so do ones faults when one speaks”. The moral of both of these statements is also quite similar – we are better off with more thinking and less talking, at least until we have truly given thought to what is going to come out of our mouths.

If the two excerpts above are not enough to convince us that we need to be incredibly careful with what we say, then perhaps we will listen to Jesus himself. He did not focus on how our words would define our own standing, but presented a far more urgent reason for caution. The power our words can have on others. This is true of both the good and the bad. Our Lord tells us that we must always be conscious of our own situation and actions before we try to guide others. Not simply because we want to avoid being seen as hypocritical, but because we don’t want our own errors in thought adversely affect someone else – we cannot guide someone else effectively if we ourselves are blind to the path. This is one of the reasons why humble self-assessment is so crucial to anyone who wants to be of help to those around them. We need to be brutally honest with ourselves (not always and easy thing), but without this we cannot hope to be effective in assisting anyone else.

Each and every day comes with great potential for us to either help or harm others with our words. Whether this is in a casual conversation at our work, discussion around the dinner table, or an opinion stated online, our words can have a deep impact on others that we often cannot anticipate. We have relatively few ways of knowing the things that those around us are sometimes dealing with. Only our Lord truly knows these things. It is however, all the more reason for us to be judicious with our speech, and at all times strive for kindness, compassion, and truth. “For from the fullness of the heart, the mouth speaks”.

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Life in this earthly existence can sometimes be filled with drudgery, perhaps even misery, as the prophet Job tells us in our first reading. It can sometimes seem like there is no way out of difficult circumstances, and so we even descend into despair. This is not exactly an upbeat way of beginning this discussion of our readings this Sunday, but the reality is that life can be hard, and it is not typically lived in the carefree and grandiose fashion that the media often portrays as the norm. This illusion that we have grown accustomed to, particularly in this country, is a falsehood.

Job spoke of the limited number of days that we have on this earth, and how swiftly they pass by. He spoke of the restlessness that he felt, and how sometimes he felt like a man without hope. Given what we know he endured, some of these sentiments are rather understandable. Job may have heard some of the prophecies about the coming messiah, but he did not have the knowledge of Him that we do, and that is a fundamental, and frankly mindset altering difference. We who are followers of Jesus Christ, know of the hope that is to be found in him, even when times are hard.

In our Gospel today we hear of how Jesus went about healing not only the mother-in-law of Simon, but also those even in the nearby villages. He healed those who were ill in body, and in spirit. He brought hope to those who had been without it. He labored because he loved. Everyone was looking for him like sheep who seek the voice of the shepherd that they know is their refuge of safety and hope. This is the same hope that we carry today, so that when life becomes hard, we too have that hope to sustain us. Our Lord will always bring about in us the healing of our spirit in the time that He knows to be best for us. However, He does not always heal every physical infirmity that comes in this life. This is certainly not because of a lack of caring, but because it is a reality of our earthly existence since this is not where we truly belong. Yet, this harsh reality is not without purpose. Our infirmities can be a binding force between us and others who are suffering on the journey with us, so that we can band together and draw solace from one another as we share the path of suffering in this imperfect existence. This is one of the ways in which we are to function as parts of the body of Christ – to uphold one another as sinews that sometimes share affliction and the intimacy that can come only from that shared experience. In this way we can hold one another up as we journey toward our intended life with our God.

Fourth Sunday of Advent

What a daunting message to a young girl, to be told by an angel that you will be the mother of God. It is understandable that Mary was troubled by the angel’s words. She was young, unmarried, and probably unsure that she could even take care of herself, let alone a child, and in particular the Son of God. This was an incredible amount to take in.

Yet, Mary asked only one simple, practical question in the course of the conversation, and when it was explained to her that she would conceive through the Spirit of God, she asked no more, and humbly accepted being part of God’s plan, and never looked back. She trusted in the Lord alone and needed nothing more than to know His will. Once this was revealed, this young virgin knew that nothing further was necessary. Her trust in God was complete, and she was content to let Him take over and manifest His plan through her.

As we prepare to celebrate the birth of our Lord, it is perhaps a good time to ask ourselves in this final Sunday of Advent, how accepting we truly are of God’s plan for us. Do we trust in the Lord enough to move forward with what we can sense to be His will, or will we ask more questions, do more investigating as to how His plan for us will fit in with our own, and perhaps delay or derail what has been revealed to us simply because we don’t like the message. Do we trust Him enough to move ahead with what He has in mind for us, or do we love and value our own feelings and opinions more? These are hard questions to ponder, yet they are crucial to our preparedness for the coming of the Savior. The coming that was begun so long ago with the birth of a small child, who came into the world for the express purpose of reconciling mankind with His Father by His life, death, and resurrection. Our Lord was born to this purpose, and in fulfilling it with everything He had, is deserving of the faith, love, and trust of each one of us, including our unhindered acceptance of His will for us. We too need to utter the words “May it be done according to your will”.

Third Sunday of Advent

The words from John in our Gospel today are incredibly powerful as both a statement of humility, and as a proclamation of authority as the one chosen by God to be His herald when He came to us as man. The words that he speaks – “I am the voice of one crying out in the desert, make straight the way of the Lord” are indeed forceful. Yet this bold statement is proclaimed after a full admission that he was not one of the authoritative sources that those questioning him supposed him to be. Moreover, he stated that he was not even worthy to untie the sandals of the one coming after him. In the Jewish culture this is a profoundly humble remark. Yet for all this, there is an undeniable passion in his words that proclaim his mission. Words that we would do well to draw close to ourselves as an example of our own mission as followers of Christ – to evangelize and to proclaim the good news to those who may not be familiar with it, and so prepare them for when He comes again.

Yet sometimes there is the danger of our efforts becoming sluggish or losing momentum. John was a man on fire, and so we should be as well. Yet in our second reading Saint Paul makes a statement of caution that should continually resonate for us to remind us that we too need to maintain the fire within ourselves. He tells us “Do not quench the Spirit. Do not despise prophetic utterances.” What he is cautioning against is the tendency to let the world distract us so that the flame within us becomes dim, and the very mission we are charged with – to continue to proclaim the words that the prophets passed along to us, becomes inconvenient, even distasteful to us. We can become poisoned by the world so that the very words that have the power to save can become something we despise because we are afraid to proclaim them since they may not be well received initially. We fear rejection and derision from those who have no real power over us, and forget the One who has power over all. We may no longer seek to prepare the way for Him to enter the hearts of others, and so save them. In this season of Advent, as we hopefully spend time in reflection, we need to ask ourselves where we stand. Do we seek to proclaim Gods word and prepare His way first and foremost, or have we let the world convince us that there is actually something in our lives that is more important?

Second Sunday of Advent

In ancient times it was traditional that every kind should have a herald who would precede his coming among his people so that they could prepare and make all things ready for his arrival on the few occasions he would travel. In those days, the king often remained in his palace for reasons of safety and security, as the paths and roads were often not safe. If a king presided over a large kingdom, the people of any given region might only see him once, or perhaps a few times in their lifetime, so preparing for such a special event was very important.

This preparation is even more important for us, as we await the celebration of the coming of the Lord and King of all creation in human form, which we celebrate at Christmas each year. The season of Advent which we now are in is our time of preparation, and in our Gospel today we are reminded of the herald who preceded our Lord’s coming – John the Baptist. John lived a life of asceticism and penance to prepare himself because he recognized the sinfulness that we are each plagued with, and to set an example to help prepare us by his own ready acknowledgement of sin. We do not necessarily have to dress in such rugged attire, nor even eat such spartan foods, but we do need to be keenly aware of the need to prepare ourselves by recalling our sins and seeking forgiveness. We need to prepare the house within each of us that Jesus seeks to dwell in and so be close to us, just as He came to us as a man to be even closer to us. We need to heed the herald of the King, and to make straight the roads into our hearts, and to smooth and level the paths into our souls. We need to be humble enough to stoop low to loosen the sandals on His feet by being willing to humbly serve those around us who were created in His image. In this season we are each called to repent, to atone, and to change so that the house that we prepare for our Lords coming is swept clean and put in order to receive Him.

The birth of our Lord is often celebrated with many decorations, traditions, and gifts, yet none of these compares with the gift that we were each given in that humble manger so long ago. The gift of God living among us as man for the express purpose of dying for our sins so that as John told us, we would be able to be baptized with fire and the Holy Spirit and to be restored in our relationship with our Creator. In this season I hope that each of us can pay a bit more attention to how we live and interact with those we encounter, so that by our way of living we can each be an echo of that voice crying out in the desert – Prepare the way of the Lord!