Reflecting on Mark 2:1-2

My friends Mary and Jim had been high school sweethearts, and they had kept their romance going through college while on opposite sides of the country.  But for a short time during the spring of their sophomore year they were a mere ninety miles away from each other.  And one night James Taylor showed up unexpectedly to give an impromptu concert to hundreds of astonished students in a little field on the Denver University campus.

That’s when the agony started, because Jim was right there and Mary was at college in Fort Collins. Jim had a front-row stump (there were no chairs in the field) watching James Taylor sing all the songs that he and Mary loved, and he spent the whole time longing for Mary to be there to share the experience with him.  That’s the thing about love.

I think about that as I relish the love that those four friends had for the paralytic in today’s Gospel.  Whatever it took, even carrying him across town and dropping him down through the roof, they were going to get their sick friend into the presence of Jesus.  The Healer was there, and they couldn’t be happy until their friend was touched by him. That’s the thing about love.

At some point in our lives, someone brought us to Jesus.  Perhaps it was our parents, who brought us to the doors of the church for baptism.  Perhaps it was a friend, who said “Come and see.”   Thanks be to God for their kindness, for now we too can say, “Oh, Jesus.  How sweet it is to be loved by you.”

Who are the friends in your life who would carry you across town to meet Jesus?

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).

Reflecting on Mark 1: 40-45

The leper, kneeling before Jesus, wonders if he wants to heal him.  If you wish, you can make me clean, he says.  But maybe you don’t wish it.  Maybe you’re a God with wonderful healing powers to relieve us of our suffering, our blindness, our lameness, our demon possession, but maybe you just don’t want to.  So you have to be coaxed and flattered and manipulated by those of us who are sick.

I admit I’ve approached God similarly.  Now listen, God, this is a little child we’re talking about here.  She’s suffering. You love little children, remember? You have the power to heal her.  If you want to you can heal her, God.  I know you can do it.  Let my words convince you to be merciful.

We think we have to sweet-talk God into being compassionate because, in spite of our prayers, our coaxing, our crying out to God, eventually we and the ones we love still die. God, if you want to you can save us from death! And if death comes anyway we conclude that God just doesn’t want to.

But I find great comfort in the translation in the 1966 Jerusalem Bible.  When the leper says to Jesus, if you want to you can make me clean, Jesus says of course I want to!

Of course I want to. That’s all we need to know.  Jesus our Healer wants to heal us.  Why we still suffer and die is a mystery that remains.  But death’s victory is short-lived, for the God who loves us knows where to find us after we have breathed our last.  And oh, what healing will begin then.

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).

Reflecting on Mark 1:29-39

Everyone is looking for you, Jesus.

We don’t realize it most of the time.  When we feel good, and our work is meaningful, and our family is well, we forget how deeply we long to find Jesus as the suffering believers encountered him in today’s Gospel.

But even just a few hours of illness can bring us to our knees, and when we experience the healing touch of Jesus through the doctors God sends us we feel a special connection with Simon’s mother-in-law, who rejoiced at her renewed strength and immediately rose from her bed and served Jesus.

The Book of Job gives us such a close look at suffering, and Job’s description of the “troubled nights” allotted to him ring true for anyone who has agonized over a child, the loss of a love, or the miseries of illness.  But Jesus our Healer stands with us.  And Job lived centuries too early to know him.

Everyone is looking for you, Jesus.

We are sick, Jesus.  Touch us.  We are still looking for work, Jesus.  Help us.  We are anxious, or doubtful, or seduced by the lies of this world that has forgotten to seek you.  Save us, Jesus.  Draw near to us so we can draw near to you.

Everyone is looking for you, Jesus. But the prophet Jeremiah has already spoken for you:  if you seek Me, you will find Me, if you seek Me with all of your heart, I will let Myself be found by you (29:13,14).

Look for Jesus this week.  He has promised to be found.

Have you placed yourself among friends who can help you find Jesus?

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).

Reflecting on I Corinthians 7:32-35

St. Paul’s remarks today about the differences between those who are married and unmarried calls to mind the beautiful death last November of Sr.  Antonia Anthony, OSF.  She was killed by a young driver who ran a red light four blocks from her home.

In her last moments Sr. Antonia prayed Come, Lord Jesus. And he did.

Sister Patty Podhaisky gave this account: Within minutes Sr. Antonia relaxed, and her breathing slowed down until she peacefully breathed her last, surrounded by her Franciscan sisters and her family.  We felt deep communion in the Heart of God with all of you, her/our sisters, families, friends, companions, as we journeyed with her into the heart of Great Love.  It seemed as though Antonia was running home, and the breeze of her passing brushed each of us with tender grace.

I think St. Paul would especially take note of the “deep communion” that the Sisters,  and her  family, all felt with the Body of Christ throughout the world who had known and loved and been loved by Sr. Antonia, whose passion for justice had propelled her to the poorest places on the globe.

Sister Macrina Scott, Sr. Antonia’s great friend who was in the car with her and sustained serious injuries, appeared in court two months later to appeal for mercy for the young man. She and other members of her community gave him a picture of Sr. Antonia, and a prayer card from her funeral.  Instead of prison he will perform five hundred hours of community service.  Sr. Antonia’s spirit remains.

We, all of us, are one Body.  And we do not live or die alone.  Married and unmarried, ordained and vowed Religious, we journey together, praying Come, Lord Jesus. And there he is, in the midst of us.

Have you experienced the friendships of those in vowed religious communities?

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).

Reflecting on Jonah 3:1-5,10

Much of the humor in the Bible is lost on us today because it so culturally-conditioned.  But the passive, hypocritical Jonah in today’s first reading makes a great comic foil in any time.

Have you read the Old Testament book of Jonah lately? Try it.  You’ll laugh at the guy who tells God he ABSOLUTELY will go east, then books passage on the fastest boat going west.  Of course, he ends up being thrown overboard by the prayerful, (non-Jewish) sailors who recognize that God wants Jonah out of the boat and into the belly of the “big fish”.

After three days Jonah is spit up onto the shore and finally heads towards Nineveh.  There the inhabitants (including the cattle!) of the capital city of the most violent empire in the ancient world “believe God” immediately, and fast and pray.  When God has compassion on them and forgives them Jonah is FURIOUS, and at the end of the book we find him pouting under a tree that is quickly shriveling, taking away his shade and his last place to hide from the God who so maddeningly forgives the people Jonah hates.

But Jonah isn’t alone in his jealousy.  I admit I’m jealous too, because it appears that the Ninevites were able to truly change with just a short encounter with God’s word.   Real change— a change we can believe in—eludes us most of the time, and yet we long for it.  Change our hearts this time, oh God.  Put us anywhere, even in sackcloth and ashes in Nineveh—anywhere but with Jonah, spending eternity with an unconverted heart and a blazing, unrelenting sun.

What change do you long to make in your life?

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).

Reflecting on John 1:35-42

St. Andrew, the First-Called

It was about four in the afternoon.  Isn’t that interesting? The author of John’s Gospel thought it was important to notice the time of day that the two disciples left their community with John the Baptist and followed Jesus, to “see where he stayed”.

And speaking of times of day, it must have been night time when little Samuel heard God calling him.  He rose from his sleep three times to respond to the specific voice that he heard calling his name.  And what was Eli’s instruction to him?  Go back to sleep. Go back to the place where you felt God’s presence and wait for God to find you there.

Do you have a “time of day” that you recall as a time of rendezvous with Jesus?  Do you have a memory of a time or place where you felt the touch of Jesus?  Faith builds on the memories of the times when we have been touched by God’s great mercy.  Take a moment to remember one or two times when you experienced the comforting presence of God.  You know that feeling of strength and peace that comes upon you?  That’s grace, and there is grace sufficient to carry you every time you savor that memory.

In this new year, marked by a specific time (2012), perhaps we could each choose a time of day where we will stop for just a moment to listen for Jesus, or to recall God’s nearness.  I choose four in the afternoon.  How about you?

What is your time or place of “rendezvous with Jesus”?

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).

Reflecting on Matthew 2:1-12

Andrea Mantegna c. 1497

And so we come back to the beautiful story of those wise men from the East.  And our questions arise as surely as the Star.

How is it that they observed the Star at its rising?  Why did they, Gentiles who knew nothing of the promised Messiah, leave everything to seek a newborn King of Judea? And, the harder question: if the Star hovered over the house where the Holy Family stayed in Bethlehem, with none of the Jews in the City of David noticing it, how did the Gentiles see it clearly from afar and find the Messiah through its Light?

St. Matthew (the only one of the four Gospel writers who knows this Epiphany story) is telling his Jewish/Christian community something beautiful: those who seek Jesus will surely find Him, whether born into the right bloodlines or not.

And there’s something else here too: are we ready to follow the Stars that arise in our lives, to be utterly open to the Surprising Love of the One who meets us in our comings and goings, our dreaming and our rising, our instinctive drawing near to him who drew so near to us?  In this new year let’s resolve again to keep our eyes wide open for the Christ who comes to us in a thousand different ways, bidden and unbidden,  searching for us as earnestly as we are searching for him.

Many thanks to young Kathleen Sullivan, who encouraged me to step out of my comfort zone and seek broader and wider for the true meaning of the  Epiphany.  Just like the Wise Men.

In what ways do you sense that God is seeking you?

What would YOU like to say about this question, or today’s readings, or any of the columns from the past year? The sacred conversations are setting a Pentecost fire! Register here today and join the conversation.

I have come to light a fire on the earth; how I wish it were already burning (Lk.12:49).

Reflecting on John 18:33b-37

The oldest scrap of New Testament ever found comes from the sentence immediately following the end of today’s Gospel from John.  “Are you a king?” Pilate badgers Jesus.  “It is you who say I am,” Jesus replies.  That’s John’s ironic way of saying, “Look who gets it.  Pilate gets it.  Pilate himself knows that Jesus is the King.  He’s just come out and said it.”  Jesus then lets him know that everyone who belongs to the truth listens to his voice.

Jesus before Pilate

We can almost picture Pilate now as he looks on his prisoner, obviously a religious fanatic who has gotten under the skin of the religious leadership so much that they’ve turned him into the Romans.  Pitiful Jew.  But still, there is something disturbing about him.  Something unsettling, yet oddly familiar.  Something ever ancient, ever new.  “Truth,” says Pilate, “what is truth?”

That’s the question found on the tiny piece of parchment recovered from the dry sands of Egypt, the question that echoes through the millennia, from the beginning of time until the day the Son of Man comes on the clouds of heaven.  “Truth….what is truth?”  I think Pilate knew the answer as he was asking the question.  Truth was standing before him that day.  Truth is living inside us today.  Thus it has ever been with Christ our King.

Sharing God’s Word at Home:

What truths in your life set you free to be a faithful disciple?

Picture from the movie “Jesus of Nazareth” by Franco Zeffirelli

Reflecting on Mark 13:24-32

We have lots of reasons to be fearful these days.  The weather is weird, the economy is poor, there are wars and rumors of wars.  The oceans and the skies and the earth may all be coming to an end, and we’ve heard more than once that our generation shall not pass away until all these things have taken place.

But when Jesus talked about the end times he wasn’t talking about the Romans, and he wasn’t predicting global

No one knows the day nor the hour

warming either.  He was warning of that day when “the elect” would be gathered and saved while the world as they knew it burned away.

That’s the design of the liturgy and Scripture readings in these last weeks of the church year.  We feel the momentum of the story as it comes crashing to that final judgment.  This is the last Sunday that we will read Mark until 2011.  Next week it will fall to John’s Gospel―the Gospel set aside by the Church for the great feast days― to take us to the end of the year, and the victory of Christ the King.

Sharing God’s Word at Home:

In what ways can you be a better steward of the earth’s resources?

Reflecting on Mark 12:38-44

It must have been great to be a scribe in the Temple at the time of Jesus.  People bowed and scraped and made sure you got the best seat, the best food, the best deal.  After all, you were the expert on the Torah, and that made up for a multitude of sins.

She, from her poverty, has contributed all she had

Like taking care of the widows, for example.  Any beginning Torah student knew that God had been very, very clear― from the sands of the Sinai to the cities of the prophets―that Israel was to take care of the widow, the orphan, and the alien in the land.  And yet, how complacently they all watched, these experts in the Law, as the poor widow fulfilled her Temple duty by placing those two tiny coins in the treasury.

Where was their shame?  Where was the scribe who stood and said, “This is a disgrace!  This poor widow has just placed all she had to live on in our coffers.  Why is she so desperately poor?  It was our duty to take good care of her, but we have ignored her.  She, on the other hand, has not ignored us, but has continued to give from her great want so that we could be comfortable.”  Notice that the early part of today’s Gospel says the scribes “devoured the houses of widows”.  It probably happened little by little, week by week, desperate penny by penny.

I’ll bet that was what Jesus meant when he drew attention to her.  He wasn’t praising her for putting her life at risk by donating her last coin to the Temple.  He was lamenting the blatant sins against the covenant that had put her in that terrible position to begin with.

Sharing God’s Word at Home:

How can we take better care of the poor among us?

(Kathy offers a special thanks to Angeline Hubert for the inspiration for this column.)