Reflecting on Mark 10:17-27

Every so often I have to read another book about St. Francis of Assisi.  Eight hundred years later his story of utter conversion, utter transformation into the very heart of Christ, still stuns me.  This year’s book is Julien Green’s wondrous God’s Fool: The Life and Times of Francis of Assisi.

Using the oldest documents we have about him, Green brings into startling focus the life of the world’s greatest saint. This charming, devilish “Prince of Youth”, leading his drunken friends through the streets of 13th century Assisi, had a beautiful singing voice and the refined appetite for elegance and fine dining that befit the son of a wealthy clothier.  And then, like St. Paul, God met him on the road one night:

Stuffed to the point of vomiting, the guests went off to defile the public squares with their drunken songs.  And who was that following them, with his fool’s baton in hand, but Francesco, the king of the feast?  All of a sudden he stopped.

What had happened?  In the middle of that sorry feast, Francis had fallen in love.  For years he had been fleeing someone or something, and suddenly that Someone had caught up with him and blasted him with all the power of his tenderness.  Francis was twenty-five years old.

Within weeks of that encounter Francis sold everything and gave it to the poor.  Overjoyed and filled with the utter fullness of God, he found the treasures of heaven.

As I read this book I drew as closely to him as I dared, and caught a glimpse of those treasures.  And now comes today’s gospel, with its warnings against wealth (and I confess I love wealth) because it can distract us from drawing as near as we can to Christ.  Help! The Hound of Heaven is chasing me.

Do the greatest joys of your life have anything to do with money?

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

Reflecting on Genesis 2:18-24

It’s chilly in my office this morning.  What a blessing.  The heat of the summer is finally fading.  Time to check the closet for a sweater or jacket.  Ah, here’s Ben’s coat, my favorite coat, the one he wore on our first date 27 years ago.  I wrap myself in its cozy corduroy warmth and re-member (experience again, “member again”) that young, sweet, smart guy who asked me out on a date for one night, and then asked to love me for a lifetime.  In my astonishment I recall the psalmist who, reflecting on his immense good fortune, asked, “Who am I, oh God, that you should be mindful of me?”

The ancients whom the Holy Spirit inspired to tell the story of the creation of women and men had this  beautiful insight: we are formed of the same flesh, carved of the same bone.  And in a great marriage the spouses may even say, You get me.  My heart calls to your heart.  It is in your arms I want to die.

And of course the raising of children causes spouses to cling to each other, to delight and agonize together, for the rest of their lives, over the children entrusted to them.  That’s a bond like no other, yes?  The suffering that comes from this great love is immense.  There is no holier undertaking.

My heart breaks in half for those who have lost their loves, or weren’t faithful to love, or never found love.  Life isn’t fair.  Thank God the BRIDEGROOM has espoused himself to us forever, to heal those wounds and make all things new.  See how our God has come to meet us.

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

Reflecting on James 5: 1-6

Last week I had the oddest experience.  I happened to visit the house where I lived for several years with three wonderful friends in the 1980s.  It’s weird, but I actually know the guys who live there now, five (!) sweet young men who are delighted to live in community, praying and working in various jobs in the Archdiocese.

As soon as I walked into the house I was dumbstruck at how TINY it is!  How did four young women ever maneuver in this TINY house for all those years?  And how did we have so many fun parties, and friends for dinner, and a piano, and lots of singing and celebrating?  How ever did we have so much fun for so many years, and seal friendships that have endured for decades, in such a TINY house?

I looked at the guys living there now, happily moving around and making dinner in that TINY kitchen, contentedly making lesson plans and putting on their shoes for a run in nearby Washington Park.  Someday, after they are married and have “moved up” into larger digs, they will say what my friends and I say: the years we spent in that TINY house were some of the happiest of our lives.

In those days everything I owned fit into my small bedroom.  Now I need a whole house and a huge garage to hold my stuff. I think of the letter of James today, and reflect for the millionth time on what a relief it would be to put all my stuff in a big bonfire and let “the flames devour it”.

Do you ever feel that way?

How can you experience the freedom of having less?

As I write this, the father of  my dear friend Jean Haley, who owned that TINY, wonderful house that became home for so many friends for so many years, is struggling in the hospital.  Please remember Ralph Haley in your prayers this week.  He was a Prisoner of War under the Germans and suffered immensely in service to us all during that terrible war, yet returned to marry and be dad to five children who have loved him deeply their whole lives.

For Jean, and Mary Fran, and Diane, and Margaret, and Cindy, and Leslie, and Colette, and Mary, and all the friends who made that tiny house a mansion of love.

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

Reflecting on James 3:16-4:3

If you’ve been feeling unusually at home with the readings lately it’s because we have been hearing the Letter of James.  In some ways it’s a welcome relief to read a letter from the end of the first century that is so accessible to our contemporary western ears.

Where DO the wars and conflicts among us come from? Most of us aren’t in a position to send troops into war, but have we done everything we can to heal a decades-long rift in the family? And that begs a second question: Why ARE all these family enmities allowed to go on and on?  Are we really going to have another Thanksgiving/Christmas season ahead where there will be separate dinners for separate families because siblings haven’t spoken to each other in years?  At what point will grace be invited to the table?

It’s God’s amazing grace that allows us to submit to each other and truly listen to each other purely, peaceably, gently, compliantly, full of mercy and good fruits, without insincerity.

But we don’t work like that.  Unless we’re in boot camp (or singing at the Met) we don’t think we should have to take any criticism or correction. We like all conversations to be easy, and our “true friends” to take our side even when we are wrong.  A word of correction at the dinner table signals a polite silence and early departure.  We can no longer be friends.

The years go by, and the broken families pile up, and September comes and we dread the holidays ahead.  And the ancient Christian community to whom James writes whispers to us through the ages: get over it.

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

Reflecting on James 2:14-18

Nothing makes me laugh harder than being around people who are laughing. Nothing brings me to tears faster than being with someone who is weeping. And nothing stirs my faith like seeing it in action.

It’s that experience of standing during the Communion Procession and listening to people coming forward to receive the Eucharist, singing their hearts out. For me, that says I believe this.

Or, the other day, pondering today’s gospel, I asked a friend, “Who do you say Jesus is?” She looked at me incredulously. He’s my hope. He’s my heart. He’s my Savior. And her beautiful and easy profession of faith said to me she believes this.

But when I observe the endless works of mercy and justice that pour out from the lives of those called by that Name, when I see how compassionately the hungry are fed and the homeless housed by those who love Jesus, I know they believe this.

It seems that every year or so I have a new favorite hymn, a new sacred friend whose lyrics and music bring me deeper into the mystery of God. I find myself hearing it in my head throughout the day, or the lyrics coming to me at odd times.

For several months now I’ve been coming back to Father Pat Dolan’s haunting Prayer of the Body and Blood, which he dedicated to Most Precious Blood parish in Denver.  Father Pat has been pastor of this inspiring faith community for eight years now, but the charism of this Denver parish from its earliest beginning (when the Vincentian priests and Daughters of Charity staffed it) until now has always been of intense and intentional service to those who are poor. The song moves the singer (and the hearer) into a deep reflection of the ways in which grace abounds where love abounds.

Some lifelong Catholics have a hard time articulating who Jesus is to them. They don’t have to. As Father Pat wrote, May serving others serve as our belief.

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

Reflecting on James 2: 1-5

The St. Jerome Mission

They broke our hearts again.  They always break our hearts, with their humility and warmth, and their love of the Catholic faith and la virgen de Guadalupe.

I’m speaking of the six members of a parish in Juarez, Mexico who traveled all night on the bus to come to Denver last weekend.  They had come to celebrate with many of the benefactors of The St. Jerome Mission, a parish center and retreat house just recently completed for their parish in Juarez.  You can see this great endeavor of faith at www.stjeromemission.com

We did all kinds of fun things, including a visit to Red Rocks Amphitheatre, where they thrilled to the prehistoric beauty of the rock outcroppings that were home to the Ute tribes in ancient days.  We celebrated the Eucharist twice, once at a Spanish-language Mass where they and the entire congregation sang their hearts out.

Sometimes our bilingual members had to attend to other matters, leaving the rest of us smiling and nodding at each other, unable to converse.  One evening I was overjoyed to remember that this column also appears in Spanish in many parishes!  We all gathered around the computer to scroll through three years of www.lahistoriayusted.com (www.thestoryandyou.com ).   Seeing the artwork that accompanies each Gospel story their eyes lit up with recognition and joy.  Ah. There’s John the Baptist!  There’s Mary Magdalene!

And I thought of today’s letter of James: Did not God choose those who are poor in the world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom? Their love of Jesus is as sturdy and enduring as the Red Rocks.  They who have so little shared with us their greatest treasure: a deep and joyful faith.

Are there “riches” that are keeping you from a deeper faith?

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

Reflecting on Deuteronomy 4: 1-2, 6-8

Last week I received a call from the Lost and Found office at the Denver airport, telling me my keys had been found on the grounds outside.  (I had dropped them while getting out of the car there.)  When I arrived, the clerk asked me for some description of them.  I told her about the different keys—what in the world DO they open, I wondered—but she wanted something more definitive.  How about the keychain?  Can you describe it?

Oh good.  I can do this.  Let’s see.  I think it’s red.  Yes, red something.  Maybe with some kind of pattern.  Isn’t that enough for you?  She looked at me with a funny expression.  Do you have the time? Odd that she would ask, with the clock right behind her. I glanced at my watch, then back at her face, then back at my watch again.  Ha!  Of course!  My watch and my keychain are the exact same set. If I would just notice my watchband, right there on my wrist, I could describe my keychain.  But I’m so used to my watch on my wrist that I don’t notice it, even when it’s screaming to get my attention.

Our connection with God is like that. The author of the first reading from Deuteronomy got it right: For what great nation is there that has gods so close to it as the LORD, our God, is to us whenever we call upon him? It’s the nearness of God, closer than our breath, closer than our heartbeat, which we find so hard to access, yet God is never as close as when we call for help.

Call on God today.  Then watch carefully for the things very near to you.  God is there.

In what ways do you sense the nearness of God?

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

Lydia and Paul at Philippi

Reflecting on Ephesians 5:21-32

It’s been a long, hot, deadly summer.  And now comes the deadliest New Testament section in the whole lectionary, the instruction about the roles of women and men in marriage.

When you look at those words, Wives should be subordinate to their husbands as to the Lord, you may feel like those disciples in the gospel today.  Like them, you might decide to return to your former way of life, and no longer accompany him.

Anyone who “speaks for Jesus” and doesn’t love women just doesn’t know Jesus very well.  His friendship with women is everywhere in the gospels.  He has dinner with them, and heals them, and on the day of his resurrection reveals himself first to Mary Magdalene.

But years before these gospel accounts were written, it fell to Paul to take this radical message of inclusion straight into the heart of the Roman world.  Phoebe, Lydia, Priscilla, Junia, and Chloe are just a few of the fascinating characters who make up his faith communities.  I suspect that it was his women friends who put up the bail to spring him out of jail in Caesarea, and maybe other places as well.

But even with all that, is the author of Ephesians ready to take on the heart of Roman patriarchy?   Actually, yes.  Because any man who loves his wife “as he loves his own body” is not going to abuse or hurt himself by dominating his wife.  And where there is no dominance there is loving submission, one to another.

Imagine a world where every person loves as Christ loves the Church.  Now that’s a marriage made in heaven.

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

Reflecting on Ephesians 4:30-5:2

What if someone wrote you a personal note of practical advice like the one we heard in Ephesians today?  Here’s a letter someone might send to me, inspired by today’s second reading:

My dear Kathy,

Watch carefully how you live.  Remember the times you’ve acted foolishly.  Don’t do that again.  Remember that time when you held your tongue and reserved judgment?  That’s what wisdom feels like.  Do that some more.

Make the most of your days.  I like how you’ve been riding your bike more this summer.  Keep it up this fall.  It’s a holy thing to get in touch with the simplicity and fun of childhood.  That’s where you first started your conversations with God, remember?  Don’t forget that first love.  God is really present there.

And when you feel the Spirit, give thanks!  Notice when friends appear, or events unfold, or little children reach out their arms and say, “Watch me!”  Watch it all.  Feel the fading summer sun and the blessed cool nights.  God is there.

And never, never stop praying for those who grieve, especially those who lost their loved ones through violence this summer.  Pray for those whose wounds will be a lifelong challenge.  Pray for the miracle of changed hearts and minds.

And keep talking about the scriptures.  Remind people of the psalms and hymns that give them life.  Season your conversations with words of faith.  And always be ready to give an answer to everyone who asks you the reason for your own hope (I Pt. 3:15).

And eat more ice cream.  (That one may not have been in the original translation.)

How about writing yourself a similar letter?

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

Reflecting on Ephesians 4:30-5:2

The second reading (from Ephesians) haunts me this week.  How wise the author of this letter is, and how desperately we still need those words today.

It’s hard to imagine how different the world used to be.  St. Patrick heard confessions from Christians in Ireland who rejoiced that they had murdered fewer people that year than they had the year before!  Saint Ignatius Loyola, after his conversion (!), set off to murder a man whom he fancied had insulted the Virgin Mary.  Grace and the Holy Spirit compelled him to take a different turn in the road, and that has made all the difference.

Believe it or not, the world is actually a safer place now than ever in history.  But what is the state of our souls?  Ephesians begs the earliest Christians to remove all anger and fury…reviling and malice from their hearts.  Ah.  So that’s where we can find common ground with those ancient believers, whose lives were in far more peril than ours but whose hearts bore the same burdens of rage and desires for revenge.

I wonder why these new Ephesian converts struggled with each other.  Was it bad blood between families?  Or, God forbid, were they fighting about religion? The Sikh community in Wisconsin now has to bear the terrible loss of their loved ones because one man let his racism and his ignorance of religion take over his soul.

Forgive each other as Christ has forgiven you. St. Paul knew that was the only way out of the sad webs of enmity we weave throughout our lives. It is the only truth that saves, then and now.

Are you having trouble forgiving someone?  Try to remember when someone forgave you.  That’s where God shows up, guaranteed.

Is there an area of your live where you need to learn tolerance?

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