Find Holiness in the Ordinary

 

16^th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Cycle C

I think we can relate to poor Martha in today’s gospel. We are so anxious and worried about so many things. Only one thing is required.

Summertime is a time for barbecues and weddings and such. There are so many events going on here, so many things to prepare for, so many visitors in town and in our homes. Many of us travel to see family and friends and welcome them as they visit us. Summer is the time for vacations. Summer is a time for connections. Summer is a time of hospitality. And oftentimes summer is a time for worry and anxiety over so many things to do, so many things to get ready for, so many details to attend to.

Most of us feel like Martha but would love to be Mary.

There are some people who have chosen to spend their entire lives or careers studying the scriptures and serving God. They seem to be singularly focused on Jesus. Nothing else is as important as learning all they can from and about him. And Jesus says today that that is the better portion. Did Jesus mean we are to ignore everything except that type of singular focus?

Most of us have not chosen the studious or professed religious or contemplative life. Most of us are living and working in the world. We have families and careers and mortgages. We take our relationships very seriously, especially our relationship with Jesus. We invite him into our lives, just as Martha invited Jesus into hers. We strive to keep Jesus the center of our lives, even as busy as we are.

It is important, no, vital, that we all study and listen and internalize the Word of God if we are to be his disciples. For he has the words of eternal life. But we must do that in the midst of the hustle and bustle of our everyday lives.

Martha wasn’t doing anything wrong. She was doing what custom said she was supposed to do. She was being the good hostess. She was the good servant.

There is grace in hospitality. Martha was serving, but Mary was being fed.

Martha was focused on serving Jesus in a worldly way, worried about the traditions and requirements of hospitality. Mary was focused on the servant himself. Martha was making things complicated; Mary was keeping it simple. Martha was concerned with getting it just right; Mary was concerned with her relationship with Jesus.

And I think that is really what Jesus was getting at. He wasn’t telling Martha that what she was doing wasn’t necessary or important. Somebody had to make dinner. Martha’s problem was that she wasn’t serving with joy. She was resenting her sister and begrudging her tasks. What was important was that Jesus was in their midst. He was there right in front of them, and that was where they should focus. There would always be time to cook and clean and attend to the details of living. But when Jesus is present in our midst we should not worry about all those things and just be in his presence.

There are a lot of preparations that must be made for our liturgies to be sacred times. It takes the efforts of over 80 people to celebrate our weekend Masses alone. But when Jesus is in our midst that is where we should focus. It’s tough sometimes to get everything set up, get all the people in their places, handle all the little mishaps that inevitably spring up, and still be able to let it all go and experience the living Jesus in our midst.

It is hard to get up early on a Sunday morning, get the kids washed, dressed and fed, herd everyone into the pew, clean up the spilled Cheerios, fuss with a crying baby, and still be able to experience the living Jesus in our midst. It’s hard to turn off the world for a few moments to be in the presence of Christ. We come here to experience a bit of peace in our week. We come here to enter into the transcendent, to enter into the mystery. Our everyday lives can be so worrisome and complicated. Here things should be simpler. Here it should be all about Jesus.

But liturgy is messy. People are messy. There are many times I think that we come here hoping to find peace and be fed, but distractions in the church and worries about our problems do not allow us to just sit at the feet of Jesus and be in his presence. We can’t just flip a switch and the world goes away. And Jesus knows that. I think we can still find joy in the midst of our distractions and worries. Joy is a decision. We acknowledge our problems but we do not let them wear us down. We don’t come here to escape the world, but to make the world holy. Our presence here is as important to Jesus as his presence here is to us.

St. John says that the same Martha who was so worried about getting it right was the one who declared Jesus to be the Messiah when her brother Lazarus died. It was Martha who came out to meet Jesus before he even came into the village. She had been waiting for him and looking for him. Mary stayed at home. Mary the student did not go out in search of the Master that day. Martha the servant did.

The person who was so concerned with convention and doing everything just right is the one who found Jesus in the end. It was the servant who recognized the savior. It seems that Martha had taken Jesus’ admonition to heart.

So don’t worry about it. Seek first the kingdom of God, and its righteousness, and all other things will be given to you. Keep your focus on what is truly important, on who is truly important, and all the other things will work out. Serve one another with joy, and I think you’ll find Jesus there, too.

We can find holiness in the ordinary. We are here in the 16^th week of ordinary time, and while technically all ordinary time means in the liturgical year is that we are not celebrating any of the great feast seasons such as Advent, Lent and Easter, the fact that there are far many more weeks in Ordinary Time than in the other seasons is a sign that most of the time we are living our ordinary lives, doing all the everyday things that can seem so routine and cause us so much stress. And in the middle of all of that Jesus is there, making the ordinary extraordinary.

I think it is important that we take time out of the busyness of our lives to recharge with Jesus. Sit at his feet and just spend time with him. Take a half hour a week and pray in quiet here before the Blessed Sacrament. Go on retreat every once in a while. Simply create a habit of prayer every day to build your relationship with God. It’s those little connection points with Jesus that make all the difference. They keep us focused, help us live worry-free, and give us hope.

Corpus Christi

 

Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ

Cycle C

Recently, the Pew Research Center published the results of a study they undertook of Catholics and members of other Christian denominations who no longer attend religious services. Among Catholic respondents who rarely attend Mass, 47 percent said they practice their faith in other ways. Under 20 percent said they rarely attended because they haven’t found a church they like, they don’t like the sermons, or they don’t feel welcome.

Catholic churchgoers were somewhat more likely than other other Christian churchgoers to say it was important to attend church to continue the family’s religious traditions; to please family, a spouse or partner; or to fulfill a religious obligation. They were less likely than other Christians to attend in order to become closer to God, to become a better person, to find comfort in times of sorrow, or to be a part of a community of faith.

I find it striking that nowhere in the study is a belief in the real presence of Christ in the eucharist even mentioned. Maybe that’s why they no longer attend. All those reasons listed for no longer attending or even believing are really just symptoms of a total misunderstanding of what being Catholic is really all about. They are really very self-centered reasons that focus on superficial things, me-centered things. There is no sense of gratitude or even understanding of the gift.

Let’s take just one of these findings, the largest percentage, almost half, that say that they practice their faith in other ways. They claim to be Catholic, and believe in God, but don’t come to Mass. For a Catholic, how can there be any other way to practice your faith than the eucharist? To us, the eucharist is not something we do, it is who we are. You cannot find that anywhere else but here, in the Mass. People who try to fill their souls in other ways will never be satisfied. It isn’t about tradition, or the sermon, or an obligation, or even finding a convenient Mass time. It’s about Jesus Christ giving himself to us in the most intimate way possible.

They don’t understand the gift.

We hear the remarkable declaration of Jesus in John’s gospel that unless we eat his body and drink his blood, we will have no life within us. John also tells us that when Jesus said this, all but the twelve left him. Each and every one of his disciples, except for his closest friends, left him. Each and every person who had been hoping that Jesus was the promised messiah, left him. Each and every person who he had miraculously fed with the loaves and fishes, left him. Each and every person who had just before wanted to declare him king, left him.

They didn’t understand the gift.

The gift is why I am Catholic. No matter what happens in the world, in the church, and in my life, it is this declaration of Jesus that keeps me here. Because I desire life. I crave life. Not just life here on earth but eternal life.

Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood
has eternal life,
and I will raise him on the last day. 

Isn’t that what it’s all about? Life is one. My life and yours had a beginning but will have no end. It is all the same. And I want to have it. I want life in its fullest. I want the gift. I am grateful for the gift.

The word eucharist literally means thanksgiving. St. Paul says to give thanks always and for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ to God the Father. And that is what the Mass is. The Mass is gratitude for the gift. Have you ever been so full of joy about something, so full of the knowledge that something was good and positive and true that you felt it filling your heart? Have you ever wanted someone to feel what you feel and know what you know so badly that it physically hurt? And when the other person couldn’t understand it or feel it like you did you wanted to just grab them by the shoulders and shake them? “Don’t you see it? Can’t you see how important this is? Can’t you see how important this is to you, to me, to all of us? How can you not see it, how can you not feel what I feel? What can I do to help you understand?”

I feel that way oftentimes during Mass, and not because of the people I see here on Sunday. It is because of those who are not here. As western civilization rushes to secularization, our Masses are not as well attended, our churches are closing, and people who once were believers are leaving in record numbers, moving from belief to unbelief in anything. And it saddens me deeply. People are leaving Jesus now just as they left him then. Jesus was saddened by their lack of understanding, but he let them go. He didn’t call after them, “Wait, I didn’t mean it literally. I meant it was just a symbol!” No, he doubled down. “For my flesh is real food and my blood real drink”.

He wasn’t speaking symbolically, he wasn’t using hyperpole, it wasn’t a metaphor, a euphamism, sarcasm, irony, exaggeration, a simile, alliteration, or even a haiku. What is was is crazy. It was plainly spoken and plainly intended. “Eat my body and drink my blood. Do this in remembrance of me.” It is both an invitation and a command. How can this be? This is hard to understand and even harder to take. Who does he think he is?

I don’t understand it and never will. I will never be able to wrap my brain about how it happens. I just know why it happens. For life within me. And that’s enough for me. I trust Jesus. I trust he is who he says he is. I trust that he has given me the church, made up of imperfect people, to guide me along the way. All we are are beggars helping each other to find bread.

The world is starving, humanity is starving, and yet we refuse to eat. There is a great banquet laid out before us, a spiritual feast that will fulfill all hunger and desire, and we refuse to eat. Why do we not recognize nor understand the gift?

Why do you come here? Do you come every Sunday or just when it’s convenient? Do you look forward to coming? Do you participate fully and actively? Not because you are supposed to but because you feel compelled to by the love within your heart? Why are you here? Is it out of a sense of obligation, or is it out of love for the gift? Will you also leave? Where else would you go? Where else can you hear the words of everlasting life? Where else would you receive the gift?

And what do you do with the gift you have received? Do you leave here on Sunday so full of joy that you feel compelled to tell everyone you see what you have experienced? And when they fail to understand, do you want to just grab them by the shoulders and shake them? Do you invite them to join you here? I don’t mean strangers on the street or your friends. What about your children? Your spouse? Why not start by offering the greatest gift possible to those you love the most?

I hope and pray that sometime in your life you feel like that. I hope and pray that you become so filled with the spirit that you just cannot keep it within you.

No matter how the people in the church fail, I will remain. No matter how much I fail, I will remain. Because I want life. Because I understand the gift. Because I understand that I will never be worthy of the gift. Because when all others fail me, when I fail, I know my lord will remain faithful to me. He has not left us orphan. His Spirit still fills the world. In him we live and move and have our being.

Where else will we go? Where else can we go?

I love to see people in procession coming up to receive communion. James Joyce wrote in Finnigan’s Wake, “Catholic means, here comes everybody!” I love to see your faces. Some are stoic, some prayerful or pious, some have eyes alive and others their eyes seem dead. Some come with heads bowed, some with eyes averted. Some seem nonchalant, confused, or bored. I don’t know how many times they come with tears in their eyes and I wonder at what pain, or joy, they are experiencing in their lives at that moment. Some look me right in the eye with a twinkle there. And every once in a while I will see a face of pure joy, and it warms my heart.

I especially like the small children who come up, clutching their parent’s hand. They look up at me and at mom or dad with a look of wonderment. What is that? It must be really good if mommy’s having some. Can I have some? And sometimes they make a grab for it.

Is that how you feel when you come up to receive communion? Like that little child? What is that? Can I have some? Is there joy in your heart, put there by the knowledge and understanding and acceptance of the gift? That kind of joy cannot be found anywhere else but here. The joy of the eucharist is the deepest sense of gratitude that will persevere throughout all the pain and failures and suffering and betrayals. It is the joy of Jesus, who persevered through all the pain and failures and suffering and betrayals. If he himself was not spared those things, why should we?

Jesus told his friends at the Last Supper, “I have so longed to celebrate this meal with you.” He so longed to offer his body and blood for their redemption. He longed to suffer and die for them. He longs to celebrate his meal with you now, just as he longed to suffer and die for you. Jesus says that no one can come to the Him unless the Father has drawn them to Him. He has called you to Him just as you are. He has called you to become one with Him in the eucharist. Today.

It is the eucharist that will save the church. It is the eucharist that will save humanity. Because it is the bread of life, Jesus Christ himself, died and risen, physically present before us, physically present within us. We become what we eat. We become Jesus himself, physically present to the world. You receive the gift and you become the gift. You receive life and you become life.

Do you recognize that? Do you understand that? Do you realize the awesome responsibility that gives you, to take that gift of life out into the world?

Lead Us Not Into Temptation

 

1^st Sunday of Lent

Cycle C

 

Have you ever spent any meaningful time out in the desert? I remember the first time I was in the desert. I was about nine or ten, and my dad and I went on a camping trip to the Mojave Desert. We just pitched our camp in the open, with no one for miles around us. That night I woke up around 2:00am and poked my head out of the tent. The night was dead quiet. Not even a slight breeze. And the stars, man, there were more stars than I had ever seen before in my life. It was as if the entire Milky Way was spread out above me. I stood there mesmerized for a minute, looking up, but then I was overcome with an irrational fear.  It was very dark, even in starlight, and my imagination took over. There were scary things out there. It felt like I was being watched. I felt alone, but not alone at the same time. It was exciting yet unnerving at the same time. And so, I ducked back into the tent where it was safe. That experience has stayed with me all these years.

 

The desert is a very unique place, both barren and beautiful at the same time. It seems to be devoid of life but actually teems with living creatures. You just can’t see them in the daytime, they’re beneath the surface. Living here in the mountains we see the splendor and majesty of God’s creation all around us. There is so much life visible here, the trees, lakes, rivers, and all the wildlife. The desert is so different than the mountains. It is more mysterious and dangerous. There is something about the desert that attracts us and frightens us at the same time. I think what attracts me to the desert the most is the silence. It makes sense that Jesus often went to the desert to escape the noise of the world and the crowds. There is a sense of peace in desolation.

 

God is found in the quiet places. God is found in desolation. God is found in the most unlikely of ways. God is encountered many times in the desert in scripture. Abraham met God in the three travelers who came to his tent for hospitality. Moses saw God in the burning bush. Elijah experienced God in the still soft voice whispering to him in a cave. We also experience God in the most unlikely places, oftentimes while we are in the desert wastelands of our lives. At those times we may feel lost and alone, yet life is still there, beneath the surface, hidden from our sight for a time.

 

Jesus often went to out into the desert to prepare and recharge in the presence of his Father, but this time was different. Just before this gospel passage Luke tells us the story of Jesus’ baptism. Something very powerful happened to Jesus at his baptism. As he came out of the water the Spirit descended on him in the form of a dove, and he heard a voice from heaven say, “You are my beloved son, with whom I am well pleased.” This was not a new revelation to Jesus. God was not telling him for the first time that he was his son. Jesus had divine knowledge, so he knew who he was and what his Father’s will for him was. He had gone to the Jordan to declare himself publicly. This was an affirmation and a sign that his hour had come, the time he had been waiting for his entire life. It must have been exciting and also a bit unnerving at the same time.

 

So, it makes sense that Jesus would want to go somewhere to prepare. Luke says that Jesus was led into the desert by the spirit. In Mark’s gospel it says the Spirit drove him into the desert. Led or driven, the Spirit of God took him there.

He needed to focus acutely on what he needed to do going forward. And the desert has a special way of focusing someone, especially if fasting is involved. Jesus removed everything but him and God. The desert is not only barren; the need to survive its brutality strips away all other needs. In the quiet and simplicity of the desert Jesus could hear the voice of his Father most clearly.

 

But he could also hear that nagging voice in his head clearly. Jesus was not questioning who he was or what he was to do, he was considering the alternatives. The devil was simply pointing out an easier way for Jesus that wouldn’t require all that suffering and misunderstanding. Maybe there was a way to make people see who he really was rather than help them to come to that belief on their own. He could prove it so easily. And they could all be saved, and wasn’t that the purpose of it all anyway?

 

He knew his mission was to upend the powers of the day. Satan tempted him to take that power for himself. If he overthrew the Romans, they wouldn’t torture and kill him. And wouldn’t it be a good thing if he were the earthly king, benevolent and merciful? Wouldn’t the people benefit? Of course he could turn those stones into bread. How many people could he feed with that power? And why not himself first? And not just bread, but any possession he could ever desire could be his, just by desiring it. And why did he have to suffer? Didn’t scripture say that the angels would protect him so he wouldn’t stumble? And if he didn’t have to suffer, why should anyone else?

 

It was so easy. All Jesus had to do was think about his own needs and not the will of his Father. All Jesus had to do was use his power for good. All Jesus had to do was deny his very self, and that was something he could not do.

 

Isn’t that what temptation is? It doesn’t just come out of nowhere and put an unnatural idea into our heads. The idea is already there, the devil just wants us to consider the alternatives. It seems to make so much sense. If we are powerful, we can use that power selfishly. If we are weak, we can stop trying to be strong. We can rationalize it any way we want, and the more we do, the easier it is to give into it. Can it be wrong to do this if my intentions are good? Think of all the people I could help? Think of the greater good.

 

Temptation is most difficult if we are tempted to do something that is fully within our power to do. Temptation is simply taking our focus off God and putting it on ourselves. And that’s why it is so easy to succumb to it.

 

It is so easy. All we have to do was think about our own needs and not the will of the Father. All we have to do was use our power for good. All we have to do is deny our very selves. Unlike Jesus, we do that all the time.

 

But you don’t have to. Like Jesus, we have a choice. Like Jesus, we do not have to give in to our temptations. You are not alone. Like Jesus, we can go to the desert and be in the presence of our Father.  Enter into the desert of Lent. Focus your time and energy not on your own needs and desires but on God’s will for you. Meditate on the scriptures to better understand where they are leading you. Spend more time in prayer. Fast from what is causing you to sin. Be more charitable to others.

 

And then, like Jesus, emerge from the desert with a strong sense of purpose and resolve, with clarity of what you are called to do to build the kingdom of God.