January 2017 – Journeying Into Mystery

Just who is blessed? A homily for the 4th Sunday in Ordinary Time

What does Jesus mean by the word blessed?

The Gospel of Prosperity is a way that a few false Christian religious leaders like to justify the disparity of wealth in our nation. These false teachers rationalize that God rewards those who are righteous with great wealth and power, and punishes those who are sinful with poverty and destitution. This is a false theology of wealth and power. It is baseless in scripture and for lack of a term, it is a pile of hooey. Yet this misguided and false teaching is widely disseminated among the rich and the powerful. These false teachers would say that the rich and the powerful are “blessed.”

The life and words of Jesus define what is truly blessed. Jesus used the gifts he was given to better the lives of those who were most in need. There was no quid pro quo attached by Jesus for any of the miracles he worked for people, whether it was curing an illness or injury, exorcizing a demon, calming the storm at sea, feeding the 5000 with the multiplication of loaves and fish. Everything that Jesus did for others was derived out of a motive of love, not profit. Jesus asked for nothing in return. This is what it means to be blessed.

What determines a person’s state of blessedness is not the person’s economic status. It is not a temporal state of being. Rather, to be blessed is directly linked to one’s spiritual and emotional state. Who is blessed in the eyes of God?

In the first reading, the prophet Zephaniah writes those who seek humility and justice are blessed by God. St. Paul in his first letter to the Corinthians declares that God has chosen the foolish to shame the wise, the weak of the world to shame the strong, and the lowly and despised of the world, “those who count for nothing,” to reduce to nothing those who are powerful. Those who are blessed, writes St. Paul, boast of nothing but our Lord Jesus Christ.

Those who are truly blessed are those who come to the humble recognition that all good things come from God. All our gifts, all our talents, all our skills are not ours, but that which God has given to us so that we, in turn, can give to those more in need. Like peeling an onion, this requires us to peel from ourselves all the false things people have attached to us. This require for us to peel away all the false things we have attached to ourselves until there is nothing left but the very core of who we are.

Jesus tells us that once we have peeled away all the falsehoods in which we have been clothed, and clothed ourselves only in God, it is then, and only then, when we will experience the kingdom of God, experience comfort, mercy, and satisfaction. It is only then that we will experience true greatness and be able to see God. It is only then that we are truly blessed.

In short, one becomes blessed when one realizes that all good one has originates in God, and as one uses that good for the benefit of others, returns to God.

We often assign the word “blessed” to people who seem larger than life like Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King Jr., Dorothy Day, Mahatma Ghandi, and Pope Francis. However, we are all called to be blessed and we know many people who are indeed blessed. If we think for a moment, we will recognize many in our lives who are truly blessed.

Just today, I heard a story about the Greek fishermen from the Island of Lesbos who, in the year 2015, rescued over 500,000 Syrian refugees fleeing the horrific violence of Syria. These fishermen sacrificed their livelihood of fishing to go and rescue the many women, children and men who were drowning in the sea when their flimsy boats capsized and fell apart in the waters of the sea. Many of the women they saved were pregnant. One fisherman was asked in an interview whether he knew these people he was rescuing were Syrians. He said these people were human beings and it mattered not what country they came from. They were human beings in need of help and that was the most important thing for him, something, I am ashamed to say, that we as Americans have forgotten in recent months. These fishermen are blessed. Jesus reminds us today that if we seek to be blessed, we must possess the humility to realize that all good originates in God and must return to God by using the good we have received from God in service to those most in need.

This is best expressed in the Prayer that is attributed to St. Francis of Assisi.

“Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
Where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console,
To be understood as to understand,
To be loved as to love;
For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
It is in dying to self that we are born to eternal life.”

Encountering Love

ENCOUNTERING LOVE: A reflection of Buber’s “I and Thou.”

While in graduate school, the one book I read that has altered the way I see God in the world was Martin Buber’s theological masterpiece, I And Thou. Within that slim but difficult volume, is one distinct message. God is in love with us. The first sentence of the book said it all. “In the beginning was relation.” This is a restatement of the very first sentence of the Bible, “In the beginning was creation.” (Genesis 1:1) Within that very simple declarative sentence is infused the great love of God for all that God has created. Buber then reveals the ways in which we are able to encounter God’s love. Buber calls these meeting places with God, thresholds.

The first of these thresholds is nature. The delicate petals of a flower, the hymn of praise heard in birdsong, the lush green of a forest, the magnificent colors of a sunrise and sunset, the light display of the Aurora Borealis, the immensity of the ocean, the majestic height of mountains, and the awe striking display of power within a thunderstorm are all meeting places in which we encounter God.

There is something that is stirred within us when the “self of God” is revealed in nature. We are utterly changed. We no longer take for granted the petal of a flower. We hear God sing to us in the joy of a bird greeting the dawn. Our vision is expanded as the array of color of a sunrise or sunset passes through the retinas of our eyes into our souls. The dance of light displayed in the Aurora Borealis fills our hearts with wonder. The immensity of the ocean or the height of a mountain reveals to us our own insignificance. The great power of the thunderstorm strips from us the superficiality of our own power, displaying to ourselves our own naked helplessness. Encountering the great love of God in nature utterly alters us.

The second of these thresholds is our interpersonal relationships. Buber calls these interpersonal relationships windows, through which we look upon the face of God.

The first of these interpersonal relationships is that which is shared between a mother and her baby. Think of the mother cradling her baby in her arms, pressing the baby to her breast and nursing her baby. Think of the attentive, loving care of the mother for her baby’s every need. Is it any wonder that scripture speaks of our relationship with God as one of an infant nursing at the breast of God our Mother?

The second of these interpersonal relationships is that of the love expressed between two lovers. The loving caress, the touch of a kiss, the full and loving embrace of two lovers, the lilting, musical play of a lover’s voice, the joy upon seeing one’s lover, the way our lover’s smile makes our own heart smile, are all ways of encountering the loving presence of God.

I have said and will continue to say to the time that I die, that my greatest experience of God has been in my wife, Ruth. In her arms I feel God embrace me. In her gentle touch, God caresses me. From her lips I hear God say, “I love you,” and, “I forgive you.” As I gaze into her deep, brown eyes, I look upon the face of God.

The third of these interpersonal relationships is that which we share with others. In the companionship between two good friends, in the helping hand to those who are in need, in the laughter and the tears we share with others, in all the loving interactions we have with others, we encounter the love of God.

The third threshold is that place within ourselves in which we encounter the mystery of God. Imprinted into our very DNA is the DNA of our God who knew us, even before we were conceived in our mother’s womb. Of all the three thresholds of Buber, this is the one that is the least concrete and objective, and the most abstract and subjective.

This threshold is as unique to each individual as each snowflake is individual. The experience of God at this level is not something that can be replicated and passed on to others. It is something that is so intimate and so beyond human expression that words will never capture its full significance.

I encountered this threshold very powerfully at the birth of my son, Andy. Standing behind the doctor and in watching my son, my baby, emerge from Ruthie’s womb is best described as standing in the Holy of Holies. It was my Moses’ experience of encountering the flaming bush. It was my witnessing the creation of the universe and the resurrection of Jesus. The presence of God so filled that delivery room that I reached out into the air around me and physically touch God’s face. It was so powerful that I was unable to sleep the remainder of that night, pondering, contemplating what I had just experienced.

I encountered this threshold again in a single chord. I was driving home from the St. Paul Seminary in which I had an evening class. As I drove along Mississippi Boulevard, I listened to a recording of Aaron Copland’s “Appalachian Spring Suite.” In this musical suite of the major melodies from Copland’s ballet, “Appalachian Spring,” just following the vibrant variations on the Shaker Hymn, “Simple Gifts,” the tempo of the music slows and the dynamics grow quieter. At that point, one simple chord is sounded. I had listened to this musical piece countless times, however, this night, driving along Mississippi Boulevard in St. Paul, within that one simple chord played by the orchestra, I heard God’s voice, and I wept. I wept so hard that I began to sob and had to pull over to the side of the road until I quit sobbing and could safely continue my journey home. All the way home, I contemplated the sound of God’s voice in that simple chord, and, like my experience of God in the delivery room, could not sleep the rest of the night.

I encountered this threshold another time, sitting at the death bed of a parishioner. She was comatose and in the long process of dying. The head of her bed was raised so that she could breathe easier. Her family gathered around her bed, as I sat down next to her, took her left hand into my left hand, and began the prayers of the Commendation of the Dying. As I began the words of the closing prayer, “Go forth, Christian soul, from this world in the name of God the Father who created you,” her eyes suddenly opened and she looked directly at my eyes, but it was not me she was seeing. She was looking through me to the presence of God directly behind me. I continued the prayer, “ in the name of Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God, who suffered for you, in the name of the Holy Spirit, who was poured out upon you, go forth faithful Christian. May you live in peace this day, may your home be with God in Zion, with Mary, the virgin Mother of God, with Joseph and all the angels and saints.” and as I concluded the prayer with an “Amen,” she closed her eyes and died. There was the sound of a collective intake of air from her family as they realized what had just happened, and a murmur from one to the other of “did you see what just happened?” After a little while, I took leave of the family, went back to my parish office and sat in silence for about three hours contemplating the experience of God I had had.

One other powerful experience of this threshold was in a hospital in the middle of the night in mid-October of 2011. I had just had my 5^th surgery in as many months, the incision on my left leg opened again to release the poison of the MRSA infection I got from a hip replacement in June. I was in pain, and despairing as to if I would ever be cured of this infection that had left me without a hip for such a long time. I prayed the same prayer I had prayed the moment I was told I had MRSA, to be cured of this infection, wondering whether God heard my prayer at all. Unable to sleep, I picked up my iPod, put on my earphones and played the James Chepponis setting of Mary’s “Magnificat” from the Gospel of Luke. As the woman on the recording began to sing, “Proclaim the greatness of God; rejoice in God, my Savior! Rejoice in God, my Savior!” the pain lessened, and a calm settled within my spirit. I knew at that moment my prayer had been answered. Two and a half months later, the MRSA was killed and I was able to finally get an artificial hip.

I mention these four examples of Buber’s third threshold because of an encounter I had with God at Mass two weeks ago. I was playing the music for the 10 am Mass at St. John the Evangelist, one of the three church sites in the parish of St. Wenceslaus. I was doing what I call “liturgical cocktail music” that is, playing the keyboard and cantoring at the same time. (For some reason that elicits for me an image of the piano/singer in cocktail bars.) This encounter happened immediately following the consecration of the bread and wine in the Eucharistic prayer, and the singing of the Memorial Acclamation. As Fr. Dave Barrett continued the Eucharistic Prayer, the words he was praying came alive for me. I heard them in ways I had never heard them before. It was God proclaiming Divine friendship and love for all people. It was God declaring the inclusive expression of love to all creation at the beginning of time. It was a declaration that all of humanity and all of creation is swept up into this magnificent gesture and expression of love.

Since 1977, I can safely say that I have celebrated over 8,300 Masses. This is just the Sunday Masses and does not include the weekday Masses, funerals, weddings, Confirmation Masses and other Masses celebrated for various reasons. Why has it taken me so long? One would think that in the countless number of Masses at which I have been since I was born, the countless number of Masses at which I have played and directed choirs, the countless number of Masses at which I have assisted as a deacon, I would have heard this epiphany from God long before this one particular Sunday. There was nothing different in the inflection of Dave’s voice as he prayed the Eucharistic Prayer, nor anything remarkable about the playing or the singing of the Memorial Acclamation. However, at this one time, seemingly, just for me, the “self of God” was revealed to me again. When I left St. John’s, I drove to Memorial Park and on that cold, winter day, parked in an isolated area and meditated upon that which I had just experienced. This reflection is the cumulative expression of that which I encountered that Sunday morning at Mass.

Buber is so correct. The encounters we have with God are numerous and often leave us unable to express in any adequate terms that which we have experienced. Each and every one of these encounters are personal, precious, and life-altering. They are those gifts that God gives to us to remind us that we are dearly loved and we are never, ever alone. For a moment, just a moment, the revelation of that which awaits beyond death is made known to us, and leaves us speechless and in awe.

Called to be apostles. Homily for the 3rd Sunday in Ordinary Time

Our Great Pyrennes, FloydRMoose, our Hound from Heaven.

Most of us were infants when we were baptized, and cannot remember our own baptism. What I know of mine is only that told to me by my mother. When I was baptized, the rite was done in the Latin language. As the water was poured three times over my head, the priest said, “Roberto Carlo, ego te baptizo in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.” “Robert Charles, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” My brother, Bill, who was 2 years old at the time of my baptism, loudly told the priest, “His name is not Roberto Carlo. His name is Bob.”

Today, we hear Jesus calling Peter and Andrew, James and John to be his apostles. Just as they were called by name to join Jesus, so, we too, were called by name to be apostles of Jesus at our baptism. At the moment of our baptism Jesus said to us, “You are mine.” This was all the more made clear at our confirmation when, from our own lips, we declared that we belonged to Jesus.

We look at these statues of St. Peter and St. Paul and can think that we are not worthy to be apostles of Jesus. St. Peter and St. Paul were holy men. However, if we read the gospels, the apostles were not initially holy. They were a bunch of guys. Some were fishermen. Some were thieves and murderers. Some were armed revolutionaries fighting the Roman Imperial Army. They proved themselves time and time again to be blundering fools and cowards. One was even a traitor. Yet, in spite of their shortcomings, Jesus saw within them the potential to be his apostles, to be leaders of the faith. As with all of those we name saints, they had to grow into holiness, just like you and me.

One thing is certain, Jesus is relentless in calling us to be apostles. Jesus doesn’t just call us once, but calls us multiple times, over and over again in our lives. There is a beautiful poem, much too long to be read here, entitled, “The Hound of Heaven,” and written by Francis Thompson over one hundred years ago. It is an autobiographical poem about Francis Thompson, and how he ran away from Jesus most of his life, pursuing everything in life except God. As much as he tried to run from Jesus, Jesus chased at his heels like a bloodhound, never far behind him calling him to be an apostle. Finally, Francis gives in, and says,”Yes,” to Jesus. These are the lines that God speaks to him in the poem when Francis finally relents and says, “Yes.”

‘And is your earth so marred,
Shattered in shard on shard?
Lo, all things fly you, for you flee from Me!	160
Strange, piteous, futile thing!
Wherefore should any set your love apart?
Seeing none but I makes much of naught’ (He said),
‘And human love needs human meriting:
How have you merited—	165
Of all man’s clotted clay the dingiest clot?
Alack, you know not
How little worthy of any love you are!
Whom will you find to love ignoble thee,
Save Me, save only Me?	170
All which I took from you I did but take,
Not for your harm,
But just that you might seek it in My arms.
All which your child’s mistake
Fancies as lost, I have stored for you at home:	175
Rise, clasp My hand, and come!’*

When I was 17 years old, all I wanted to do was play music, compose music and marry my high school girlfriend, Ruth. And happily, I did all of that. But Jesus was calling me to do more. Jesus called me into Church ministry so that I might use those musical skills for the glory of God. But even that wasn’t the end. Jesus called me to pursue my study of the Church and go back to school and get a graduate degree. But that wasn’t the end. Jesus continued to call me to be a deacon. After 40 years of church ministry, 22 years as a deacon, am I finally done? No. Today, Jesus continues to call you and me into a deeper relationship as his apostles. He says to us, “Rise, clasp My hand, and come!” We have a choice. Will we rise and clasp his hand, or not?

*Nicholson & Lee, eds. The Oxford 1 of English Mystical Verse. 1917.

Just who is this Jesus? A homily for the 2nd Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year

Photo by Deacon Bob Wagner, February 2000 in Ireland.

Jesus is the visible manifestation of the invisible God. Jesus is the human expression of who God really is. John the Baptist introduces Jesus to us today. Who do you see? Does Jesus meet your expectations or are you disappointed in whom you meet?

The Jewish people were disappointed. The Messiah they were expecting was that of the warrior king who would crush the head of the Roman emperor and who, with great military might, would destroy the Roman Imperial Army, thus restoring the royal throne of David to preside once more over Palestine.

They tried to make Jesus a king, especially after his miracle of the multiplication of the loaves and the fishes. But Jesus refused to be dragged in to their notion of the Messiah. They then rejected him and with the Jewish religious authorities plotted his execution. Even one of his own apostles rejected him and set him up to be murdered.

Those looking for the fire and brimstone God who destroyed the world in a great flood, who burned to death all those in Sodom and Gomorrah, who ordered the death of all men, women, and children who stood in opposition to the people of Israel, will be disappointed. The Messiah, the anointed one of God, will not be that kind of Messiah.

Mary, his mother, got it right from the very beginning. Mary described accurately the kind of Messiah she was carrying in her womb to her cousin Elizabeth. He is the ageless mercy of God to all people. He will cloud the minds and hearts of the arrogant. He will take away the thrones from the mighty and lift up the lowly and the humble. He will feed the hungry and the poor, and the rich he will send away with empty stomachs. His name will be holy.

Who is the Jesus to whom we are introduced by John the Baptist? Jesus is the living and breathing manifestation of God’s love, compassion and mercy.

We have been baptized into Jesus. We are the living and breathing manifestation of Jesus in our world today. If we are going to live up to our baptismal promises to be Christ to our world, we must put on Christ. If we are to be true disciples of Jesus, we must go forth from this Church today and be God’s love, compassion and mercy to our world.

ORDINARY TIME IS AN EXTRAORDINARY TIME

Ruth, and our daughter Beth, in a dramamine induced state while crossing Lake Michigan on a ferry circa 2002. While not a complimentary photograph, it is a pictorial metaphor on one approach to Ordinary Time in the Church year.

Often we think of ordinary as being mundane and boring. Quite to the contrary, ordinary can be extraordinary. Yes, it is true that the Seasons of Advent and Christmas are quite extraordinary times. Yet, all the glitter and glitz of Advent and Christmas does not extraordinary make. What makes the ordinary extraordinary is in how we think and approach it.

The liturgical year, like the calendar year is a cycle of months and seasons that chronologically flow from one to another. This cycle can be thought of as a bit of a rut, a “here we go again, the same old, same old.” Or, we can think of it as a new adventure upon which we embark.

Think of how we were last January. Over the past year our lives have not remained static. Our bodies have changed for better or for worse. Hopefully, during this time, our wisdom, our knowledge and our experience has grown. In one way or another, we are physically, mentally, and emotionally different today than we were one year ago. Have we grown spiritually during this past year?

Over the next few Sundays, we will hear the familiar stories of Jesus beginning his earthly mission of spreading the Good News of God’s love. We will hear him calling his disciples and all people to a deeper relationship with God, his Father. Throughout Ordinary Time we will hear familiar stories of healing miracles, the nature miracles, and extraordinary feats like the feeding of the 5000. These stories should speak to us in a different way this year, especially if our relationship with God has grown.

The calendar year and the liturgical year are not circular ruts through which we pass again and again. Rather, every new year is spherical, always changing, always new. Human relationships that are static and never change die. Can that be said of our relationship with God? This new year, as ordinary as it might seem, is filled with extraordinary surprises. God is always calling us into a deeper relationship. Our relationship with God is always extraordinary, no matter the time or season of the year. We have a choice to make this new year. Will our relationship with God remain static and dead, or will we choose to deepen and enliven our relationship with God? Will we make this Ordinary Time extraordinary or just ordinary?

PSALM OFFERING 2, OPUS 7, For the victims of clergy sexual abuse.

Psalm Offering 2, Opus 7

Prayer Intention: the Victims of Clergy Sexual abuse

Scripture passages: (for the victims) Children and infants collapse in the streets of the town. They cry out to their mothers, “Where is bread and wine?” As they faint away like the wounded in the streets of the city, As their life is poured out in their mothers’ arms. Lamentations 2: 11b-12.

(for the Church) Your prophets provided you visions of whitewashed illusion; They did not lay bare your guilt, in order to restore your fortunes; They saw for you only oracles of empty deceit. Lamentations 2:14.

I began this composition in August of 2016 and completed it on January 1, 2017. For the past 26 years I have been involved in assisting families who have suffered from domestic violence. As ugly and criminal as domestic violence is in the family, exacting horrible tolls on its victims, nothing ever prepared me for the having to deal with the same damnable offence in the Catholic Church. Many children and adolescents suffered unspeakable horror from the very people in whom they bestowed their love and trust. Over the last two years, having been immersed in the tragic history of many children abused by priests in the decades of the 1940’s and 1950’s by both diocesan and religious order priests, and having read in detail the horror they experienced by these priests, as bishops, other clergy, and even the victim’s own family members looked the other way, has led me to compose this Psalm Offering for the victims.

THE MUSIC: I composed this music in the time honored musical form of the Prelude and Fugue. The Prelude is in the form of a through composed melody often used in church hymnody. The melody is stated simply and then repeated with some eighth note musical ornamentation in the left hand. At this point, the melody breaks into the Fugue with the first part of the hymn melody used as the subject of the fugue. The fugue subject weaves through the higher, middle and lower registers of the piano, subsiding and then quickly building to discordant chords in both hands. An abrupt return to the original setting of the hymn tune leads to the conclusion of the song.

The relentless key area of E minor and restating over and over again of the hymn melody is purposely done. My intent behind this relentless repetition is a musical metaphor that sexual abuse in the Catholic Church has never been isolated to the last 30 or 40 years, but has been pervasive throughout the history of the Church.

While the majority of those who have served as priests have been exemplary people, there is that underbelly of the Church in which priests who have sexually abused have been protected and shielded from exposure for their crimes. This was often done to save face for the Institutional Church. When the leadership of the Church acknowledges their own part in fostering an environment that provides abusing clergy the opportunity to abuse perhaps it will finally cease. This will call for Church leadership to reexamine its own theology on sexuality and work toward a more positive view of human sexuality. This will hopefully lead the Church to open the way once more to a married priesthood. It will also call Church leadership to end the view of the priest as a cultic icon that has led to a perverse sense of clericalism that has prevailed over the past 30 years, and return the priesthood to that of being servants of Christ.

OCTAVE OF CHRISTMAS, DAY EIGHT, JANUARY 1

The finding of the child, Jesus, in the Temple. Artist: Unknown

Psalm Offering 8, Opus 3

Psalm Offering 8 is a musical representation of the 12 year old Jesus in the Temple. The anxiousness of Mary and Joseph in seeking out their lost son is reflected in the quickness of the 3 over 2 motif in melody A. The calm, quiet of melody B is indicative of the adolescent Jesus asking questions from and also teaching the scribes in the Temple. Melody A returns as the Holy Family returns from the Temple to their home in Nazareth.

I composed this as a present for Blanche and Ivo Schutrop. Blanche and Ivo were longtime parishioners of St. Hubert. Blanche served as a volunteer sacristan, tutor for the school, and trained communion to the homebound volunteers and organized and matched those volunteers to those who were homebound. Blanche never got beyond an 8^th grade education, but was probably the finest pastoral care minister I have ever known. She was the heart of St. Hubert. She and Ivo were married many years. I often remember them on a hot summer night, sitting in the screened in front porch of their simple home across the drive from the old church listening to the Minnesota Twins game on the radio and drinking a couple bottles of beer.

Each year his parents went to Jerusalem for the feast of Passover, and when he was twelve years old, they went up according to festival custom. After they had completed its days, as they were returning, the boy Jesus remained behind in Jerusalem, but his parents did not know it. Thinking that he was in the caravan, they journeyed for a day and looked for him among their relatives and acquaintances, but not finding him, they returned to Jerusalem to look for him. After three days they found him in the temple, sitting in the midst of the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions, and all who heard him were astounded at his understanding and his answers. When his parents saw him, they were astonished, and his mother said to him, “Son, why have you done this to us? Your father and I have been looking for you with great anxiety.” And he said to them, “Why were you looking for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” But they did not understand what he said to them. He went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them; and his mother kept all these things in her heart. And Jesus advanced [in] wisdom and age and favor before God and man.

My 3 year old daughter Beth, 29 years ago, playing with the Holy Family in the crèche my dad made. Ruthie and I now have that crèche in our home.

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: