All Saints and All Souls

"Hope Never Disappoints" St. Paul, Rom. 5:5

     Paul’s powerful declaration is one of the most powerful statements, in my opinion, that he makes among all the letters of his that we have. It is a bold statement that someone who has lost hope can sneer at as being hopelessly inept, naïve, and somewhat insulting.

     Today, our celebration of All Saints and All Souls is all about hope.  Jesus, in comforting his disciples for his impending death proclaims “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid”(Jn.14:27). The peace of Christ is a supernatural gift; it doesn’t come under our control and use. It is bestowed upon us by God through Christ. Our hope then is founded on this supernatural trust in Christ’s peace. It is a peace that does not shelter us from the world’s tempests and changes, it is a place where we can stand in the midst of turmoil and still have hope.

     Henri Nouwen, the great spiritual writer, observes that “…hope born of faith becomes matured and purified through difficulty. The surprise we experience in hope, then, is not that, unexpectedly, things turn out better than expected. For even when they do not, we can still live with a keen hope. The basis of our hope has to do with the One who is stronger than life and suffering. Faith opens us up to God’s sustaining, healing presence. A person in difficulty can trust because of a belief that something else is possible. To trust is to allow for hope”(Turn my Mourning into Dancing).

     One very real sign of our hope is our prayers today to and for the ones we love, and who have died, that for them and for us death is not a final separation, but only a delay that calls for hope in the resurrection. Resurrection that plays out each day in the setting and rising of the sun; in the seasons that move from the birth of spring to the death of winter, and again to the birth of new growth; in the healing sacrament of reconciliation where death is sown in our sins and resurrection happens through forgiveness, and in Christ’s victory over death. All around us, God’s abundant love is present and anchors us in the sure hope of the resurrection.

Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Look Who's Coming to Dinner!

What possible reason would a person have not to attend such a great banquet as described in Matthew’s gospel today? In an earlier reading, the passage from Isaiah recounts some of the memorable great feasts by the Kings of the past, all very well attended, and suggests that someday Zion will host a great feast hosted by God that breaks down the human boundaries of nations, and the “veil” of mortality that covers all peoples; God will send invitations to all of humanity.  God’s salvation is ultimately universal, not exclusive to a particular tribe; it looks as if Isaiah is suggesting that in the future, some people will be coming to dinner whom God’s people would not consider inviting to a banquet today.  This is part of the link to Matthew’s banquet.

Cast in this context, Matthew’s parable in two parts (originally two different parables) combines two important sets of symbols: the symbols of a great banquet and the wedding feast. The parable, though, seems a bit bizarre and strange. However, if we consider an earlier banquet scene in the ninth chapter of Matthew, we might see this parable take on a more sensible presentation.

Jesus, in inviting “sinners and tax collectors” to dine with him, is suggesting the time has come for such a banquet, but the religious leaders are having none of this. In such a scene earlier in Matthew, the Pharisees ask the disciples, "Why is your Teacher eating with the tax collectors and sinners?" Outraged, it is safe to assume they wanted nothing to do with eating with the likes of whom Jesus invited to dinner. God’s kingdom is being established, but the folks showing up, hungry and not accustomed to such invitations, eagerly accept, while the well-sated religious leaders rebuff the idea of sharing a table with such scoundrels.

The wedding garment has its symbolic value of representing the purity of God’s grace, much as it is used in both Isaiah and Revelation. God’s kingdom clothes and feeds in abundance, but some reject the offer by refusing to dine with those invited or refuse to wear the garment provided. And this, I think, is the core of Jesus’ message: Communion with God is communion with those whom God loves and values- those in most need of God’s hospitality, what God is offering an eternal banquet.

The guests, not the food, keep away some who are invited. The sinners and saints, both invited, create a mix that thwarts the notion of a “pure” church and embraces a kingdom where “tax collectors and sinners” are offered communion as they are in order to become what they receive, the Body of Christ.

 

16th Sunday after Pentecost

God: “Do as I am, not as they say”

     Last night, I encountered a person who used Hitler as an example of someone they could not forgive. Look, I completely understand the symbolic nature of the statement, but Hitler has not done anything personally to them (as far as I know). The person was simply trying to help me understand that forgiveness and mercy have limits, and Hitler embodied the limit for them. On reflection, however, it seems that forgiveness is denied rarely because of some abstract sense of limit, but rather is denied out of a profound sense of being personally wronged. The "wrong" done God./father of the sons in today's parable from Matthew, was personal because of the disobedience--one rather insidious and the other overt---damaged a personal relationship, not simply defied a category of acceptable behavior.   

    The context for Jesus' teaching in Matthew: Jesus has just finished his Palm Sunday entrance into Jerusalem, and is making a point to let everyone know the religious leaders will enter heaven after tax collectors and prostitutes. Not a great way to start off Passover in Jerusalem, but this was personal.

     As the passage from Ezekiel suggests, today is all about what the Greeks refer to as metanoia, which is literally a “change of mind”, but also implies a complete “change of heart”,  a change which finds its fulfillment in action. Today’s parable is all about our actions lining up with our words.

     The hero of our parable refused the wish of his father to work in the vineyard at first, but changed his mind and began work. The other sons put up no resistance, but did not go work in the vineyard; they served only with their lips. Our hero’s virtue was his change of heart and his follow-through of working in the vineyard. This is the son that did the will of the father.

      There is another level important for us in today’s parable. The un-favored son did comply externally while inwardly they betrayed their word; the lone dissenting son’s actions were always transparent, always honest so that when his metanoia occurred, the virtue did not lie solely in words but found fulfillment in his actions. His actions were the transparent manifestation of his heart.

     Our obedience to God must come from a change in heart, not simply a change in mind that gives lip service to obedience. God’s mercy is always most profound for those whose hearts have been changed, not simply a change in “words”. All of salvation history reveals God’s actions, not simply God’s words. God’s Word, Jesus, was God’s action. The epitome of God's love is a person, not a text, or a system of laws or creeds. While doctrine, stories, history and other texts are part of our heritage and integral to our faith, we must remember all things are subordinated to the person of Christ.

     Our lives, then, are the testimony of our faith, not how well we can quote Scripture and point an accusing finger of disapproval at our neighbor. We confront sin with compassion and mercy, the way God has confronted our sin. God’s mercy confounds us because His forgiveness is personal; His love is everlasting.

15th Sunday after Pentecost

A Fair Wage: The End of the Line

What is fair?  Recall the words of Isaiah from the first reading: “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord. As high as the heavens are above the earth, so high are my ways above your ways and my thoughts above your thoughts.” Is God really that inscrutable? Some would use this as an excuse to simply abandon all reason, which usually means embracing whimsy and self-interest. Considering the passage in the context of Isaiah 55, however, we can see that the prophet is suggesting it is God’s great mercy that is inscrutable; for indeed, it is God’s mercy that touches humanity, not God’s wrath, in the person of Jesus.

     Jesus, in today’s gospel, is addressing his disciples on the heels of Peter’s declaration, “Look we have left everything and followed you. What then will we have?” Like so many of Peter’s declarations, we might cringe, but we can easily see ourselves in such questioning. Peter’s question brings us an important issue for those who “have left everything”. Clearly, Peter regards the disciples as being the leaders of the Kingdom, most deserving of salvation; however, Jesus’ parable, when applied to that attitude clearly seems to indicate a position at the end of the line (“…the last will be first, and the first shall be last”). The ordering of first and last in the sentence, placing last first, suggests a reordering of Peter’s sense of entitlement. “Scramble for the back of the line” seems to be Jesus’ advice to the disciples, but the ambition to be last so that one may be first seems to bring us back to the same problem: “I am entitled to compensation”. We can hear Peter’s petulance at the end of the line: “Okay, now I’m at the end, let me be first!”

      What we need to do is abandon our “line mentality”. The Kingdom isn’t about where we are, it’s about who is there with us. Like the master of the vineyard in today’s parable, God does not regard time as an indication of virtue. In eternity, time is meaningless. Like the refrain from Amazing Grace “"When we've been here ten thousand years/Bright shining as the sun./We've no less days to sing God's praise/Than when we've first begun." Our reward for our relationship with God is the relationship itself, not an enhanced environment.

      There is the story of the man recently arrived in heaven being disappointed at the plain furnishings and amazed to see the utter joy on the faces of the people who are enjoying themselves in blissful communion. He approaches one of these folks as asks them if this is heaven. “Yes, it is!” the man replies. “How can this be heaven; it is so plain and unattractive?” “Oh, that,” the man replies. “Heaven isn’t out there”, gesturing at his surroundings, “heaven is in here” gesturing to his heart. Our reward of faith isn’t something we get, it is someone we become: the image of the One who made us.

Hell for those expecting more.

Triumph of the Cross

Way of Resurrection 

     Today’s celebration has resonances with Good Friday in that the Cross, with Jesus upon it, is at the center. As Paul points out in scripture, the crucified Christ is a scandal to non-believers. Why would it be a “scandal”? Why would they care?

     They care because, if true, it has rather uncomfortable implications. If it is true that Jesus was God’s presence on earth as human, then God’s own creation crucified its creator! What’s more, God allowed that to happen. Christ is the Cross. He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life of God, and we are called to follow him to the cross. But the story, as we well know, is not complete.

     We follow Christ to the cross so we can follow Christ through the cross to the resurrection. So, the cross is not the goal of the Christian life, but resurrection; however, to be resurrected, one must first be crucified. Saint Paul suggests that “...if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his “(Rom.6:5).

     Specifically, St. Paul preaches that we need to crucify our “old self” with Christ. In other words, we must seek the death of the false self, the self that rejects the Good News of Christ. Paul’s poetic language can be a bit difficult to navigate, but in essence, it is part of Paul’s notion of the “new man", the person who is reborn in Christ by “crucifying” the old one.

     Few, if any of us, will be called to be physically tortured and to die for the Gospel, but we know of Christians for whom daily this is a reality in Syria and other parts of the Middle East. Most likely, ours will be the daily sacrifice of our selfishness and self-centeredness in favor of a life of grace, of living for others the way Christ lived for the world. That God’s grace triumphs over sin and death is the Triumph of the Cross.