IS GOD INVOLVED?

 Here’s one of my favorite stories from the early days of the monastic movement in Northern Egypt:

It seems that one of the fathers fell ill, and for many days couldn't eat anything.  One of his disciplesurged him to eat: "If you'll let me, father, I'll make you a little cake."  The old man nodded, and so the other made the cake.  Now there were two pots there side by side, one containing honey and the other rancid linseed oil used for the lamp.  The brother took this second pot and emptied some of it into the cake, thinking he was adding honey. Although the old man tasted it, he didn't say anything, but just kept eating in silence.  When he was offered a third helping, though, he said,  "Really, my son, I can't eat any more."  But the young man wouldn't hear of it. "Look, father.  They're good cakes  I'm eating some myself...."  When he tasted his concoction he realized what he'd done and threw himself on his face saying, "Woe is me, father!  I've killed you!  You've caused this sin in me because you didn't say anything!"  But the old man replied in the calmest of voices, "Don't worry about it, my son. If God had wanted me to eat a good cake, you would've put in the honey and not the linseed oil." 

Clearly this older monk's worldview includes a God who is very much present and active in the lives of people. A similar view of the world is shown in the first reading in the second half of the first reading a mass today:

They traveled through the Phrygian and Galatian territory because they had been prevented by the Holy Spirit

When they came to Mysia, they tried to go on into Bithynia,

from preaching the message in the province of Asia. but the Spirit of Jesus did not allow them, so they crossed through Mysia and came down to Troas. During the night Paul had a vision. A Macedonian stood before him and implored him with these words, "Come over to Macedonia and help us." When he had seen the vision, we sought passage to Macedonia at once, concluding that God had called us to proclaim the Good News to them. (Acts 16:6-10)

It seems that Paul had intended to make a circular journey around Asia Minor, starting in Derbe, in the center of the region and then returning toward the eastern sections of the province of Asia. Twice, however, when he tried to head back in an easterly direction some obstacle or other presented itself:

-- They had been prevented by the Holy Spirit from preaching the message in the province of Asia.,

-- Then he tried to head up north and east through Bithynia: they tried to go on into Bithynia, but the Spirit of Jesus did not allow them,

-- Then, in frustration, he headed west toward the coast and arrived at the port city of Troas, across the water from Europe (specifically Macedonia and the cities if Corinth, Philippi and Thessaloniki).

Evidently Paul still hadn't gotten the point, so that night "Paul had a vision. A Macedonian stood before him and implored him with these words,"Come over to Macedonia and help us."

When Paul had seen the vision, the author of Acts, tells us, "we sought passage to Macedonia at once, concluding that God had called us to proclaim the Good News to them."

Maybe Paul could have said to himself, echoing that wise Egyptian monk: "If the Lord had wanted me to circle back eastward into Asia, then we would have been able to do so. But he has something else in mind for me." That "something else" was to bring the Good news to Greece and thus Europe for the first time.

What about you and me? Does your worldview include a God who communicates to you through events, frustrating or otherwise? Are you as patient with frustrations in your life as that wise monk was with his spoiled porridge?

Certainly it's worth cultivating this way of dealing with frustrations. It's good for your relationship with God -- and helps control your high blood pressure.

THE TRUE VINE

 “I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine grower. Remain in me, as I remain in you. Just as a branch cannot bear fruit on its own unless it remains on the vine, so neither can you unless you remain in me. I am the vine, you are the branches. Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit, because without me you can do nothing. By this is my Father glorified, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples.  (Jn 15:1, 4-5, 8)

Here is a chapter from a book of mine, and so it may be a little longer than an ordinary post, but it is a commentary on today's gospel reading (some verses of which are quoted above) that may be of some help to you..

*   *   *   *   *

On my daily walk, I am following Elm Street back to the monastery through the Portuguese and Spanish-speaking  “Ironbound” neighborhood -- so-called because it was once surrounded by railroad tracks. I pass in front of houses separated from one another by narrow alleys, and whose front steps spill directly onto the sidewalk. When I reach the corner of McWhorter St., I see, directly across the street from me, a grape arbor supported by eight heavy vertical pipes connected by a “ceiling” of thinner pipes that form a grid ten feet above a concrete slab below.   

Whenever I pass this intersection on my walk, I notice how the vines marking the changes of the seasons. In winter, for example, there are only the bare pipes and wires, and the three thick vine stocks that function like tree trunks, and from which the vines will branch out. Since this is late spring, lush leaves are already crawling across the overhead wires in long bunches, like giant green caterpillars. 

As I cross the street, I notice that the leafy branches seem to be growing fuller right before my eyes as they burst with new life, sending shoots and tendrils sprouting in every direction. While I pause to rest against the cyclone fence that encloses the arbor, I take a moment to reflect on the scene. 

I immediately think of the image that Jesus offers his apostles at the Last Supper: “I am the vine, you are the branches.” He does not say that he is the vine and they are the grapes, but rather that he is the vine, and they are the branches, the lush, vital growing part of the vine.  

I look at one of the gnarled vine stocks, as thick as the trunk of a small tree, and imagine it sending raw, vital energy through the branches, to the farthest end of the arbor. The stock is the source of the vine’s life, and the branches depend entirely on it, the same way that we draw life from Christ and are intimately one with Him.

I reflect, too, that Jesus tells his apostles: “By this is my Father glorified, that you bear much fruit.” Picturing the heavy clusters of dark purple grapes that will be weighing down these branches in the middle of September, I realize that my goal as a Christian cannot be simply to become a branch that is lush with pretty leaves, any more than one of these branches I’m looking at is meant to produce nothing but leaves. My purpose is the same as that of every branch in this grape arbor: to produce fruit.  

Turning away from the fence to continue my way down Elm Street, I repeat Jesus’ words to his disciples at the Last Supper: “By this is my Father glorified, that you bear much fruit.”   I remember that for John, the expression “to glorify God” means  to show forth God’s power in the world, to make his presence known; therefore the fruit I bear must show forth God’s loving presence in the world.

I think of some of the “fruits of the Holy Spirit,” and imagine them flowing from Christ, the vine stock, into us Christians like sap through branches: charity, joy, peace, patience, kindness, and gentleness. The Holy Spirit, which is Christ’s life flowing in us, then enables us to pass on this fruit to everyone we meet. 

As I continue along the street on my way back to the monastery, I start to picture my community as a lush grape arbor springing from one stock, and made up of fourteen branches, each one leafy and laden with clusters of dark purple grapes. I pray that we may help one another to be fruitful, producing whatever fruit the Spirit asks of us.

Following Elm Street across McCarter Highway, I promise myself to pass by the vine arbor again in a few weeks, when the branches will be showing the first tiny grapes.

MAGDALENE'S MYOPIA

 

I posted this reflection some years ago but I still find it a very helpful reminder. I hope you will, too.

Mary Magadalene stood outside the tomb weeping, and as she wept she stooped to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had lain, one at the head and one at the feet. They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “Because they have taken away my Lord and I do not know where they have laid him.”

Saying this she turned around and saw Jesus standing,but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom do you seek?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him and I will take him away.” (Jn 20:11-15)

I was giving this text a lot of thought and prayer earlier this week. What made Mary suddenly turn around before the two angels could even deliver their message? Did she sense a presence behind her? St. John Chrysostom suggests that the two angels suddenly caught sight of the Risen Lord standing behind Mary and she read their faces and so turned to see what they were looking at.

She may have turned only partly around, because v.16 tells us that when Jesus called her by name, “She turned and said to him, ‘Rabouni.’”   

But the phrase that really caught my interest came when she first turned and saw this figure standing there “but she did not know that it was Jesus.”

Maybe her eyes were filled with tears, or maybe she was so overwhelmed with grief that she wasn’t really thinking sraight. And she certainly had no concept of a “risen Jesus” - Judaism had no such concept nor any vocabulary to express it, so she was not prepared to see a “risen Lord.”

In addition, there are other places in the Easter narratives where other people don’t recognize Jesus either ( e.g. the two disciples on the road to Emmaus, and the disciples out fishing when Jesus calls to them from the shore), which indicates that there was now something different about his appearance. So we can’t blame poor Magdalene for mistaking Jesus for the gardener. “She did not know it was Jesus.”

SO, WHAT'S YOUR EXCUSE?

But what about you and me? We have the gospel accounts along with the hindsight and the insights of two millennia of Christian tradition, all preparing us to recognize Christ in every person we meet. But the same thing happens to you and me as happened to Magadelene: we don’t know that it is Jesus standing before us when he comes.

I’ve learned that He often comes in the guise of the person who puts their umbrella into the spokes of my life’s bicycle: he phones at an inconvenient hour looking for someone to talk to, he needs help pouring cereal into his bowl because his Alzheimer’s is bad this morning, he is a homeless woman asking for a handout on the sidewalk down the hill from the monastery. I need to be on the watch all the time for these “appearances” of the Risen Lord so that I don’t make the same mistake that Magdalene made when “she did not know that it was Jesus.”

 

"She did not know it was Jesus."

We’re about to start classes on Monday after a two-week Easter break. There are lots of terrific kids who I’ll be delighted to see after a two-week vacation; I’ll see Jesus in them right way and enjoy His presence. But will I be willing and able to recognize the same Jesus when he starts acting out his adolescent anger in class because he doesn’t know what else to do with it, or when he starts chatting with his classmate while he’s supposed to be taking notes in class? That will be the test for me.

Let’s pray to the Risen Jesus that He’ll give each of us the eyes of Easter Faith, that he’ll open our eyes to see His presence in every person and every circumstance.

x

IN TOTAL CHARGE

During the Easter season, the lectionary takes us on a journey through the Acts of the apostles every day at mass. We hear all about the very earliest preaching in the church, and how the first Christian communities were formed and grew, spreading outward from Jerusalem.

So I found it interesting that two gospel passages to the end of this week invited us to turn our gaze back toward Jesus in a particular way.

First, on Friday, we heard John’s account of the miracle of the loaves and fishes. What is unique about John’s account, making it different from the account in the other three gospels is this: the other three gospels have Jesus blessing the bread and handing it to the  apostles to distribute to the crowd. So the miracle takes place in their hands. But John’s version says simply “Then Jesus took the loaves, gave thanks, and distributed them to those who were reclining.” The entire miracle happens not in the hands of the disciples but in the hands of Jesus. This detail, of course, fits in with John’s whole theology, emphasizing that Jesus is the Divine Word, the Son of God.

Second, at mass today, Saturday, we hear the episode that follows immediately upon the miracle of the loaves and fishes, when Jesus comes walking on the wind-swept waves toward the boat in which his disciples are rowing. “They saw Jesus walking on the sea and coming near the boat, and they began to be afraid. But he said to them, 'It is I. do not be afraid.' They wanted to take him into the boat, but the boat immediately arrived at the shore, to which they were heading.” in this Christ-centered passage, Jesus tells the disciples “It is I.” this is clearly a reference to the book of Exodus, chapter 13, where God says of himself “I am.” It is hard to think of a more Christ-centered episode in all of the gospels. But don’t miss the second half of that same verse, “do not be afraid.” 

These two “Acts of Jesus”, it seems to me, offer a perfect balance to the emphasis on the "Acts of the Apostles" and of the other early Christians that we hear about in the first reading in the lectionary at daily mass. 

In both of these gospel episodes, Jesus is in total command of the situation:

 he takes charge of feeding five thousand people with five little loaves of bread, 

and overcomes the power of the strong wind to bring his disciples safely to shore.

I have been comforted and encouraged by the powerful presence of the risen Lord. Let us pray that we may all be able to hand over all of our troubles to the Risen One who can work such wonders in the lives of those who trust on him.

OUR EASTER TASK

This Sunday’s gospel passage makes sure that we see the full meaning of Easter for our lives.

The passage begins with a rather humorous understatement: “the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.” But the important point, it seems to me, is this: how often do you or I ourselves “see the Lord?” Do you see him easily in the folks around you? In people who need your help? And in people who you find difficult to deal with? It seems to me that this Sunday we are being invited to “rejoice” when we see the Lord in everyone around us.

As if to emphasize this point, Jesus then says “as the father has sent me, so I send you." What else could he be sending us to do if not to continue his mission on earth? Since his resurrection, Christ's mode of presence in the world is now different: he is present in spirit. Therefore, he needs our voices, our hands, our feet, and our actions to spread the Good News of the Kingdom. 

Here's a good Easter question: How do you see your task as an apostle? What is it that Jesus may be expecting you to do as a follower of his?

Then, as if to emphasize that the risen Jesus is serious about sending us out into the world, John tells us that he then “breathes on them, and says 'receive the Holy Spirit'.” This assures the apostles - and us - that we are now equipped for the task of apostles.

Easter, then, is not just about Jesus, it is very much about you and me, and our lives as Christians.

May the grace of this holy season, help us to recognize the risen Lord in our midst, and to build up the Kingdom on earth as his apostles.

THE EASTER VERB

 

"OPENING UP" - The Easter Verb

.

Here is my Easter post from 2009, just as it appeared then. I trust that it hasn't lost too much of its freshness over the past 15 years.

The Road away from the Empty Tomb

As we make the transition in this blog away from our Lenten pilgrimage and into traveling together through "troubled times" we find a perfect gospel story in Luke 24:13-35 to start us on our way. Two discouraged and disappointed disciples are on the road home. Their hopes for a Messiah have been cruelly dashed by the execution of Jesus. As they left to go back to their village they even heard confusing rumors that now the body was missing from the tomb. It was all too much -- definitely "troubled times" for them. Luke tells their story by playing on the contrasting themes of "openness" and "closedness".

When we're faced with a threatening or difficult situation our natural tendency is to retreat to a safe position -- reflected in expressions like "circling the wagons" or "don't take any chances." Easter is a time, though, for opening and openness. It comes in spring, the season when the buds begin to open out into blossoms and flowers.

The Road to Emmaus -- Opening Up

Luke wants to show us that the Paschal mystery is all about taking chances and leaving ourselves open in faith rather than losing hope and closing in on ourselves. In telling the account of Christ’s appearance to the two disciples on the road to Emmaus on the first Easter afternoon Luke makes his point by using the Greek verb dianoigō, "to open" three separate times. [Dianoigō, (dee-an-oy'-go) comes from dia- (an intensifier) and anoigō, "to open"] Let's see what we can learn from his use of this word in the story.

The account begins with two disciples walking the seven miles from Jerusalem to Emmaus, sick with discouragement because Jesus, whom they had thought was the Messiah who would set Israel free from the Romans, has been executed. Jesus is dead, and so are their hopes. Then, suddenly, the risen Christ is walking beside them on the road and explaining the scriptures as the three of them travel along together.

The two do not recognize him until, as evening starts to fall, they invite him to stay with them. At this point we encounter the idea of opening for the first time. As the three are seated at table together, Jesus blesses the bread, breaks it, and gives it to them. “With that their eyes were opened [dianoigō] and they recognized him" (Luke 24:31).

When this mysterious traveler had appeared on the road, the two disciples did not realize who he was. As the Greek text says, “their eyes were prevented from recognizing him” (v. 16). Both of the men were caught off guard because Jesus, the supposed Messiah, had been executed, and so their minds had become closed to the possibility that he could still be the Messiah. While walking with them on the road Jesus had been very blunt in rejecting their hopes for a glorious, victorious military Messiah: “How stupid you are! How slow!… was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and enter into his glory" (vv. 25-26)? The risen Jesus was a stranger to them because he did not fit their preconceptions -- they were not looking for a failed Messiah, they were not open to the possibility of a suffering and crucified Savior.

The story continues. As soon as the disciples recognize Jesus, he vanishes from their sight. Then they say to one another, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he spoke to us on the way and opened [dianoigō] the scriptures to us” (v. 32)? This time it is not their eyes that are being opened, but God's inspired word. In the same way Acts 17:3 describes Paul preaching in Thessal-onika, “expounding and explaining (literally 'opening') the scriptures," namely, that “the Messiah had to suffer and rise from the dead."

When the revealed word is “opened,” it gives us a glimpse into the single, central mystery of Christ's passion-death-resurrection; in the light of the Paschal event, suffering (the “wilderness experience” if you will) takes on meaning and becomes a deeply mysterious but integral part of God’s loving plan for the world.

Let's catch up with the two disciples one last time; by now they have run all the way back to Jerusalem. As they arrive in the room where the apostles are assembled, they are greeted with “The Lord has truly been raised and has appeared to Simon!” Then the two start to tell their own story. While they are still speaking, Jesus appears in their midst, greets them and tells them not to be afraid. “Then he opened [dianoigō] their minds to understand the scriptures. And he said to them, ‘Thus it is written that the Messiah would suffer and rise from the dead on the third day…’" (v.45). Once again, “opening” (this time of "minds") is connected with the mystery of Christ's redemptive suffering and death. This time it is the disciples’ minds that are opened. Up to this point their minds have been closed to the possibility that through defeat could come victory, that through death could come eternal life, and that through suffering could come salvation.

Open Hearts, Open Tombs

After the Emmaus episode is finished, Luke continues the theme of “opening” in his second volume, the Acts of the Apostles. He tells us, for instance, that while Paul and Timothy are at Philippi, they go outside the city on the Sabbath to a place of prayer and speak with the women who are gathered there. One of them is Lydia, a dealer in purple cloth and a worshiper of God. As she listens to them, Luke tells us, “The Lord opened [dianoigō] her heart to pay attention to what Paul was saying" (Acts 16:14). This time it is someone's heart that is opened toward Paul, so that she can hear his message about Christ.

So, Easter is a season of opening up, a time for God to open hearts, minds, and eyes, and, of course, tombs. The Lord promises through Ezechiel, "I am going to open [anoigō] your graves" (Ezechiel 37:12). And Matthew shows us the fulfillment of this prophecy at the moment when Jesus dies on the cross: "The earth quaked, rocks were split, tombs were opened [anoigō] and the bodies of many who had fallen asleep were raised" (Matthew 27:51-52).

The Perfect Easter Verb

Interweaving as it does the themes of suffering Messiah, death, faith, and resurrection, dianoigō is a unique encouragement to me when I'm facing the difficulty or challenge of the wilderness; it opens my eyes to see Christ's presence as he walks beside me on the road of suffering, it gives me the confidence to allow the risen Lord to open my heart to accept new possibilities, it opens my mind to embrace the mysterious paschal truth that through defeat comes victory, through suffering comes salvation, and through death comes new and eternal life.

May each of us be open to the graces of the Eternal Spring, the new life of Easter!

Reflection

MAY I COME IN?

Last year's post for Palm Sunday still holds a lot of messages for me personally, so I'm posting it for my own benefit. I hope that it may be a blessing for you as well. Let's be sure to pray for one another during this holiest of weeks.

 Lift up your heads, eternal gates, let him enter the king of glory! (Ps. 24)

Tomorrow’s Palm Sunday celebration, when the church remembers and reenacts Jesus’s entrance into the holy city of Jerusalem, centers our attention on Jerusalem, where all of the action of Holy Week and Easter comes to a head.

Early this morning I started thinking about Jesus' entering the gate, not of the holy city, Jerusalem, but of my heart. I know that sometimes my heart is like a walled city with all its gates securely closed. But Jesus wants desperately to enter my heart and dwell there. Fortunately, our loving Savior has lots of different ways of getting past my defenses. And He uses them all the time.

Sometimes, for example, while I´m praying, or maybe chanting a psalm with my brothers, He will come and ask me directly, “May I please come in?“ And that’s a beautiful experience, to consciously welcome the Lord into my heart in prayer.

Lift up your heads, eternal gates, let him enter the king of glory!

At other times He approaches the gate in the guise of someone who can use my help, whether that's simply a smile or a good word, or something that requires me to go out of my way for that person. If I have the grace to see that this is Jesus asking to enter my heart, then I can empathize with this person and let him or her past the gates of my heart.

Lift up your heads, eternal gates, let him enter the king of glory!

Much of the time, however, He slips in without drawing attention to Himself, and we recognize His presence only after He's already inside the fortified city. We're all well acquainted with the countless ways He does this. Maybe it’s through the kind action of a brother or sister, or the beauty of a sunset, or the radiance of a little child’s face. Recently I felt tremendous joy while listening to the beautiful voice of one of our students singing. And I quickly realized that I was experiencing the loving presence of Jesus.

Lift up your heads, eternal gates, let him enter the king of glory!

. 

There are two requirements, though, if I expect Jesus to slip into my heart like that. First I cannot be living blindfolded, with my heart safely secured against the world, with the gates locked. I have to at least be watching at the gate.

Lift up your heads, eternal gates, let him enter the king of glory!

Second, I need to be looking for the presence of Jesus all the time. It's easy enough to see Him in the beautiful and joyful experiences that are part of my life. But what about those painful, ugly experiences
of suffering and evil and death that are also part of my life? How can I see these as signs of Christ's presence? The answer liues in precisely what we are about to celebrate during Holy week: the Paschal mystery.

My Easter faith assures me that out of defeat comes victory, out of sadness comes joy, and out of death comes eternal life. This belief is what lets me recognize the presence of the Lord in my life in all sorts of people, places, and things. as a Christian I expect to find Jesus in the midst of every negative experience. In other words, if I am experiencing Good Friday in my life today, then, the Great News is that Easter Sunday is coming!

So, let us go forth to welcome the king of glory into our lives, singing “Hosanna to the son of David!“

Palm Sunday in Jerusalem

Lift up your heads, eternal gates, let him enter the king of glory!