Yesterday I received a brief, handwritten note in the mail. In this Internet age of email, text messaging and other forms of instant communication, what a wonderful feeling it is to see a hand-addressed envelope in the mail, amidst the bills and junk mail and advertising flyers.

As I opened the envelope and read its contents, I saw it was a response to a letter I had written recently to a former seminary professor, a man I’ve always thought of not only as a brilliant academic with the heart of a poet, but one of the most Christ-like men I’ve ever known, a living saint whose joy is infectious. In part, he wrote: “We’re friends by God’s smile and grace forever. I give him thanks.”

Readings: 2 Chr 36:14-16, 19-23; Ps 137:1-2, 3, 4-5, 6; Eph 2:4-10 ; Jn 3:14-21

Fourth Sunday of Lent
Dignity/NoVA (March 21, 2009)

To be honest, I feel a little less prepared standing before you this weekend than I usually do. I say that not because I haven’t had time to look over the scriptures we just heard, not because I haven’t been able to think about them, to reflect on them, to study them, and pray about them. No, I say that because even with the attention I’ve given them over the past week or so … there’s something about them that I’m not quite sure I “get.” And so I struggle with coming to a “conclusion” about what the real message of today’s Scriptures is. In fact, I struggle with that because I see in the passages we just heard – the first reading from the Book of Chronicles, and then the two New Testament passages from Paul’s Letter to the Ephesians and the Gospel of John – I see a real tension and conflict. It’s a tension that conveys different understandings of God and how God and humanity interact.

Let me say more about what I mean by that.

In the reading from Chronicles, we hear briefly about how the Chosen People, the Israelites, have essentially not been following God’s Law. The passage starts off by stating explicitly that the leaders (both political and religious) as well as all the people have been guilty of “abominations” and unfaithfulness, adding “infidelity to infidelity.” They ignored divine messenger after divine messenger, not heeding God’s word and call. And so, in response to this, the author of Chronicles tells us that God’s anger is roused and God allows the Chosen People to be attacked, to be conquered and to be sent into what is called the Babylonian Exile. This sort of dynamic is very familiar to our human lives – namely the dynamic that Behaviors have Consequences. In my work we provide information to parents whose children have certain challenges – and the ideas of Behavioral Interventions are based on this fundamental concept. One approach to this even uses the simple concept of ABC – antecedent, behavior, consequence. A small child has been told that the stove is hot and not to touch it; for whatever reason (curiosity? obstinacy?), the child touches the stove and immediately experiences the consequence of a painful burn. Even as adults we know that the things we do or say, our actions and inactions – these all can have consequences (sometimes severe) of how others relate to and interact with us.

And so on one level, we’re not surprised when we see this very human dynamic played out and mirrored in Humanity’s encounter with the Divine. The Chosen People were told how they should act and behave (the Antecedent); they chose not to follow God’s Law as the prophets revealed (the Behavior); and so God’s anger is stirred up and they are carted off into exile (the Consequence).

When we move to our two New Testament readings, however, we get a very different picture. The love and mercy that Paul speaks of isn’t offered because humanity has acted well, has followed God’s Law and is deserving of this Divine Reward. No, Paul states that “even when we were dead in our transgressions,” it was the freely given love and grace of God that restored humanity to life. Twice we hear the phrase, “by grace you have been saved.” Grace – the freely given gift of God’s very self – is not a consequence of our human behavior. If it is a “consequence” at all, it is a consequence of God’s own Nature – the Divine who brings us into being, who sustains us in this life, and who calls us to joy and happiness in eternal life.

And so we have these different and apparently contradictory perspectives of how God and Humanity interact. How, then, are we to resolve them? A bit of an answer can be found, I think in the Gospel passage from John.

In speaking to Nicodemus, we hear Jesus speak of those very simple yet profound images of Darkness and Light. Just a few sentences before we’re told that Nicodemus came to Jesus “at night” – highlighting the fact that he was a man whose faith had not yet been fully formed and setting the stage for later on in the Gospel when Nicodemus will encounter Jesus in the Daylight, symbolically signaling his growth in faith. John tell us that the person of faith – the one who lives “in the Light” – that person’s “works” are therefore seen to be good and as “done in God.” So – it seems – that there really isn’t a contradiction here, but simply a change in order. God’s gift of grace is not the consequence of or reward for good human behavior – it’s the other way around. Despite the fact that we still even in our own day hear “Christian” preachers and others proclaim that natural and human disasters are God’s wrath visited on humanity because of some perceived “sin” that didn’t fit in with their worldview or understanding of God – as in the case of HIV/AIDS and even Hurricane Katrina – the Christian perspective reminds us boldly that this is not the case. Because we strive to be people of faith, because we strive to have hearts and minds open to God’s free gifts already given – it’s because of this that we then also seek to do good works that are “done in God.” It’s the gift of faith that impels us to do good things.

Our task this Lenten season is to challenge our purely human way of thinking. As long as we continue to think that it’s our actions that cause God to love us, to care for us, to reward us with salvation – as long as we continue to have a purely human perspective on the Divine-Human interaction, then I think we will still be “in exile” in some form or another. Only when we are able to let go of the perspective that tells us we somehow deserve God’s love (or, conversely, God’s punishment) and are able simply to accept God’s love and mercy and grace as the pure gifts that they are … only then will we be freed enough truly to live in the light; only then will we be able to live and act and work like the Children of God we already are.

An Iranian court has ruled that a man found guilty of burning, disfiguring, and blinding a woman whom he believed spurned his romantic affections should himself be blinded in one eye with a drops of the same acid he poured on his victim. Despite her protestations to the contrary, what Ameneh Bahrami sought and has now been granted is nothing but revenge, plain and simple.

Although my knowledge and experience of Islam is minimal, my general perspective is to be open-minded when I hear devout Muslims express their conviction that theirs is a religion of love, justice and peace.

It’s hard to hold that perspective, however, when so called “Islamic law” allows for this kind of “justice.” In such a system — one where this type of retribution (called “qisas”) is enforced and where a woman is seen as half the value of a man — how long long would it be before the whole world is blind? Is this the kind of world The Prophet envisioned? I pray not.

“If there are no just people, then there can be no justice.” — from the Vatican’s press statement (27 Feb 09) summarizing Benedict XVI’s comments on the current economic crisis.

Homily Delivered at Dignity NoVA and DC (February 21 and 22, 2009)

Reading 1 Is 43:18-19, 21-22, 24b-25
Reading II 2 Cor 1:18-22
Gospel Mk 2:1-12

When I read this passage from Mark that we have for today’s Gospel, I found this story particularly moving. It comes early in Mark’s Gospel, at the beginning of the second chapter; and it relates the 4th in a series of 4 healings that Jesus performs and about which Mark writes.

1. The first was the man with an “unclean spirit” whom Jesus healed on the Sabbath;
2. Next, Jesus healed Simon’s mother-in-law, who lay ill with a fever and whom Jesus healed simply by helping her up and without uttering a word;
3. And third was a leper who knelt before Jesus and begged to be healed by saying, “if You wish, you can make me clean”; and of course, Jesus does wish this, and so heals him of his leprosy.

And so as I read this fourth and final healing about the paralitic, three things came to mind, and these are the three things I would offer to us very briefly as we reflect for a few moments on the Scriptures on this Sunday before the beginning of Lent. Those three things are Friendship, Faith, and Forgiveness.

Friendship plays such a key role in how this paralyzed man comes to Jesus. Because of his physical condition, he clearly is not able to walk and so is not only dependent on others to get around – but is probably dependent on others for so many other things in life as well. Although there is no mention of his family, he obviously has friends – people in his life who care for and love him. And it is some of these friends who literally carry the man to Jesus’ home. In this same story in Matthew and Luke, they use the term “bed,” … but Mark says he is carried “on a mat” – suggesting more clearly that this man is poor and of low social status. And so these friends, determined as they are, not only bring him to Jesus, but go to what seem to be great lengths by opening up the roof and lowering their friend down so that they can lay him at Jesus’ feet.

And what it is that drives these persistent friends to do what they do? Faith – faith told them that their paralyzed friend simply needed to be close to Jesus and something wonderful would happen. One commentator I read noted that the Greek word that is here translated as “faith” also connotes “loyalty.” These loyal, faithful friends are persistent in what they know they must do. Notice that none of them – neither the friends nor the paralyzed man – say anything. Their faith is expressed not in words, but in action It’s not expressed in anything they say, but is clearly shown in what they do! Their persistence and loving action in reaching their goal speaks volumes. And seeing their faith in what they do …. Jesus responds!

And how does Jesus respond? At first, in a somewhat surprising way. Jesus responds by speaking of Forgiveness. As I mentioned, this is the last Sunday before Ash Wednesday and the beginning of the Lenten Season – those forty days before the celebration of the Sacred Triduum, during which time our attention is annually drawn to a deeper self-reflection, contemplation of our faults and shortcomings, but more importantly to the forgiveness that God never fails to extend to us, no matter how many times we sin or “miss the mark.” In the healing of the paralytic, the physical healing that Jesus gives to this man is actually secondary, offered only in response to what Jesus knows is in the hearts of the religious leaders present. Initially, what Jesus offers is even more important than bodily healing … and that’s the spiritual healing that comes when he says, “Child, your sins are forgiven.”

As Christians and disciples of Jesus, we certainly are called to come before God and seek that forgiveness that brings wholeness to the totality of who we are. But our faith asks more than that. Our faith invites us not only to be the recipients of forgiveness, but also agents of forgiveness. After all, isn’t that what Reconciliation is all about? Our faults and failings certainly separate us from God in a spiritual sense, but our real-life, daily conflicts separate us from one another in a very tangible, deeply felt way. It is these un-reconciled conflicts which may not cause physical paralysis, but which have the power – if we let them – of paralyzing our hearts and souls and which get in the way of our forming deep bonds of friendship and community and are stumbling blocks in our building a world of justice and peace.

Our contemporary understanding of “conflict resolution” tells us that it is more often the injured party – the one who has been hurt – who has the power to take the first step in the process of reconciliation, forgiveness, and healing. And so as we prepare to enter the Season of Lent, perhaps this is a good time for us to reflect on how well we have been open not only to receiving forgiveness in our own lives when we have harmed others, but also extending it outward beyond ourselves when we have been harmed.

• Is there a forgiveness or hand of reconciliation that we as individuals have failed to extend to someone who has hurt us?
• Even, dare I say, is there a forgiveness or hand or reconciliation that we as a Dignity community have failed to extend to the institutional Church that continues to be hurtful toward us?

Isaiah reminds us how God fervently desires NOT to remember our sins, not to be burdened by the sins of long ago. God – Who makes all things new – wants us to live in the present and remember not the transgressions of the past. This is the life giving and healing forgiveness that God offers us. As faithful followers of Jesus, shouldn’t we be willing do the same?

Christmas – Mass at Midnight (Dignity/NoVa)
December 24, 2008

A good friend of mine told me about a recent public speaking training he participated in. The trainer told them that whenever you are talking to a group of people, no more than 90% of the audience is paying attention to you when you first open your mouth. As you might suspect, that percentage usually decreases as you continue talking … so, in putting together some thoughts to share for our reflection this evening, I realized even more acutely the need to be brief, and on point.

With that said, let me say that I have just 3 points I want to share with you this evening. As you know, during these four weeks of Advent, we have been focusing our reflections on the theme of “Christ our Hope.” And today we gather to celebrate the realization of that Hope in the Incarnation … this feast of “God with Us,” in this church named “God with Us – Immanuel.”

Point One: First and foremost, Christmas reminds us that the God we believe in is involved in our world. The God of Scriptures, of our Judaeo-Christian tradition – this God is not distant and removed, sitting back and watching his handiwork unfold. No, we believe that God throughout history has been and continues to be intimately involved with and present in our world.

Point Two: If God is involved in our world, then the Hope we have been reflecting on during Advent is well-founded. Theologians often speak of the “two comings of Christ.” We believe in the first and have hope in the second. As Christians we believe that what we celebrate tonight was that first “coming of Christ in time” some two millennia ago. We believe that God indeed took on the flesh and blood of humanity in the Person of Jesus, and became “one like us, in all things but sin.” And as believers we hope in the second “coming of Christ in glory” – that point in some near or distant future, known to no one, when the world as we know it will pass away. The Christian view of history – what we call “salvation history” – is marked by these two “comings” – these two bookends, as it were. Even though the first followers of Jesus in the early days of the Church thought that this Second Coming was “just around the corner,” we – like them – live in this “in-between” time. Because we have hope for and not knowledge of when this Second Coming of Christ will occur, living in these “in between times” presents its own challenges. In particular, there is the challenge of what “hope” really means. Yes, our faith in a God who took on human flesh, who suffered for us, who died for us, and who ultimately rose from the dead for us – this faith gives us Hope (with a capital H) for eternal life. But because we live in these “in between times” – a time when, guided by the Spirit, we live in “joyful Hope” – are we not also to have hopes about the here and now? Doesn’t a living faith challenge us to be hopeful about this world, these circumstances, our lives, this time? If Christ truly is our Hope, then shouldn’t that have some bearing not only about his “second coming again in glory” for which we Hope, but also impact the realizable hopes and dreams and aspirations of our daily lives?

And so it’s this question that brings me to my third and final point.

Point Three: Given the very real and concrete circumstances of the “here and now” – in the wider world, in the Church, in our communal lives, our family lives and in our own individual lives – what hopes do you and I have for today and for the future?

For the past couple of weeks I’ve actually been thinking about and writing down a few of the things that I hope for this Christmas season – and I invite each of you to pause for just a few moments – perhaps even close your eyes – and think about: What do I really hope for? As we gather in the darkness of this night – knowing that we, too, “have seen a great light” in the birth of Jesus – what hopes and dreams do I have for myself, my loved ones, and our world?

• I hope that my nephew, who has recently joined the military and is now in basic training even today, will be kept safe from all harm.
• I hope for a day when the person sitting in the Chair of Peter – perhaps a Pope Catherine the First or a Theresa the Great? – might take an active role in leading all Christians to that Unity among his followers for which Jesus prayed.
• I hope for a day when all of God’s children – regardless of sexual orientation or gender identity – will be fully welcomed in their families of origin and their families of faith.
• I hope that my parents – though still quite healthy and active even in their mid-70’s – will continue to be blessed with full and healthy lives until they draw their last breath.
• I hope for a day when Dignity is an official ministry within every Diocese and every Parish this country.
• I hope for a day when religion – especially the traditions of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam – are less a force for division or even violence, and more a force for justice and lasting peace.
• I hope for a world in which the blessings of this earth are shared by all humanity, so that hunger, poverty and homelessness are only distant memories.
• I hope for a day when our collective treatment of this Earth which sustains us will be marked by appreciation of her gifts and caring stewardship for her future.
• And finally, I hope that each of us gathered here might come to see more clearly and know more fully the living presence of the Incarnate God in our world, in one another, and in ourselves.