Love: The Alpha and Omega of Life

Today's readings from Mass speak of "beginnings" and "endings." In the first reading from the second letter of John, the author reminds his audience to return to the "beginning" of Gospel life: loving one another (2 John 4-9). In the Gospel of Luke (17:26-37), Jesus is telling his disciples about the signs that will accompany the end of time. Toward the end of today's Gospel, Jesus issues a teaching in the form of a paradox that is the sine qua non (an indispensable, non-negotiable action) of Christian life and being prepared "to go before the light": "whoever seeks to preserve his life will lose it, but whoever loses it will save it."

The whole of the Christian life and Christian spirituality, the beginning and the end, the alpha and omega, is reducible to the above teachings about love. This may seem easy enough, but in a culture that is so conflicted and communicates such mixed messages about what it means to love (usually focusing on the sensual and sappy :), what are we to make of the real "business" of loving implied by these two axioms?

To get to the heart of what Christian or God-like/Christ-like love implies, let's "unpack" a bit more Jesus' paradoxical, sine qua non teaching mentioned above. In talking about preserving and losing one's life, Jesus is really referring to what it means to love as God. Love implies self-gift: coming to "possession" of the gift that God first gave us in the form of our lives (a life-long process) and than "returning" this gift to God by giving the whole of ourselves to others (also a life-long process). Such a gift is, of course, not something that we wrap up in shiny, cellophane paper with a bow and a tag; rather, it implies a commitment to the well-being and life of others (especially those most vulnerable, weak, and least-loved).

The "other side" of the coin of Jesus' teaching is that if we lose ourselves by loving others, we will paradoxically save ourselves. This paradox can shed some very important light on the nature of love. The gift of one's self is not something that exists in a relational vacuum. We only come into possession of this gift by being dynamically and interdependently related to others. In other words, the gift of our "self" is received when it is reflected in the eyes and hearts of those who have loved us into being and loved us into becoming who God hopes for us to be. Think, for example, of a parent who raises a child in a wholesome environment where that child can grow to the full potential that he or she has. In a very real sense, the parent makes sacrifices even to the point of "losing themselves" for the sake of their son or daughter. In making such a sacrifice by parenting well, however, the parent doesn't only "lose themselves" in their child but "gains themselves" in a new, fuller way by seeing the child grow, flourish, and raise children of his or her own.

In a similar way, when we strive to commit ourselves to the well-being of others, we receive ourselves anew by sharing in the new life that the other experiences. This dynamic of life-begetting-life and love-begetting-love is a foretaste of the eternal "banquet" of life and love that we hope to share in the "new heavens and new earth." This is where Jesus' teaching in today's Gospel gets even better!

Seated at the "banquet table" with innumerable others, we will fully share and "feast" in the "harvest of life and love" that will be the fullness of the gift of ourselves interwoven in perfect communion with the gift of everyone else. The gift of love that we give will be radically eclipsed by the gift of love that we are to receive! Pat, TOR

"Mining" For The Kingdom of God Within Us

Yesterday's blog entry focused on the "gushing goodness of God" and how it is meant to well up from within our lives, relationships, and our world. Today's Gospel from Mass gives us the opportunity to explore how to "receive" the gift of God's goodness (i.e., the Kingdom of God) or to "extract" the gift by "mining" for it deep within.

Jesus tells the disciples in so many words that the Kingdom isn't a socio-political agenda, nor someone who comes riding in on a white horse with the answers to all our problems, and is certainly not some "thing" that falls into our lap. As a matter of fact, the Kingdom of God is not observable at all! What is this "mercurial" (meaning impossible to hold on to) Kingdom anyhow?

In other places in the Gospels Jesus compares the Kingdom to a "mustard seed" that grows secretly and unassumingly, or leaven that works it's way invisibly through a batch of flour, or a "pearl of great price" that someone stumbles across in an empty field. While we cannot precisely and in a "categorical" way identify the Kingdom, this much can be said: it is a symbol of the utter-gratiuty and largesse of a God who in a very gentle, humble, unassuming way desires to surprise, delight, and partner with us in enhancing the good and "putting right" all that has gone so horribly wrong with our lives and world. The Kingdom of God, at bottom, is about the total transformation of all that is into all that can and should be. It is the sacrament of a God who refuses to be deterred or thwarted in the faith, hope, and dreams that he has for a world in which everything and everyone flourishes and pulses with abundant, and even ecstatic life.

You may be wondering at this point, "where can I get some of THAT!" (At least I hope you are :) There's a saying in Christian theology/spirituality that the Kingdom is both gift and task. In a general sense, the Kingdom is "gift" because it is God's very self. Karl Rahner, a great theologian of the last century couldn't have put it more succinctly when he said, "the Giver is himself the Gift." But if the "Giver", as mentioned before, is gentle, humble, and unassuming, than the Giver has to be sought out, and the "Gift" sometimes has to be "extracted" from deep within. This isn't because God is an ogre who gives begrudgingly but, rather, because the embrace of the "Gift" is an embrace of a person who is imminently personal. This implies it can only be fully received and can only fully well up from within when it is accepted and embraced in personal freedom. In other words, the welling up of the "Gift" is commensurate to our achievement of personhood and freedom.

There is so much in our lives and world that we have to "mine" through in order to fully "release" the Kingdom within. Many of us grapple with shame, failure, brokenness of one kind or another, hopes dashed, wounded self-esteem, etc... Our world suffers from systems that oppress, enslave, and from human-made or natural calamities that cause untold suffering. The promise of today's Gospel is that if we are willing to "roll up our sleeves" and bend low, God will never cease to be right alongside us helping us to "dig deep" within to extract the "pearl of great price" that is the divine heart of our lives and world. Pat, TOR

The "Gushing" Goodness of God

"But when the kindness and generous love of God our savior appeared, not because of any righteous deeds we had done but because of his mercy, he saved us through the bath of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit whom he richly poured out on us through Jesus Christ our Savior" (Paul's Letter to Titus, 3:4-7). These words from today's first reading from Mass are similar to yesterday's reading from Ezekiel and blog reflection regarding the "flowing" goodness of God. However, God's goodness can be compared not only to a flowing river but even to a fountain that pours itself abundantly and unceasingly over all the earth.

If we return for a moment to the beginning of Chapter 47 of the book of the prophet Ezekiel (yesterday's first reading), we see that the river that flows from the temple began as a trickle, than quickly rose to ankle deep, and soon thereafter became a river that the prophet could not cross except by swimming. This speaks to how God's goodness can be a potential "gushing torrent" in our lives and world.

St. Bonaventure, a great Franciscan scholar of the 13th Century, wrote that God is "fontalis plenitudis", or, a fountain fullness of goodness that pours itself unceasingly and inexhaustibly upon the other in love (the other that is God's Son, Spirit, and all of Creation).

This might sound all, "well and good" in theory, but what about in reality? How can we "wax eloquently" about God's "gushing goodness" when the world at times seems so bereft of this goodness? Very often our world takes on the appearance not of an oasis bounded by God's love, but, quite the contrary, a parched desert pleading for just a drop of refreshment! Here's the "trick", as I see it: God's goodness is such that it manifests and rushes upon our lives and world most powerfully when it wells up from within us.

To go back to God's love as shared between Father, Son, and Spirit, the reason this love flows so powerfully within God is because it is perfectly accepted and reciprocated. God the Father may be the "fountain fullness" in relation to Son and Spirit, but Son and Spirit are also "tributaries" of this love, holding and giving this love seamlessly. Similarly, when we allow ourselves to be "tributaries" of God's love and to also be drawn into relationship with like-minded others, these "tributaries" combine to become a mighty and rushing river of "God's gushing goodness." Pat, TOR

Eucharist: Source of "Powerfully Flowing" Life in Christ

Being a former soldier, from time to I like to make the comparison that the Mass is akin to "Basic Training." By this I mean that the Mass should ideally equip and empower us with the spiritual "skill set" to go out into the world and be instruments of peace, grace, and transformation. I use this analogy to emphasize the Church teaching that the Eucharist is not only the "summit" of Christian and Catholic life but is also the "source." Very often I wonder if we place too much emphasis on Eucharist as "summit" and not enough weight on Eucharist as a "source" of new-life-in-Christ. If we place too much emphasis on Eucharist as "summit", this can lead to the attitude that the Mass and celebration of the Eucharist is an "end in itself." Far from being an end, the liturgy and Eucharist are meant to be a "new beginning" for ourselves and the entire world. But this is only the case if we allow the "transformative energy" of the liturgy and Eucharist to flow out of the spaces and places in which we worship into every nook and cranny of our lives and world.

In today's first reading from Mass, we encounter a powerful image from the book of the prophet Ezekiel that can lend scriptural weight to the notion that Eucharist is meant to be the source of new, abundant, and even powerfully "flowing" life in Christ. Ezekiel has a vision of water flowing out of the temple (Ezekiel 47:1-2, 8-9, 12). This is no ordinary stream, mind you! Where ever this water flows, fruit trees bring forth luscious fruit that nourishes and leaves that heal, salty waters are made fresh, and fish and wildlife abound! This dramatic and prophetic vision throws into relief the fact that the purpose of God's covenant promises to Israel, the temple in Jerusalem, and temple worship are not meant to be "self-contained" but are to become a mighty stream that brings its healing waters to the entire world.

I recently remarked to a friend that when I preside at Mass, I sometime feel like a "conductor." What I meant by this is that there are times when I feel very much "caught up" in the "flow" of a cosmic symphony of grace that fires the worship assembly with a charge that is palpable. This "energy", "charge", or "flow", I believe, represents not merely what God wishes to accomplish in the liturgy of Eucharist but is meant to powerfully rush out into the world in order to transform it into what God hopes for it to more fully become: a liturgy of the world where life, healing, and transformation abound! Pat, TOR

November's Questions

"What are you looking for?" In the Gospel according to John, these are the first words out of Jesus' mouth! In response, the two disciples of John the Baptist, ask another question: "Rabbi, where are you staying?" Next follows the invitation to "Come and see."

November marks the closing days of the year and the Church asks us to consider a question quite similar to the one asked by Jesus. As our northern hemisphere moves into lengthening darkness, we are preparing for the turn that will eventually bring us into lengthening light. November starts us off considering the question posed to everyone, without exception, "What does your death mean for you?"

November starts us off celebrating the Feast of All Saints and All Souls and it ends with the beginning of Advent. It's about endings and beginnings; endings and beginnings. So, when we come to the end of something, Jesus' question applies: "What WERE you looking for?" As we begin, again, Jesus' question applies: "What are you looking for?" The fact of our own death is not a grim reminder; the "wet blanket" on the party of life. It is there to help make us real.

For the disciples of Jesus, death is never the "Grim Reaper". It is, in the words of Saint Franics, "our Sister Death." She comes to remind us of not only how precious and fleeting are our days on earth, but that death is our transition into fuller life.

November poses some more questions and I'd like to follow up with some of those later. For now, why not think about Jesus' first question: "What are you looking for?" Fr. Carl

Faith Illustration: Healthy Dialogue Anchored in Knowledge of Self and the Divine

Yesterday's blog entry dealt with the notion that stability within one's self requires some form of interiority. Today's entry expands on this idea by proposing that healthy and fulfilling dialogue (and, by extension, relationships) must be "anchored" in knowledge of self and the divine (I use the word "divine" to include persons of all faiths). Before dealing with the illustration, I need to explain two key concepts: dialectic and projection.

In today's complex and diverse world, there is much mention of the need for dialogue. Dialogue is basically a conversation about some topic or topics that requires openness and receptivity on the part of the "dialogue partners". As much as this is no doubt needed, by beginning with dialogue, we may be "putting the cart before the horse." Prior to any fruitful dialogue taking place, a person must know to some degree, where they've been, where they "are", who they are, and who they hope to become/where they hope to be going. The art of being aware of these things and being able to articulate them has to do with dialectics or dialectical method. The aim of dialectics/dialectical method, in general, is to enter into dialogue with another person with the hope of being able to come to an appreciation of both perspectives and to establish common ground.

Obviously, to be able to be a good "dialectician" (no, this is not someone who teaches you how to eat healthily, that would be a "dietician" :) or dialogue partner, one must know one's self and where one "stands" in relation to some of the more important questions that comprise the mystery of life. Furthermore, when a person enters into dialogue or relationship with another, they "project" or "put their ideas or themselves out there" in various ways, whether consciously or unconsciously. The trick to healthy dialogue or relationship is to become aware of our consciously/unconsciously held ideas, presuppositions, biases, etc... and to "project" them or ourselves in as conscious and deliberate a manner as possible.

The above model suggests that there are two fundamental ways that a person "projects" themselves: in a non-dialectical, largely unconscious way and a dialectical, conscious way. The three "layers" of each circle corresponds to three strata of the mind and heart theorized by Carl Jung (a famous psychologist who was an associate of Freud). Without going into too much detail about Jung nor each layer, suffice it to say that the dark layer represents the totality of gifts, talents, hopes, fears, biases, convictions, etc...that a person "carries" within them. The blue layer pertains to the capacity to give and receive love, to be creative and productive, and to bring forth/nurture life (whether literally or figuratively). The innermost, yellow circle, pertains to one's capacity to mirror or reflect the "divine" spark within: to give, to serve, to love in an unconditional way, and to receive/give "fullness" of life.

When a person has little awareness of the above areas, they "project" themselves in a largely unconscious way (see circle above). This means that they may see in others (good, bad, ugly, glorious) what actually or potentially exists within themselves. They may also seek out in another (for example, the "divine spark") what they should be looking for, and can only realize, within themselves and in healthy relationship with others. Notice how all the layers in the above illustration are mixed, confused, and unintegrated. In contrast to the upper diagram, the below one represents a person who has clarity, depth and breadth of self awareness and awareness of the divine. Each layer is separated and integrated. At the core of their person and awareness of the divine, they are anchored, solid, and steady (notice the "anchor symbol" which is also a symbol of the Cross) The lines going out from the core and going through each layer represents communication that is deliberate, direct, clear and suffused with self-awareness.

This "faith illustration" represents a goal and a process. I'm not sure if any of us ever "arrive" at complete clarity with regard to all that makes up the mystery of our lives (bottom circle). However, to enter into healthy dialogue and to nurture healthy, fulfilling relationships, to some degree we must be anchored in the knowledge of ourselves and the divine and continue striving to realize these more fully within ourselves and in our relationships. Pat, TOR

The Secrets to Stability: Interiority and Communion

In Paul's letter to the Philippians, chapter 4 verses 12 and 13 (part of today's first reading from Mass), he relates how, through the strength of Christ, he has learned the "secret" of "being hungry and well fed", of "living in abundance and living in need." How did Paul come to learn or acquire this secret?

This weekend I am attending a conference in Cleveland for Catholic vocation directors. It's an opportunity to form supportive peer relationships, to "talk shop", and to be renewed and refreshed in spirit. One of the topics that arose in the context of a keynote speech, and that generated much subsequent discussion, was the notion of how important interiority is for being able to discern God's call for one's life. Very briefly, interiority refers to the habit or discipline of being "collected" or "gathered" on a routine basis to reflect and meditate upon one's life (and for the Christian, one's life-in-Christ). Interiority is the art of "space-making" and "offering hospitality" to our self, to God, and to others. In the words of St. Francis, it's about "making a home within ourselves for God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit," (which also means making a home for others since love of God = love of neighbor).

The art of interiority also implies "mapping out" the contours of one's heart, spirit, and soul. This suggests an exciting journey in which we encounter not a "black and white", "desolate" space, but a "geography" with peaks and valleys, hinterlands and gently rolling grasslands, sheer cliffs that overlook either calm or tumultuous seas, deserts, tropical oasis, etc. Each one of these "places" within are obviously metaphors that represent various experiences and our life's history. I can remember when I first experienced part of the "geography" of my own heart, spirit, and soul. I was walking through snowy woods along a ridge and began going downhill toward a dark, shadowy area filled with pine trees. I distinctly remember being a bit fearful. My fear was stirred up because of moving into the "shadowlands" where I knew I wouldn't be able to see very well. Nevertheless, I plowed on. At the bottom of the hill was a stream that was partially frozen and partially flowing. This "shadowland" area and the partially frozen and flowing stream struck me powerfully as metaphors of experiences that I have had in the past (especially the experience of loss) and how loss, at times, adversely affects my capacity to love (symbolized by the partially frozen and flowing stream). In coming to know of this "terrain" within me, I am much more aware of who I am and what I need to do to "thaw out" those "icy parts" of the stream so that love can flow more readily in and out of my life (I'm happy to say a lot of thawing has happened since I had this experience :)

Another secret to stability is inviting the Lord and his Spirit into the spaces and places that we encounter within so that we can not only see them for ourselves but see them through the eyes of another. What we are essentially talking about here is communion. To go back to the above example, the way in which I invited the Lord's Spirit into the "shadowlands" of my spirit and soul was both through prayer and a close friendship with a spiritual director. Through prayer I imagined God or Christ beside me, both accompanying me and speaking to me of what he was experiencing as we journeyed to the "shadowlands" and as we walked beside the stream. Another way that I allowed the Lord into this region of my spirit and soul was by sharing and reflecting on the experience with a trusted friend who also is my spiritual director. She knows very well the "lay of the land" of my interior life and helped me to appreciate the implications of this experience for my life.

In the book of Genesis we are told that humans are fashioned from the earth. For me, this means that we are a reflection, symbol, or "microcosm" of the complexity and beauty of the earth itself. Our interior life, far from being a desolate, empty, and a vacuous space (unless, of course, we never "visit" it) is meant to have great depth and contour. The only way that this can be the case, however, is if we take the precious time to "map out" the geography of our heart, spirit, and soul. When we are willing to do this at least minimally, we will learn what St. Paul knew so well: that the secret to stability is interiority and communion. Pat, TOR

Heavenly Citizenship: Bringing Forth The "Essence" of the Eternal

During the month of November, the Church remembers the passing of the saints and the faithful departed and celebrates their ongoing life in the Resurrected Lord. Many churches light special candles or erect "altars of remembrance" with the names of their loved ones or pictures as a beautiful reminder that our connection and connectedness does not end in death. Having prepared for and celebrated a number of funerals myself, I am always intrigued by the fact that, for the most part, people remember and emphasize the goodness and beauty of the person who has passed. It would seem that when we experience the loss of someone we have loved, we are able to set aside their faults, failings, foibles, and get to the heart of what made them loved and lovable. It may very well be that when we remember a loved one who has died, we see them as God has always seen them and allow the "essence" of the "eternal" in their life to shine forth in all its glory.

To see the world and those in it the way God sees is essentially what Paul is getting at when he tells the Philippians in today's first reading from Mass that, "our citizenship is in heaven." Some might think that this teaching implies that Christians are to live an "other worldly" style of life and avoid commerce and interaction with those "of the world." This interpretation couldn't be further from Paul's message nor the values of the Gospel. It leads to an attitude commonly referred to as "dualism", which sees value only in religion and spirituality and dismisses the "carnal" or material aspect of reality (i.e., politics, economics, the socio-cultural realm, etc...). It's hard to reconcile such an attitude with the fact that God became in-carnated (recognize the root of "carne" or "carnal", meaning, "flesh") in Christ!

Far from implying "withdrawal", to be a "citizen of heaven" means engaging the world and all that constitutes it with a particular orientation toward the future fulfillment of God's Reign. In other words, it connotes "depth" and not "riding along the surface", simply concerned with acquiring, eating, drinking, and being merry. When a person lives in this world with one foot "forwardly grounded" in the Kingdom of God, they develop the religious and spiritual habit of seeing and drawing forth the truth, goodness, and beauty quietly and nonchalantly present in the persons, circumstances, and even things that make up their surroundings. Heavenly citizenship, far from a mode of detachment from this life, implies being an "ambassador" of God's grace to this world: bringing forth the essence of the eternal so that God may be "all in all." Pat, TOR

Our God is a Restless God!

Chapter 15 of the Gospel of Luke is perhaps one of the most profound "scriptural windows" into the mind, heart, and Spirit of God. It consists of three parables that tell the basic story of something (or someone) being lost and than being found. The first parable tells the tale of a wandering sheep, the second is about a woman and her a coin, and the "swan song" of Chapter 15 is about a wayward, "prodigal" son.

In the Gospel from today's Mass, we hear the first two parables of chapter 15: the wandering sheep and the woman and her coin. Before examining them more closely, it's important to consider what, precisely, a parable is and how it functions as a literary genre. A parable compares two or more aspects of reality in narrative form in order to communicate a moral, ethical, or religious point. The word literally means to "lay side by side" or to compare. Because of the highly symbolic and oftentimes "colorful" nature of parables, they allow for multiple interpretations and "work" on the imagination in a powerful and expansive manner. Jesus makes use of parables extensively to help "stretch" the imagination of his hearers so that they can experience human life and God in a more dynamic, transformative manner.

When Jesus begins todays two parables with the questions, "what man among you having a hundred sheep and losing one of them would not leave the 99 in the desert and go after the lost one until he finds it? and "What woman having 10 coins and losing one would not light a lamp and sweep the house, searching carefully until she finds it?", he essentially lays the groundwork for a parallel comparison between the human "reality" and God's "reality" in order to reveal something astounding about God.

It shouldn't take us too terribly long to come to the conclusion that very few, if any, shepherds would leave 99 sheep in the harsh, dangerous environs of the desert and go searching after one lost sheep. To put it bluntly, he would likely simply "cut his losses." Similarly, if a woman dropped a coin and still had 9 at her disposal, she might bend down and sweep the immediate area where she thought it landed, but if she didn't find it she likely "wouldn't sweat it" and would simply wait until the light in the house was better and search in earnest then.

When Jesus taught these two parables, I imagine he had a bit of a mischievous smirk and tone to his voice. In so many words, he's saying to his hearers "of course you would do this" when they actually wouldn't! The human response in these situations really isn't at issue. The very human, understandable, and reasonable reaction of "cutting loses" and "not sweating it" serves as a foil to reveal a surprising image of an anxious and restless God who never cuts losses and patiently "sweats it out" looking to find what is lost or has fallen. A contemporary and popular Christian song written by Kirk Franklin proclaims that, "Our God is an Awesome God." While this is no doubt true, today's Gospel also proclaims that "Our God is a Restless God" who is constantly on the search, looking to reclaim the lost and to pick up the fallen. Pat, TOR

Jesus at His "Hyperbolic" Best: The New "Rules of the Game" of God's Kingdom

In today's Gospel for Mass, Jesus is at his "hyperbolic" best: he tells a large crowd that was following him, "if anyone comes to me without hating his father, mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, even his own life, he cannot be my disciple." As much as these words seem "jarring" to us in the 21st Century, they would have been even more "over the top" to Jesus' hearers. It's important to note that Jesus' audience were very "communitarian" and family oriented. Tight connections between family members and the larger community forged bonds that ensured survival and prosperity. Some scripture scholars debate whether Jesus actually used a word as strong as "hate". Regardless of the exact word Jesus used, it would have certainly "shook" the foundational presumptions of his audience, just as it continues to do so to this very day.

The question that this teaching begs is, "did Jesus actually mean that we should hate?" How are we to take this teaching? It is perhaps most fruitful to approach this teaching not literally (of course) but through the lens of "hyperbole". Hyperbole is a literary device that exaggerates for the sake of evoking strong emotions or to make a strong impression. What Jesus is likely trying to impress on his hearers is that the conventional "rules" of the game of life and society are being "turned upside down" by God. Jesus' teachings immediately prior to this one all challenge the "conventional way" of doing things (see Chapter 14). This teaching would seem to be the "icing" on the cake of the teachings that immediately precede it.

So, we might now pose the question, what are the "new rules of the game?" The new rules of the "game of God's Kingdom" is that the old rules of discriminating who is "in" versus who is "out" based on bloodlines, socio-economic status, class, religious observance, and any other discriminatory criteria is rendered null and void and that all are called, welcomed, and embraced at the banquet table of the Kingdom. Further, those who are vulnerable, poor, and disadvantaged are to be shown preferential treatment and given priority of place at the table (again, see Jesus' teaching immediately prior to the one in today's Gospel).

Far from being a teaching on hate, when viewed through the lens of hyperbole and the teachings that precede it, Jesus' message in today's Gospel is a teaching on how to love the way that God loves: without discrimination, without hesitation, and with the divine compassion that embraces all, especially those who are least and lowest. Pat, TOR

Solemnity of All Saints: Sharing in the Legacy of Those Who Have Gone Before Us in Faith, Hope, and Love

The readings associated with the Solemn feast day Mass of All Saints (Revelations. 7:2-4; 9-14; 1 John 3:1-3; Matthew 5:1-12a) offers what I believe is a "roadmap" for connecting with the holy ones who have gone before us by sharing in the legacy of faith, hope, and love that they have left us. This solemn feast day is observed not only to recall the "memory" of the holy ones who have preceded us but is meant to forge a "bridge" of communion with them through our own participation in the values that they lived by.

The reading from the Book of Revelation starts the readings of the Mass off in dramatic fashion by painting an awesome picture of the multitude of God's elect that cannot be numbered and who come from all corners of the earth and every "race, nation, people, and tongue" (depicted in the above drawing by Ira Thomas). The reading continues with the innumerable elect singing a praise of victory to "God and the Lamb." The overall themes that can be extracted from the reading is that God's saving power is universal in scope and that God will ultimately be victorious over the forces of death and evil.

The second reading from the First Letter of John describes how all persons are called by divine decree to be "children of God." As profound a gift and call as this is, the author tells us that it gets even better: "beloved, we are God's children now, what we shall yet be has not been revealed. We do know that when it is revealed we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is." To grasp the significance of this statement, permit me to bring in one of the "big guns" of contemporary Catholic theology. Karl Rahner, a famous Jesuit priest and theologian of the latter part of the 20th century, had this to say about God's saving grace: "The Giver is himself the Gift." In other words, God's grace is God's very self! Therefore, to be "God's children" is to be drawn into the same filial embrace shared by God and Christ in the Holy Spirit.

Finally, the Gospel reading from Matthew lays out for us the teaching of the beatitudes. The beatitudes describe the kind of dispositions that are necessary and non-negotiable for humbly and graciously receiving the "Giver who is himself the Gift": poverty of spirit, empathy, meekness, righteousness, mercy, purity of heart, peacemaking, and willingness to endure persecution for the sake of God's reign.

The "roadmap" that these readings lay out for us in connecting with the legacy of the multitude of the Holy One's who have gone before us and who continue interceding for us is the faith to actively engage the forces of death and sin (believing that they will be ultimately overcome); the hope that God's saving outreach applies to all and that we are children of God (destined to share in the self-same glory of the Son); and the love to graciously and humbly receive and share God's grace (embracing the "Giver who is himself the Gift.") Pat, TOR

The Ordinary Stuff of Saints

The opening lines of this hymn help to provide a focus for the feast we celebrate today. “For all your saints still striving; for all your saints at rest” this is what we are remembering today. The gigantic catalogue of Saints, Blesseds and Servants of God staggers any one individual’s memory. Furthermore, this list is just the beginning for the Church’s memory.
All Saints Day is about all those who choose to make the Gospel of Christ a living thing. When Saint Theresa of Avila remarked, “Some say that the saints are dead. I say that they are more alive than we are.” And Saint Ireneus’, “The glory of God is humanity fully alive.”, alert us to a choice that we can make every day.
This choice is not usually something that makes for headlines or consists of grand heroic acts. Most often , it tends to be known only to the person who makes it. To the casual observer, it looks ordinary and simply taken for granted. Yet, for the individual making it, there can be great heroism.
Take for instance the single mom who works an eight-hour day, perhaps as a sales clerk. As she stands behind her cash register, greeting each customer with respect, regardless of his or her mood at the time. Behind the scenes, she is concerned with the well-being of her young family, wondering if she’ll make it through another month of bills and childhood crises. The fact that she manages to do the “ordinary” is expected and not considered miraculous –the stuff of sainthood. Yet, in light of the Church’s memory of what makes for a saint, she is “on the list”!
What makes for a saint? Perhaps what Matt Talbot wrote in his journal would help broaden our appreciation for this feast day. Talbot spent his youth, from about the age of 12 until his mid twenties in an alcoholic stupor. One day, having nothing to drink and no friends around to buy him his liquor, he decided to “make the pledge” to remain sober for three months. One day at a time, he not only stayed sober, but began living “fully alive”. Sustained by daily prayer and the sacraments, his ordinary life was a series of daily choices, marked by his reliance upon God’s grace. His note to himself read: “Three things I cannot escape: the eye of God, the voice of conscience, the stroke of death.” Here we read the foundation for living in the moment; in touch with life as it is. Further on he writes down the “How” he does it. “In company I guard my tongue. In my family I guard my temper. When alone, I guard my thoughts.” Here’s the stuff of saints!
Happy feast! It’s YOUR day!

The First and Most Important Step of Faith: Going Out on a Limb

Much attention is rightfully paid in our tradition to the "active" dimension and expressions of faith: professing the Triune God, practicing charity, advocating for justice, showing a preferential regard for the poor, etc... But what if I suggested that the first "act" of faith, and the most important, is really not very active at all but, nevertheless, is perhaps the most difficult?

The story of Zacchaeus in Luke 19:1-10 (today's Gospel from the Mass) provides the key for answering the above "faith riddle." The story is, of course, about the famous tax-collector who literally and figuratively "went out on a limb" to catch sight of Jesus and who was rewarded for this gesture by the Lord calling him down from the sycamore tree, staying at his house, and sharing the gift of God's saving love with him. However, this story really isn't about what Zacchaeus did in climbing the tree nor in what he did when he affirmed his faith in God by giving away half of his wealth to the poor and promising to repay four-fold anyone whom he cheated. The most important thing that Zacchaeus did is precisely what he didn't do: Zacchaeus didn't hide.

If anyone could have hid from Jesus, it would have been Zacchaeus. Being a tax-collector, he would have been ostracized from the Jewish community; being wealthy, he would not have been the focus of Jesus' ministry (in Luke, Jesus exercises a clear preference for the poor and the sinner); being short in stature would have made it quite easy for him to hide behind others. He also no doubt had deeper reasons for hiding: shame, feelings of inadequacy, and his own or the community's perception of him being a sinner.

With a little "reading between the lines", the story of Zacchaeus provides insight into the first, and most important and ongoing act of faith: simply not hiding ourselves from relationship with God. In our day and age, it is quite easy to hide behind our "gadgets", frenetic activity, a title, our work, social status, addiction, etc...etc.... On a deeper level, we also hide because of anxiety, guilt, shame, pain, and the broken or strained relationships we have endured that perhaps have convinced us we cannot be loved or we cannot bear to risk ourselves in love again. We do have both good and not so good reasons for hiding. But in hiding, we miss out on love and life and we also waste so much time and energy trying to keep ourselves concealed from God, others, and especially ourselves.

Alice Miller, a psychiatrist who treats those who have suffered trauma, had this to say about our efforts to "hide": "Our truth is stored in our body and although we can repress it, we can never altar it. Our intellect can be deceived, our feelings manipulated, our perceptions confused, our body tricked with medication. But someday the body will present it's bill - for it is as incorruptible as a child who, still whole in spirit, will accept no compromises, or excuses and it will not stop tormenting us until we stop evading the truth."

The Good News of the Gospel is that for those who go out on a limb to meet God, when our "bills" come due we don't have to pay them alone. The message of the Cross and today's Gospel clearly points to a God who is willing to go to great heights and depths, even hell and back, to find us, collect us, help us "pay our bills", and ultimately lead us home. If only we simply not be afraid to "go out on a limb" and allow ourselves to truly be seen. Pat, TOR

Avatar Up A Tree

In last year’s Sci-Fi hit Avatar, Sam Worthington plays a paraplegic marine, Jake Sully whose DNA match to his deceased twin brother gets him an unexpected shot at a completely new life. Technology has advanced to the point where earthlings can have their consciousness “transported” into the bodies of turquoise beings the size of poplar trees. Jake’s new life just begins with his newfound strength and agility. His ‘avatar’ gives him not only new height, but eventually, a new depth. One skill that serves as a turning point is what he learns through his relationship with his mentor and constant companion Neytiri, played by Zoe Saldana. Neytiri helps Jake see, to borrow a phrase from Gerard Manley Hopkins, “the dearest freshness, deep-down things.” Jake finds that when he allows himself to “see” as do the Na’vi, his life changes. For the Na’vi “to see” is the same as “to love”. For Jake, now being seen and able to see, he is at home.

Seeing, the kind that Zacchaeus goes to great lengths to do in this Sunday’s gospel, is more than the furtive glance of the curious. In verse 4 we read: “So he ran ahead and climbed a sycomore tree to see
him, because he was going to pass that way.” Zacchaeus needs to see. The English “see” is a rendering of the Greek word for “seeking” or “desire”/ “longing” (ξητέω). It is also used in conjunction with the “Worship of God”

Zacchaeus was more than a short guy with a big income and few friends, he “longed” for something more. Is this what Jesus was able to see – beyond a chief tax-collector (i.e. sinner); behind the camouflage of the tree branches and the opinions of the crowd? This is the kind of view the Gospel encourages in those longing to see. Perhaps Zacchaeus could no longer find all his satisfaction in his material wealth?

There is nothing in the Scripture to suggest that the “Publican” that we heard about in last Sunday’s Gospel and Zacchaeus are one and the same. However, the fact that we hear these stories on successive Sunday’s would lead us to link them. Both are ”Publicans”, which at that time was synonymous with “sinner”. The Pharisee who did not go home from the Temple “justified” refers to the guy in the back row as a “tax-collector”, he is grouped with the “adulterous” and “prostitutes”. Current public opinion would have considered Zacchaeus as just one more of “Those people…”.

We know that Jesus says that the repentant Publican “went home justified”. He “made things right”! His act of piety was born out in today’s reading when, after Jesus comes into his home, Zacchaeus stands up and not only makes restitution for his crime and sins, he “pays back four-fold”. Had a judge found him guilty and demanded the restitution prescribed for thieves, that would have been considered just punishment. However, without judge and jury to convict him, Zacchaeus engages in an act of generosity. He willingly, “open handedly gives some of his bread to the poor” as Proverbs 22:9 says.

Zacchaeus is made right before God and the people and his generosity demonstrates what made the Publican’s prayer in the Temple so authentic. True piety results in making things right and not in self-congratulatory speeches. God sees us and knows our hearts. Having been seen by God, we know that we are loved and are better able to see ourselves and others in a new way. “Jake Sully’s” avatar discovered this new vision. So did Zacchaeus. The same is true for us. Are we too longing to see Jesus? Carl,TOR

Faith Illustration: Transformed from Glory to Glory

Today begins a new series on our community's Blog! The series is entitled, "Faith Illustrations" and is based on a number of computer generated symbolic drawings that I did while I was a student of theology. Each illustration depicts some aspect of the mystery of the Christian and Catholic faith. The point and purpose of each illustration is to demonstrate that our faith is meant to be dynamic and contemporary: drawing forth the insights from tradition and contemporary Christian theology/spirituality and "wrapping" them in new metaphors, symbols, and imagery in order to convey the mystery in a compelling and relevant way.

The above illustrations depict the process of "divinization" or "theosis" in the life of the human person, specifically, one who lives a Christ-like life. Before we consider what each sequence in the top illustration signifies, please go to the bottom picture, place your mouse arrow on the black circle, and click (the picture is an animated file and will depict the above drawing in a more dynamic manner). Now let's move on to an explanation of the illustration and the animated version of it.

The black circle represents the "primordial" or "rudimentary" elements of what constitutes the human person. From a psychological standpoint, it symbolizes unconsciousness. The second sequence, entitled, "let there be light", signifies the dawning of human consciousness. This process unfolds slowly. This is represented in the animated picture by the grey circle gradually emerging from the black one. In terms of evolution, it took perhaps thousands of years (or more) for the "light to go on" in the human mind and heart. With regard to human development, from the time of birth, consciousness gradually grows in a child until it reaches the heights of being able to distinguish between "me" and "you" (developmental psychologists believe that autobiographical consciousness, meaning the realization of "me" or "I" dawns at around the age of five).

In the third sequence, "Let us Make Humans", a clear circle emerges from the black and grey circles. This circle symbolizes the dawning of "transcendent consciousness", "religious consciousness", or "spiritual consciousness". Very basically, this is the awareness of the "something more" to life, the awareness of meaning, value, the unsurpassable worth of every person and the dignity of every creature, it is the experience of God. The fourth sequence, "The Word Became Flesh and Dwelt Among Us," is signified by the ancient Celtic "Triquetra" symbol emerging in the middle of the black, grey, and clear circles. The triquetra, of course, represents the Trinity. It's placement in the middle of the circles symbolizes the Incarnation of Christ and how, as a result, the Triune God, Father, Son, and Spirit, dwells within humanity.

Up to this point in the drawing, it's important to note that each sequence represents a process that is largely involuntary. We don't choose to have an unconscious, conscious, nor even transcendent conscious. These aspects of the human mind, heart, spirit, and soul are a given, or, are gifted. Certainly, we can be more or less open to developing them. This is important to note because in the fourth sequence, the element of choice becomes paramount. The rotation of the clear circle to the top of the circles represents the choice to live one's life for ultimate or transcendent meaning (living for God and others).

When one makes the choice to live for God and others, this results in the Trinity diffusing itself throughout a persons life to the point that they become "divinized" or Christ-like. This, of course, is represented by the "collapse" of all the circles into one, beautiful, bright, and brilliant "circle of light."

This drawing depicts in dynamic fashion how our entire being is meant to be filled with God's love, such that we are "transformed from Glory to Glory" and so that "God can be all in all." May we all be "circles" of light and love for God, others, and ourselves! Pat, TOR

Paul's Salutation to the Philippians: The Power of Partnership

The opening salutation from Paul to the Church at Philippi (today's first reading from Mass) reveals Paul at his "tender-hearted" best. At the time that Paul wrote this letter, he was imprisoned in Rome, waiting to be put on trial for his testimony to the Gospel. No doubt this period of relative isolation gave him plenty of time to ponder his ministry, it's value, and it's lasting impact. Paul's affection for the members of the Church at Philippi is overflowing when he states, "I give thanks to my God at every remembrance of you." If one were to compare Paul's salutation and introduction to the Church at Philippi to the opening of some of his other letters (such as to the divisive Corinthians community) one might think they were written by two different authors! With the Corinthians he is critical and edgy; with the Philippians he is overflowing in praise and warm regards and is affirming and gentle.

What accounts for the difference? I believe it amounts to the "power of partnership." In two places Paul mentions his "partnership" with the Philippians and how he holds them in his heart. It is their presence in his heart and memory that are likely keeping Paul grounded in hope, even amidst chains, believing that his life has been well spent in service of the Gospel.

Much of Western society has been formed in the last several centuries by a focus on the individual and his or her "inalienable rights." While this is a bona fide advance in our understanding of the glory of what it means to be human, this emphasis has also been distorted to the point of individualism. Individualism very often undermines mutual relationship and partnership because in excessively asserting the rights of one person, it comes to regard the other as a potential "threat" who may undermine those rights. Perhaps the most lamentable effect of individualism is that it results in people being isolated, alienated, and cut-off from the potential friendships and partnerships that alone can bring wholeness. Paul's letter to the Philippians is therefore a timely reminder that the power of God's healing and transforming love manifests most powerfully in our lives when we risk ourselves in relationship and partnership with like-minded others who we can trust will, "hold us in their heart." Pat, TOR

"Fitted" Together into Christ: The Spiritual Significance and Practical Relevance of Being Members of Christ's Body

Today's Feast day of the Apostles, Simon and Jude, begins with an intriguing reading from the Letter of Paul to the Ephesians. In it he describes the Christians in Ephesus as "built" into Christ like stones in a building, with the Apostles as the foundation and Christ as the capstone (the all important "cornerstone"). In the letter to the Corinthians, Paul describes Christians as "Christ's Body": knit together as a "seamless" unity-in-diversity. "Unity" pertains to a singular focus on Christ and promoting the values of the Kingdom of God; "diversity" refers to the uniqueness of the members and the gifts they bring. What makes for a "seamless" functioning of such a body is the unity of mind and heart toward a common goal: bearing the reality of Christ crucified and risen for the life of the world. The spiritual significance of Paul's referring to Christians as "built into Christ" and "members of his Body" is that it points to the very heart of God.

The Christian tradition has used three greek words throughout the centuries that are representative of how God's heart "beats" for the sake of the other: kenosis, perichoresis, and theosis. Kenosis refers to the dynamic of "outreach" or "pouring" one's self out for the sake of the other. The "first" outpouring of God is through the expression of his Word/Son, which God has spoken from all eternity (meaning that there was never a "moment" when the Word or Son didn't exist in God's heart). Our God is a God who has always "communicated" and is imminently relational! So potent is God's Word that this communication takes the form of an "Other." The "Other", God's "Word" and "Son", is so united with the One who speaks that the Word/Son naturally reciprocates and returns the self-same love that was given. This dynamic of complete gift of God's self to the Other and the reciprocal gift of the Other to God becomes a total communion or "dance" of mind and heart, the meaning of the greek word perichoresis (complete mutual penetration and indwelling). But this relationship doesn't end in a "dynamic-duo", it gets even better and more beautiful!! The "dynamic-duo" of Father and Word/Son is a bond or "dance" of mind and heart that is so magnificent and graceful that the bond or "dance" is itself constituted a person, the Holy Spirit. It is the seamless, beautiful, magnificent dance between these three "partners" that makes for "divinity" or "theosis" (meaning the process of being or becoming like the divine).

When God became human in the person of Jesus Christ, he came not merely to free from sin but to free us for the dance of kenosis, perichoresis, and theosis! The spiritual significance of Paul's use of the metaphors of being built into Christ as a building or a body point to the call of God that we reach out to the other through the gift of our self, become "one" in mind and heart with the other by working to realize God's aim that "all be one", and so become "divinized" or like God's very self! The practical relevance of becoming one in Christ through the Holy Spirit is namely that in the very near future (if not already!) there simply will be no other way of existing. By this I mean, the problems that we face in our world have become so complex and so gargantuan that they must be addressed through unity of purpose and solidarity of action. Take for example the reality of climate change (I say "reality" rather than "threat" because we are already in the midst of it). This threat is of such magnitude and complexity that it will require a unity of purpose and solidarity of action on the part of the entire global community if we are to stave off the worst scenarios. There are many other such problems that our world faces as well. Our reason to hope? Today's readings indicate that our hope rests squarely on a God who will never cease to pour out his Word and Spirit of love so that we may be ultimately bonded as one humanity that strives to realize nothing less than a new creation, where God will be "all in all." Pat, TOR

Some "Keys" to Unlocking The Rich Meaning of Jesus' Teaching to,"Enter Through The Narrow Gate."

In the best seller "The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People," Stephen Covey states that one habit of effective leaders is that they "begin with the end in mind." If we apply this principle to Jesus' teaching in today's Gospel, we arrive at some insights into what he may have been alluding to and it's import for the life of discipleship.

Today's Gospel opens with Jesus being asked, "Lord, will only a few people be saved?" He responds to this question in typical cryptic style by issuing the "answer": "Strive to enter the narrow Gate, for many will try to enter but will not be strong enough," Rather than dealing with this question directly, I believe it is very fruitful to go to the end of Jesus' teaching in order to "acquire" the keys to unlock the gate and open up it's meaning for us.

Working in "backwards fashion", the three important "keys" are the following statements of Jesus: "some who are first will be last and some who are last will be first," "and people will come from the east and the west and the north and the south and will recline at table in the Kingdom of God", and, finally, "and there will be wailing and grinding of teeth when you see Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob and all the prophets in the Kingdom of God and you yourselves cast out." Let's look briefly at each of these statements in turn.

The first two statements are foundational and very common themes to the Gospel writer, Luke. The first statement, "some who are first, etc...." deals with the theme of "divine reversal": Luke's experience and conviction that God is "turning the tables" and bringing salvation to those in most desperate need of it (the poor, outcast, sinner) while withdrawing the offer to those who are deceitfully rich and oppressively powerful. This statement powerfully attests to God's preferential regard for the poor. The second statement refers to Luke's theme of God's universal will to save: people of all stripes, colors, and convictions will find room at the banquet table of fellowship and love that is God's Kingdom. Finally, the reference to Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and the prophets is key because all of these persons actively embraced God's call and lived out the implications of this calling to the full.

Now that we have these three important keys in hand, let's start "unlocking" the meaning of the narrow gate! It's extremely important to note that the gates along the wall of Ancient Jerusalem were very often quite intricate, fortified, and served a number of purposes (see the picture above). Many were very definitely NOT mere passageways. While much could be said about the gate itself, what is important for our purposes is that they were places of important gatherings of civic leaders, judges, and civilians. In other words, they were places of deliberation, tension, confrontation, and decision.

Considering the important fact that Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem and would likely pass through the narrow gate himself, the following interpretation seems warranted: to enter the narrow gate connotes a very active mode of discipleship. It means bringing the news of God's "universal" saving will and special regard for the poor to the very heart of the world: those places of deliberation, tension, confrontation, and decision. In short, it means "putting one's self out there" for the sake of others and actively engaging the important issues of our day (especially as they concern the poor). Ultimately, those who find themselves "locked outside the Kingdom" in today's Gospel are judged by their own words; they ate and drank in the company of the Lord and were present at his teachings, but they didn't follow him through the narrow gate of "active engagement": putting one's faith in direct service of others and the life of the world. Pat, TOR

Seeing The Kingdom: Reflection on Today's Gospel

"What is the Kingdom like?" is Jesus' question to his hearers in today's Gospel. This question sets the stage for Jesus' painting a portrait of the dynamics of the Kingdom through the use of metaphors that would have been quite common to the people of his time. First he states that the Kingdom is like a mustard seed that is sewn into a garden, grows to an impressive stature, and becomes a large bush that offers refuge to the birds of the air. The second metaphor Jesus uses to describe the Kingdom is leaven that diffuses itself throughout a measure of wheat flour.

The characteristics of the Kingdom that can be derived from these metaphors is that it is a subtle, nondescript (meaning hard to describe or easy to overlook), but diffusive and potent manifestation of God's solicitude toward creation and all creatures. If the Kingdom is so subtle and nondescript, an important question that this raises is how do we "see" the Kingdom in our midst, and, even more importantly, how do we participate in it?

While there are likely many different ways to see and participate in the Kingdom of God, the Franciscan tradition offers one "key" for probing this mystery. St. Bonaventure, a 13th Century Franciscan scholar, came up with a curious word to describe how St. Francis was able to perceive and participate in God's Kingdom. According to Bonaventure, through Francis' devotion to Christ, especially his ministry to the poor, his passion, and his death and Resurrection, he came to "contuit" God and Christ's presence diffused through every situation and all creation. To grasp the profundity of this word and what it means for "seeing" God's presence at work in the world, we need only compare it to another word, "intuit." To intuit something, or to have intuition into something, means to penetrate "beyond" what is perceived in order to grasp it's meaning. For example, when we see storm clouds gather we "intuit" the meaning that there is likely a storm on the way.

Contuition implies not a "grasping" for meaning but, rather, to be gently and powerfully "grasped" by meaning. The prefix "con", which means "with", indicates that this type of vision is a "seeing with". In other words, contuition is a "relational" mode of perception whereby we see and experience something not simply on our own but in, with, and through the eyes and heart of another. A great example is when a parent sees the world anew and afresh through the eyes of his or her little child. Essentially, contuition is a way of seeing that comes from our communion with God.

To see and participate in the Kingdom that is subtly diffusing itself throughout the world, we need simply allow God's presence and love to subtly and gently diffuse itself throughout our lives and relationships. When we allow God to take gentle and empowering hold of our imagination and lives, we, like Francis, will be able to "contuit" the Kingdom which is always in our midst, if only as an offer. Pat, TOR

Putting Persons before "Practice"

Today's Gospel reading from Mass tells the story of a woman who approaches Jesus in the synagogue on the sabbath to be healed of a severe infirmity that she had endured for 18 years. The Gospel relates that Jesus was carrying out the traditional Sabbath practice of teaching at the time that he caught sight of the woman. Once he sees her, he stops mid-stream and calls her to himself, laying his hands upon her and healing her. However, some in Jesus' audience were not at all amused! The synagogue leader, being a faithful observer of sabbath protocol, rebuked those in the crowd with the admonition, "there are six days when work is to be done, come on one of those days to be healed, and not the sabbath day."

The synagogue leaders request seems reasonable enough. Jesus, however, responds by calling him (and anyone else in agreement with him) "hypocrites." He then cites the common practice of watering one's livestock on the Sabbath and makes the obvious point that if one is willing to do good for an animal on the Sabbath, how much more should one reach out to another in need! The point that one of our friars, Fr. Patrick Quinn, made regarding this Gospel story is that at times we lose cite of persons in deference to practice. In other words, we can become so conditioned to routine, habits, agendas, programs, etc...that we overlook the importance of the persons around us....perhaps even seeing them only as "interruptions" or as a "means to an end." Today's Gospel illustrates in wondrous and dramatic fashion the healing power that can rush upon our world when we put persons before practice. Pat, TOR

Humility: The Key to Communion with God and Others (Reflection on the readings for the 30th Sunday in Ordinary Time)

Nearly all of us can probably readily bring to mind persons who we've run across that have an aura of being "high and mighty" and those who are "down to earth." The "high and mighty" type basically operate out of a "superiority complex" and look down upon others for a host of reasons. The "down to earth" type is quite the opposite: they are easy to approach and get along with, are fairly non-judgmental, and don't have to make their presence "felt" when they occupy space shared by others.

In the Gospel (Luke 8:9-14) we have two characters who are "prototypes" of the above dispositions. The Pharisee comes off as filled with himself while the tax-collector is much more grounded and balanced in his self-assessment. It's important to note that this teaching of Jesus didn't intend to indict the Pharisees on the whole (some were secret followers of Jesus and others sympathetic to his cause) but was really meant to 1) compare and contrast two basic attitudes toward God and others and 2) lift up the attitude or disposition of the tax-collector as exemplary (which would have been quite shocking to some of Jesus' hearers, because, after all, tax-collectors colluded with the occupying Roman authority and were therefore "reprobate" in the eyes of many!)

An important question to ask in unlocking the meaning of the Gospel is precisely "why" the tax collector was ultimately justified by God and not the Pharisee. When we consider that to be "justified" by God means to be in right relationship or communion with God, this charts a course for a fruitful understanding. To begin with, at the heart of the matter is not a certain piety and outwardly expression but an inner attitude and fundamental orientation. God is not glorified through the bending of knees, a solemn appearance, the folding of one's hands, or other such gesture. These mean little or nothing if they are not matched by the inner awareness of who God is, who we are in relation to God, and who we are in relation to others.

The Pharisee clearly sees himself as almost on an even par with God and superior to others. Really his prayer smacks of a monologue rather than a dialogue with God. His prayer really amounts to: "Dear Me, thank you for Me, geez....aren't I great!!" The tax collector, on the other hand, recognizes that God is merciful, that he is in need of mercy, and that he's therefore in the same boat with everyone else!!

The tax collector leaves the temple justified by God, in part, because he's filled with humility. The root of this word, the Latin word "humus", means "soil or earth." The tax collector is "down to earth" and grounded in the fundamental awareness of his need of God, his own state-of-affairs, and, by extension, his solidarity with others. Above all, the tax-collector leaves the temple justified because he has "stooped to God's level" in embracing the totality of his condition and is therefore drawn into fuller communion with God.

By "stooping to God's level" I mean that in becoming human and choosing to frequent the lowly, "earthy" places of Palestine (i.e., Galilee), God in Christ deigned to live an imminently grounded, "down to earth" existence. In Christ God embraces the totality of human complexity, weakness, neediness, and the fragile beauty of our condition. By being grounded and down to earth, we are justified because we encounter and commune with God precisely where God "spends" so much of his time: in all the many "Galilees", or tense, broken, fragile, needy, yet oftentimes beautiful spaces/places that make up our life, our relationships, and our world. Pat, TOR

The God Who "Collects" Us

Tonight as I was praying the Liturgy of the Hours (the official prayer of the Church) in Spanish (I often do this for the sake of practice), I came across a word in a stanza from psalm 26. The stanza reads,"si mi padre y mi madre mi abandonan, el señor me recogerá." In the English version of the Liturgy of the Hours, this stanza is rendered, "if my father and my mother forsake me, you will receive me." However, the word for "receive" in Spanish is "recibir". What is this strange word, "recogerá"?

When I looked up the word on Google translate (a wonderful resource, by the way, for you language learners!) I found out that the word "recogerá" means to "collect." What an interesting difference between the English translation and the Spanish one! According to the Spanish translation of psalm 26, if father or mother forsake us (or anyone else near to us), God will be there to "collect" us!

What a tremendous difference one word can make, no? The insight that this spurred in my imagination is that our God is not only a God who "receives" us in our forsakenness, but is a God who will "stoop low" to pick up the shattered pieces of our hearts and help us piece our lives back together. Pat, TOR

Fall Foliage in Central Pennsylvania

The fall season colors are on full display here in Central Pennsylvania. The above pictures were taken at three trails near Hollidaysburg, PA. The trails are part of a "Rails to Trails" conservancy program that converts old, unused rail lines into hiking and biking trails that seem to go on forever! The name of the trails are the Ghost Town Trail, the 6-10 Trail, and the Lower Trail. I usually try to spend the better part of one day weekly walking the trails and soaking up the environs....it refuels my batteries and helps me to get into touch with my Franciscan roots! Enjoy the pictures (especially those of you in the South)! Pat, TOR

The Beauty of Orthodoxy: Carrying the Cross a "Socio-Cultural" Reality

[For those unfamiliar with the series of reflections that I've recently posted under the heading, "The Beauty of Orthodoxy": orthodoxy refers to "right" belief with regard to a particular religious confession, Catholic, Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, etc... It is a term that is especially important with respect to organized religions that are based on revelation and the dogma and doctrines that flow from it. "Rightness" of belief is not merely precise and correct articulation, but, more importantly, an appreciation for the breadth of what makes up our faith. For example, it is correct to assert that Jesus is Son of God, but without a corresponding appreciation for the fullness of his humanity, one would not be very orthodox. This series aims to "expand" our appreciation of what makes up our Christian faith by pointing out areas of the faith that have been overlooked or under-appreciated and that are in need of being recovered to meet the challenges of the 21st Century]

Very often when we hear the phrase that Christians must "carry the cross" we think of the Cross as a personal or interpersonal symbol. A "personal" cross might be a bout with an illness that we've come to believe is meant to draw us into closer communion with Christ. An "interpersonal" cross might be struggling to show compassion to someone we are in relationship with who is a bit challenging. Without a doubt the cross is a symbol which not only points to the passion and sacrifice of the Lord for the sake of others but equally points to how our life is meant to be united to this self-same passion and sacrifice in a very personal and interpersonal manner.

On the other hand, the cross is also a symbol that has dynamic implications for the social and cultural realm of life. Consider Paul's letter to the Ephesians (today's first reading from Mass, c.f., http://www.usccb.org/nab/101910.shtml). In Ephesians 2:12-22, Paul elaborates how Christ broke down the "enmity" (hatred, animosity) between Jew and Gentile through his blood and Cross in order to reconcile both and create peace and unity. What this ultimately implies is that the Cross is a symbol which points to the profound initiative of God in Christ and Holy Spirit to unite all persons regardless of race, ethnicity, religion, socio-economic status, party affiliation, etc...

Part of the tension and conflict that has plagued humanity throughout the ages, and that afflicts us now, is the tendency to try to delineate who is "in" versus who is "out". Many separate, divide, and label others based on skin color, economic well-being, class, religion, ethnicity, immigration status, citizenship, etc.... Such separation creates unnecessary division, tension, and eventual conflict.

To bear the cross in our day and to be a disciple of Christ, it is essential to not only bear our personal and interpersonal "crosses", but to also follow the Apostle Paul's example by bearing the "socio-cultural" cross. It means putting our faith and discipleship at the fore of our self identity (rather than citizenship, social status, party affiliation, etc....). It also implies seeing all persons as sister and brother with one God as Father and Jesus Christ as brother, regardless of their difference from us. Pat, TOR

Feast of St. Luke the Evangelist: The Good News of a God Whose Love Knows No Bounds nor Boxes!

A preaching instructor I once had used to say, time and again, "every homily or sermon must in some way proclaim the Good News." The Gospel of Luke usually makes such an aim exceedingly easy! It is replete with images, metaphors, and dramatic and dynamic parables that ooze good news! Take for example the opening chapter: Mary sings a canticle of praise to God who "shows the strength of his arm," "scatters the proud in their conceit," "casts down the mighty from their thrones and lifts up the lowly", "fills the hungry with good things", "sends the rich away empty", "comes to the help of his servant Israel", and "remembers his promises of old." This is indeed good, and even great, news to those who are both literally and figuratively hungry and thirsty! (It's not so good, however, for the "high and mighty!")

The praise of God continues in Luke with the song of the priest/prophet Zechariah just ten or so verses later. Zechariah tells of a God who "raises up a savior", "saves from enemies", "promises to show mercy", "sets free from enemies", "forgives sins", and, above all, is a God of "tender compassion." Luke lays a foundation in the first chapter that promises quite a lot! In subsequent chapters he "stands and delivers" by showing how Jesus embodies all of the above and reveals the Good News of a God whose love knows no bounds nor boxes!

Chapter 15 is probably the most dramatic depiction of the God who loves beyond limit and beyond rules. If you've never read the chapter in it's entirety, it's well worth it since these parables are unique to Luke (not repeated in any other Gospel) and cut to the chase of the manner in which God loves. The theme of the three parables that comprise chapter 15 could be phrased, "what was lost has been found." At their core, however, the parables aren't so much about what was lost but who seeks relentlessly and even frantically to find the lost.

The chapter begins with a parable about a lost sheep, proceeds to a tale about a lost coin, and finishes with the climactic rendering of the "lost" or "prodigal" son. Without going into detail about the specifics of each story, what stands out is the shepherd who leaves the 99 sheep to go after the one who strayed (instead of simply cutting his losses), the woman who frantically searches the house at nighttime to find a lost coin (instead of simply waiting until the morning to look), and the Father who races out to embrace his wayward son at a distance (instead of making the son sheepishly come all the way home unaccompanied and beg for forgiveness). The Church celebrates the feast of St. Luke today precisely because of the way in which his Gospel "oozes Good News": the Good News of a God whose love knows no bounds and no boxes!! Pat, TOR

Care for Creation (C4C) End of Season Fall Harvest Festival

The Care for Creation (C4C) project marked the end of another successful year with the Fall Harvest Festival held on October 9th. Close to 100 persons attended the event. The evening began with a prayer ritual to mark the transition from Summer to Fall and was followed by fellowship, a "best carved pumpkin" contest, songs of praise, marshmallow roasting, and stories around the bonfire, and concluded with hayrides. The C4C project season goes from May until October and includes rituals and festivals to celebrate the rhythms of the seasons (planting ritual, Summer Bounty Festival, Fall Harvest Festival), a "green gardening course" (every Monday evening in March) and a Summer Presentation series that focuses on topics related to sustainability and the "green movement." We are happy to say that nearly every C4C event was well-attended and indicates that the concept and project is beginning to take "firm root" as a part of the larger community. Next year, in addition to C4C, our community will be assuming responsibility for the Blair County Community Gardens. We very much look forward to this opportunity and believe it will enhance the C4C initiative a great deal. Pat, TOR

Transitus of St. Francis Celebration

On October 3rd Our Lady Queen of Peace fraternity of the Secular Franciscan Order (SFO) hosted the yearly observance of the Transitus of St. Francis. This celebration remembers the passage of Francis from this life to eternal life through ritual, symbol, song, and through readings from the biographies of Francis which bear testimony to his tremendous spirit and legacy of life that has endured for over 800 years. The celebration took place at Our Lady of Mount Carmel Church in Altoona, PA, and was well attended by Secular Franciscans and friars from the Immaculate Conception Province of the Third Order Regular. Thanks to Fr. Christopher Panagoplos, TOR, Provincial Spiritual Assistant to the SFO, and all who made it such a great celebration!

Reflection on the Readings for the 28th Sunday in Ordinary Time: Salvation Through Identification

When approaching and considering the saving "event" of the birth, life, ministry, passion, death, and resurrection of Christ, it's imperative to pose the basic question, "is the mystery of salvation a 'once and for all' occurrence that happened 2,000 plus years ago or is it an ongoing event that covers the entire sweep of history?" What is at stake in asking this question is whether salvation is a "static", "finished" affair with relatively little or nothing to do with our contemporary lives and history (i.e., something that we only experience definitively in heaven) or a "dynamic", "ongoing" mystery, constantly attempting to penetrate every "nook" and "cranny" of our lives and world (thus making it "ultra-relevant" to all that make up our lives and world). All three readings point to the saving mystery of God as being the type of mystery that is dynamic, ongoing, and ultra-relevant to all that makes up our lives and the affairs of our world. To tap the root of such a possibility and to allow the Lord's saving mystery of Cross and Resurrection to flow into our lives and world, transforming them in the here-and-now means a decision for total communion with the Lord; so identifying with him that, in the words of Paul, "it is no longer I but Christ." (Galatians, 2:20).

Three central-characters from each of today's readings point the way to how God's saving mystery can become something dynamic and "ultra-relevant" to our lives. In the first reading from the Second Book of Kings we meet Naaman, a gentile commander of the Armies of Ben-Haded II, King of Aram, who is suffering from leprosy (the entire story of Naaman is found in 2 Kings, 5:1-19). Naaman is recommended to the Hebrew Prophet Elisha by one of his servants (she has heard of Elisha's miraculous powers). Naaman follows up this recommendation by sending word to the prophet that he would like to be healed. Elisha than tells him to go the Jordan and wash himself and he will be made whole. He does so and is cleansed of his leprosy. Yet this is no mere physical healing. Naaman goes on to renounce his previous faith and professes his new faith in the God of Israel. So transformed is his faith that he arranges to have two mule loads of dirt from Israel brought back to his homeland in order that he may worship upon it. His healing and salvation is being realized through his identification with the Living God.

In Paul's second reading from Timothy, Paul says two things that evidence how the Lord's saving mystery has become ultra-relevant to his life. He tells Timothy, "Remember Jesus Christ, a descendent of David: such is my gospel, for which I am suffering." It appears that Paul has so identified with the Lord that he proclaims not only the Gospel of Christ as Christ's but as his own! Again, in the letter to the Galatians Paul states, "It is no longer I who live, but Christ."

Today's Gospel from Luke relates the story of the 10 lepers who were healed at a distance by Jesus (Luke 17:11-19). However, only one of the lepers (a Samaritan) returns to Jesus truly healed and restored, or made whole. The Gospel says that when the leper "realized" he had been healed, he returned praising God and threw himself at the feet of Jesus in thanks. The Greek word for "realized" means "to see" and in Luke connotes so much more than mere ocular perception. The Samaritan, Like Naaman and Paul, "sees" his life in a new light. His entire existence has been healed by God and he comes back to Jesus proclaiming not only the fact of his physical healing but also his new found faith.

The saving mystery of God, far from being a "one time event" continues to unfold and is meant to become a dynamic and "ultra-relevant" reality for our lives and world, just as it did for Naaman, Paul, and our Samaritan friend. For the saving mystery of God to become dynamic and "ultra-relevant" we need only come to identify so closely with the Lord that his Gospel becomes ours. How might this be done in a practical manner? Well, to begin with, since we are talking about relationship and communion with God, it is a life-long process! One way that we can come to identify with God's saving mystery is through the "baptism of our memory." Recently I spoke with a woman who admits that she is "stuck in the past" due to suffering the tragic loss of her son 22 years ago. Her chief complaint is that she cannot move on with life and goes round and round asking the question "why." Part of moving forward in her life may very well consist in allowing her memory of tragic loss to be united to God and Christ's in the Holy Spirit. What I'm suggesting is that her memory is not her own but is also present in the memory of God and can become a point of communion with the Lord such that the power of the Lord's cross and Resurrection can begin to dawn in her life in a new and unparalleled way - not bringing a facile explanation to the tragedy, but transforming it into a new way of "seeing" the event. When we bring the whole history of our lives and all our memories, good, bad, glorious, ugly, and even tragic, and allow them to be "baptized" in the Lord's saving mystery of Cross and Resurrection, we can come to know and "see" God's saving mystery at work in our lives and in our world. Pat, TOR

The Beauty of Orthodoxy: The Holy Spirit as The "Great Separator."

Would it be a surprise to you if I told you that the Holy Spirit is not merely the "great unifier" or "guarantor of unity" in the Church but is also equally the "great separator" and "guarantor of diversity" in the Church? An "orthodox" (meaning "theologically sound") approach to the Holy Spirit which is representative of scripture and tradition must account for the Spirit who separates and who creates not only unity but diversity.

A fascinating story from today's first reading from Mass illustrates this point well (http://www.usccb.org/nab/100610.shtml): in his letter to the Galatians, Paul recounts a very tense and confrontational exchange with the Apostle Peter. Paul had been "set apart" or "separated" by the Spirit for the unique mission of proclaiming the Good News of Jesus to the Gentiles. This mission was validated by Peter and the other Apostles who came to discern that the Spirit was at work in the Gentiles bringing them to faith in Christ. However, it didn't take long for some Jewish members of the early community to try to impose their customs on the Gentile members. This became a point of great contention and eventually led to an open confrontation between Paul and Peter in which Paul accused Peter (in very public fashion) of hypocrisy: it seems that Peter was no longer following his own Jewish customs but was supporting the Jews who were mandating that the Gentiles "fall in line" and essentially become converts to Judaism!

We know, of course, that this tense interaction likely helped Peter and the other Apostles accept the reality that God was calling the Gentiles to Christ through the Spirit precisely as they were and was not also calling them to become something other than a Gentile Christian. This story illustrates the marvelous fact that the Holy Spirit unites through the embrace of plurality/diversity and does not impose uniformity. As a matter of fact, true unity can only come as a result of creatively and carefully holding the tension between diverse parts. Time and again we see the Spirit "separating" for the sake of creating a greater and richer unity-in-diversity. At Pentecost the Spirit sends "fire" down on the Apostles and they are given the gift of being able to speak different languages. In his letter to the Corinthians, Paul refers to the diversity of the gifts of the Spirit which build up the Church (1 Corinthians 12) and create true unity.

Unfortunately, the Christian tradition (especially in the West) has often lost sight of the fact that the Holy Spirit is not only the great unifier and guarantor of unity but is equally the great separator and guarantor of diversity. From time to time movements arise within the Church which are intolerant of diverse expressions of the faith, especially in terms of theology, prayer, and worship. Such movements proclaim that they are at the service of unity but are actually imposing uniformity. Uniformity, far from being at the service of unity and communion, actually diminishes or destroys unity and communion by suppressing or oppressing diversity. In an age of globalization, with its heightened sense of diversity and the tension this brings, we are in desperate need of reaffirming the ancient and orthodox principle that the Holy Spirit is the mystery of a God who exists in a mode of unity-in-diversity and calls us to hold that same, creative and transformative tension for the building up of the Church and the life of world. Pat, TOR