God promises to raise us if we trust enough to fall – Lk 2:27-35a

This is the first in a series of reflections I'm giving at the Old College Saturday morning Holy Hour on the Seven Sorrows of Mary.

Simeon came in the Spirit to the temple grounds and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do to him what is customary according to the Law, he took him in his arms and praised God, saying:

“Now you release your servant in peace, Master, according to your word.

“For my eyes have seen your salvation that you prepared in the sight of all peoples,

“A light for the revelation to the nations and the glory of your people Israel.”

His mother and father were amazed at what was said about him.  And Simeon blessed them and said to Mary, his mother: “Behold, he is destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel and for a sign of opposition; and a sword will pierce your soul.”

~~

“It was the scariest day of my life.”  That’s not what I expected my friend to say after the baptism of her first child.  So, I probed a little.  She explained that as little Julie passed through the waters of rebirth, she had a profound sense that she was giving her daughter up for adoption.  She was; that’s true.  Now, the way God parents us does not in any way compete with our earthly parents, it doesn’t take them off the scene, the domestic church is where we hope people first experience God’s fatherly love even if that doesn’t always happen.  But, at the end of the day, God is first.  We’re all adopted, and I’d never really stopped to consider how that affects some parents.

God gives us as shepherds– Jer 3:14-17

Friday of the 16th week of Ordinary Time; St. Joseph parish.  [I'm leaving St. Joe this weekend, so there might be a two week break rather than a one week break between posts until I get in to a rhythm at Old College.]

The book of Jeremiah is disaster literature.  Jeremiah’s Jerusalem was besieged and destroyed by the Babylonians and the People were exiled from the Land God had promised.  The disaster was theological, political and physical all at once.  In the midst of this, Jeremiah offers words from God.  He does not bring promise of warriors, or kings, or even builders.  He promises shepherds: basic care for a pilgrim people with nowhere to lay their heads.  It’s smaller than you think: humbler.

God makes the humdrum great, when invited in – Matt 12:1-8

Friday of the 15th week of Ordinary Time; St. Joseph parish.

The Second Temple stood in Jerusalem for over 400 years.  It was 1600 feet long, 900 feet wide, 9 stories high, and its main walls were built with 30 ton bricks.  But Jesus wandering in a field with his disciple munching on someone else’s corn: this was something greater than that.  The Temple was the site of passionate, lavish, exquisitely celebrated festivals of joy, mourning and sacrifice.  But Jesus and his rag tag band: that was something greater.  The Temple was the symbol of national and religious pride, the site of the Chanukah miracle, celebrating Jewish defeat of pagan idolatry.  But this lax, hungry group: something greater.

God heals us of our idolatry – Hosea 14:2-10.

Friday of the 14th week of Ordinary Time; St. Joseph Parish.

We’re very used to making deals, we’ve probably been doing it since we were kids.  “So, if I were to eat two of my brussel sprouts, what would the chances be of some ice cream?”

It’s very easy to see our first reading from Hosea as just such a deal, offered by an Israelite prophet to God: “So, if I get rid of these idols, and make some burnt offerings, how about making us prosper and bear fruit like a mighty tree?”  It sounds almost ridiculous, but I think that’s often how we think about our relationship with God.  If I work hard, offer enough up, eat enough brussel sprouts, God will have to repay me somehow.

God dines with us – Matt 9:9-13

Friday of the 13th week of Ordinary Time; St. Joseph Parish.

Who would you least like to have dinner with? 

I ask because we often have this romantic idea that Jesus really enjoyed dining with tax collectors and sinners, that he got more out of their company than the fuddy-duddy righteous legalistic types.  Really?  Maybe… but if we confess that Jesus walked to his cross for us, maybe we can also at least imagine him sometimes having dinner with someone he didn’t much like.  Certainly, when challenged on his choice of table companions he doesn’t excuse them or say, “I eat with them because they’re so much fun;” but: “They’re sick; I came to heal.”

God plants us on a rock – 2 Tim 4:6-8, 17-18; Matt 16:13-19

Feast of St. Peter and St. Paul, St. Joe.


God plants us on a rock.  I find that a very realistic image for what it looks like to live out our lives in the Church.  We don’t live in a rose garden, yet, and we don’t experience perpetual banquet, yet.  As much as I hope we get glimmers of those realities now furtively, we live on a rock.  It’s big and it’s craggy and it’s home.

God reforms our vision – 2 Kings 11, Matt 6:19-23, SS. John Fisher and Thomas More.

Friday of the 11th week of Ordinary Time, St. Joe.

When did you last have your vision checked?  I don’t mean by an eye-doctor; I mean by Jesus.  In today’s gospel, Jesus tells us that the quality of our vision will determine the health of our entire self.  Our Holy Cross Constitutions tell us that “for the kingdom to come, disciples need the competence to see and the courage to act.”  The world looks different through eyes of faith, through kingdom-focused eyes, through compassionate eyes, through courageous eyes.

Godly vision doesn’t make the world looked rose-tinted; it doesn’t look nicer in a cheap way.  The priest Jehoiada in our first reading had the keen vision to see more clearly the injustice of Athaliah’s power-hungry reign. He also had the courageous vision to see this as injustice he must right, and we just heard how he managed to preserve an heir, depose Athaliah, destroy the site of Ba’al worship, and bring calm to Judah.

SS. John Fisher and Thomas More also had the God-given vision for injustice to see how Henry VIII was acting irreverently towards the Pope, wickedly towards his first wife, Catherine of Aragorn, and hubristically towards God by claiming the power to annul his own marriage.  They also had the courageous vision to see these wrongs as wrongs they must try to address.  They failed.  They were put to death and Henry abandoned Catherine and the Catholic Church.

But we celebrate their feast day today.  Why would we celebrate failures?  To see them as failures is to see them with clouded eyes.  Godly eyes do not let their death blot out the rest of reality.  Godly eyes see two men who loved: who loved their queen, loved England, loved the Church, loved justice, loved God… who loved enough to die for love.

That’s not failure, that’s what Jesus died for.