2nd Sunday after Epiphany - Year B (John 1:43-51)

The call to follow Jesus is neither generic nor arbitrary.  The call each of us receives is issued in the context of being fully known and, while Nathaniel seems to be “a good guy”, the call is not dependent on our worthiness.  No sooner does Jesus acknowledge Nathaniel’s good qualities than he has an opportunity to question the motivation of his faith.   The only thing required is a willingness to “come and see.”    The temptation is, of course, to write either Jesus or ourselves off. 

The call of Jesus is also rooted in community.  While specific, it is not individualistic.  Nathaniel comes to his vocation in the context of his relationship with Phillip.  Philip is noted as being connected to Andrew and Peter, being from the same town.  No matter the details of our Christian vocation (the way we are called to live our baptism in our daily lives), that vocation is essentially ecclesial in nature.

Baptism of Our Lord – Year B (Mark 1:4-11)

I remember that one of the first things I heard about the Gospel of Mark when I started studying theology was that Mark is a passion narrative with a long introduction. The implication of that hyperbolic statement is that everything in Mark is about the cross, including Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan. From that perspective, the Father’s statement of love and pleasure in the Son is not so much about the act of baptism per se, but rather about Jesus’ immersion into the way of the cross.

And so then we quickly move to what it means to be a follower of Jesus, to be one of those who has been baptized with the Holy Spirit. The baptism of the disciple is also into the cross. In this sense, the theory that Mark is primarily an interpreter of Paul for a post-pauline community rings true. True power is found here in the Jordan and, ultimately on the cross, far from the centers of wealth and power in the Roman Empire.

Christmas Day - Years A,B, & C (John 1: 1-14)

Save for a few words, this lovely hymn to the Logos could easily be in honor of a Gnostic savior. By Gnostic I mean salvation through an idea or teaching, personified perhaps, but an object of the mind. Such a savior is as popular (or more so) today as ever. There are many who like the “teachings” of Jesus but are scandalized by the person of Jesus and even more so by the Church. Lots of others give voice to a similar sentiment when they proclaim that they are “spiritual but not religious”.
While it might be accurately said that the author of the fourth Gospel dallied with Gnostic ideas, the “punch line” of the Prologue brings both the writer and the Word clearly back down to earth. The Word became flesh and lived among us.” There is no “took up the appearance of flesh” here. The Word who spoke and it was made has itself become something made of real flesh and blood, the creator has become creature. For those of us blessed with the faith not to be scandalized by such a savior, the glory of God has entered our concrete lives in such a way as to make being “spiritual” (in its most limited sense) the ultimate heresy.

Such is the grace and truth of Christmas!

Third Sunday of Advent - Year B (John 1:6-8, 19-28)

Among you stands one whom you do not know. Begging the pardon of any who might read this, I am going to take this statement in a direction that might seem out of sync with the apparent intentions of the evangelist. I want to move beyond knowledge of and relationship with Jesus Christ to knowledge of and relationship with the Christ who is present to us “sacramentally” in the poor and marginalized of our world.
Among you stands one whom you do not know: the “homeless vet” asking for a handout at the freeway off ramp; the drag queen beaten and left for dead in the back alley; the children of “illegals” who are now afraid to go to school; the bullied teen; the lonely elderly; the list goes on and on. And the amazing truth, my brothers and sisters, is that not a one of us, not even John the Baptizer (whom Jesus calls the greatest man born of woman), is worthy to untie the sandal thong of any of these.
Among you stands one whom you do not know. To focus our Advent hope and expectations on the coming Christ while failing to recognize his presence among us is to seriously miss the point and to stand in risk of judgment. To know these is to know the one who comes after them.

2nd Sunday of Advent - Year B (Mark 1:1-8)

Few scriptural images stand more sharply in contrast to the ethos of a consumer Christmas than that of John the Baptist. I have heard recently of at least one church group setting up an Advent “station” in a shopping mall, offering a welcome (to some) respite from the buying frenzy. If that is what we consider a radical response to the co-opting of the Nativity, imagine the reaction of shoppers to John the Baptist, in camel hair, standing at the gate to Santa’s village, workshop, etc., demanding the preparation of the Lord’s way. “Take a bath and get a job!” It should be no surprise that these words directed at Occupy Wall Street Protesters might just as suitably (in the view of those issuing the insult) be hurled the Baptizer.

While in no way wanting to equate the message and tactics of OWS with the mission of John, there are some parallels. Disrupting the status quo is not for the faint of heart. It is, however, precisely that disruption which the prophets and the Gospel announce and we are called to give it voice in our words and actions as disciples of the one to whom John pointed – the disrupter-in-chief – Jesus.

So what is this disruptive message we are challenged to share with the world? Happiness, and more especially, love, cannot be bought or earned. We are not saved by a vibrant consumer economy or by any other thing that we can make, earn, or manipulate. The only gift necessary has already been purchased at great price and it is graciously given.

1st Sunday of Advent - Year B (Mark13:24-37)

I was fortunate to be with my mother, holding her hand, during her final hours. For a while during her dying process, she seemed to be struggling to breath. It was painful to watch and even more painful to hear. There was what seemed to me an eternity between each breath. And each and every time I wondered if this was the end. I was alert to every sound, every touch, every sign that the end was coming. I was painfully awake.

Could it be this level of alertness to which we are called by the gospel for the First Sunday of Advent? If so, I don’t know that I’m up to it. It’s all together too much to ask, too much to endure. That level of wakefulness quickly takes its toll on both mind and body.
After the struggle passed, my mother moved into a more restful and peaceful state. I was certainly still awake, still aware of all that was going on, but it was no longer painful and I was no longer on edge. Her breathing was so quiet that it was hard to hear and it was no longer necessary or even possible to try to guess when the last breath would come. The nerve racking hyper-alert listening and watching was transformed into a peace filled “being with”.

It is this peace filled being with the moment that the season of Advent calls us to embrace. Our preoccupation with violent apocalypse tricks us into thinking that we can know the day and the hour. The violent destruction of the Jerusalem Temple by the Romans must surely have seemed a precursor to the end, but it wasn’t. The violence of my mother’s physical struggle to cling to life was also not the end. Though painful to both mind and body, we have no choice but to stay awake and alert when everything is crumbling around us, the challenge is to be awake to the gradual opening of a spring leaf on a tree.

22nd Sunday After Pentecost - Year A (Matthew 25:14-30)

It is said that familiarity breeds contempt. Perhaps this holds true with the parables of Jesus as much as with anything else, and, if not contempt, than at least boredom and a sense of déjà vu. We might do well to hear today’s parable recast in more contemporary terms. A wealthy person going on a around the world cruise summoned his investment portfolio managers, giving one 500 million, one 200 million, and one 100 million dollars to invest. The one who had been given the 500 million invested in shady derivatives and other high risk deals made 500 million more. The one given 200 million followed suit and also made a 100% return. The final investor, having looked more deeply into the underlying market and fearing a collapse of both the market and the banks, decided to put the money in a safe deposit box. The first two investors managed to get in and out before the collapse having made a made a huge return. The final of the three had been correct in foreseeing what would happen to the markets but his timing was off by a few months and the capital he had preserved was given as a bonus to the first investor. That final investor had his “McMansion” foreclosed upon and ended up working for a credit union. Weeping and gnashing of teeth indeed!
So then, to what shall we compare the Reign of God? The Reign of God is like a Wall Street investor who is rewarded for taking risks. Really? This parable has long appealed to our American experience of a somewhat benevolent capitalism. In light of recent events, and the ruin brought to many by a much more malevolent economic reality, we are forced, perhaps, to look at the parable in a different light. Even the oft repeated attempt to define the word talent by its literal English transliteration meaning aptitude or ability seems naïve in our current situation.
A few points might help us come to terms with this parable. First of all, everything belongs to God. Secondly, in God’s economy there is only abundance. And, finally, it is our faith in that abundance, or lack thereof that influences our ability to risk everything.