Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle C)

Kicking the “Buts” Out Of Christianity

1 Kings 19:16b, 19-21; Galatians 5:1, 13-18; Luke 9:51-62

In the English language there is a word that is very small, yet very powerful. It’s only three letters and its power lies in its ability to negate everything that has preceded it. The word is: “BUT.” You know what I mean:

“I’d like to spend more time with the family BUT I’m just much too busy at work.”

“I know you can get cancer from smoking cigarettes, BUT you have to die sometime.”

“We’d really love to hire you, BUT we found another person who seems a better match for our needs.”

“I’d like to go out with you, BUT I just don’t think you’re my type.”

“Yea, I know I smoke too much, drink too much, eat too much, BUT I’ve been really stressed lately.”

And here’s one of my favorites: “I’d love to go on a diet, BUT I just can’t lose weight . . . It’s a genetic thing.”

Good intentions. We always want to say the right thing . . . do the right thing. But sometimes the realization of what it will take to make our good intentions realities, smacks us in the face and stops us dead in our tracks.

In today’s gospel, Luke tells of a time when Jesus hears that small yet powerful word “but” from three potential followers. The first man’s “but” is unspoken, yet implied, after Jesus tells him the implications of being one of his disciples. Jesus invites a second man to follow him, and the man replies, “I will, but first let me go and bury my father.” And a third says, “Lord, I will follow you, but first let me say farewell to those at home.”

Today’s gospel is one of those few passages where we like to think that Jesus must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed that morning. His words seem stern, harsh, blunt, and unreasonable: “Foxes have their dens. The birds of the sky have their nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head.” “Let the dead bury the dead.” “No one who sets a hand to the plow and looks to what was left behind is fit for the kingdom of God.” These are the “hard sayings” of Jesus – the things that seem so out of character from the loving, gentle, compassionate Jesus that we’re used to. The things that just don’t seem to make it onto needlepoint pillows, posters, and bumper stickers.

But, to really understand today’s gospel, we have to remove ourselves from our own culture and language and enter into the world of Jesus. For you see, in Jesus’ day, the Jews often referred to gentile nations as "birds of the air" and "fox" was a name by which they referred to King Herod. And so, for Jesus’ listeners, the birds were the Romans. The fox was their king. What Jesus is trying to get across is, “Discipleship involves risk. It might mean putting yourself at odds with the political and religious elite. If you just want to go with the flow, follow them. But be aware of the cost of following me.”

And the phrase "to bury one’s father" was a traditional phrase referring to the sacred duty of a son to remain at home and care for his parents until they were laid to rest respectfully. Then, and only then, can he consider other options. But what Jesus is saying is, “Me first! If you want to be my disciple, traditional family and societal expectations cannot come before me.”

In addition, our English translation of Luke 9 reads: “I will follow you, Lord, but first let me say farewell to my family.” But an ancient Syriac translation reads this way, "Let me first explain my case to those in my house." What Jesus is trying to say is, “If you’re looking for the approval of the world – forget it.” “Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you and utter every kind of evil against you falsely because of me. Your reward will be great in heaven.”

So the good news is that Jesus’ words in today’s gospel aren’t as harsh as they first appear to be on the surface. But the bad news is that you can’t water down what Jesus is letting us know are the harsh realities of following him. We got a taste of that in last Sunday’s gospel when he said: “If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it.”

And Jesus’ realistic and straightforward exposé of what true discipleship means, continues today. In the beginning of today’s gospel, we hear that Jesus was “resolutely determined to journey to Jerusalem.” The implication is clear – he is aware of and accepts all that that journey to Jerusalem will entail: rejection, suffering, and death. And if that’s what being on the journey means for the Master, then if you want to follow him, you must necessarily open yourself up to the same possibilities. Discipleship involves sacrifice. And Jesus makes it utterly clear that following him does not mean that we live in a rose garden, exempt from the harsh realities of life. What it does mean is, that at times, our lives will be lived more in a Garden of Gethsemane, where, we too, will also have to face rejection, suffering, and death.

Are we “would-be followers” of Jesus? Are we like the first person in today’s gospel, willing to follow Jesus…as long as there are no risks? Are we like the second man, willing to follow Jesus…as soon as our other obligations and goals in life are fulfilled? Are we like the third person, willing to follow Jesus…as long as what we believe, what we say, and what we do is the recognizably acceptable ways of our society?

“I’d like to go to Mass every Sunday, BUT my kids have soccer games every Sunday morning.”

“Gee, I’d like to pray more, BUT I just don’t have the time . . . I’m much too busy.”

“I want to follow what Jesus taught. BUT this thing about chastity . . . get real - this is the 21st century!”

“Turn the other cheek? . . . Yea, I’ll forgive BUT I’ll never forget.”

“I love my neighbor like Jesus said. BUT I hate those Muslims . . . They’re all terrorists anyway.”

But . . . But . . . But! Well, here’s another “but” for you: BUT Jesus is honest, upfront and painfully blunt about the cost of discipleship. He laid it on the line for his Apostles. He laid it on the line for the three would-be disciples in today’s gospel. He lays it on the line for us: Discipleship is not a half-hearted thing. It’s an all or nothing at all proposition. There’s no compromise. There can be no strings attached if we say “yes” to Jesus.

What about us? Do we have what it takes? Are we really committed to Jesus? Or are we just nice people - long on good intentions, short on resolve. So what do you say? Let’s kick some “but” today, huh? Let’s kick the “buts” out of our faith life and commit ourselves totally and wholeheartedly to following Jesus.

Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle C)

Who Do YOU Say I Am?

Zechariah 12:10-11, 13:1; Galatians 3:26-29; Luke 9:18-24

Opinions—all of us have them. Offering an opinion is an easy thing to do. It’s what we do when we’re looking to contribute to a conversation—we give an opinion and we have them about most anything. We do it several times a day without doing much thinking. You usually hear them in casual conversations. We sit around with a cold glass of lemonade, beer or a gin and tonic on a hot summer’s afternoon and simply talk about whatever’s on our minds, and . . . offer opinions. Some even make their living by giving opinions—harsh, critical, sharp-edged and even sensational opinions. Just listen to talk-radio and you can get inundated with opinions.

Sometimes offering an opinion can spark a debate or even a heated argument. Whether it be politics or religion, global warming, Obama-Care, gay marriage or whether or not the Yankees should get rid of A-Rod, sometimes there’s no such thing as an innocent and uncharged opinion. Recently, I added a “Friend” on Facebook who posted some very strong critical opinions about the contemporary Church. I bit my tongue when he remarked that rather than considering Blessed John XXIII for sainthood, the Church should have burned him at the stake for heresy for convening the Second Vatican Council. I gritted my teeth at his negative and pessimistic comments about Pope Francis, not thirty minutes after his election. But I finally lost it when he wrote: “I guess everyone in the Church realizes by now that Vatican II was a colossal and miserable failure.”

Unfortunately, I didn’t listen to the voice of restraint, common sense and good judgment that said, “Bruce, just leave it alone. DO NOT REPLY!” And I posted this comment: “Well I’m in the Church and I think that Vatican II was a tremendous and glorious success, and demonstrates the wisdom and abiding presence of the Holy Spirit, moving and guiding the Church - which obviously ain’t happening with YOU!” Well! That opened a Pandora’s Box of a barrage of comments and opinions by him on such topics as the Latin mass, papal infallibility, heresy, sin, the Virgin birth, and proper priestly attire. After enduring this diatribe for an hour, I finally wrote back and said, “You know what, I’m tiring of this debate. Let’s just agree to disagree.” . . . Then I deleted him from my Facebook Friends!

It had been only a few weeks since Jesus sent them out on their own. All of the healings that he had done that were drawing people to him from every walk of life, they were now doing. And here they were all back together again sharing stories about everything that had happened. They were filled with excitement as each reported the miracles they had worked.

Jesus, who had been off on his own, joined the conversation. It is then that he posed a question, “Who do people say that I am?” There were lots of answers—they gave him the public opinion and passed on what they had heard, what others were saying. A safe and harmless question; one that was easy to answer. They had nothing at stake—simply passing on the opinions of others.

But then he asks a more loaded question—the one big question of all questions. “It’s all well and good what others are saying, but you, who do you say that I am?” Now Jesus is pressing them at a more personal level and far more is hanging on their answer. This time he wasn’t leaving them any wiggle room. This time he’s not interested in the general popular consensus or the prevailing public opinion. This time he’s not interested in what Google will come up with on the Internet when “Jesus Christ” is typed into the search engine.

You can just imagine the disciples standing around, looking at each other, hemming and hawing, trying to figure out what to say. And it’s Peter who impulsively speaks for all the others, and . . . and he gets it right: “The Christ of God! The One promised by God and sent by God!” And with the correct answer, Jesus then tells them what God expects of him and what he expects of them. He says, “If this is what you believe, what are you going to do about it?” Jesus was looking for more than a verbal response—he was looking for a life response.

It seems that giving the right answer to this question comes with consequences. There’s this business of the cross and making a choice to freely pick it up or put it down, and being willing to take it up each day when we wake up in the morning and rethink how we’ll respond to Jesus today. When Jesus was forced to carry his own cross on that Friday morning, it meant one thing and one thing only: death by the most painful and humiliating means possible. It wasn’t simply a symbol of the burdens we must all carry—strained relationships, thankless jobs, failures in school and in our careers, downturns in our investments, and physical illness. Taking up our crosses and following Jesus means how we live our lives and see ourselves in relation to Christ and how we treat others. The cost of accepting Jesus’ invitation is to pay the price in daily installments as we bear the hardships of being cross bearers.

Who do you say that I am, Jesus asks? Do you see hims as Good Shepherd? Savior? Redeemer? Master Teacher? Miracle Worker? Friend? Maybe you think of Jesus as your Beloved, one closer to you than even your spouse or child, father or mother. Perhaps you see Jesus as a somewhat naïve dreamer, someone whose teachings are nice, but which, in the real world, just can never be lived. Or maybe you see him as the “Push-over Savior,” and that you can do whatever you please because, in the end, you can rely on his love and forgiveness to get you into heaven no matter how sinful, or how undeserving, or how unrepentant you may be.

Who do you say that I am, Jesus asks? Not just intellectually, not just when you stand up in church on Sunday and recite the Creed, not just when you’re enjoying quiet moments of prayer. Who do you say that Jesus is, in those places where your lives are lived? In your home, in your workplace, when we’re with your friends who aren’t Christian, or for whom the teaching of Jesus and the church seem to matter very little?

And that question leads us to another series of questions. What difference does Jesus make in my life? What is it about my way of being and doing that would not be, could not be, if it were not for having Jesus in my life? Or are there areas where I am holding out, where my life is not noticeably different from the lives of those who see Jesus as an irrelevant relic of past superstition?

So, Jesus turns to us—“You! You there! Yes, you . . . Who do YOU say that I am?” The question hangs in the air—it won’t go away. We do our own hemming and hawing, and perhaps we hope others will answer for us. And Jesus says, “I’m not interested in opinions; I want to know what you think.” He has come into our lives and rearranged our worlds, so why can’t we come up with our definitive answer? We carry this question in our hearts throughout our lives—it is asked of us over and over. It’s a deeply personal question and it may be the most important question we’ll ever have to answer.

How are we going to answer? If we’re ready to take up our cross, it may not mean that have to risk our lives, but what about our friendships and having people talk about us behind our backs? What about alienation from our families? What about the loss of our jobs when we speak out against what’s wrong?

There comes a time when we have to answer this question and make our own confessions, just like Peter. Jesus is here with us right now, present in this gathering as he always is—the walking, talking, living presence of God in our lives. And in a few moments, he’ll be on this Table. When we process to communion, when we extend our hands, when we eat and drink, will we be able to give him our final answer—no opinions, just the testimony of our lives?

“Who do YOU say that I am?”

Father's Day

Sometimes What You Do Speaks So Loud 

I Can’t Hear What You’re Saying

A Father’s Day Homily

June 16, 2013 

When I first started teaching, I taught elementary school. Every year in August, I would spend a considerable amount of time decorating my classroom, hoping that what I placed on the bulletin boards and walls would both reinforce the lessons that I would be teaching that year, but also would inspire my students. In hindsight, I realize now that some of the inspirational sayings that I placed there were probably too deep for seventh and eighth graders and undoubtedly went right over their heads. One of those sayings was this: Sometimes what you do speaks so loud I can’t hear what you’re saying . . . sometimes what you do speaks so loud I can’t hear what you’re saying. I don’t think there was anyone who modeled that better than St. Joseph.

I remember once being amused to hear that a certain Franciscan Theologian from the 19th Century (whose name I can’t remember) wrote a six volume “Life of St. Joseph.” Six volumes?! How could one possibly get enough material? We know so little of Joseph from Scripture. All we are left with is a shadowy figure that generally hovers in the background in paintings of the Holy Family, where he stands, anonymous and silent, faithful to his God-given job of protecting Jesus and Mary. But even though not a word of his is recorded, his actions have much to say, especially to men. And so, on this Father’s Day, we do well to reflect on eight qualities that make St. Joseph a model for manhood, for husbands and for fathers:

1. Saint Joseph was obedient. Joseph was obedient to God’s Will throughout his life. Joseph listened to the angel of the Lord explain the virgin birth in a dream and then took Mary as his wife (Matthew 1:20-24). He was obedient when he led his family to Egypt to escape Herod’s infanticide in Bethlehem (Matthew 2:13-15). Joseph obeyed the angel’s later commands to return to Israel (Matthew 2:19-20) and settle in Nazareth with Mary and Jesus (Matthew 2:22-23). How often does our pride and willfulness get in the way of our obedience to God?

2. Saint Joseph was selfless. In the limited knowledge we have about Joseph, we see a man who only thought of serving Mary and Jesus, never himself. What many may see as sacrifices on his part, were actually acts of selfless love. His devotion to his family is a model for fathers today who may be allowing disordered attachments to the things of this world distort their focus and hinder their vocations.

3. Saint Joseph led by example. None of his words are written in Scripture, but we can clearly see by his actions that he was a just, loving and faithful man. We often think that we primarily influence others by what we say, when so often we are watched for our actions. Every recorded decision and action made by this great saint is the standard for men to follow today.

4. Saint Joseph was a worker. He was a simple craftsman who served his neighbors through his handiwork. He taught his foster son Jesus the value of hard work. It is likely that the humility Joseph exhibited in recorded Scripture spilled over into the simple approach he took to his work and providing for the Holy Family. We can all learn a great lesson from Saint Joseph, who is also the patron saint of workers, on the value of our daily work and how it should exist to glorify God, support our families and contribute to society.

5. Joseph was a man whose vocation is more important than his career. When he was warned by an angel in a dream to leave Bethlehem and travel to Egypt so that Jesus and Mary would safely escape the jealous wrath of King Herod, Joseph may well have had much to lose in that flight. Back in Nazareth he had a career But Joseph was a father and husband before he was a businessman. His child was threatened and his first obligation was to Jesus and Mary. His vocation outweighed his career. In a culture like ours where too many parents make their careers and livelihoods paramount, Joseph points the way for parents: vocation has priority over career. For fathers especially Joseph shows that a man is a husband and father before he is a businessman.

6. Joseph was a teacher. We learn from Scripture that Jesus too was a carpenter (Mk 6:3). It is obvious that it was Joseph who taught this trade to Jesus. It is not enough for a father to provide for his children, he must also prepare them for life. He does this through modeling and teaching discipline, moderation, hard work, self-control, and many other life skills. In our times it is more rare for fathers to teach a trade to their sons or other children. But in the end it’s more important that a man prepares his children for life.

7. Joseph was a protector. Joseph also models a protective instinct that parents should have. Our children, like Jesus was, are exposed to many dangers. Our American scene does not feature a lot of physical dangers but moral dangers surely abound. Fathers, what are your children watching on TV? What are their Internet habits? Who are their friends? What do your children think about important moral issues? Are you preparing them to face the moral challenges and temptations of life? Are you teaching them the faith along with your wife? Or are you just a passive father, uninvolved in the raising of your children? A man protects his children from harm, physical, moral and spiritual. Joseph shows forth this aspect of manhood.

8. Saint Joseph was a leader. But, not in the way we may view leadership today. He led as a loving husband when he improvised to find a stable for Mary to give birth to Jesus, after being turned away from the Bethlehem inn. He led as a man of faith when he obeyed God in all things, took the pregnant Mary as his wife and later brought the Holy Family safely to Egypt. He led as the family provider by working long hours in his workshop to make sure they had enough to eat and a roof over their heads. He led as a teacher by teaching Jesus his trade and how to live and work as a man.

I recently read a story that I think beautifully conveys the qualities that God desires fathers to possess . . qualities so evident in St. Joseph. It’s called, “When God Created Fathers”:

When the good Lord was creating Fathers he started with a tall frame. And an angel nearby said, "What kind of Father is that? If you're going to make children so close to the ground, why have you put fathers up so high? He won't be able to shoot marbles without kneeling, tuck a child in bed without bending, or even kiss a child without a lot of stooping." And God smiled and said, "Yes, he needs to kneel and be humble and besides if I make him child size, who would children have to look up to?"

And when God made a Father's hands, they were large and sinewy. And the angel shook her head sadly and said, "Do you know what you're doing? Large hands are clumsy. They can't manage diaper pins, small buttons, rubber bands on pony tails or even remove splinters caused by baseball bats." And God smiled and said, "I know, but they're large enough to hold everything a small boy empties from his pockets at the end of a day...yet small enough to cup a child's face in his hands."

And then God molded long, slim legs and broad shoulders. And the angel nearly had a heart attack. "Boy, this is the end of the week, all right," she clucked. "Do you realize you just made a Father without a lap? How is he going to pull a child close to him without the kid falling between his legs?" And God smiled and said, "Yes, I'll give him a lap, for both a dad and a mom need a lap big enough for holding. But a dad can also use strong shoulders to pull a sled, balance a boy on a bicycle, and hold a sleepy head on the way home from the circus."

God was in the middle of creating two of the largest feet anyone had ever seen when the angel could contain herself no longer. "That's not fair. Do you honestly think those large boats are going to dig out of bed early in the morning when the baby cries? Or walk through a small birthday party without crushing at least three of the guests?" And God smiled and said, "They'll work. You'll see. They'll support a small child who wants to ride a horse, or scare off mice at the summer cabin, or display shoes that will be a challenge to fill."

God worked throughout the night, giving the Father few words, but a firm authoritative voice; eyes that saw everything, but remained calm and tolerant. Finally, almost as an afterthought, he added tears. Then he turned to the angel and said, "Now, there's a dad!"

As Catholic men, we have a responsibility to be strong fathers and husbands, leaders in our parishes, good stewards in the community and humble followers of Christ. Let’s look to the inspiring example of Saint Joseph, patron saint of fathers, workers and the Universal Church for his obedience, humility, selflessness, courage and the love he showed to Mary and Jesus. If we can emulate St. Joseph even a little each day, we will be that much closer to becoming the men we are called to be.

Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ

Receiving What We Believe

Becoming What We Receive 

Genesis 14:18-20; 1Corinthians 11:23-26; Luke 9: 11b-17 

There’s a story about a religious man who stood on top of a roof during a great flood. A man came by in a boat and said "Get in, get in!" But the religious man replied, " No I have faith in God. He will grant me a miracle."

Later the water was up to the man’s waist and another boat comes by and the man was told once again to get in. But once again he responded that he had faith in God and that God will give him a miracle. Later, with the water now at about chest high, another boat comes to rescue him, and a third time he turns down the offer, again because he believes God will grant him a miracle.

Finally, with the water chin high, a helicopter throws down a ladder and from the helicopter someone yells for him to hop on. But, true to form, now mumbling with the water in his mouth, he again turns down the offer of help for the faith of God.

Well, the man dies and arrives at the gates of heaven with broken faith and says to St. Peter, “I thought God would grand me a miracle and I was let down." St. Peter chuckles and responds, "I don't know what you're complaining about, we sent you three boats and a helicopter!"

Miracles! When we recognize the miracles around us, we are acknowledging a mystery so profound that it is totally beyond human understanding, and it is a reality so wonderful that words can never even come close to explaining it. And so, there comes a point at which reason, speculation and theological discussion must necessarily come to an end, leaving one to simply stand in wonder.

Today we celebrate a miracle, a wonder that cannot be explained, dissected, categorized or disproved by the world of science, because it exists in the realm of faith. As a matter of fact, it is one of the chief doctrines of our faith: the true presence of Christ in the Eucharist - body, blood, soul and divinity. Not just a sign, not a mere symbol, not a representation, not simply a meal of fellowship. It is nothing less than the presence of the same Christ who was born in Bethlehem, the same Christ who walked along the Sea of Galilee and taught the Apostles, the same Christ who died for our sins on the cross. A Protestant Minister once remarked, “If I believed what you Catholics do about the Eucharist, I wouldn’t simply kneel, I would fall flat on my face.”

Today’s feast of Corpus Christi celebrates and reminds us that Jesus Christ is truly present to His people under the guise of bread and wine. In our first reading today, St. Paul recalls for us the words that Jesus spoke at the Last Supper. There surrounded by His Apostles, He took the bread, gave thanks, broke it, and gave it to them, saying: "This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me." In the same way also the cup, after supper, saying, "This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me."

Since that moment almost 2000 years ago, believers have gathered around the altar to speak His words - "This is my Body. This is my Blood." These words spoken over gifts of bread and wine become a reality. For Jesus is truly and really present each time we celebrate the Eucharist, each time we gather to proclaim his death and rising until he comes again.

But the emphasis that we place in the Eucharist must not solely be on the transformation of the elements of bread and wine but also on the transformation of the people who receive it. He wants to make us humble as he was humble in the manger, fill us with power as he was filled at his Baptism, transform us as he was transformed on Mt. Tabor, help us bear suffering as he did on the cross, and unite us with one another as we will all be united at the second coming. We are called to be the hands and feet, the mouth and the heart of Christ in our world today. We are invited to make Him present to the world in the same way He makes Himself present to us in Eucharist. As St. Augustine once said: Believe what you receive. Receive what you believe. Become what you receive.

For we, His People, are the Body of Christ in the world today. We continue His mission in our world. It is not enough to gaze upon the Body of Christ. It is not enough to receive the Body of Christ; we are invited to become the Body of Christ. For what He did with bread, Jesus also does with our lives: He took the bread, blessed the bread, broke the bread, and gave the bread.

And Jesus takes us – He claims us as His own in Baptism.
Jesus blesses us – Just start counting your blessings and you’ll soon see what I mean.
Jesus breaks us – The trials, the sufferings, the school of hard knocks form us.
And Jesus gives us – He gives us to one another that we might love and serve.

Saint Thérèse, the Little Flower, our patroness, once said these beautiful words: "Our Lord does not come down from heaven every day just to remain in the tabernacle. He looks for another tabernacle, the tabernacle of our souls." As I look out from the ambo this evening, I see the Church. Yes, I see our newly renovated sanctuary, the beauty of our altar and Baptismal font, the stained glass windows and statues. But I also see you. For the Church is not just a beautiful building, but you, God's beautiful people. You need to know that before many people will ever walk into the physical building we call our church, they walk into your lived Christian lives, lives nourished on the Eucharist. When they do, will they find the fruit of the Bread of Life, or just the stale bread of the world? The Eucharist should make us like the Christ whom we receive: patient, kind, loving, sacrificial, and desiring to live our lives doing the will of our heavenly Father. That is why we first receive Him in the Church, and then take Him out into the world, to do what He did, to heal, to nourish, to forgive, to heal.

"Body of Christ. Amen." "Blood of Christ. Amen." As we approach the altar during Communion we will hear these words repeated again and again. But these are more than just words. They speak reality to us. The Body of Christ; the Blood of Christ are food and drink for us. They are nourishment and strength for the journey. They speak of our unity with Jesus and our unity with one another. They speak the reality of Him whom we receive - the Body of Christ; and also of whom we are - the Body of Christ.

I don’t pretend to understand this gift of the body and blood of Christ any more than I understand how God is three in one. I don’t understand it, I simply accept it and welcome this hidden God, this marvelous gift, with awe and delight and wonder. I wonder at the goodness of God in giving me this gift. I wonder at his mercy when he can offer his body and blood to a sinner. I wonder at his power in making himself present daily on the altar to millions of Christians in every country throughout the world. But most of all, I stand in wonder because the Eucharist is proof that God never wants to leave us alone. The Eucharist is Christ within us, nourishing us; Christ closer to us than our own skin; Christ feeling our joy and our sorrow; Christ knowing our needs before we can express them; Christ building up our faith life, our spiritual life, our eternal life; Christ, on the Cross, offering himself up for each one of us. To paraphrase Ignatius of Antioch, in the Eucharist we not only put our arms around Jesus, but more importantly, He squeezes us with a hug. He just about takes our breath away. And isn’t that truly something to wonder at!

Bereavement Service

Just Beyond the Rainbow's End

June 1, 2013

“If you have ever lost someone very important to you, then you already know how it feels, and if you haven’t, you cannot possibly imagine it.” That quote is from the opening paragraph in the first of a collection of thirteen books entitled, A Series of Unfortunate Events. The author, who writes dark tales for children under the pen name “Lemony Snicket,” explains that this is how the Baudelaire children felt when they became the Baudelaire orphans after both their parents died in a house fire.

Those words of how difficult it is to convey a sense of loss fit with today’s gospel reading. Martha is hurt when she sees Jesus. She says, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Then she calls for her sister Mary who repeats that same accusation, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

If I had continued reading our Gospel further, we would have heard John tells us that, “When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. He said, ‘Where have you laid him?’ They said to him, ‘Lord, come and see.’” And then, in the shortest verse in all of Scripture, we are told that “Jesus wept.”

Jesus, the Son of God, weeps at the grave of his friend. We too weep over the graves of those we love. Today, at this bereavement service, we remember those we love who have died. That remembrance comes with love and joy-filled memories, but it also comes with sorrow.

It is a sorrow that doesn’t go away. Real grief stays with you. In fact, not only can one not expect grief to go away completely, we also shouldn’t want it to because grief reflects our sense of commitment and love that we had for the person. And so, we pray not for an end to the grief, but for an unbearable sense of loss to be replaced by a sorrow we can bear. And in this, we are helped by the hope of the resurrection.

Jesus said, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” Our faith informs and transforms our understanding of death and tempers our grief. For through faith we know that our loved ones that we remember today are not gone…only their body has died; their spirit lives with God and has gone home to be with Jesus. They are home, home to where they have been welcomed and forgiven and loved…loved more than we could ever imagine. And so, grief is NOT a lack of trust or faith. We can experience profound grief and yet still believe deeply that our loved ones are at home with God. They are two different things. One is our response to our loss…the other is a response to their gain.

“Jesus wept” - the shortest line in Scripture, but also perhaps the most profound, because it reminds us that God can identify with our experience, that in becoming human, God was and is with us in Jesus, in a way that caused him to experience the depths of human pain and loss. God can readily imagine grief because he himself has known that pain firsthand.

God is not distant and reserved. God is close, caring, and compassionate. Scripture tells us that the time is coming when God will wipe away every tear from our eyes and when even death itself will be defeated. Yet, in the here and now, there are many tragedies, personal and even national or international, which cause people to question their faith.

In all these cases people ask, “Where is God?” And the answer is: “with us.” God was there when the flood waters rose during Super Storm Sandy. God was there grieving with the parents who lost their children to the violence on that December day in Newtown, CT. God is with the people of Oklahoma amidst the tragedy of the loss of life and property caused by the recent tornado there. God is there in the tragedies large and small that have us wondering why. God is there in the midst of suffering, present with those in pain, as one who learned the depths of human suffering while living among us.

Knowing that Christ knows how it feels to experience the death of a loved one, we can hear more clearly Jesus call to put away the fear of death. Jesus said, “Unbind him and let him go” to those around Lazarus. And he says the same to us. We are to be unbound, set free from the power of death and the hold that grief can have upon us. Grief is real, but the loss we experience is not the end. Don’t let grief overwhelm you. Grab hold of the sure and certain hope of the resurrection that comes through faith in Jesus Christ.

I recently came across a song by Irish singer, Daniel O’Donnell. I think it beautifully conveys what our loved ones would want to tell us if they could this morning. The song is called, “At the Rainbow’s End”:

I have gone from sight but I am waiting . . . 

Waiting just beyond the rainbow's end.

I'm happy in this place that I have come to

Because I'm here with my forever friend.

Now all your thoughts of me, let them be joyful . . . 

Of things we've done and happy times we shared.

So don't be sad dear ones because I've left you . . . 

Please laugh and talk of me as if I'm there.

Just look up in the sky: I am the sunshine . . . 

I'm the mist that rises on the summer morn . . . 

I'm the gentle breeze that cools the autumn evening . . .

When the birds sing in the trees I'm their song.

This journey I've made one day you'll make it -

You too will be with my forever friend.

It's there once more that we'll be together . . . 

I'll meet you just beyond the rainbow's end.

It's there once more that we'll be together . . . 

I'll meet you just beyond the rainbow's end.

Yes, I'm waiting just beyond the rainbow's end.