Sunday, February 21, 2016

Second Sunday of Lent (Cycle C)

WHEN THE ORDINARY BECOMES THE EXTRAORDINARY
Genesis 15: 5-12, 17-18; Philippians 3: 17-4:1; Luke 9:28B-36 

It was an ordinary day, an ordinary Saturday in November of 1967. It began in the normal ordinary Saturday way with hard seeded rolls, jelly donuts and crumb buns for breakfast. That ordinary Saturday was also my father’s 50th birthday. And amidst the ordinary table conversation and birthday wishes, I suddenly sat speechless and wide-eyed when my father began to cry. It was the first time in the eleven years of my life that I had ever seen my father cry. He even surprised himself, for he was not one to give in to emotion. Through the tears, his voice choked, “I don’t know why I’m crying!” I wouldn’t see my father cry again for another forty-one years, until the day my mother died. But after that, I saw him cry frequently. I remember that Saturday over forty-eight years ago, because on that day, the ordinary became extraordinary, as the strong, wise, ever-placid, seemingly dauntless, deeply loved, deservingly respected hero of mine, became even more worthy of my love and admiration and hero-worship For on that day, before my eyes, my father revealed the sensitive, emotional, sentimental man that he, up till then, kept hidden. On that day, amidst the ordinary, the extraordinary was revealed.

That memory came to mind this week as I reflected on today’s Gospel. For it had been an ordinary day two thousand years ago when Jesus took a stroll up a mountain with Peter, James and John. An ordinary occurrence – so ordinary that Scripture doesn’t even reveal what mountain it was. An ordinary day in the life of three apostles, retreating up a mountain to pray with Jesus before a busy day of ministry . . . of anxious crowds, of preaching, of healing. But on that day, the ordinary became the extraordinary for during that trek up the mountain, Jesus becomes transfigured. His appearance becomes glorified. Blinding light emanates from him. Moses and the prophet Elijah, two of the greatest figures from the Hebrew Scriptures, are there in his presence. And a voice announces, “This is my Beloved Son. Listen to him!” Yes, on that ordinary day, before the eyes of Peter, James and John, the rabbi, the healer, the prophet revealed that there was so much more to him than what met the eye. Eight days earlier he had revealed to them that he was the messiah. But today he demonstrates that he is not just messiah, but infinitely more . . . the Son of God. Amidst the ordinary, the extraordinary was revealed.

And that’s the way life is. Sometimes in the midst of the ordinary, the everyday, the common, the usual, the routine, the monotonous - the extraordinary is revealed. Christ is transfigured . . . BEFORE OUR VERY EYES . . . Do we notice it? Are we even looking for it? Sadly, we often miss it. The God-moments in our lives become lost amidst a flurry of activity, the din of noise, the responsibilities and obligations we have, the priorities we set. 

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we had a permanent awareness of God with us in our lives? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we woke up every morning and there was an angel sitting on the edge of the bed and we could see the Holy Spirit and hear God speak to us in a clear, audible voice? That really would make being a Christian much easier. But life isn’t like that, is it?

The reality is that, as the Bible tells us, we walk by faith not by sight. Moments of absolute clarity about the presence of God with us are few and far between. If you’ve been fortunate enough to experience that profound awareness of the presence of God in your life here at church, or on a retreat, or even in nature, you know that the moment fades just as quickly as it arose and all we’re left with is a warm afterglow and a beautiful memory of that special experience of God. And it leaves us longing for more. 

That’s how Peter, James and John felt. They wanted to stay atop the mountain in order to prolong the extraordinary experience that had given them peace and joy and spiritual clarity. They wanted to pitch their tents, to bottle up the spiritual high to preserve it forever. 

But while the moment of Transfiguration was an incredible moment of blessing, Jesus didn’t want his disciples to rest there. Because the reality of Christian discipleship is that we’re called not to bottle the incredible moments of deep intimacy with God. We can’t live, at least in this life, on the mountaintop of spiritual highs. Instead, we are to find God in the ordinary and in the everyday moments of life: in the commute to work, on the bus ride to school, in the run of the mill routine of life, with all its joys and sorrow, excitement and boredom. And if the ordinary is where we live, then we need to learn to find God there.

Author and professor, Fr. Michael Downy has said, “Human life—all of it—is the precinct of epiphany: of God’s showing, of God’s constant speaking and breathing. God shows up. We should not be surprised. We should expect him.” But how do we do that? Here’s five suggestions:

1. SLOW DOWN. We’re now in the season of Lent. The word LENT is derived from the Latin word lento, which means “slow down.” We need to slow down, to simplify our lives, to clear our schedules, and to turn down the noise. If your life is too cluttered, too busy, too noisy, your world is too stuck in the ordinary to ever notice the extraordinary.

2. CHANGE YOUR SENSE OF CONSCIOUSNESS: When I taught at Paramus Catholic, I was introduced to how the De LaSalle Christian Brothers begin prayer. Before they prayed at the beginning of class they would take a few seconds to pause and reflect after saying, “Let us remember that we are in the holy presence of God.” I was told that originally, that wasn’t just done before prayer, but that their daily routine would be interrupted several times a day to reflect on that awesome reality: We are in the holy presence of God! ALWAYS! We need to change our sense of consciousness to constantly remind ourselves of that.

3. STOP TALKING AND START LISTENING: Remember what God the Father said in response to Peter’s offer to build the three tents: “This is my Beloved Son, LISTEN TO HIM!” We need to listen, to be attentive to God’s voice: in Scripture, in the teachings of the Church, when he speaks through other people, and especially when he speaks to us in prayer. Prayer should never be a monologue. It’s meant to be a dialogue. Plain and simple - relationship can’t happen if the only voice your listening to is your own. 

4. PUT YOURSELF IN THE RIGHT PLACES WITH THE RIGHT PEOPLE: God doesn’t tolerate evil. He can’t – he’s pure goodness. If we want to become more aware of God’s presence in the ordinary, we have to avoid the places where he isn’t. We need to avoid those harmful places, whether they be physical or cyber, as well as those toxic people that are near occasions of sin. 

5. HOUSECLEAN YOUR LIFE – YOUR MIND, YOUR HEART AND YOUR SOUL: In the Beatitudes, Jesus said, “Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God.” We need purify ourselves and get rid of the cobwebs, dust, dirt, fog and smog that obstruct God’s presence in our lives. And the best way to begin that is to go to the Sacrament of Reconciliation. 

In a half hour or so, you’ll all be leaving church to return home, to go shopping, to go visiting, to engage in some weekend plans you’ve made, or simply to rest up for the grueling week ahead. But as you go, remember that you do not leave God’s presence behind. Remember that amidst the ordinary is the extraordinary. Go and find it, so that no matter where life takes you, you, like Peter, can say, “Lord, it’s good for us to be here.”

Wednesday, February 10, 2016

Ash Wednesday

PLEASE BE PATIENT . . .
GOD ISN'T FINISHED WITH ME YET
Joel 2: 12-18; 2 Corinthians 5:20 – 6:2; Matthew 6: 1-6, 16-18 

When I was in high school, I had a Latin teacher by the name of Dr. Leitner. He was steely-eyed, strict, condescending, and arrogant. I spent most of high school being terrified of him. But all that changed one day, when he came into class wearing a big button on his lapel. Forty-two years later, I don’t remember much of what he taught us about, except how to conjugate a few Latin verbs. But I do remember that button. It said: “Please be patient. God isn’t finished with me yet.”

Whether we realize it or not, today we proclaim that same message. We won’t do it with a button on a lapel…but with ashes on our brow. Receiving these ashes serves a number of purposes. First, it proclaims to the world that we are Catholic Christians. It tells others that we are preparing for Easter, embarking on this 40-day journey of fasting and prayer and almsgiving. And, significantly, it announces that the light of Christ burning within us is not as bright as it should be—it has been darkened by dust. We need to bring forth the light, to be ready for the great feast of Easter. But most of all, the ashes we wear announce to the world this plain fact: we’re sinners. They tell all who see us that we are beginning 40 days of prayer, and repentance, and sacrifice — that we are Catholic Christians seeking somehow to reconcile ourselves with God.

One of the things I love about our faith is that our God is a God of second chances, fresh starts, and new beginnings. In the Bible we read these epic tales of the incredible ways that God transformed people and their lives: Moses, Noah, Jonah, Jeremiah, David, Joseph, Mary, Peter, James, Matthew, Zacchaeus, Paul, Lydia, Mary Magdalene, the woman at the well, and so many others whose names we don’t know. Why not you and me? Why not now?

What’s happening in your life right now? What’s not working in your life? What great question are you grappling with in your heart? Do you need a fresh start too? Welcome to Lent! 

These ashes say that we’re works in progress. They say: please be patient. God isn’t finished with me yet. He isn’t finished with any of us. That’s the great wonder and consolation of Lent.

I’ve been reading a lot on Facebook today about people giving something up for Lent. Several have said their Facebook “goodbyes,” because they’ll be giving up Facebook itself. Thousands (millions?) will be giving up chocolate, French fries, coffee, swearing, late-night snacks, food during the day, or some such thing.

But if you truly want to give up something, don’t just settle for chocolate or hamburgers or cheesecake – though right about now, I think, we’d all like to lose that weight we gained over Christmas. Go further. Go deeper. Try giving up something really hard, something that costs, not money, but something of yourself.

Give up cynicism. Or jealousy. Or backstabbing. Give up gossip. Give up regrets for choices you never made or paths your never took. 

Give up fighting God’s will for you. Give up always forgetting that the most famous prayer in the world doesn’t include the phrase “MY will be done,” but “THY will be done.” 

Give up whatever fear or anxiety is keeping you from going to confession, and just go. Give up being too busy to pray or being too worried to hope. 

Because in giving up one of these things we acknowledge that God isn’t finished with us yet and that we’re open to cooperating with him towards becoming the finished product, the masterpiece, he calls us to be. 

And so . . . 
Here we are on this Ash Wednesday, such as we are . . . 
Imperfect.
Confessing.
Repentant.
Hopeful.
Listening.

Here we are, such as we are. . . 
Willing to be melted
And molded.
Wanting a newly created 
Pure heart.

Here we are, such as we are . . . 
Branded with a mark . . . 
Christ’s unmistakable mark . . .
The sign of His cross.

Our prayer, our hope, our deepest yearning is that He leads us . . . 
That He walks with us these 40 days . . . 
That He walks with us always.

And as we embark on that journey, and begin this 40 day adventure, remember one more thing. Be patient. With yourselves. And with everyone else. Because God isn’t finished with any of us yet.