Prophet Amos was going about his business when he realized that things around him were just not going as they should.  Israelites were not listening to the wisdom handed down to them, and a religious leader named Amariah was chief among those who were not living as God had called them to live.  Nonetheless, Amariah went after Amos and tried to shut him up.  But Amos simply said that he had no intention of being a prophet—just a man making a living like everyone else.

But he had seen enough.  Leaders like Amariah had sold their souls to the wealthy and were ignoring those in need.  These “autocrats” were running everything and in the process were ignoring those who struggled to make a living.  N.B., To be an “autocrat” means to be a ruler who has absolute power (like Putin of Russia and a trend among some in the U.S. who have been pushing to give power to the office of president—without the “checks and balances” of the legislative and judicial branches of government.  Today’s political landscape has produced the political vision known as the “2025 Project” (a document promoted by an extremely wealthy class of autocrats clothed in the patriotic name “The Heritage Foundation”).

Amariah and Amos represent opposing ethical perspectives that have existed throughout history—siding with the comfortable and wealthy OR siding with the middle and poor classes of citizens.  Christians are called to imitate Amos—not Amariah.

When elections take place, we often hear people say that Americans vote their pocketbooks—basing their vote on what party they THINK will serve their bank accounts.  Social scientists have observed that people often vote AGAINST their self-interest when THINKING a certain person or party represents their pocketbook better than another candidate or party.  Americans are also said to NOT consider “foreign policy” their big attention-getter.  People of goodwill espouse positions on both sides of the divide.

Our Old Testament reading this week reminds us that the competing positions of Amariah and Amos are still alive and well in America.  The call of Jesus to see all people as our brothers and sisters means that “foreign policy” is a secular way of referring to how we are relating to our relatives.  Economic policy is a matter of concern for all Christians.  We are called to take care of less successful people.  We are not called to preserve our wealth, or anything, at the expense of other people.  That’s why greed is a capital sin—a powerful movement within the human mind that stirs an interior spirit that is not the Holy Spirit.

Today’s gospel addresses our financial well-being from a totally different angle.  Namely, we learn that Jesus told his disciples not to take food with them, not bring a change of clothing, and carry no money.  Jesus told them to rely on the kindness of people they’d meet along the way.  Down through the years, his counsel has been taken by many to mean that we Christians should not only live as men and women of modest means, but that it is some sort of spiritual ideal to be destitute and not have any of “the nicer things of life.

This understanding led to the founding of monasteries and people trying to live on alms in exchange for their prayers.  Living the simple life and not flaunting one’s wealth is certainly a part of Christian identity, but this passage is not calling Christians to impose on the generosity of others.  Positively, our Christian witness to living as people of modest means is a challenge to an American culture that fosters what is known as “conspicuous consumption.”  Notice how people fill up their attics and garages, and then have to rent storage space for what goods they’ve accumulated over the years.

Do you or I REALLY need another (fill in the blank)?  Can our funds for low and high-price knick-knacks be better directed at something that helps other people?

In the time of Jesus, and in that part of the world, a premier virtue that is well known in scripture is “hospitality.”  In today’s gospel, Jesus is simply giving his disciples some pragmatic advice.  If this passage had him speaking in today’s language, we’d hear him say: “Hey guys, be sure not to take money or food or a suitcase of belongings with you.  There’s too good a chance that you be mugged, beat up, and robbed.  So just travel light.”

THAT is his simple message in today’s gospel.  He’s not offering a spiritual strategy of living that is to be taught for all ages.  He knew that hospitality is expected in that region of the world, and his guys needed to rely on that cultural behavior.  Whereas we automatically assist relatives who pass our way, hospitality is different.  It is still a Christian virtue that calls us to welcome the stranger.  In the time of Jesus, it was an expected behavior that would serve his disciples when they were traveling.

On this Sunday, the 14^th of July, France is celebrating what it calls “Bastille Day.”  The Bastille was an infamous prison that saw many French people suffer within it—under the leadership of the monarchy and wealthy “autocrats.”  The people rebelled, sent many to the guillotine, and eventually set up that country’s form of democracy.  Today in France, people are happy that they are not ruled by a tyrant who is “owned” by big business and industry.  Happy Bastille Day, France.  It was a French nun and priest who revealed the devotion our parish honors when being called “Sacred Heart.”

This date is also the feast of Kateri Tekakwitha, once well-known as “the lily of the Mohawks.”  Her people were part of a confederacy known to history books as the “Iroquois” but who were a people who called themselves the “Hoe-dee-nuh-show-nee.”  Other tribes within this group were the Cayuga, Oneida, Tuscarora, Seneca, and Onondaga (the same name as the Michigan town outside of Lansing).  They occupied northern New York and southern Quebec.

Kateri’s family was wiped out by smallpox and she was disabled in walking.  Her facial scars from the pox made her self-conscious.  Over time, she got close to the Jesuit priests and became a devout Catholic along with other women of her people.  Upon her death at 23, witnesses claimed that her face lost its marks and became clear—something those present considered miraculous as her final words were “Jesus, I love you.”  Since her death, people visited her burial site, and she was remembered over time as someone who merited sainthood.

That honor came to Kateri on October 12, 2012 when she was canonized by Pope Benedict.  Globally, people are quick to see things or believe things that don’t exist—like the face of Jesus or Mary appearing on a pancake, and then seeing the pancake as a sacred object.  Because we humans are quick to ascribe sainthood to our mothers, grandmothers, and other family members, the Church has been more demanding when acknowledging a claim to saintliness.  Hence a miracle or two are needed as “evidence” of God’s hand at work in the person’s life.

Kateri’s miracle came when a little boy named Jake Finkbonner cut his lip when playing.  An infection set in, and within a short time the family was told his condition was touch and go.  Blest with a relic of Kateri, Jake was healed, an investigation ensued, and the Church recognized a miracle as having taken place.  Now 24 years old, Jake is a college graduate and practicing Catholic.  He claims to have visited heaven while recovering and said that Jesus told him that he couldn’t stay there—but instead had to go home and live out his vocation.

When all of this unfolded, I saw it as another example of “Coincidence is God’s way of remaining anonymous.”  The miraculous healing had not occurred in Europe or Africa but instead took place within a family of American Indian descent.  Moreover, the young boy’s “issue” disfigured his face (as had occurred with Kateri).  Other elements further reinforced this motif of aligning with something out of the ordinary.

Should you care to Google his story, here’s an article from a diocesan newspaper published in 2023.:

https://nwcatholic.org/news/nathan-whalen-b6c48bcc-daf2-4f89-83ed-e8f645f27479/kent-parish-s-parade-float-highlights-its-historic-chapel

This week’s readings bring to mind the role of “prophet” in both scripture and our lives.  The word is used in everyday conversation.  It refers to one who can predict what will take place in the future.  That is, one seems to know what is going to occur at some future date.  This meaning, however, is not how the word is used as a theological term.  Within that realm, it refers to one who, in some way, tells the community what God wants people to do NOW!  In scripture, the content of prophetic voices often upsets people and the people want to kill the prophet.  What’s being said is the truth, but many do not want to hear the truth for some reason.  Maybe this experience is how a saying came about: “The truth hurts.”

In today’s first reading from Ezekiel, we hear him indict the people for being “stiff-necked” and hard-hearted.  He scolds them for not attending to their ethical responsibilities generation after generation.  They had been given laws to live by and leaders to show them how to live, but they ignored this heavenly help—and went their own way.  I couldn’t help but think that Ezekiel could speak to us just as well (which, in fact, he is doing today in scripture).  I was reminded of a 19th-century Jesuit priest who regularly traveled among Indian tribes between St. Louis and the Oregon coast.

Pierre De Smet, S.J. would go on horseback and travel alone among the tribes—visiting with them, teaching them Christianity, baptizing hundreds, and winning the respect and admiration of diverse Native groups.  He reported in his diary that the people traveling west had no concern for the landscape.  He said they left trash everywhere along the way.  Sounding like a 21st-century ecologist, De Smet expressed chagrin that so many had so little respect for Mother Earth’s beauty.

If ever there were a “prophet” in Christian history, it was Paul.  Along with the gospels, his letters (“epistles”) make up most of the New Testament.  They report his experiences in Mediterranean cities, and Corinth was one of those cities that posed a strong challenge.  There he encountered “false apostles.”  These were men whose gift for speaking to crowds could “transform Satan himself into an angel of light.”  These men passed themselves off as insightful and trustworthy, but Paul knew them for what they were—deceivers of the people.  Unfortunately, they were tough opponents, and Paul felt weak when admitting he had a “thorn in the flesh” that made his efforts all the more difficult.

However, Paul said that even his weakness could serve God, and countless generations have followed his example.  In admitting our weakness, we can call upon God all the more for the grace to discover our strength—and apply it to the circumstances that might bring about the changes we want to see take place.  Paul never stated what, exactly, his “thorn” was.  It can be a metaphor that each of us can identify within ourselves.  Namely, each of us struggles with lifting our varied crosses.  But those crosses are not the last word!  Like Paul, we are called to be prophets—even though we have these challenges.  Like Paul, our being a prophet can still take place even though we have one or another metaphorical “thorn.”  Each of us, in some way, can help people identify God’s voice in their lives.

Homilies are supposed to associate scripture’s meaning with contemporary issues, and the presidential debate connects with the topic of “prophet” since candidates were supposed to present their sense of what is “good for America.”  God is the author of “good,” so we should have witnessed a debate that provided us with a vision of the “good” that these men would bring to the country.  Presumably, they would have “prophetic” voices calling us to affirm their vision.  Instead, we hear commentators talk endlessly about whether or not candidates for political offices should not be allowed to run if they are over a certain age.

I think of my good Jesuit friend who died this past December at age 95.  We spoke every 3 or 4 weeks since my coming here.  Jim was a man whose memory was far better than mine and his analytical skill was a gift I wish I had.  At age 95, he had a mind I wish I had—years ago, and not just now.  In short, it has been my experience to see elders who may be sharp-witted and elders who are not—just as there are younger people who are in both categories.  One’s age does not guarantee anything.

This reminded me of yet another topic bandied about in the news—a candidate’s religious practice.  Biden has been a lifelong practicing Catholic and friend of Pope Francis.  Just as when Kennedy was running for office and hoped to win the “Catholic vote,” so do some hope Biden will win that same voting block.  However, Trump has never had a religious practice and so hopes to win the secular block of voters.  One candidate’s “voice” might appeal to one group and their opponent’s voice to another group—so maybe this angle is a “wash” when it comes to enlisting voters.

My sense of the presidential debate was that neither candidate brought people to their feet with applause.  And no, I’m not promoting Robert Kennedy, Jr. as some kind of preferred alternative.  I had a great conversation several years ago with his sister, and she’s the sort of person who’d fit quite well in our parish.  She and the rest of her family are making every effort to see that no one votes for her brother (not because of their history with assassinations but because of his positions on important issues).  The family is not in his political camp and is concerned about his state of mind.

“Debate” has special meaning for me.  As a junior in high school, I was teamed up with a fellow student, and we debated 2 senior girls the topic: “Is teenage conformity good or bad?”  This event was a big one for us high school kids.  The student body assembled in the gymnasium, and the 4 of us addressed the topic for an hour on Detroit radio.  My brother tape-recorded the debate, and I have that recording on a cassette.  When I look at that cassette, I am reminded of my performance that day.  It taught me that I have little, if any, ability to think on my feet and debate a topic—even a topic that I fully understand and support.

Several years ago, I was asked to speak at DePaul University in Chicago.  I was happy to do so and made travel plans.  However, when I learned that there would be two others in attendance who might represent perspectives in conflict with my own, I knew this would not be a good experience. I did not think a debate forum would be appropriate and bowed out of the event.  I had zero confidence in arguing points with any person face-to-face. When I bowed out of the occasion, my exit did not endear me to the DePaul organizers.

Prophetic voices take place on much smaller stages in life.  Candidates for political office live in their world, university folk in theirs, and we ”ordinary folk” appear onstage and live—in our homes and gardens and churches.  Where is there a need for prophetic voices in these unimposing venues?  Here’s one.

Each year on July 4^th, there is a “hot dog eating contest” sponsored by Nathan’s Hot Dogs of New York.  The event attracted 35,000 people and is an international commercial designed to sell Nathan’s hot dogs.  People in attendance have a good time and bring business to Coney Island (where it is held).  This year’s winning male ate 58 hot dogs and the winning female ate 51.  Elsewhere, 100 million people are starving in different countries around the world.

We in the U.S. can normalize the massive waste of food at this event because we have “normalized” destructive behaviors. Centuries ago, our ancestors in the Roman Coliseum had a good time watching a different kind of dining.  They watched lions tear apart Christian men, women, and children—all in the name of enjoying a nice afternoon of entertainment.  These behaviors are joined by many others that have become commonplace—such as being entertained by having wild bears, lions, tigers, and other sensate beings put in close proximity to one another so that they fight to the death—all for the entertainment of wealthy individuals with no conscience to reign in their blood-lust.

Were you to speak with any of these people who are involved with hot dog gluttony, the Coliseum massacres, or animal torture—what would your “prophetic voice” be for them?  Do you ever see other behaviors in America that have become “normalized” and that have dulled the sense of people toward one another or the creation we share with all life forms?  “Civility” (aka “Christian charity”) has taken a back seat to name-calling and posters on cars and front lawns broadcasting the slang “F” word referring to political leaders.  These are affronts to Christian behavior that even Christians employ.

I’m reminded of contemporary Poland having laws against such things as people intentionally destroying a bird’s nest that has young within it.  We can learn from Poland to respect life’s diversity.  A prophetic voice needs to be heard in all realms of life.

The Supreme Court shocked 99% of the legal profession and most Americans when it recently ruled that an American president cannot be charged with crimes when doing “official” business.  From grade school on, Americans have been taught that no one is above the law—but this Court upended history and made this tragic ruling.  I’m reminded of hearing years ago the following argument.  A man who was running for public office was said to be “blind” to the challenges of the common person in America.  A representative of the candidate replied: “Who better to lead the blind than another blind person?”

In this instance, scripture was twisted upside down to endorse the candidate.  The answer to the question—in case you didn’t know—was that “Whoever leads the blind sure better NOT be blind!”  But the spin-meister for the candidate was passing off a deficiency as a virtue—trying to confuse listeners into associating the candidate with compassion and knowledge (which the candidate did not have).  Even the devil can quote scripture.

Also in this week’s news is the story of someone who was SUPPOSED to speak with a prophetic voice doing the exact opposite.  Archbishop Vigano was EXCOMMUNICATED from the Church.  He had been the Vatican representative to the U.S.—a plum job for clergy wanting positions of high status.  The Archbishop was found guilty of creating schism in the Church by trying to lead a revolt against the implementation of Vatican II and the leadership of Pope Francis.  He thought the Vatican Council was a major mistake perpetrated by Pope Saint John XXIII.

This Archbishop has tried to influence other clergy and laypeople to think as he did.  He argued that Vatican II was fraudulent—just as some have thought that our 2020 election was fraudulent.  In both cases, their claims were without merit, but both cases still have their supporters.  Sadly, the Archbishop’s issues have not persuaded him to be more conciliatory.  He continues to call the Pope by his birth name (Bergoglio) and is defiant in his effort to exercise authority.  He likely thinks he is speaking a prophetic voice, but his issues are not easy to associate with what Jesus would presumably say.

And this is the challenge of our being a prophetic voice.  We are challenged to discern if what we say is what God would want us to say—or are we simply expressing our opinion on one or another matter?  Clergy from all denominations and religious communities struggle with (or avoid) the call to be prophetic—for fear of alienating their congregations, or seeing their collection baskets gather dust.  Laypeople likewise struggle when realizing their family members or friends will carry a grudge or ignore them for offering Gospel-based thinking.

Paul seems to have become adept at dealing with people who gave him a rough time (almost killing him on occasion).  He somehow managed to speak prophetic words to people who eventually had a “conversion experience” and who began to see life issues through the lens of the Gospel.  Through the graces acquired in his practice of the faith, he was able to cope with the “thorns” that challenged his efforts.  May our practice of the faith help us do the same.

How on earth can the story of a woman suffering from hemorrhages for 12 years be related to our lives?  No problem!  How so?  Did you notice that the scene was described as overflowing with people—a rock-concern-like crowd following Jesus?  The woman thinks to herself that if only she touched the cloak of Jesus, her condition might improve.  She touches him, and Jesus feels her touch—and asks the disciples “Who touched me?”  They, of course, don’t know who he’s referring to because all sorts of people are brushing up against him and them.  But Jesus notices her—and speaks to her.

Imagine looking at a photo—of Jesus in a large crowd speaking face to face with an individual—and now put your face on that individual.  Such is the message of this incident.  You and I are not lost in the crowd of 7 billion people who inhabit the earth.  You are special, and you have a special role within the community.  Your presence is felt by the Lord, and his message to her is one of welcome—saying that her ritual impurity that alienated her from Temple presence and the community—is non-existent.  He is welcoming her back, or integrating her into the community.

And so it is with each of us.  We have our “impurities” that aren’t the same as those besetting the woman and her bleeding condition.  But each of us feels alienation from others—either self-imposed or imposed upon us.  As ever, our identity is supposed to reflect what Jesus taught—and so a part of our Gospel presence is that we extend hospitality and be a person who welcomes others into community.  This is our calling as Christians.

On this topic of our vocation, the Diocese had its quarterly meeting of priests, and once again concluded the meeting with 3 of the clergy telling their vocation story.  Bishop Gruss and his brother bishops are trying their best to encourage vocations, and we experienced his outreach on this topic when he visited us and presided at a “holy hour” prayer service.

In light of today’s gospel passage and the theme of vocation, I will report some elements of my experience enroute to being a Jesuit.  Telling our story has been encouraged in the hope that our people in the pews might receive some seeds of thought that take root in their heart on this topic of “vocation.”  After all, each person here today—if they take their faith seriously—is here because they are asking God to help them further clarify the role they are to place as people of the Way.

Vocation is not just a word associated with priests, brothers, and nuns, but is a word associated with our core identity.  If you think that you’ve lived your life and have fulfilled your purpose in life—you’re wrong!!!  You and I are not finished discovering what God calls us to be, to say, and to do—until we’re called to eternity.  As the image of last week’s gospel pictures us—we’re all in this together—like passengers in a boat on sometimes turbulent waters.

The priests who told of their vocation presented different experiences they had which moved them to pursue the priesthood.  Our own TJ Fleming wonderfully told of his never regretting his response to God’s call.  Another priest told of how instrumental his parents were in fostering his vocation, I smiled in recalling my parents having little influence other than to affirm whatever “good” path I ever pondered—priesthood just being one such good path.

Overall, the priestly biographies tell of God speaking to each person individually—just like the woman in the crowd.  She had her problems, and so do each of us.  But God still calls us—into community as a vital presence supporting others.

When I think of “moments” in life that were influential, I think of many.  Seeing films like “Joan of Arc,” “Bells of St. Mary’s,” “The Keys of the Kingdom,” “Barabbas,” and others were seeds of inspiration to a young kid who became me.  Mom giving me the book “St. Francis of the Seven Seas” was also influential.  I got it on my Confirmation day in the 4^th grade.  It was the life of St. Francis Xavier, an early Jesuit and patron saint of Missionaries.  In high school, I read a book about life in the Jesuit Order titled “I’ll Die Laughing.”  This book humanized the images of “priest” and religion that were often spiritually intimidating.  These Jesuits seemed to have a “riot” when not functioning formally in their many roles.

It’s not holy-holy experiences that alone motivate us to discover what God wants us to do.  Sometimes painful experiences move us to search for what Ignatius calls “the more” that might satisfy our hunger.  Priests at my parish growing up were not always inspirational.  They were sometimes not people I cared to be near.  Others were good–like one who was assigned to my high school for his first priestly assignment—a man who would one day be Bishop Ken Untener.

A challenge experienced by many when considering priesthood was the idea of “falling in love.”  How could I lose my heart to someone and serve in a Church that forbade a married clergy (since the 12^th century)?  And just when I had to make up my mind about entering the Jesuits, a darling girl captured my heart senior year.  How could I leave her warm presence for the cold atmosphere of a Jesuit novitiate (place where “novices” begin training)?

Today’s gospel referred to “fear and trembling,” and those words described my body and soul on entrance day.  I joined 21 other guys—none of whom I knew—and admitted to them in a group “sharing” session that “I don’t know how long I’ll be here because I don’t know if God wants me here or not.”  No sooner did I say that than a second-year novice said “Mike, try to be more positive and avoid negative statements.”  Strike one!

Initially feeling out of place, I overcame the fear and trembling and ended up being the only one to remain in the Order out of those 22 who entered that day.  Befriending a second-year novice, we shared our backgrounds with one another, played ball, did studies, and had a fine friendship until the day he informed me that he was leaving the Order.  At the time, I thought I’d never see him again, but circumstances unfolded such that he married that darling girl who owned my heart senior year.  I must have painted such a good portrait of her—that he was not averse to seeking a relationship.  They married one another, produced fine kids, and the 3 of us remain warm friends.

I think back to the emotional hit of leaving her behind and thinking of her every day in novitiate—and just laugh and roll my eyes.  All that needless emotional output!!  Jesus said to the woman “Your faith has saved you”—and so it was with me.  Staying on track despite the challenge—eventually produced the best results for both them and me.

As a sophomore in high school, I was reprimanded by a nun who asked me to make up for my mistakes by attending a Legion of Mary meeting.  This group was not a “cool” crowd, and I was the only boy in attendance.  They prayed the rosary and reported what service work they had done since the last meeting.  At the meeting’s end, the nun said “You’re coming to next week’s meeting, Michael, aren’t you?”  What was I to say?

As I’ve reported in the past, “God writes straight in crooked lines.”  I was asked to teach summer bible school at an inner city parish in Detroit—and once again I didn’t know how to say “No thanks.”  Teaching first and second-grade Black kids was a joy.  I love them, and I turned out to be a White guy they could appreciate.  I did that for 3 summers, and I think the roots of my role as a teacher were sewn at that time.

My membership in the Legion of Mary ended on a humorous note.  I was asked to a public school prom by a girl I met at a party.  She asked if I’d be her prom date, and I agreed.  After the prom, we accompanied another couple who became amorous—me in the back seat with my date.  Feeling uncomfortable in the back seat conversing while the other couple did not converse, I told my date that I had to get up early the next morning because I had to go downtown to attend a Legion of Mary meeting.  I never saw these 3 people again.  2 months later, I entered the Jesuits.

When I visited with 3 former Jesuits with whom I was in studies, I thought of what great guys they were during my early years in the Order.  They’re still great guys today—making their contribution to the world via other vocations.  I stayed and they left.  As with every life, mine had challenges.  But whatever might be considered worthwhile accomplishments—were attributable to asking God for the same guidance that each one here at Mass asks of God. May we be open to laboring in new landscapes in which to live our vocation.

Acronyms are popular, and the word “bible” appropriately serves as an acronym that defines what this “good book” is!  The Bible provides us with “basic information before leaving earth.”  This week’s readings are good examples of how this is so.  We have some very important knowledge—relevant to each of us—conveyed in the Genesis reading and the Gospel.

Remember that for centuries it was thought by many that Moses wrote the first 5 books of the Bible.  Some might still hold this belief, but scholars say otherwise.  Genesis, for example, is a book of many stories that were no doubt part of a people’s oral tradition.  Over time, unknown editors compiled the text we know today.

As with all cultures, this Israelite literature contained “etiological tales” (stories that told of how things came to be).  Among other things, today’s story explains why we wear clothing (or rather, why the ancient ISRAELITES thought people wore clothing; or, perhaps this part of the narrative was a child’s story.  That is, maybe elders told their inquisitive children when asked “Why do we have clothing and not walk around naked?”  In this instance, the misbehavior of Adam and Eve accounts for why we wear clothing.  Recall that pain at childbirth, death, and having to toil to survive are also part of this origin story.

A misconception that has been around for 2000 years is that the serpent in the story was the devil.  If this has been your understanding (and I suspect it might very well be)—forget it.  Regarding the serpent as “the devil” has never been the teaching of this Israelite origin story.  Equating the devil with the serpent did not come about until the time of Jesus—centuries after the Genesis story was committed to paper (or rather, papyrus, or animal skins used for writing on scrolls).  It was a first-century writing, The Life of Adam and Eve, that the snake-as-devil slithered into our consciousness.  And ever since, generations of teachers misled their listeners.

An engaging topic is determining when the idea of “devil” even arose within the Bible.  Too broad a topic to address here, just keep this in mind.  What Christians tend to call the “Old Testament” (and what scholars and Jewish people call the “Hebrew scriptures”), did not have what we think of as “devils.”  In the Hebrew scriptures, God contends with, does battle with, or repeatedly gets frustrated by HUMANS (not legions of devils).  The Israelites might have become known as God’s “chosen people” through whom God’s identity would be known—but the Creator often thought of “throwing in the towel” on this human race!  It was WE who were a pain in God’s heart—not the persuasive serpent.

History has given us devil names such as Satan, Lucifer, and Pazuzu (the demon of the film The Exorcist), but today’s Gospel cites the name “Beelzabub.”  If you’re abreast of the music and cinema worlds, you know that name from a wildly popular rock hit sung by a band named “Queen.”  Its lead singer was Freddie Mercury—an AIDS victim whose life was portrayed in the film Bohemian Rhapsody (the name of a Queen’s song—a verse of which refers to today’s Gospel demon-figure “Beelzebub”). The song was in the popular film Wayne’s World (1992), but 2 of Queen’s other hits are We Will Rock You and We Are the Champions (both songs often associated with sporting events).

Listeners of Bohemian Rhapsody can identify with the lyric that says: “Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me.” THAT is the Adam and Eve-like experience one gets when confronted with temptation.  One feels powerless to resist because there is a force specially programmed to work on their weakness or vulnerability.  Listeners should, however, not just nod in agreement with what the rock song asserts.  Instead of feeling they are incapable of being victimized by their own “fallen human nature,” one should take heart in knowing that the Adam & Eve story is reminding us of vulnerability—yes—but that we have the power to resist temptation.  It’s our choice (just as it was for Adam).

If the word “Satan” is used in scripture or rock music or by people on the street, its meaning should be associated with a kind of prosecuting attorney.  Translated as “accuser,” satan is one who shows us where we’ve gone astray.  The Persian (Persia is Iran today) religion of Zoroastrianism is laden with good and bad angels, and it was this religion that eventually came to influence the thought of Israelites from the 3rd century B.C. onward (N.B.., Freddie Mercury, mentioned above, was a Zoroastrian).   Before this influence, Old Testament books were not filled with references to angels or devils.  Eventually, however, Christianity adopted the concept while Islam asserted that each person has 2 angels—one to record your good deeds and one to record your bad deeds—to be shown at the final judgment.  Belief in angels is, moreover, a dogma of Islam (whereas Christians commonly believe in angels but are not obliged to accept their reality).

The New Testament speaks of one being thrown into “fiery Gehenna,” but the reference here is not to the fires of hell but to a smoldering garbage dump near Jerusalem.  Nonetheless, images of “Satan” presiding over a fiery hell have been our inheritance in popular religion.

Scholars tend to think of Satan’s “kingdom” as not a place of torment but a place of bondage due to acts of unrighteousness.

French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre wrote the play No Exit which presents a similar notion of eternal condemnation.  Characters in the play are Garcin (a man interested in character #2, Inez).   However, Inez is a lesbian and is interested in character #3, Estelle (not interested in Inez but preoccupied with looking into a mirror).  A fourth character in the play is a valet who erratically responds to a bell that is rung to call him.  The setting of the three people is in a room with “no exit” and furnished with couches to sit on.  These people come to realize that they are dead—and the play consists of them in dialogue.  For the length of the script, these characters frustrate, depress, annoy, irritate, and upset one another.  The play concludes with the man, after a few moments of silence,  say to the others: “Well, well, let’s get on with it.”

Playgoers are left to ponder what “life” would be like if it consisted only of frustration, depression, annoyances, irritations, and being chronically off-balance or upset.  This is your state of being–for all eternity . . . .

Philosopher Sartre might leave us with this grim sense of the future, but getting back to our reading from Genesis—shows us where the “exit” CAN be found.

Notice that when God asked Eve about eating the fruit–that no specific fruit is mentioned in Genesis.  Folklore has us refer to an “apple” that they ate—not the Bible.  Notice, too, that Eve tries to escape responsibility by pointing to a snake as the real culprit.  Because of that nasty creature, she argue for compassion since that darn serpent was so persuasive.  It took advantage of her! Adam is no better in the excuse department.  He, too, pleads for clemency by pointing to his wife as being the one REALLY responsible for the act he committed.

Now recall what I regularly mention about our use of scripture—and how I started off this week’s reflections here about “basic information” we need to have before we step into eternity.  What we need to know is that you and I are Adam and Eve—and every other character in scripture at different moments in our life.  You and I have a tendency to “pass the buck,” “make an excuse,” “blame someone else,” “call elections corrupt,” and complain that “verdicts are fraudulent.”  Be it examples on the national stage or the stage of our lives, we are quite capable of making bad decisions and trying to escape the consequences of our behavior.

We tend to see the Genesis story as a downer account of losing the garden of Paradise and being pawns in the hands of powerful forces that we cannot resist.  Au contraire!  The story of Adam and Eve is telling us to BE AWARE of our tendency to make self-serving decision.  The story is asking us: “Do you want to make mistakes like this one?”  And of course, our answer is that we DON’T want to mess things up as Adam and Eve did.  The story tells us that we are NOT pawns who are helpless in resisting the various venoms that bring us some kind of death or gloom.

The story is as much a story of how to find success as it is a story of how to mess up your life.  Which leads into a reflection on the gospel.

There’s a folktale told in different cultures around the world that tells of how God made humans.  Without embellishment, here’s the basic plot: God decided to create the human race and so he formed them from dough and put them in the oven to bake.  Pulling them out too soon, he produced white people.  Leaving them in too long, he produced black people, leaving the next batch in not long enough, he created yellow people.  Finally, however, God timed it perfectly.  The humans were a beautiful tan color from head to toe—and that is how we Navaho came into being.

This version is from the southwest U.S..  However, this same plot is found in cultures that are white, black, and yellow—only the end result shows the Creator “getting it right” when making beautiful black, or yellow, red or white humans.  It appears to be normative globally for cultures to depict their origin as being “just what the doctor ordered.”  Black, white, red, or yellow—each group having their story report them being the “best” people.  Not surprising is that European scholars of the 19th century, thinking they were objective in their science of human origins—tended to rank human populations in order of “who are the smartest people?”  Ta da!  White Europeans was their conclusion (a conclusion now much debunked and no longer regarded as scientifically based).

Before the science of genetics in the 20th century, scholars and laity speculated on human origins and diversity.  Around 1775, the word “Caucasian” was introduced and became part of the English vernacular.  It referred to “white” people and was principally applied to Europeans (although it originally included many other geographical regions of people).  Today, the word is not used within scholarly communities.  In short, all humans belong to one “race,” and this reality makes use of “racial categories” obsolete.

This is important not just on some socio-political level, but it can even be said to have grounding in the New Testament, e.g., TODAY’s Gospel!!  Revisiting that reading, we hear Jesus say: Who are my mother, brothers, and sisters?  And he answers his question by saying they those who do the will of God!  2000 years ago Jesus asserted what science now tells us—that the human race is one family.  Just as persons in your family look different from one another, so do all the peoples in the world look different from one another.  Apart from this skin-deep appearance, we are all brothers and sisters.  And Jesus informs us that God is our loving parent—who brought each of us into the world for a reason—with a special vocation to accomplish what no one else can replicate.

If we acquire a certain kind of basic information before leaving earth, we will be best able to learn how to live the identity that makes each of us distinctive—as designed by our Creator.

Acronyms are popular, and the word “bible” appropriately serves as an acronym that defines what this “good book” is!  The Bible provides us with “basic information before leaving earth.”  This week’s readings are good examples of how this is so.  We have some very important knowledge—relevant to each of us—conveyed in the Genesis reading and the Gospel.

Remember that for centuries it was thought by many that Moses wrote the first 5 books of the Bible.  Some might still hold this belief, but scholars say otherwise.  Genesis, for example, is a book of many stories that were no doubt part of a people’s oral tradition.  Over time, unknown editors compiled the text we know today.

As with all cultures, this Israelite literature contained “etiological tales” (stories that told of how things came to be).  Among other things, today’s story explains why we wear clothing (or rather, why the ancient ISRAELITES thought people wore clothing; or, perhaps this part of the narrative was a child’s story.  That is, maybe elders told their inquisitive children when asked “Why do we have clothing and not walk around naked?”  In this instance, the misbehavior of Adam and Eve accounts for why we wear clothing.  Recall that pain at childbirth, death, and having to toil to survive are also part of this origin story.

A misconception that has been around for 2000 years is that the serpent in the story was the devil.  If this has been your understanding (and I suspect it might very well be)—forget it.  Regarding the serpent as “the devil” has never been the teaching of this Israelite origin story.  Equating the devil with the serpent did not come about until the time of Jesus—centuries after the Genesis story was committed to paper (or rather, papyrus, or animal skins used for writing on scrolls).  It was a first-century writing, The Life of Adam and Eve, that the snake-as-devil slithered into our consciousness.  And ever since, generations of teachers misled their listeners.

An engaging topic is determining when the idea of “devil” even arose within the Bible.  Too broad a topic to address here, just keep this in mind.  What Christians tend to call the “Old Testament” (and what scholars and Jewish people call the “Hebrew scriptures”), did not have what we think of as “devils.”  In the Hebrew scriptures, God contends with, does battle with, or repeatedly gets frustrated by HUMANS (not legions of devils).  The Israelites might have become known as God’s “chosen people” through whom God’s identity would be known—but the Creator often thought of “throwing in the towel” on this human race!  It was WE who were a pain in God’s heart—not the persuasive serpent.

History has given us devil names such as Satan, Lucifer, and Pazuzu (the demon of the film The Exorcist), but today’s Gospel cites the name “Beelzabub.”  If you’re abreast of the music and cinema worlds, you know that name from a wildly popular rock hit sung by a band named “Queen.”  Its lead singer was Freddie Mercury—an AIDS victim whose life was portrayed in the film Bohemian Rhapsody (the name of a Queen’s song—a verse of which refers to today’s Gospel demon-figure “Beelzebub”). The song was in the popular film Wayne’s World (1992), but 2 of Queen’s other hits are We Will Rock You and We Are the Champions (both songs often associated with sporting events).

Listeners of Bohemian Rhapsody can identify with the lyric that says: “Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me.” THAT is the Adam and Eve-like experience one gets when confronted with temptation.  One feels powerless to resist because there is a force specially programmed to work on their weakness or vulnerability.  Listeners should, however, not just nod in agreement with what the rock song asserts.  Instead of feeling they are incapable of being victimized by their own “fallen human nature,” one should take heart in knowing that the Adam & Eve story is reminding us of vulnerability—yes—but that we have the power to resist temptation.  It’s our choice (just as it was for Adam).

If the word “Satan” is used in scripture or rock music or by people on the street, its meaning should be associated with a kind of prosecuting attorney.  Translated as “accuser,” satan is one who shows us where we’ve gone astray.  The Persian (Persia is Iran today) religion of Zoroastrianism is laden with good and bad angels, and it was this religion that eventually came to influence the thought of Israelites from the 3rd century B.C. onward (N.B.., Freddie Mercury, mentioned above, was a Zoroastrian).   Before this influence, Old Testament books were not filled with references to angels or devils.  Eventually, however, Christianity adopted the concept while Islam asserted that each person has 2 angels—one to record your good deeds and one to record your bad deeds—to be shown at the final judgment.  Belief in angels is, moreover, a dogma of Islam (whereas Christians commonly believe in angels but are not obliged to accept their reality).

The New Testament speaks of one being thrown into “fiery Gehenna,” but the reference here is not to the fires of hell but to a smoldering garbage dump near Jerusalem.  Nonetheless, images of “Satan” presiding over a fiery hell have been our inheritance in popular religion.

Scholars tend to think of Satan’s “kingdom” as not a place of torment but a place of bondage due to acts of unrighteousness.

French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre wrote the play No Exit which presents a similar notion of eternal condemnation.  Characters in the play are Garcin (a man interested in character #2, Inez).   However, Inez is a lesbian and is interested in character #3, Estelle (not interested in Inez but preoccupied with looking into a mirror).  A fourth character in the play is a valet who erratically responds to a bell that is rung to call him.  The setting of the three people is in a room with “no exit” and furnished with couches to sit on.  These people come to realize that they are dead—and the play consists of them in dialogue.  For the length of the script, these characters frustrate, depress, annoy, irritate, and upset one another.  The play concludes with the man, after a few moments of silence,  say to the others: “Well, well, let’s get on with it.”

Playgoers are left to ponder what “life” would be like if it consisted only of frustration, depression, annoyances, irritations, and being chronically off-balance or upset.  This is your state of being–for all eternity . . . .

Philosopher Sartre might leave us with this grim sense of the future, but getting back to our reading from Genesis—shows us where the “exit” CAN be found.

Notice that when God asked Eve about eating the fruit–that no specific fruit is mentioned in Genesis.  Folklore has us refer to an “apple” that they ate—not the Bible.  Notice, too, that Eve tries to escape responsibility by pointing to a snake as the real culprit.  Because of that nasty creature, she argue for compassion since that darn serpent was so persuasive.  It took advantage of her! Adam is no better in the excuse department.  He, too, pleads for clemency by pointing to his wife as being the one REALLY responsible for the act he committed.

Now recall what I regularly mention about our use of scripture—and how I started off this week’s reflections here about “basic information” we need to have before we step into eternity.  What we need to know is that you and I are Adam and Eve—and every other character in scripture at different moments in our life.  You and I have a tendency to “pass the buck,” “make an excuse,” “blame someone else,” “call elections corrupt,” and complain that “verdicts are fraudulent.”  Be it examples on the national stage or the stage of our lives, we are quite capable of making bad decisions and trying to escape the consequences of our behavior.

We tend to see the Genesis story as a downer account of losing the garden of Paradise and being pawns in the hands of powerful forces that we cannot resist.  Au contraire!  The story of Adam and Eve is telling us to BE AWARE of our tendency to make self-serving decision.  The story is asking us: “Do you want to make mistakes like this one?”  And of course, our answer is that we DON’T want to mess things up as Adam and Eve did.  The story tells us that we are NOT pawns who are helpless in resisting the various venoms that bring us some kind of death or gloom.

The story is as much a story of how to find success as it is a story of how to mess up your life.  Which leads into a reflection on the gospel.

There’s a folktale told in different cultures around the world that tells of how God made humans.  Without embellishment, here’s the basic plot: God decided to create the human race and so he formed them from dough and put them in the oven to bake.  Pulling them out too soon, he produced white people.  Leaving them in too long, he produced black people, leaving the next batch in not long enough, he created yellow people.  Finally, however, God timed it perfectly.  The humans were a beautiful tan color from head to toe—and that is how we Navaho came into being.

This version is from the southwest U.S..  However, this same plot is found in cultures that are white, black, and yellow—only the end result shows the Creator “getting it right” when making beautiful black, or yellow, red or white humans.  It appears to be normative globally for cultures to depict their origin as being “just what the doctor ordered.”  Black, white, red, or yellow—each group having their story report them being the “best” people.  Not surprising is that European scholars of the 19th century, thinking they were objective in their science of human origins—tended to rank human populations in order of “who are the smartest people?”  Ta da!  White Europeans was their conclusion (a conclusion now much debunked and no longer regarded as scientifically based).

Before the science of genetics in the 20th century, scholars and laity speculated on human origins and diversity.  Around 1775, the word “Caucasian” was introduced and became part of the English vernacular.  It referred to “white” people and was principally applied to Europeans (although it originally included many other geographical regions of people).  Today, the word is not used within scholarly communities.  In short, all humans belong to one “race,” and this reality makes use of “racial categories” obsolete.

This is important not just on some socio-political level, but it can even be said to have grounding in the New Testament, e.g., TODAY’s Gospel!!  Revisiting that reading, we hear Jesus say: Who are my mother, brothers, and sisters?  And he answers his question by saying they those who do the will of God!  2000 years ago Jesus asserted what science now tells us—that the human race is one family.  Just as persons in your family look different from one another, so do all the peoples in the world look different from one another.  Apart from this skin-deep appearance, we are all brothers and sisters.  And Jesus informs us that God is our loving parent—who brought each of us into the world for a reason—with a special vocation to accomplish what no one else can replicate.

If we acquire a certain kind of basic information before leaving earth, we will be best able to learn how to live the identity that makes each of us distinctive—as designed by our Creator.

New to the Red Cloud Indian School, I told the high school boys that it was time for dinner.  One of them said: “We already had dinner.  We’re going to supper.”  That’s when I learned that some people only know the word “dinner” as applicable to the noon meal.  They’d refer to the evening meal as ”supper.”  My use of the word “dinner” for the evening meal was foreign to their experience.  Raised in Detroit, I knew the word “supper” was used by some people, but my family simply used the well-worn terms of breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  However, the Lakota holy-man, Black Elk, said that his people traditionally did not eat in the middle of the day.  They ate only in the morning and evening when he grew up on the plains in the 1800s.

Dining habits come to mind because this weekend is “Corpus Christi Sunday.”  “Body of Christ” Sunday calls us once again to reflect on the gift we have in the sacrament of the Eucharist.  Readings for Mass address this special sacrament that we honor on Holy Thursday each year.  So let’s first get a handle on dining customs within Israelite culture at the time of Jesus.

Because Matthew, Mark, and Luke share perspectives on many of the same incidents in the life of Jesus, their gospels are called the “synoptic gospels”—a way of noting that they share much in common with one another.  Each, for example, speak of “the Last Supper” as a “Passover” meal (which Jewish people still practice when Christians are celebrating “Holy Week” services.  Interestingly, John does NOT refer to the Last Supper as a Passover meal but as one that took place the day before Passover.

Debate has not settled when, exactly, the “First Supper” of the Eucharist took place.  Some scholars say that our gospel account is simply asserting that the sacrament came into being at SOME unknown date that was GROUNDED in the theology of the Passover and Eucharist.  The Synoptics are at odds with John—but their theological POINT is more important than on what actual date something occurred.  That point is the Eucharist flowing out of Israelites tradition reported in the Hebrew scriptures.  Jesus is the new Passover lamb.

In this week’s gospel, Mark rightly notes that 2 of the disciples went and prepared the Passover meal.  Contemporary readers of this passage assume that nothing of note is being reported in what Mark says about meal preparation.  However, there IS a technical point being made.  Namely, when feast days were being celebrated, it was men who prepared the meal.  In everyday life, it was an older woman/widow who would prepare the evening meal for men and boys (12 and over).  They would eat first—followed later by women and girls.  Mark’s report thus corresponds with the customs of the day.  What appears to be a minor observation (that men prepared the meal) actually affirms the accuracy of Mark’s account.

A term sometimes used by anthropologists to refer to households is “commensal unit.”  It refers to the group of people who eat meals together each day.  Such a group shares common values and is bonded by ties of blood, labor, religion, friendship, etc.  The departure of Judas is his self-imposed excommunication from the group.

The first reading reported how Moses came down from the mountain and brought with him the Torah—the teaching that God revealed to him.  The people were told that God’s word in the Torah should be how they, as a people, should live their lives.  And as done throughout the Bible (and in other cultural traditions) an animal (i.e., a lamb) was slain as an offering.  Keep in mind that the ritual shedding of blood was the people’s way of symbolizing their own self-sacrifice—as death is the most solemn testimony to one’s commitment.  The people said they would commit themselves to these teachings, and when Moses sprinkled blood on the people, this represented their union with the slain lamb—which they then consumed. Slaughter of animals in the Temple or elsewhere was a re-enactment of their pledge of faith.  Each year at Passover, the historical event of being liberated from Egypt was commemorated, and this MADE PRESENT that saving action once again.

Cultures have what are known as “remembrance ceremonies” in which events of the past are “made present” through the ritual re-enactment of what took place.  Christians sprinkle with holy water in remembrance of the Israelites committing themselves to observing what the Torah taught, and when Jesus gave bread and wine as his body and blood at a meal with his disciples—becoming the new “lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.”  The ritual slaughter has been replaced by bread which likewise replaces the “manna” in the Israelite desert  And the sprinkled blood can at any time be replaced by the sprinkling of water that reminds Christians of their baptism and THEIR willingness to observe the NEW Torah  that the gospels teach.

And what DOES the gospel Torah teach?  Summarized, we can think of the corporal and spiritual works of mercy. When we come to communion expressing our need for the nourishment of the new lamb and new manna—we ask God to inspire us to incarnate these works of mercy: To feed the hungry, To give water to the thirsty, To clothe the naked, To shelter the homeless., To visit the sick, To visit the imprisoned, To bury the dead, To instruct the ignorant, To counsel the doubtful, To admonish the sinners, To be patient with those who wrong us, To forgive offenses, To comfort the afflicted, To afflict the comfortable, To pray for the living and the dead.

All of these works of mercy are either explicitly or implicitly stated in the gospels, e.g., Matthew 25.  They don’t exhaust biblical teachings, but they are a good starting point for prayerful reflection.  Moreover, avoid the temptation to think simply that these “works” call us to “be a nice person.”  They extend into our socio-political life and so, often enough, make Christians unwelcome.  For example, to give someone a drink of water is a kind act.  However, what do you do when a corporation dumps poisonous chemicals into lakes, streams, rivers, and oceans?  Eventually, you’ll have no clean water to offer anyone.

The works of mercy, if practiced, can bring one into conflict with forces that are profiting in some way from the plight of people.  One’s Christian identity calls us to resist those forces.  For example, diabetics in other countries were able to acquire insulin while the richest country in the world made insulin hard to get for those who couldn’t afford it.  Pharmaceutical companies influence politicians, so there’s little political will to bring down the prices of medication.  Thankfully, the price of insulin is now manageable due to pressure from the White House.  Meanwhile, a medication that people can get in England for 35 dollars is available to me for 1000 dollars.  Arguments are made to explain why American prices are “legitimately” high—but those arguments boil down to massive amounts of wealth controlling the issues—at the expense of YOU and millions of others.

“The United States experiences the worst health outcomes overall of any high-income nation. Americans are more likely to die younger, and from avoidable causes, than residents of peer countries.”  In light of this World Health Organization FACT, you can see why the works of mercy are sure needed right here in our home country.  They will be resisted by forces that seek to continue acquiring vast wealth at your expense.  One’s religious practice has “real-world” consequences.

Last week, our presence at Mass was compared to seeking shelter from the shrapnel of life that comes flying at us from all directions.  Our presence in this sacred foxhole allows us time to reflect and see how our life role can bring peace to the battlefield to which we’ll return.  Our presence back into the fray is needed. As St. Ignatius said, we are called to serve the Lord, to fight and not heed the wounds, to labor and not seek for rest, to toil and not ask for any reward except we know we’re doing God’s will.

Just as the beginning of Matthew’s gospel tells us that the baby Jesus represents, and is, “God with us” (i.e., “Emmanuel”), so the concluding scene in his gospel shows Jesus telling his disciples that he will be with them until the end of time.  What a powerful theme to bracket the life of Jesus!  We who face many challenges in being Christ-like—have the assurance that we are not alone in confronting those challenges.  We are never alone.

In this farewell scene, we know something profound will take place just as it unfolds.  How do we know this?  Because it begins locating the scene on a mountaintop.  Remember?  In both the Hebrew and Christian scriptures we know that something grand is going to take place whenever a mountain scene occurs.  Sure enough.  Jesus has called them to the mountain because he’s telling them that with his departure, they will take the baton he passes to them—and carry on his mission.

He tells them to evangelize the world, and not restrict themselves to being clannish, and ethnocentric.  He reminds them that their role now is to go to the ends of the earth and preach the Good News (gospel) to all people—and in doing so they should use words if they have to!  This simply means that the way they treat people should be their best form of evangelization.  And so this passage reminds us that the message of Jesus is a “catholic” one—a word that means “universal.”

You can see how important this scene is for humanity.  It addresses our NOT seeing one another as brothers and sisters in Christ!  Jesus tells us to baptize ALL nations as brothers and sisters.  But what have we done?  We fight others in war.  We call people names if they look different from us.  We harbor prejudices and often DON’T obey these verses which many Christians call the “Great Commission.”

This being Trinity Sunday, the Church calls us to reflect upon this mystery of our faith—a mystery we can’t fully understand.  One reason the Mormon faith is not considered a Christian denomination is that it does not accept this basic tenet.  Christians assert that there are three persons in one God—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Muslims reverence Jesus but do not accept his being one with the Father, and Christians, in turn, say they are not believing in 2 or 3 Gods—but One!  They’ll say a triangle has 3 angles in it, but it is one figure—much like a shamrock has 3 leaves—but is one shamrock.  Even Christians can’t fully understand how there are 3 persons in one God.  So they have a hard time explaining the Trinity to a non-Christian.  They can only use analogies like a triangle or shamrock.  Such is why we call the Trinity a mystery that we can’t fully understand.

Theologians say that even though the bible doesn’t have the word “trinity” in it, the presence of 3 persons in 1 God can be drawn from both Old and New testaments.  Similarly, we experience the Trinity in our natural way of praying to “God.”  How so?  Here’s a typical way people naturally pray (without consciously thinking of theology, per se).

One might look at a beautiful sunrise over a lake and thank God the Father (or Creator figure) for giving us such a paradise.  Later in the day, the same person might say to Jesus in prayer “Help me carry this cross in my life, Lord.  You were able to carry yours.  Help me carry mine.”  Lastly, we might go to bed and lay there asking the Holy Spirit to empower us the next day to find words to speak at a business meeting, or to a family member or friend.  And so we’ve prayed to a Father/Mother/Creator/Great Mystery figure (words can’t fully define God).  We’ve prayed to Jesus, and we’ve prayed to the Holy Spirit—all in one day.  We’ve addressed the one God as Father, Son, and Spirit.

Interestingly, in the first century, people were baptized in the name of Jesus (reported in Acts and Paul).  Toward the end of the first century, baptisms invoked the three persons—as we do now.  By the 11th century, Pope John the 22nd made it a universal practice to honor the Holy Trinity.  The Church spent many years arguing exactly what Jesus taught on the matter.

A sampling of questions they addressed are: is the Son equal to the Father?  Who came first?  Did Jesus exist at the beginning of time—and then was packaged as a baby boy and sent to earth?  Did Jesus know all things when he lived?  If so, does this mean he pretended to suffer on Good Friday?

Over the centuries, theologians drew conclusions that made them preach against “false teachings,” and the word used when referring to a false teaching is “heresy.”  One such popular heresy that reverberates within Islam and elsewhere is “Arianism.”  This position was taught by Bishop Arius and it claimed that Jesus was a good man, but not equal to the Father.  It is known as the “Arian Heresy.”

This weekend is also Memorial Day weekend.  Not a Church feast but a secular one, the topic reminds me of the aphorism “There are no atheists in foxholes.”  One might claim to be an atheist–but in battle, with lethal shrapnel flying everywhere, soldiers will take cover in a foxhole and PRAY to God that they be spared.  Once out of the foxhole, they might revert to their claim of being an atheist—but for that period on the battlefield, they were talking to the God they said did not exist.

An atheistic mom or dad has a similar experience.  When their little boy or girl is newly born and given to their atheistst parent, the miracle of life speaks to the parent’s heart and reminds them—if only for a short while—that God exists.

The founder of the Jesuits, St. Ignatius Loyola, was a soldier.  Like me, he could think of Mass as the foxhole wherein we ask God to help us in the battles we face.  In this foxhole of the Mass, we lay bare our hearts to God and ask for insight into why we were made the person we are.  We picture the battles we’ll have to face when we leave this foxhole—and ask God to protect us, and to help us slay the dragons that create wars that produce Memorial Days around the world—in every culture.

We’re in this foxhole with others who share our vision of preserving the paradise given to us by God.  In this foxhole of the Mass, we are reminded at communion time that God will nourish us where we most hunger.  We get new battle plans while in the foxhole—plans that will help us overcome the enemies of faith, hope,  and love.

So this secular observance we call Memorial Day reminds us that God our Creator-parent brought us into the world to live as Jesus instructed.  If we follow Him, there will be no need for Memorial Days anywhere on earth. Why?  Because if we are guided by the Holy Spirit, we will have no stomach for war or prejudices that breed hatred.  This foxhole sacrament reminds us of the Trinity—of God the Father and Jesus, through the Holy Spirit, being with us until the end of time.

We call today’s feast “Pentecost.”  The word means “50^th” and occurs 50 days after Easter—paralleling a calendrical celebration at the time of Jesus that celebrated the giving of “the Law” (Torah) to Moses.  Among Christians, this Israelite feast has moved from being a celebration of “the Law” to a celebration of “the Spirit”—of God’s presence among us written on our hearts and in our actions instead of on the stone of Mt. Sinai.

Scripture selections for this feast are telling.  We are told that the disciples heard a sound of wind as they huddled in a room and hid from authorities.  We also read that Jesus appeared and “breathed on them” when imparting the Spirit to them.  If not familiar with Genesis, we might simply think about wind outside and Jesus breathing.  However, the reference to wind hearkens back to Genesis when we read that a wind blew over the water at the time of creation and that God breathed life into Adam and Eve.  When the New Testament speaks of “wind” and “breath,” it reminds us of that first creation—and tells us that a NEW creation has taken place—creation of the Christian faith community empowered by the Spirit to evangelize the world.

Not only are these Old Testament references (Hebrew scripture) echoed but so is another well-known story.  Acts of the Apostles refers to people from diverse geographical places and reports that they all understood the word of God as preached by the disciples.  This is NOT the report of some bizarre miracle related to multi-lingual populations but is an allusion to the Tower of Babel story.  It told of God punishing the hubris or pride of people by creating different languages so that they no longer could build a tower to heaven.  Workers could not understand one another.  However, the message of the Gospel was now accessible to all people of the world—in all their diversity of language and lifestyle.

In a reading from Paul, we see him speak of each Christian having a ministry of their own.  Just as a body has different parts with different functions, so does the “Body of Christ”—the people of God.  I might, at times, sound like a cheerleader for you, but it’s Paul who is the one I’m quoting when with this “cheer.”

Pentecost doesn’t roll around each year that I don’t recall the concluding scene in the film (based on the Hemingway novel) “For Whom the Bell Tolls.”  The book and film so struck me that I cite it here again for you—as an illustration of the Jesus story.  That is, this scene dramatizes the Gospel message (not intentionally) in depicting a powerful human encounter.  I like this because it dramatizes the life, death, resurrection, and spirit of Pentecost in a non-theological way.  It drives home the Gospel just the same (as Jordan is a “Christ figure” and Maria, his love, as us receiving the Spirit)..

Here’s the setting.

Robert Jordan is the main character—an American journalist covering the civil war of the 1930s in Spain.  He’s accompanying the oppressed revolutionaries who are trying to overthrow the dictator.  Think of Jesus associating with the non-elites and standing up against an authoritarian dictator’s military (Roman soldiers?).  Jordan falls in love with Maria—a young girl sexually abused by the elites (the common person oppressed by the powerful).  As the revolutionaries escape through a mountain pass, a cannonball explodes near Jordan and he can’t continue (condemned to death?).  He tells the commando leader to take Maria with the escapees after he speaks with her.   This is what he says.

Maria, don’t, don’t say anything.  We won’t be going to America this time.  But always I go with you, wherever you go, understand?  You go now, Maria. 

No, no, I stay with you Roberto.

No, Maria, what I do now, I do alone.  I couldn’t do it if you were here.  If you go, then I go too.  Don’t you see how it is?  Whichever one there is, is both of us.

No, there’d be only . . .

No, each of us must do his thing alone, and though we be alone, we do it for each other.  But if you go, then I go with you, that way I go too.  I know you’ll go now Maria, for both of us, because we love each other always. 

It’s easier for me to stay with you, Roberto.

I know it’s harder for you, but now I am you also.  If you go, I go too.  That’s the only way I can go.  You’re me now.  Surely you must feel that, Maria. 

Remember last night?  Our time is now, and it will never end.  You’re me now, and I’m you.  Now you understand.  Now you’re going, and you’re going well, and fast, and far, and we’ll go to America another time, Maria. 

Stand up now and go, and we both go.  Stand up Maria, remember you’re me too.  You’re all there will ever be of me now.  Stand up.  No, stand up.   There’s no good-bye, Maria, because we’re not apart.   [Jordan calls the commando leader to take Maria away] Pilar!  No, don’t turn around.  Go now.  Be strong.  Take care of our life.

[Maria tries to resist Pilar but can’t]  No, no, no Roberto, let me stay . . . . please, please don’t make me go  . . . Roberto, Roberto, please Roberto . . . .

[Jordan is left behind with a machine gun so as to hold off the pursuing soldiers as long as he can to help Maria and the others escape.  He’s thinking these thoughts]

God, that was lucky I could make her go.  I don’t mind this at all now.  They’re away.  Think of how it would be if they got Maria instead of you.  Don’t pass out, Jordan!  Think about America!  I can’t.  Think about Madrid!  I can’t.  Think about, Maria!  I can do that alright! 

No, you fool, you weren’t kidding Maria about that.  Now they can’t stop us ever!  She’s going on with me, yes . . .

[Final scene is of the machine gun shooting straight into the camera as bells toll.]

Literature raises themes that parallel issues the novel, story, or poem never mention.  By way of symbols, plots, names, words, and other literary devices a reader is reminded of other experiences, moods, and plots that parallel what is being read.  Such is at play in the scene above.  One is reminded of human communities that see one group as well off financially and one group not.  A dictator who rapes and pushes people around versus ordinary folk who just want to make a living.  The name “Jordan” reminds one of the Jordan River where Jesus began his ministry (like the journalist beginning his “ministry” among the region’s poorer classes.  If “Maria” (Mary) was intentionally chosen as a name to remind the reader of Magdalene, we’ll never know.

With Pentecost conferring the Spirit upon the apostles, they were reminded that wherever they would go—the risen Lord would be with them.  As scripture suggests, that’s the only way the risen Lord CAN go after the death of Jesus (Jordan).  His Gospel message (like that of a journalist’s messages in newspaper columns) are spread far and wide.  And nothing will stop that Gospel message.

As Jesus said, there is no greater love than for one to lay down their life for another.  In the Gospel and the film, this occurred.  But all Christians can “lay down their life” in some way via commitment, or dedicating their lives, to upbuilding others in some way.  The Pentecost story tells us that we can face any oppressor since we’ve been given the Spirit—assured by Jesus that we are loved and that he is with us—as his Christmas name promised “Emmanuel” (“God with us”).

We used to call this Holy Day of Obligation “Ascension Thursday.”  However, the American Church followed in the footsteps of the Canadian bishops and now celebrates this Holy Day on Sunday.  It coincides with the American secular feast of “Mother’s Day.”  Both have an interesting history.

As for the feast of the Ascension, theologians tell us that Jesus did not go to sit at the right hand of the Father 40 days after Easter.  Rather, they say that the Resurrection and Ascension should be looked upon as connected.  In the first few centuries of the Church, there was no Ascension feast day.  It evolved later on.  When “40 days” are associated with its occurrence, that’s a theological statement—40 being a symbolic number in both the Old (Hebrew) and New (Christian) scriptures.  In short, Christians honored the return of Jesus to the Father by acknowledging it separately—and associated it with other great events of scripture that were associated with “40” (e.g., the great flood that produced a new creation).

Furthermore, we read about an “ascension” or departure of Jesus in three of the gospels, but John is silent on the matter.  Wouldn’t you think that such an occasion would be mentioned by John?

Today’s reading from Mark is especially eye-catching since those concluding lines of the gospel were the inspiration for an American preacher to found a denomination.  Today called the “Holiness Church” of Tennessee, Kentucky, and West Virginia, these good folk found the preacher’s message somehow captivating.  He and his followers took the concluding verses literally—and picked up rattlesnakes and drank poison at their services.  They are thought to be the only Christian group that embraced this understanding of the text.

Mark intended to report that Christians would be able to speak different languages, cast out demons, and heal people.  These behaviors were not extraordinary supernatural powers but rather graced efforts that the Holy Spirit moved missionaries to perform.  Picking up snakes, drinking poison, speaking diverse languages, etc. were to be understood metaphorically.  That is, with the Spirit’s help, Christians will take the message given to them by Jesus, accomplish many great works, and overcome diverse challenges.

What would Holiness Church people think if they learned that bible scholars say that these concluding lines of the gospel were not written by Mark?  Broad consensus exists that what was read this Sunday possibly came about in the following way.

Early scholars like Eusepius and Jerome knew of almost no version of Mark that went beyond verse 8.  This week’s reading follows that verse, and scholars say that this ending to the Gospel has a vocabulary, syntax, and style that are “decidedly non-Markan.”  A basic position on this strange scriptural history is this: over time, scribes added the longer ending, either for the richness of its material or because of the abruptness of the ending at verse 8.  The strange variety of endings suggests that early scribes had a copy of Mark that ended at verse 8.  They filled out the text with what seemed to be an appropriate conclusion. Voila!  Our concluding verses of Mark.  Not to worry.  The verses are canonical (accepted as the word of God).

This topic will be revisited after a few words about Mother’s Day—a secular “holy day.”  Keep in mind that not all secular holidays need be recognized within our services.  Mother’s Day, however, has gospel roots—and so merits our reflection on its connection to Scripture. We need to go back some 150 years when Anna Reves Jarvis tried to rally mothers in West Virginia to agitate for clean water.  Her efforts combined with those of Julia Ward Howe (who wrote the “Battle Hymn of the Republic”) to put an end to war.  They pleaded for all mothers of the world—from all cultures—to agitate for an end to war.  After all, they had witnessed the greatest loss of life in U.S. history because of the Civil War.

Mothers saw their husbands, sons, brothers, and fathers killed in this war over an issue that should never have existed in the first place—slavery.  Confederate Vice President Alexander Stephens justified this reason for the war—and like all evil ideas—it led to death and destruction.  These women did their best to awaken the world (not just the U.S.) to embrace negotiation and not bullets to settle disputes (“to promote the alliance of all nationalities & amicable settlement of international questions”).  And their efforts were laudable—especially since women could not vote during the period that Jarvis and Howe were active.  Despite having no voice at the ballot box, they staged rallies—which caught the attention of Wall Street and Madison Avenue.

Corporations cared little for the goals of Jarvis and Howe, but they did see a business opportunity aimed at mothers. Whereas war brings wealth to manufacturers, women might provide the same economic impetus by virtue of their role as mothers. This thought spawned candy companies, florists, and the cosmetics industry to target husbands, sons, and daughters to BUY their products as a special gift “for mom.”  Either that or take mother to dinner at some restaurant.

When “Mother’s Day” was made a national holiday in 1914, big business had stripped a movement whose noble origin was to legislate clean water, end racism, and no longer wage war. As one business journal boasted, big profits were now being made because they had successfully “squelched” the work begun by Jarvis and Howe.

There’s a saying “Money is the root of all evil,” but Mother’s Day has managed to salvage something good.  Namely, those who put so much time, energy, and unselfishness in being our mom—certainly deserve our honoring them THROUGHOUT the year. But they have at least one day on which we formally give them some show of gratitude.

Spiritually, in thinking of a mom, we can’t help but think of qualities we associate with God!  In the time of Jesus, one’s father played a key role in the kinship system and in economic affairs. To speak of us as children of “Our Father in heaven” was an appropriate connection to make.  However, God transcends gender and physical appearance such that we can only struggle to express who this incomprehensible Creator is.  So we can refer to God as father—and mother.  After all, our mother bore us and gave us life (like God did).  The Old Testament said that just as a mother would not forget the baby at her breast, so God would not forget us.  God is father, mother, creator—and more (e.g., God is “Love”—as revealed by Jesus).  And if one has no memory of a good home life with a good mom or dad, they can still imagine what such a person would be.  In short, God is the best father one could have.  And God is the best MOTHER one could have.  Mother’s day can remind us of this theological reality.

When my mother died, I realized that I no longer had a home where I could go and just be me—with access to the refrigerator or TV, or napping on the couch, or sunning myself in the back yard, or doing any of the hundreds of behaviors I could do in mom’s presence since childhood.  Most people have spouses or children with whom they gather at some family home.  With my mom’s passing, I no longer had such a port in the storm.  It helped me spiritually to have a high school student remind me that “the only permanent relationship we ever have is our relationship with God.”  That was a good reminder for me to hear.

I chuckle when thinking of this experience and then recalling when my dad died.  It, too, was a felt loss.  I was standing next to a Lakota student of mine (a serious young man whose face was expressionless).  He spit tobacco on the ground.  Then, in a monotone voice that seemed older than his years—said: “You’ll get over it.”  He walked away, still expressionless.  That ended his “condolence.”

As stated earlier, three of the gospels have a departure scene for when Jesus no longer appeared to people (which we call the “Ascension”).  Two themes common to those departure scenes are important for us to internalize.  They are at the heart of our faith.  One theme common to the three was summed up by St. Francis of Assisi when he said: “Preach the Gospel at all times, and if necessary use words.”  That’s an Ascension message.

The second theme was well stated by author Ernest Hemingway in his novel For Whom The Bell Tolls.  His Christ-like main character basically says what Jesus said when He ascended to the Father: “There’s no need to say goodbye because we’ll never be apart.”  That, too, is an Ascension message.

Next week’s scripture reminds us that Pentecost brought the Holy Spirit that assures us of God’s presence to us always.  With the Spirit, we are able to overcome snakes and poisons that present themselves to us “in sheep’s clothing” throughout life.  [Once again, we ask you to email or call the office and say if you read the bulletin]

When teaching religious studies, I heard some students say that their parents didn’t teach them any religious beliefs or practices because they thought their children should decide later in life if they want a religious practice.  Rather than criticize the parenting they received, I wondered if these students were also allowed to decide when they went to bed at night, whether or not they would go to school, or wash, or not cuss, or many, many other behaviors.  I could not understand how a parent could teach their child many behaviors and values—except those related to religious practice.  For me, nothing is more important than trying to understand why I am here and who put me here on earth.

This classroom memory came to mind as I prepared for this weekend’s first communion ceremony.  This is the weekend we welcome young parishioners as they make their first communion.  They will experience what occurs with the sacraments we receive.  Namely, as said by Father of the Church Saint Augustine, a sacrament is “a visible sign of an invisible reality.”

Within our parish family, our tradition is to teach our young ones the importance of attending Mass and “going to communion.”  For young people (and even older ones), it can be confusing to hear that we are consuming “the body and blood of Christ.”  When I made my first communion, all I could think of was my eating body parts.  Years later when attending graduate school at Indiana University, a fellow grad student asked me to explain the “ritual cannibalism” that Catholics do at their Masses.  Both my thoughts on this topic when I was a child, and the thinking of my fellow grad student were misguided, but they are still owned by some who are not familiar with our tradition.

One way to think of communion at Mass is to think of our Thanksgiving dinner.   This is appropriate because an alternative word for Communion is “Eucharist”—a Greek word meaning “to give thanks.”  Each time we receive Communion we are giving thanks to God for all that we have, and for being a God who invites us to this “candlelight dinner.”  The low lights dilate our pupils and visually we absorb all that is visible on this special occasion.  Rooted in the religious history of Israel (Old Testament) and Christianity (New Testament), this sacred gathering is composed of people invited by God to draw upon the Trinity for what will sustain us in our everyday lives.

At this time, we speak to God (prayer) and sing (“singing is praying twice”) with others who have likewise been invited by God to this unique meal.  On the night before he died, having exhausted what he could do with words, Jesus took bread and wine and told his family and friends to do what he was doing.  Every time they would gather this way, he promised to be with them.  As a famous theologian said, Jesus gave this gift of Communion or Eucharist as a kind of “kiss” to those who were there in his name.  The consecrated bread and wine (visible signs along with the table, priest, people, candles, prayer books, scripture, etc.) become the invisible reality of God’s presence.

Here’s another way of expressing the invisible reality of God’s Eucharistic presence.  Poetically stated, one could tell their loved one:

“You’re my London.  You’re my Paris.  You’re my Athens.  You’re my Rome.  You’re my Boston.  You’re my Denver.  You’re my old Kentucky home.”

One is saying to his beloved that she embodies the best of the Old World and the best of the New.  In the end, however, she’s the hearth at which his heart rests and where he finds warm comfort.  He’s NOT saying she is the old buildings, busses, sewers, and dirty streets of big European and American cities.  Rather, she embodies the greatness, glory, grandeur, and wonders of those places.  In her, he need not go to any of those places because he has their equal in her.

And so it is with the presence of the risen Lord in the Eucharist.  One is in communion with the one who feeds him where he most hungers and assures him of God accompanying him down every road he walks.  The risen Lord is the real presence of God in whatever he faces.  The consecrated bread reminds communicants that we have new manna in the deserts of our depression, discouragement, lost paths, and tearful trials.  The Risen Lord is the new lamb at our sacred meal—the lamb of God which is our Eucharist.

But this understanding is a partial one—one that can be expanded in many directions.  However, one key element of this topic is what we call the “Mass” itself.  The word is related to a Latin word meaning “sent.”  When the community of Catholics finishes their sacrament, and when they have witnessed the many visible signs that refer to an invisible reality, they are IDEALLY ready to leave the special gathering—and be “sent” into the world as apostles.

This idea reminds me of a little boy I baptized and to whom I gave his first communion.  When his mom knelt with him at prayer one night (he was 7 years old), she heard him ask God in prayer: “Help me when I go on patrol tomorrow.”  Not knowing what he was referring to, she asked him what he meant when referring to the “patrol.”

He replied that at lunchtime on the playground, he goes on patrol to see if anyone is alone and without any friends.  He said he goes to that person and says he’ll be that person’s friend.

When I heard this true-life story, I was touched in learning that the little boy to whom I gave the consecrated host at his first Communion—had grasped the message of the Gospel, and the purpose of sacraments at his young age.  All Catholics and all Christians are called by God to be “on patrol” in search of the lost or the lonely—to bring them into a supportive community gathered at the table of the Eucharist.

Doctor of the Church, St. John Chrysostom, spoke of Communion in the following terms:

Do you wish to honor the Body of Christ?  Do not ignore him when he is naked. Do not pay him homage in the temple clad in silk, only then to neglect him outside where he is cold and ill-clad. He who said: “This is my Body” is the same who said: “You saw me hungry and you gave me no food,” and “Whatever you did to the least of my brothers you did also for me.” What good is it if the Eucharistic table is overloaded with gold chalices when your brother is dying of hunger? Start satisfying his hunger and then with what is left you may adorn the altar as well.

If you read the bulletin, let the office know or email yes or no at: mfs@wheeling.edu