November is an important month for the U.S. because it is the month of Thanksgiving, Native American Month, and, most importantly, the month of the pastor’s birthday.  Okay, 2 of those 3 make it an important month.  Regrettably, my birthday doesn’t make the cut. 

In light of my connection to Native America, I wanted to see that our parish once again join in contemplating certain themes within this people’s spirituality and ritual practice.  But first—a reflection on what at first might seem to be unrelated observations about the elections that just occurred.

As one political party mourns its loss in the presidential election, the other party rejoices that it received what some call a “mandate” (i.e., an overwhelming expression of support) from the voters.  Neither response is grounded. 

Those who think the new administration has been given a green light to chart new courses—is not at all what the final tally shows.  As of this writing, Mr. Trump received 49% of the votes (less than half of the votes cast) and VP Harris got 48% of the popular vote.  Just as Mr. Trump won his first term with FEWER votes than his opponent, so this year’s tally was the closest finale in 25 years.  That’s no mandate.  The only thing we can conclude is that the country remains split.  It seems the only mandate given by the American people is for us to remain “a house divided against itself” (Matthew 12: 25).  Doesn’t this make us a sad lot?

Just as mistaken was the losing party when it thought IT would receive a “mandate” because their opponent had long been known for corrupt business practices for which he was fined.  He was, moreover, a felon (over 30 counts), a convicted rapist (the judge’s word), an adulterer in 3 marriages, and guilty of many sexual assaults (his admission on the radio).  His opponents also falsely assumed that the voting public would remember that he left the presidency with a 34% approval rating—the lowest of any outgoing president since the 1920s.  Moreover, since the economy was the best since Kennedy’s presidency, the losing party couldn’t help but think that victory would be theirs.  After all, the man’s own sister (a Federal judge) even said he had no values.  What thinking person would vote for such a candidate?  Obviously, the losing side miscalculated what type of person the electorate wanted to represent America to the world.

Differences of opinion are common.  They exist in all areas of life.  In the case above, some wanted one candidate while some wanted another.  People everywhere seek leaders who offer them better living conditions or more prosperity or an end to war or plagues or civil strife.  We even resort to war and killing others when having conflicts that we refuse to settle in some amicable, non-violent way.  Essentially, Jesus came because we were unable to live in a manner that our Creator intended for us to live.  Theoretically, we who are Catholic accept Jesus as our leader and role model.  Practically, we are humans who are given a variety of other humans to serve as our leaders.  We mistakenly place our trust and future in them—only to realize that no leader matches the Lord’s leadership—as in the historical scene that follows.

When thinking of people voting and the topic of American Indian religion, I was reminded of a movement that swept through the American West at the end of the 19^th century.  Namely, a charismatic Paiute Indian named Wovoka convinced many different tribes that the Son of God was going to have a “Second Coming” (a topic taught within Christian theology that Indians had learned about in terms of Christ’s return.)

Wovoke preached that if people danced a certain way, the earth would swallow up White people, the dead would arise, the buffalo would return, and the old ways would be restored to the way things were before the reservation period.  “Ghost shirts” would deflect bullets, and a new earth would arrive in the Spring of 1891 when the prairie flowers bloomed.  As many tribes did the dance, the Navajo of the Southwest wanted nothing to do with it.  They had deep-seated beliefs related to the dead that made them tell Ghost Dance visitors to go elsewhere and not remain near them.

A political appointee with no knowledge of Indians and no competency to be the reservation superintendent at Pine Ridge called Washington to send in troops to keep the peace should hostilities arise.  The arrival of troops probably made the Lakota/Sioux think the White people feared the TRUTH of this 2^nd Coming.  What resulted was a confrontation of the Cavalry with a band of men, women, and children at Wounded Knee Creek that saw many of those Lakota killed.  When the Spring flowers bloomed and life continued as before, the Ghost Dance ended.

Be we Lakota Ghost Dancers or modern-day voters, we seek a better life.  When choosing leaders, we are Navajo and Lakota.  We make different choices, and we live, or die, with the results.  We are blessed to have Jesus as a role model for the choices we make.  In this weekend’s gospel, Jesus cautions us to not guess when the “2^nd Coming” will take place.  The important thing is for us to live one day at a time—until God calls us to our heavenly home—where the Spring flowers bloom all the time.

As we gather on Sundays, or at any Mass, I’m reminded of our sacred gathering being like those celebrated in Indian country.  Instead of “burning incense,” Native people will do what’s known as the “smudging” ceremony.  The 4 sacred herbs of sage, sweet grass, cedar and tobacco are burned and wafted toward those in attendance who gesture as if washing themselves from head to toe with the smoke.  The one leading the ceremony makes a circular journey around the group gathered—placing the sacred gathering within the circle symbolizing the Creator who, like the circle, has no beginning or end.  As with our incense, so Native smudging smoke rises in the air—symbolically taking our thoughts and prayers to the Creator above.

Praying with a sacred pipe involved taking tobacco and putting a pinch in the bowl as one first faces the east, then south, then west, and north.  One also aims the pipe stem upward and below—all of these directions being where special powers reside.  It is their power, the power of the Creator’s gifs, that are invoked.  Tribes in the western U.S. tend to being the pipe offering in the west, then north, east, south, above and below.  The pipe offering widespread, but groups vary in how it is offered (grains of tobacco representing each person in attendance along with the many intentions they bring to the ceremonial prayer).  Colors, too, are associated with the directions—the most common being white, black, red, and yellow.

People sometimes ask if Indians smoke peyote in their sacred pipe, and the answer is no.  Peyote is a plant found in southern Texas and Mexico and is used only in ceremonies conducted by Indians who formally belong to a practice that was legally incorporated in 1918—the “Native American Church.”  That name is a misnomer since it sounds as if ALL Indians belong to it. 

Most popular among the Navajo but found among a number of tribes, the Native American Church includes the consumption of peyote during the group’s all-night service.  Non-Indian Catholics find it difficult to devote 1 hour a week at Mass while peyote practitioners will spend 13 hours seated on the ground within a tipi—praying, speaking, singing, and consuming limited amounts of peyote.  Being a hallucinogen that is illegal to possess, Native American Church people are very careful about who attends their meetings.  When drug use became popular in the 60s and 70s, young people wandered into Indian country wanting access to Church gatherings.  They were not welcome.

Instead of the service being some sort of drug fest, consumption for individuals might be like a Catholic sipping wine from the chalice at Communion.  Alcohol’s effect on someone is undiscernible.  My sense of a peyote meeting is that it is a profound prayer meeting—the religion being a mixture of biblical religion and some tribal traditions (contingent upon the tribe and group).  

Among the Lakota, a phrase that ends all religious gatherings or prayer ceremonies asserts that “all are relatives.”  This assertion may well have arisen after Christian contact brought new understandings within Native groups.  Instead of a more parochial expression, one is asking that those gathered leave the gathering with that realization in mind and heart.  The Lakota phrase technically says “All my relatives” (suggesting a more closed sense of belongingness).  However, the phrase might also imply that “all ARE my relatives.”

That sentiment, expressed by Charles Darwin when first proposing that “all life forms are related,” reinforces what we now know to be an essential fact of life on earth (now proclaimed by Lakota in prayer).  We are all relatives (so let us live that way).

This week’s reading from I Kings tells of how a widow and her son are miraculously fed for a year after giving food to a man of God, Elijah.  This reading prepares us for hearing this same theme (being fed by God) in the New Testament.  Figuratively speaking, Jesus fed others in his ministry—culminating in his gift of his presence in the Eucharist.  “Breaking bread” at the “table of the Lord” hammers home the idea expressed in today’s Elijah story.  That is, God literally feeds the three characters.  Even the second reading echoes this same idea.  The Letter to the Hebrews gives the only New Testament referring to Jesus as being a high priest.  He bridges heaven with earth—a symbolic feeding of our spirit.

The Gospel reading reminded me of my grandmother, and of the national elections that took place this past week.  How so?  Let me explain—in the hope that what I express might illuminate the varied darkness-es we experience.

With the election this week, what came to mind was that half the population is pleased with the results and half the population is not.  Every 2 and 4 years, we turn to the ballot box to produce a winner who will, in turn, make us a winner by producing good legislation.  At least, that is what we HOPE will take place. We cast our vote in the hope of helping our lives in some way (even though exit polls show that voters often enough vote AGAINST candidates whose positions would have helped them). 

While not an exact parallel, this political ritual reminded me of what anthropologists refer to as “divination.”  This refers to the attempt to gain insight into a question or situation by way of a little-known ritual or practice. Using various methods throughout history, diviners provide some course of action for a person seeking their help.  Diviners do this by reading signs, interpreting events, or omens, or through alleged contact or interaction with supernatural agencies such as spirits, gods, god-like-beings or the “will of the universe.”  In some ways, elections are a means by which we “throw the dice” on a candidate in the hope that he or she will have the answer to our concern.

My grandmother used to “read tea leaves.”  People would come to her and ask for a “reading” that would give them guidance of some kind.  She also had “witch cards” that were like a deck of playing cards.  She used them, too, in her role as a “diviner.”  There are numerous forms of divination found globally.  For example, some claim to be able to get information about you by having you urinate in a container, and the bubbles that are produced can provide answers to questions you might have.  “Necromancy” is also known as “spiritualism” and refers to contacting the dead.  The great magician, Harry Houdini, put an end to this popular practice in the early 20^th century.  However, it came back in the late 20^th century—charlatans able to convince bereaved mourners that their loved one could be contacted (for a price).

Reading fingernails, belly-buttons, dried mud cracks, wrinkles in your forehead, and countless other ridiculous types of divination thrive among us humans.  And THAT is why I raise the topic at Mass after election week.  All of the different forms of divination are a commentary on our human condition.  We are so weak, or fragile, or so insecure that we seek help from all sorts of objects or behaviors that claim to produce the answers to questions brought to the diviner. 

My grandmother told me that she had no special knowledge that her tea leaves or witch cards produced.  She simply said that she would provide people with vague answers that were upbeat, and that people were satisfied.  I’ve attended séances and ancient ceremonies that originated centuries ago in Siberia (that were adopted by American Indian groups).  These experiences have made me all the more thankful that I have a sacramental system within the Church that speaks to the diverse highs and lows of everyday life.

Adepts, or practitioners, of divination forms were skilled in making their clientele believe that their activity would meet with success.  THAT’S what this past week’s election brought to mind.  Elected candidates convinced voters that their election would bring about new answers to old problems.  We are like the widow in today’s Gospel reading.  We robotically pay our Temple tax because the Scribes and Pharisees convince us that our donation will make life better.

People might think that the Gospel lesson is that we should do as the widow did and pay our last penny to the Temple.  But this is NOT the point of the story.  Instead, Jesus is chastising both the authorities AND the woman.  The former group gets wealthy while the widow puts herself in even worse condition by not resisting the manipulative authorities.

When Jesus walked he earth, it was customary for one to defer to religious authorities and honor them in public, provide them the best seats at banquets, and best seats in the synagogue.  These gluttons enjoyed “the good life” while widows were at the bottom of the social ladder.  Without a husband to represent their best interest, the widow class was in bad shape.  By contrast, the wealthy religious leaders easily paid the Temple tax from their deep pockets while the poor widow made her condition even worse by not resisting their abuse. 

I was reminded of today’s disparity of wealth in America when multi-billionaire Elon Musk said that people will have to tighten their belts and sacrifice.  Speaking like the politically powerful people who executed Jesus, he called upon Americans to bite the bullet—just as the widow was biting—a behavior that Musk will never have to do.  His compadre, Mr. Trump, apparently made Americans believe that he cared about their grocery costs (despite being fined and barred from running a charitable enterprise in the State of New York for running a charity that raised money only for himself).  We can be conned into believing anything—so vulnerable we are to deceptions of diverse kinds.

Were it not for being a sad commentary on our human condition, it is humorous that voters re-elected a candidate who had a 41 percent approval rating during his full term — four points lower than any of his predecessors in Gallup’s polling era, which began with Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1938.  Voters fantasized better times—just like this weekend’s widow who thought her 2 cent donation would work to her advantage.  Her story is a stark reminder to us that Jesus was put to death by a power structure that favored the wealthy—the Scribes and Pharisees whose behavior he condemned.

Jesus does not praise but rather laments this woman’s behavior. She has been taught “sacrificial giving” by her religious leaders, and that is the pity. These authorities promised to redistribute Temple collections to the needy. In actuality, they spent the funds on conspicuous consumption instead.  I’m reminded of the Ohio congressman who went to office with a life-savings of something like 150 thousand dollars.  He is now worth 11 million dollars “serving” his district by voting for tax breaks to the wealthy.

Our parish tradition has been to celebrate the Feast of All Saints with the Feast of All Souls on the weekend nearest their dates (November 1^st/2^nd).  So we honor the memory of our loved ones in the parish who God called back during the year.  Our faith community shares their loss with families who have provided photos while we have lit a candle for each person—symbolizing the flame of their life is still alive within our memory and heart.

In Church history, we first had what was called the “Feast of All Martyrs.”  In 835, this was changed to the Feast of All Saints, and took place at what was then considered in Celtic tradition the beginning of the year (November 1^st).  As Jewish people begin their Sabbath at sundown Friday, so these people began their Holy Day on “all hallows eve” (or the evening of the holy ones or saints).  Over time these words elided into Halloween—October 31^st.  Celebration with apples and cider took place—and the Church expanded the remembering of ALL who died (not just saints) to November 2^nd—and that became All Souls Day.  So this is a special weekend for our parish—with photos of our loved ones on the Mass program.  One day, your photo will be there.  How will you be remembered?

We’re called to the altar where we can bring once again our prayer of thanksgiving for those who can be our advocates in heaven.  Their place in the pew can’t be taken in quite the same way, but we should reflect on the hard reality that the pews have emptied in our churches throughout the country (12% of the Philadelphia Catholic population going to Mass).  Our loved ones have passed the torch to us—but many have not taken it from them.  Such is the nature of society becoming more and more secularized.  In countless ways, we are barraged with messages saying that God is unimportant to our lives. 

Ron Reagan, son of the former president, proudly proclaims in radio commercials that he’s an atheist and advertises for people to join his “Freedom From Religion Foundation.”  Incongruously, among the pieces of merchandise that Mr. Trump sells is a bible—even though he practices no religion.  So it appears we’re influenced by powerful people to keep the pews empty.

Today reminds us that the loved ones we’ve buried this year would not want an empty church to be their legacy.

Let’s face it.  To be a Catholic, or have a Christian identity, is no simple thing.  I can understand why people would just as soon sleep in on Sunday or drink beer on Saturday afternoon.  Those behaviors call us to just take life for granted, and carry on doing whatever it is we want to do.  We’re seduced into thinking that, as the beer commercial said: “It doesn’t get any better than this.”  Yep!  TV and beer—that’s the meaning of life.  Right?  Uh…….no.

People seem to have forgotten that scripture’s story is our story, and that to understand where our story should go—we have to immerse ourselves in its content, its stories that shed light on our experience.  To live our life-story the best possible way, we need to know scripture’s lessons and be part of the prayerful gathering of the faith community each weekend (or more often) to discern why God made us who we are.  Within the sacramental experience, we learn why God created us for this period in history.  It was GOD who wanted YOU—here and now.  Why?

Why did God see that you be born to the people who tended your upbringing.  Why has God sustained your life until now, and put different sorts of people into your life?  Creation isn’t complete without your presence in it—with your presence intended to affect the lives of others—in your own unique way of living as Jesus has taught. 

Our deceased loved ones know these things better than I can express them here.  All I can do is remind you of our vocation as people of the Gospel, people of the sacraments, people of the Word, and people of the Cross.  What a profound symbol—the cross—pointing in 4 directions—pointing to all places and all people.  It points to the sky above and the earth below where all living things dwell.  In pointing upward, it reminds us of the God who made us and who is above our human joys and sorrows.  We look toward the heavens, vertically, asking our Creator for guidance, encouragement, and inspiration.

Arms of the cross reach out horizontally—reminding us of one another, of the human family who are brothers and sisters in Christ. As Jesus did, so are we called to reach out to fellow-travelers (and not just immediate family members).  I think of people who belittle those seeking refuge where they can find it—like our ancestors who came to the shores of America seeking refuge.  Just as our Irish, Italian, German, and other Europeans were greeted with hate by militia groups like the Ku Klux Klan, so today WE Irish, Italian, German, and other European descendants belittle, taunt, and abuse people coming from the south.  I think of how we lost our beloved brother, Carlos Sanchez, this year and wonder how many other people like Carlos seek refuge as his family once did.  The past is present—just in different faces.  God’s people—the cross offering its outreach.

Today’s gospel passage hits the bull’s eye of Christian theology.  Namely, Mark reported that Jesus spoke of the commandments and said that “the most important one is this: ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.”  In giving this reply to a “teacher of the law,” Jesus combined Deuteronomy 6:5 (love Lord) and Leviticus 19:18 (love neighbor).

The Christian cross, or crucifix, symbolizes a wisdom that non-Christian (although baptized Presbyterian) Mark Twain captured in an adage.  He observed:   “The best way to cheer yourself up is to try to cheer somebody else up.” This behavior relates to the horizontal element of our Christian identity.  It is the “reaching out” to others that is our Gospel mandate (part 2 of the “Greatest Commandment”).  Sadly, our wounded world gives daily witness to hurts we inflict on one another literally. or verbally, or through neglect. 

Twain’s Huckleberry Finn tells of two families who attend church services and then go right back to engaging in bloodshed.  Their behavior (which is ours, too, in our own unique way) moves one to wonder if Jesus were here today, “there is one thing he would not be — a Christian” (if their practice, or ours, bears this type of fruit).

As Christianity’s most profound symbol, the cross at Catholic churches is displayed with a “corpus,” or “body.”  A cross without a corpus conjures up thoughts of Jesus becoming “the Christ,” or “Messiah” who overcame the cross by rising to new life.  The presence of a “corpus,” by contrast, visually hammers home the challenge Christians face in TRYING to incarnate Jesus.  Their horizontal outreach to others is their attempt to “love them as they love God” but those others may well resist. The artistic-symbolic-bloodied corpus is a stark reminder to us that in living our Christian identity, we may experience Calvary.  Or are you like the families in Huckleberry Finn?  Do you bear grudges that move you not to attend a funeral, but instead send a nice letter to the deceased’s family saying you approved of it? 

Feeling ill-will is one thing, but acting on it is another.  Would you write such a letter, or take the higher road?  Which action would Jesus take?  Our behavior boils down to this: 1) the only person to fully live the Christian message was Jesus—and look what happened to him! 2) We are called to live as Jesus did—and make every effort to blaze a creative, horizontal trail in outreach to others.  For example, if the funeral cited above were that of Satan himself, why not consider this: “Who prays for Satan? Who, in 21 centuries, has had the human decency to pray for the one sinner who needed it most?”  Maybe this can be the lens through which we act out our identity as people of the Gospel.

How revolutionary our Christian identity would be if Satan were on our list of “who to pray for.”  Contemplating the power of prayer we have over this fallen one is wind in our sails to move forward and pray for, or outreach in some way, any person who we’ve deemed hate-worthy.  In praying for the prince of demons, we can face anything—and STILL realize Genesis tells us that we humans were made at the end of the week’s work–when God was tired.  So we’re all frail vessels—but still filled with the grace of God. 

Discipleship calls us to “fight the good fight” by recognizing where we see the ABSENCE of behavior associated with Jesus.   It is at those times that we are called to be his presence.  In doing so, we can attain the heavenly vision to which God calls our earthly life to see.  So extend your arms—like a cross does—and be the horizontal lifeline for others that you were created to be.  Behaving this way, when our day of death arrives, even the undertaker will be sorry we are gone.

You might wonder if I, the “priest at church,” feels confident of the path he pursues in living the greatest commandment.  Well, I don’t like to be presumptuous about my destination being heaven or hell – you see, because I have friends in both places.

(Interspersed within the above are quotes from Mark Twain’s commentaries on religion).

This weekend’s scripture reminds us why the cross is such a great symbol of Christianity.  It has a vertical dimension and a horizontal dimension—making obvious what our religious mindset should be: Vertically, “you shall love the LORD, your God, with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength.  Horizontally, “you shall love your neighbor as yourself.”  We cannot separate our relationship to God from our relationship to one another.

Keep in mind that the term “love” in this context does not refer to a emotional, romantic attachment to God and people (although it could).  Rather, “love” is the attachment one feels toward a group or person of their group via kinship, village, or factional ties of some kind.  In short, Jesus is simply saying that all of our decision must be made in relationship to our commitment to God.  What does GOD call me to think or do (relative to life’s activities).  We do NOT place loyalty to a fad, or country, or hobby, or cultural trend, or political party before our loyalty to God.

One way we strengthen our sense of dependence upon and commitment to God is through what we call “Holy Days of Obligation.”  If we were in Hawaii, the only such days are Immaculate Conception and Christmas whereas for the rest of the U.S., Catholics are “obliged” to attend mass on All Saints, Assumption, Ascension, and Solemnity of Mary.

This weekend, we are honoring All Saints, All Souls, and Halloween.  Some Christian groups oppose anyone celebrating this latter holiday, but they might re-evaluate their position.  Christian history is filled with missionaries building upon the religious traditions of different peoples (and not just stomping them into the ground in a culturally imperialistic way).  And so it is with Halloween. 

Once people of “the way” (Christianity) could gather legally, Roman temples were “converted” into Catholic churches, and German evergreens representing forest spirits became Christmas trees (representing green life in the midst of winter).  Celtic and Roman festivals honored the dead at this time of year (as nature died with the onset of winter).  Pomona, the Roman goddess who oversaw fruits and forests, was honored via costume wearing and “bobbing” for apples (the apple being her symbol). 

Do you know anyone who “bobs’ for apples or who dresses up as a Celtic forest animal—and thinks of a Roman goddess or Druid spirit?  These once “pagan” festivals have been thoroughly secularized.  However, Catholic tradition preserved “Hallow” een by creating All Saints Day (“Hallow” referring to “saint” and “een” referring to “evening”).  This festive Celtic day preceded what became All Saints Day celebrated since the 8^th century.  HOWEVER, over time a clarification was made by Church officials.

Since some virtuous people within Christian tradition were clearly perceived as attaining heaven, they were deservedly declared a “saint,” “canonized” and honored as a “saint” both on a feast day of their own during the year, and one, catch-all feast day called “All Saints.”  Everyone else, who may or may not have led similarly virtuous lives, could be honored with a day of their own, viz., “All Souls” Day.  This is why we celebrate all 3 special days this weekend—combining them into one.

Secular society has its own “saints” who we call American patriots, or war-heroes, or entertainers, or politicians—and recognized with statues and monuments like Mt. Rushmore or Washington Monument, or the thousands of other places where people can “worship” their memory.  This is known as secular religion, and sometimes people conflate the two.  Think of statues to Saddam Hussein that were torn down once he lost power, or those of Hitler, Mussolini, Stalin, and countless other “demi-gods” of one or another country whose regime took power and led their people into hell on earth.

We have sports Halls of Fame—with “saints” of basketball, football, baseball, and other athletics of every ilk.  The Church is SUPPOSED to thoroughly research a person’s life and affirm that one or two miracles have taken place because of the person’s intercession.  If some major wrongdoing was found within the life of some Hall of Fame candidate, their candidacy is dropped.  Baseball aficionados, for example, debate if Pete Rose and Shoeless Joe Jackson will ever be admitted if charges for gambling on games is perceived as harmless.

But what does “sainthood” have to do with us ordinary folks today?  Aren’t “saints” a kind of otherworldly person whose behavior was the opposite of our own (and even bizarre at times)?  Maybe not.  St. Theresa of Liseux, known as the “little flower,” was one of the most admired of all time within Christian history.  She made this observation: “Our Lord does not come from Heaven every day to stay in a golden ciborium.  He comes to find another Heaven, the Heaven of our mind and heart–is where he most loves to stay.”

We might think saintliness is for geeky folks who were out of it, socially, but I like what Gandalf, a “white magic” maker,  said in the film Lord of the Rings:  “Some believe it is only great power that can hold evil in check.  But that is not what I have found.  I have found that it is the small things– everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay.  Small acts of kindness and love.”  Whoever composed those lines (it was not the book’s Catholic author, Tolkien) certainly knew Catholic theology when writing the above.

May this folksy, down-to-earth poem be our attitude:

I sing a song of the saints of God   Patient and brave and true,   Who toiled and fought and lived and died  For the Lord they loved and knew. And one was a doctor, and one was a queen And one was a shepherdess on the green.  They were all of them saints of God — and I mean, God help me to be one, too. They loved their Lord so dear, so dear,  And his love made them strong;  And they followed the right, for Jesus’s sake,  The whole of their good lives long.  And one was a soldier, and one was a priest,  And one was slain by a fierce wild beast: And there’s not any reason — no, not the least–Why I shouldn’t be one too.   They lived not only in ages past,   There are hundreds of thousands still  The world is bright with the joyous saints   Who want to do God’s will   You can meet them in school, or in lanes, or at sea,  In church, or in trains, or in shops, or at tea,  For the saints of God are like you and me,    And I mean to be one too.

May the life of Jesus influence our decisions on election day.  

Picture this: you walk into the place of worship and see a sanctuary where there is a Tabernacle.  You also see a sanctuary lamp/light near the Tabernacle.  What is this place?  Answer: Catholics might say they’re in a Catholic church.  A Jewish person might say they’re in a synagogue.  They both could be right.  Both respondents might also be describing the Temple in Jerusalem at the time of Jesus.  It was the central, sacred place of worship for Israelites.

This group of people was divided into 12 tribes who later became the people we know as our cousins in the faith—Jewish people (who practice “Judaism”).  This latter term comes from the name of one of these 12 tribes, the tribe of “Judah” (and so, Judaism).  Priests among these people came from one of those 12 tribes—the tribe of Levi.  If you meet someone whose name is “Cohen,” they might be Jewish and might have a genealogy to this tribe—as the word cohen (in Hebrew) means “priest.”

A religious-political party within Judaism in the first century was that of the Sadducees.  They were priests, and this group appointed one of their number the “high priest.”  Among his responsibilities was entering the “holy of holies” part of the sanctuary—that area restricted to him alone.  He was in that sacred spot that represented Heaven, and his job entailed joining that realm to Earth—which was represented by the rest of the sanctuary.  He was, thus, a bridge between heaven and earth.

Today’s reading from Hebrews is the ONLY New Testament reference to Jesus as a priest.  He was, in the end, a layman! But as the Temple High Priest symbolized, so Jesus became the “bridge” connecting heaven with earth.  THAT’S why the Letter to the Hebrews makes the claim of Jesus being a “priest.”

Israelites recognized God’s presence to them in much the same way as we do.  Namely, in the Temple. the Tabernacle held the first 5 books of the Hebrew scriptures known as the “Torah” (Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy).  The Torah’s presence in the Tabernacle was God’s word alive in their midst.  Catholics likewise see/hear God’s presence in the Bible—both within the Hebrew scriptures of what we call the “Old” Testament AND within the “New” Testament.  God’s presence—for both Israelites and Catholics is represented by the light burning near the Tabernacle.  However, within the Catholic Tabernacle is not the “Torah” (the 5 books) but consecrated hosts, the body of Christ.  See the similarity/continuity?  Both Judaism and Catholicism signal God’s presence in the Tabernacle via the sanctuary lamp—the “Old” Testament books of Torah for Jews and Christ’s presence in the Eucharist revealed in the “New” Testament.

Scholars sometimes refer to the “First” testament of Judaism and the “Second” testament of Christianity.    While Christians read BOTH sets of scriptures in our Bible, Judaism just reads the first set (since for them, Jesus was not God but simply a good Jewish man).  Our spiritual cousins within Islam draw upon material from both Old and New Testaments—in their scripture known as the “Qur’an.”  

When the high priest entered the Holy of Holies on one day of the year, he would say what the people considered God’s most sacred name—“Yahweh.”  It was never said at any other time.  As a result, when the Temple was destroyed in 70 a.d., and the Sadducees no longer existed as religious functionaries, that word was never again spoken.  The “Rabbi” became the clergy within Judaism and Christian scripture’s reference to Sadducees and Pharisees addressed roles that were no longer in existence.

When the Bible was translated and printed, the word “Jehovah” made its way into the text—and appeared in the King James version of 1611 (and subsequent versions).  Research showed that “Jehovah” was not accurate—prompting Jehovah’s Witnesses to still spend time arguing why the word WAS correct (and so they asserted there was no need to change their denominational name).  Scholars don’t use “Jehovah.”  N.B., although this group considers itself Christian, it does not affirm the existence of the Trinity.  Founded in the late 1800s by a clothing salesman in Pittsburgh, it took on its present name in 1931 and is a good example of a Gospel-inspired religious practice cobbled together by charismatic leaders who, despite no education in scripture or theology or Christian history, were able to organize a following that became a “church” with millions of members.

This weekend’s Gospel reading addresses a core Christian teaching.  Scholars say that Mark was addressing a community that tended to think of Jesus as a kind of Superman.  Mark stressed that the role of Jesus—and all Christians—was “to serve and not be served.”  Going to church is half of one’s identity—the other half being to do outreach that reflects the behavior and thought of Jesus. 

This week saw Jesuits and Catholics everywhere honor the memory of “The North American Martyrs”–John de Brebeuf, Gabriel Lalament, Isaac Jogues, Rene Goupil, Anthony Daniel, Charles Garnier, Noel Chabanel, and John DeLalonde.  Two of these men were laypeople dedicated to working with Jesuits.  All from France, these men were targets of the English who warred with the French until 1763 for control of North America.  England paid rewards for French scalps and an additional amount if the scalps were of Jesuits.  Indian America was allied with the French—except for the “League of the Iroquois” (a nation of tribes that included the Mohawk, Oneida, Seneca, Cayuga, Onondaga, and Tuscarora).  These peoples now go by their tribal-language name and, instead of “Iroquois,” use the name “Hoe-dee-na-show-nee.” 

The martyrs died in the 1640s and were canonized saints in 1930.  Each was killed separately with the account of Brebeuf’s death best known.  Appearing in books and articles, the account was read at parish masses—taken directly from a series of books that all good libraries have: The Jesuit Relations.  These volumes contain all the reports of Indian life in the Great Lakes and French Canada where Jesuits worked.  Saginaw’s own Henri Nouvel, S.J. is even mentioned in the Relations.  That is how the high school got its name—Nouvel being the first priest to say Mass in the region, and “nouvel” being the French word meaning “new.”  Since the 3 Catholic high schools were blended into one, NEW, school, “Nouvel” seemed an appropriate name.

While the account of Brebeuf’s martyrdom is horrific, it does not compare with the electronic video games played by young and old players at home.  These games have combatants who splatter the blood of their opponents in life-like, neighborhood settings.  By contrast, the account of a martyr’s death is instructive for modern-day listeners.  We are confronted with what living the faith has meant for people in our Catholic tradition.  We might consider it heroic to simply attend Mass—but we should be stopped in our tracks when we see others put their life on the line.  Since young and old Catholics know little about how people died for the faith, learning of Brebeuf’s example can be inspiring.  It’s at least an alternative to the millions of video games that cater to the bloodlust of modern Americans.

Our understanding of the faith might fail to make us realize what it took for us to have our faith inheritance.  People play video games at home that have the realistic slaughter of opponents while Brebeuf’s martyrdom account tells listeners that Calvary didn’t happen just once.

As described by Wikipedia: Throughout the torture, Brébeuf was reported to have been more concerned for the fate of the other Jesuits and of the captive Native converts than for himself. As part of the ritual, the Iroquois drank his blood and ate his heart, as they wanted to absorb Brébeuf’s courage in enduring the pain. The Iroquois mocked baptism by pouring boiling water over his head. Then they cannibalized him.  Accounts of his torture emphasize his stoic nature and acceptance, claiming that he suffered silently without complaining.  Account were given by Huron prisoners who had escaped (the Jesuits many times witnessed Hurons die at the hands of their enemies, the Iroquois).  They knew they might one day suffer the same fate, and wanted to be exemplars of faith for their torturers.  Would you do the same?

I’m reminded of the film about 45 of us watched a couple of weeks ago-The Mission.  It was based on the real-life history of Jesuits working among the Guarani Indians of South America.  Taking place when Spain and Portugal were 2 of the world’s most powerful countries, the film depicted Jesuits setting up missions in the Amazon jungle and bringing the best of European civilization to the people (young ones able to sing Latin hymns and play musical instruments of all types).  Sadly, Spain and Portugal wanted Rome to award them Guarani lands for development—opening the door to slavery of the Indian population and extraction of the Jesuits.

The final scenes show Portuguese soldiers entering Guarani territory killing priests and Indians, and burning down the missions that had served the people so well.  Actors Liam Neeson and Robert DeNiro played the role of Jesuits who took up arms to fight with the Indians, and they were killed—whereupon the Jesuit superior, actor Jeremy Irons, opted for peace and wore a white surplus over his black cassock.  He led about 50 men, women, and children toward the oncoming soldiers who leveled their rifles and killed the people one by one.  Irons held a monstrance (the gold/silver sun-like circular container that holds a consecrated host at benedictions) and led the group until a bullet hits him in the heart and he fell to the ground dead—clutching the monstrance.

In what was a most gripping scene, the group of Indians stop momentarily and a woman picks up the monstrance—and leads the group into the deadly gunfire that would kill them all.  This last act of each person in the crowd—replicates Brebeuf’s martyrdom.  Just as he gave his life witnessing his faith, so did the men, women, and children of The Mission.  Would you have done the same? 

Until I was age 9, my family was not hurting financially.  Back then, one of our regular experiences was to go out to dinner at a nice restaurant.  Years later, I asked my mom why she and dad allowed my brother and me to order a shrimp cocktail as an appetizer.  They were just as costly then as they are today. 

As an adult, I wondered why they permitted us to order such an expensive item, and then order an entre from the just-as-expensive menu.  We could also order a “Shirley Temple cocktail” as they had their “Old Fashioned.”  We were young boys who had no sense of running up the bill.  Mom said they let us order these expensive dinners “because we loved you.” 

When my dad lost his business and we were poor, we never again went out to dinner as a family. 

This week’s gospel brought these memories to mind.  It tells of a rich young man asking Jesus how he might find eternal life.  Asked if he had observed the commandments, the young man said he did.  Whereupon, Jesus “looked upon him lovingly”—maybe just like my mom and dad looked upon my brother and me.  Jesus knew the young man had much to learn—just as my brother and I had much to learn after experiencing a life of privilege.

I can just picture Jesus reacting to the young man’s assertion that he had observed the commandments.  Jesus probably smiled, rolled his eyes, and sighed before responding to this child of God who thought he was perfect.  Like an all-knowing parent speaking to a naïve child, Jesus then diplomatically suggested the young man sell all his possessions and give his wealth to the poor.  Yikes—the young man probably no doubt thought.  Maybe I better re-think whether or not I have observed the commandments.  Surrendering his wealth to the poor was NOT an idea he wanted to embrace.

Not surprising is that modern-day studies have shown that wealthy people give proportionately less to charities than poor people.  This topic always unleashes political fights when large tax breaks are given to individuals or corporations because some will argue that wealthy people will create jobs with their windfall. 

Known as “supply side” or “trickle-down” economics, tax cuts for the wealthy and corporations have been found to NOT stimulate economic growth that helps the less affluent.  Instead, it has created a greater gap between the rich and lower classes.  Economists currently say that it has been the most enduring failed policy idea in American politics. A timely example of this shows that Trump supporters often point to his administration’s “supply side” policies as worthy of their vote.  However, 16 Nobel Prize winners in economics recently announced that his economic plan will be a disaster.  Meanwhile, many ordinary folks think they know more than these Nobel prize winners, and think the supply-side strategy will work!  See Wikipedia on this.

Jesus told his disciples that it is hard for a rich person to find eternal life.  This coincides with the theory that wealthy people are not dependent on anyone or anything (if their financial pipeline is sustained in some way).  This contributes to a mindset that they need not rely on God, too.  Hence, our secular society has many people comfortable enough to avoid church attendance or have a religious practice of any kind (Christian or not).  Jesus could have asked the young man if he had been generous to people (and not just observed “Thou shalt not steal”).  Or, he could have asked him if he brought life to people in some way (instead of just observing “Thou shalt not kill”).  Each commandment isn’t just a prohibition but is also a stimulus to bring about the opposite of what they forbid.  Thus, each of us is that rich young man who Jesus looked upon lovingly.  Like the young man, we fall short of the ideals we preach.  Jesus “ministers” to each of us—HOPING that we make decisions that see us as proactive and not just living in a neutral gear.

I met with Bishop Gruss and a group from Detroit on Saturday.  The group wanted to know more about the Indian man whose biography I authored which helped put him on the road to canonization as a saint.  “Black Elk” first came to the attention of the world in the book Black Elk Speaks and then The Sacred Pipe: Black Elk’s Account of the 7 Rites of the Oglala Sioux.  These books captured world attention in reporting a “Sioux” (Lakota) man come of age in the buffalo-hunting era of tipis and fighting the cavalry.  He was at Custer’s Last Stand (the battle of the Little Bighorn) in 1876 and Wounded Knee in 1890.  This latter site saw many elders, men, women, and children killed.  Weaned on these books and others, I was curious to learn more about Indian people—and so requested an assignment to teach at Red Cloud Indian School on the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota.

Why should I, someone born and raised in Detroit, decide to forsake teaching at a Jesuit prep school and seek a placement at the poorest school run by the Jesuits?  Over time, it occurred to me that my story is, or can be, your story–just as the rich young man is a story about each of us. 

My departure for the reservation was not an easy decision to make.  After all, I had any number of other options that glittered enticingly with fantasies of “the good life.”  Fortunately, I did what each sincere Christian should do. I  told my spiritual director about entertaining thoughts of going to Pine Ridge to teach instead of places where my peers would go.  Maybe I should drop the idea and simply go with the flow.  After all, I’d probably “fit in” better at a nice, first-world school.  No one was interested in teaching on a reservation, but here I was—thinking of what a neat setting I’d be inhabiting with this famous tribe.  Maybe this was a silly fantasy and not reality-based.

My adviser said it seemed my interest in the Sioux/Lakota was solid, and that the “call” to be at Red Cloud Indian School seemed authentically from God.  He said: “Stelts, you reach the highways through the byways, and it seems you’re being offered to take one of those byways now.”  And the rest is history—except for learning the truth of what Albert Einstein once observed: “Coincidence is God’s way of remaining anonymous.”  In retrospect—and not at the time—I was able to see one coincidence after another on my path to writing about Black Elk.

Getting my college degree, the Jesuits allowed us guys to get a Master’s degree before teaching—my class being the first to be given this option.  I wanted to learn more about Indians—so this new policy was serendipity.  Good timing.  A Jesuit scholar suggested I go to Indiana University’s Folklore Program.  I did so, and what a surprise to learn that the author of The Sacred Pipe was a visiting professor that year at I.U.

I was nervous and frightened about making the big move to Pine Ridge—wondering if I’d fit in or fall out, succeed, or bomb in the classroom and with the kids.  Would I meet Black Elk’s relatives and learn more about his religious practice in the old way?  Uptight, I flew to South Dakota holding my turtle bowl in my lap since I was accompanied by my little turtle who could only go with me if I carried him.

Long story short is that I met Black Elk’s only surviving son, Ben, and was excited to make some contact with the venerable patriarch’s family member.  It was a great disappointment when Ben died just months after I met him.  I now knew no one who could provide me with information about the revered Black Elk. I was disappointed. 

And then, one day, the boiler stopped working in the school, and classes were canceled.  I went outside to have a smoke and sat next to a Lakota grandmother on a bench.  I asked if she had gone to school here and she said that yes, she had, and that the school dedicated its yearbook to her brother.  Since I was the faculty member who volunteered to oversee making a yearbook, I knew about its dedication to Ben Black Elk.  That’s how I met the holy-man’s only surviving child, Lucy Looks Twice.  Over the next 5 years until her death, I gathered as much information as I could about her father. Eventually, the University of Oklahoma published Black Elk: Holy Man of the Oglala, and Nicholas Black Elk: Medicine Man, Missionary, Mystic.  These books told the story of a buffalo-hunting Sioux warrior who converted to Catholicism in 1904 on the feast of St. Nicholas and became a dedicated catechist for the rest of his life.  He died in 1950.

In 2017, the bishop of Rapid City, Bishop Gruss, asked the U.S. Catholic Conference of Bishops if they would vote for Black Elk to be considered for sainthood and name him a “Servant of God” (the first title given to a person who was being considered).  The bishops unanimously declared him a Servant of God on November 14^th, my birth date (unbeknownst to anyone there).

By the grace of God, I somehow made decisions that seemed to be good promptings of the Holy Spirit.  For some reason, a sincere interest in something good (learning about Indians) presented me with the option of pursuing that interest more seriously.  I could have made many other decisions that percolated within my mind and heart.  But I took the percolating and wonderment to a spiritual director, and involved myself with more “mini-decisions” related to the interest area—and made my way west.  The same process is offered each parishioner of St. John’s (and all God’s people). Coincidences and other experiences combine to help us pursue the special roles God created each of us to incarnate.  This process is at play right now as you read this.

One of the readings from a weekday mass is worth noting here—for your benefit.  It spoke of Paul persecuting Christians before falling to the ground on the way to Damascus (in present-day Syria).  He heard the voice of Jesus ask him “Why are you persecuting me?”  From that experience on, Paul ended his old way of life, changed his thinking, and became a great light of Christian tradition.  Most importantly, he realized that God/Jesus was telling him that the past was the past—and he could start afresh NOW.  He could find new life in his commitment to living as Jesus had taught.  And so it is with you and I.  We can begin anew today.

Sometimes, the weekend readings do not stir thoughts that are easy to apply to our experience.  By contrast, this weekend’s offering is rich with material—enhanced by two feast days that fell during the week.  This is the time of year when we are called to reflect on the life of Theresa of Liseux (the “little flower”) and Francis of Assisi (founder of the Franciscan Order).

By contrast, today’s rich reading is from Genesis—and reports one of the TWO creation stories that appear in that first book of the Bible.  This is not the story of Adam and Eve, but of God making a man whose rib God crafted into that of a woman. In the Adam and Eve’s story, humans are created after the animals and in both male and female sexes. Here, however, man (male) is created first.  Animals were then created to serve him (naming them indicates control over them).

We could spend much time addressing the content of these creation stories, but for our limited time today, it’s worth noting some key points that are important for each of us to internalize and take to heart each day of our lives.  Namely, there is no hierarchy within the human race.  That is, humankind did not come into existence UNTIL both man and woman were created.  The two are of one flesh.  As one verse puts it, “Male and female he created them.”  One is not beholden to or superior to the other.

Similarly, throughout human history, groups and individuals have asserted that THEIR people are #1—over and above or smarter than all others.  In America, we’ve had a history of seeing Indians as non-human and Blacks as inferior to “White” people.  When the Ku Klux Klan emerged, they rose to power by hating Jews, Blacks, and Catholics.  Today, the KKK has been replaced by a variety of “White supremacist” groups such as the Aryan Nation, Nazis, and a variety of militia groups.  Surprisingly, some Catholics identify with these groups and are unaware that they, Catholics, were once the object of racial/ethnic prejudice and hanged. 

It is hard to understand how Christians of any denomination can attend church and carry this sort of prejudice.  Their own scripture, as in Genesis today, teaches them that humankind was created by God—and that God made one “race”—the human race.  There was no mention of skin shade.  God created man and woman—“and saw that they were good.”  Importantly, Genesis informs us that creation is incomplete without YOU—in your special identity as this male or this female in this place within the garden of Eden that is our home.

Genesis tells its readers that we are to care for this marvelous gift of planet Earth, but you may recall the “Crying Indian” commercial that depicted an Indian looking at polluted lands and rivers.  It reflected an Indian criticism of Genesis—Indians saying that Christianity has been killing “Mother Earth” for centuries.  Their perspective is not based on an accurate reading of Genesis, but Christian actions have spoken louder than words.  Sadly, the example of St. Francis of Assisi has not been able to offset human spoilage of the environment.

Taking this saint’s name, Pope Francis issued the encyclical “LAUDATO SI’, mi’ Signore” – “Praise be to you, my Lord”.  (a line from the prayer of St. Francis). He challenged Catholics (and people everywhere) to realize that we are on a course to ecological calamity. With the past couple of years being the hottest globally in recorded history, and with climate disasters occurring with greater frequency than ever, 72% of Americans agree with scientists that global warming is a reality.  Fossil fuels have long been a major contributor to “eco-cide” but U.S. politicians from both parties have been financially supported by corporations that place profit over people (and scripture).

NASA was aligned with the encyclical.  It reported that the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, composed of scientific experts from countries all over the world, concluded that “it is unequivocal that climate change is the result of human activities and that human influence is the principal driver of many changes observed across the atmosphere, ocean, cryosphere and biosphere.  Since systematic scientific assessments began in the 1970s, the influence of human activity on the warming of the climate system has evolved from theory to established fact.” However, this reality has been reduced to a popular political position that the issue doesn’t exist.

Just this week, the governor of Florida banned the term “climate change” from State literature and allied himself with other bribed politicians to assert that the issue is something “made up” by their political opponents.  All sorts of industries that make trillions of dollars by avoiding regulation were no doubt pleased with the support of politicians allied with this governor.  We who claim to have a Gospel identity need take to heart the Pope’s counsel.  In listening to speakers on the topic of our environment, we need to realize that Francis speaks on behalf of a Bible that told us to take care of our “common home” and not listen to those who speak on behalf of their wallet.

It is not surprising that this topic has people take sides in the matter (trusting politicians over scientists who actually know what they’re talking about).  It seems we live in a time when people will even question if the earth is flat.  Well, this week’s readings throw us another topic that could itself be the focus of a workshop: marriage and divorce.

Picture yourself at age 21 coming home and announcing at the family dinner table that you’ve found the person who you love and who you’re going to marry.  With a proud smile on your face and hoping to be congratulated by family members, you instead are told by one of your parents: “Love shmuv!  You’re going to marry who we’ve chosen for you.  Mr. and Mrs. X are respected people whose son/daughter will be a good provider for you and the children you’ll have.  You and our family will be much respected by this union.”  In the words of a woman who had this experience, “Over time, you grow to love your husband.”  Love generally meaning that he was a decent provider for the family.

Unlike American culture, peoples globally—since earliest times—regarded marriage as an institution that was arranged by parents (and not their child).  It was thought that marriage was too important a decision for a young person to make.  We might fantasize “falling in love,” but in their study of cultures around the world, anthropologists pretty much define marriage as “an economic transaction uniting two groups.”  No warm embraces with that cold statement!  From time to time, you’ll read the story of a girl’s family killing her for not abiding by the marriage custom of her people—marriage being serious “business”—literally.

In the modern era, 41% of first marriages, 60% of second marriages, and 73% of third marriages end in divorce.  Such is the state of marriage in 21st-century America.  It has not always been this way. Customs change, e.g., 19^th-century America saw MANY first-cousin marriages. 

In the time of Jesus, Israelite culture held that just as children cannot choose their parents, so too children could not choose their spouse. God chose one’s parents, and through one’s parents God chose one’s marriage partner.  And so it was that Jesus stated a cultural truism, i.e., “What God joined let no one separate.”  If marriages dissolved, such things as shame, feuding, and bloodshed could result.  Thus, the “Marriage bond” needed preservation at all cost.  It was NOT a decision made by a couple kissing affectionately.  It was, rather, a “social contract” that involved a community that would be bound together in all sorts of activities because of the “marital bond.”  Modern America pretty much lets a couple decide their fate going into or out of marriage.  Cultures everywhere saw broader ramifications to a union, e.g., the couple living with his family for a period, or hers, or their own—with obligations of various kinds. America largely lets young people do what they wish.

As is obvious in the Gospels, Jesus was one who brought people together and healed people whose minds, hearts, and bodies were broken in one way or another.  His role was to encourage the union of people and couples.  His efforts were not aimed at dissolving the marriage pact but to help it be a stabilizing force within communities.  That same strategy is what the Church tries to implement 2000 years later.  However, early in Church history, the Christian community had to address problems that arose with marriage—problems that seemed to have no positive resolution.  Hence was born the Pauline and Petrine privilege that granted a couple’s release from the marriage contract under certain circumstances.  In our time, you might know someone who was granted an “annulment” which allowed them to marry.  Some Protestant groups reject these Catholic teachings and do not allow divorce based on today’s scripture.  As stated, the topic is a sensitive one still—and not limited to the fallout noted above within Israelite culture of the first century.  This is why the matter requires sensitivity on the part of a marriage tribunal, parishioners, and anyone dealing with people caught up in these circumstances.

Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi

Most High, all-powerful, all-good Lord, All praise is Yours, all glory, all honour and all blessings.  Praised be You my Lord with all Your creatures, especially Brother Sun,

Who is the day through whom You give us light?  And he is beautiful and radiant with great splendor, Of You Most High, he bears the likeness.  Praised be You, my Lord, through Sister Moon and the stars,

In the heavens you have made them bright, precious and fair.  Praised be You, my Lord, through Brothers Wind and Air, And fair and stormy, all weather’s moods, by which You cherish all that You have made.  Praised be You my Lord through Sister Water–So useful, humble, precious and pure.

Praised be You my Lord through Brother Fire, through whom You light the night and he is beautiful and playful and robust and strong.  Praised be You my Lord through our Sister, Mother Earth,  who sustains and governs us, producing varied fruits with coloured flowers and herbs.  Praise be You my Lord through those who grant pardon for love of You and bear sickness and trial.

Blessed are those who endure in peace, By You Most High, they will be crowned.  Praised be You, my Lord through Sister Death, from whom no-one living can escape. Blessed are they She finds doing Your Will.

St. Theresa of Liseux

“When I have been lonely, depressed or ill, I’d often repeat to myself a line of poetry which brought peace and strength back into my soul. It says: “Time is just a ship that bears us. It is not our home.”  “When we cannot rise above our difficulties, we should pass through them or beneath them with trust in God.”

“Our Lord does not come from Heaven every day to stay in a golden ciborium.  He comes to find another Heaven, the Heaven of our mind and heart–is where he most loves to stay.”

“When it comes to his closest friends, the Lord tests them by keeping them waiting for a miracle. He allows Lazarus to die when Martha and Mary have sent warning that he is sick.  At Cana of Galilee when his mother tells him the host has run out of wine, he tells her that his time has not come yet.  Why shouldn’t our Lord treat me the same way, by keeping me waiting first, I savor God all the more because in his own time he satisfies the deepest wishes of my heart?”

“In God’s garden, there are big flowers and little flowers.  Not all of us can be big lilies and roses.  Some of us have to be content to be little daisies —and God loves those little daisies just as much as he does those big lilies and big roses.”

This week’s Gospel reading reminds us of how some people take scripture literally (sometimes it SHOULD be and sometimes NOT).  Today’s passage illustrated the latter.  For example, today Jesus says that if your hand or eye or foot are a source of sin for you—CUT THEM OFF.  Boy, if understood this way, he was a stern taskmaster.  He’d fit in with those countries today that do, in fact, punish lawbreakers in this fashion (countries like Saudi Arabia, Iran, and several others. 

Contrary to this MODERN practice (that goes back millennia), Jesus was NOT making this point.  Otherwise, we’d have millions of disabled people coping with these amputations.  Instead of thinking that this is the point of what Jesus said, forget it.  Jesus is using hyperbole—exaggerating an example just to make his point.  That is, he’s saying: “If you can identify the source of your bad behavior—STOP IT.  Make no excuses and never say: “The devil made me do it.”).

This topic reminded me of an American Indian comedy video that had a young Indian guy sitting across from a medicine man at a table.  The young man hands a gift to the medicine man [a traditional custom when seeking wise counsel from a traditionalist elder].  The young man then respectfully says: “I’ve been going to a lot of white doctors and they can’t tell me what’s going on with me.  I ain’t got no singing voice and I’m always tired.”  The medicine man then asks: “Well, do you party all the time?” And the young man smilingly responded: “Hell yes.”  With that, the medicine man slaps the young man across the face and says; “Knock it off!”

Jesus and the medicine man are both basically saying that one should stop doing what they know to be destructive behavior.

Apart from this lesson in scripture this week, I was reminded of a term I heard bandied about by commentators on the upcoming elections.  They were referring to people who cast their vote based on very little knowledge of the persons or issues.  Or, they are victims of intentionally misleading or deceptive data called “disinformation” (as when the Russians or other countries fill our social media for unsuspecting Americans who think what they see is accurate or true—when it’s not).  Whether one knows little about candidates or issues their mindset is: “I’ve always voted for whoever is a Green Party candidate” (or one of the other parties).  Or these people might simply THINK they know issues (but when interviewed reveal a lack of knowledge—as has been found with people who limit themselves to FOX broadcasts (its viewers being the LEAST informed).  People within these populations are referred to as “low information” voters (the technical term I recently learned). 

Just this week, when the vice-presidential candidates debated, a poll showed that 25% of the population had no idea who the VP candidates were or what they stood for.  If you fall within this group and wish to acquire a sense of candidates, I’d be happy to provide you with information on them.  For example, VP candidate Vance thinks the U.S. should “delete” its form of government and replace it with a dictatorship.  This is simply to point out that you should know one’s vision of America if it is contrary to yours.

Learning this term dovetailed with what Pope Francis recently said.  He told people that they had a responsibility to educate themselves on all the candidates and issues and NOT limit themselves to voting for one issue only.  The Pope was calling us to be a “high information” voter. 

This topic brought to my mind that I’m “low information” in many areas of life.  For example, I’ve known about the existence of soybeans for years, but it wasn’t until this week that I learned what they looked like.  Parishioner Irene Peck brought some to the Tuesday 5 p.m. Mass for me to see.  What also came to mind is that a priest’s role within a parish is to help the people become “high information” members of the faith community—and be people familiar with biblical literature, Christian history, ethics, traditions, spirituality, and all aspects of life as seen through the eyes of Jesus.  That’s why a “homily” is supposed to teach people about scripture passages at Mass, and how those passages might apply to our everyday living.

This week we see the names of Moses and Joshua and their dealing with people who weren’t “official” prophets chosen by the community.  We might be tempted to yawningly listen to this story from the Book of Numbers—andhave no clue as to its relevance for us.  However, to be high-information Catholics, we need to know how these elements of the story DO relate to us.

In short, our Christian religion is based on the teachings and life of Jesus.  He is called the “second Moses” because he led us out of slavery to behaviors that enslave us.  Moses led his people to the Promised Land, and so does Jesus lead us in that direction.  However, it was Joshua who accompanied the people across the river into the new territory (since Moses died just before getting there).  And we need to keep in mind that Joshua and “Yeshua” (Hebrew) are the same name as “Jesus.” 

So today, we are thus reading about our grandparents in the faith who were symbols or forecasts of what was later to come full fleshed out in the Gospels (a technical name for people who presage/illustrate a New Testament figure is “type” (as in “Moses is a ‘type’ for Jesus”).  These leaders in the “Old Testament” became fleshed out in the totality of goodness when Jesus arrived on the scene in Bethlehem.  Their lives and experiences pointed the way to Him.

Such as today’s reading had Moses comment: “Would that all the people of the LORD were prophets!”  This, too, is a major statement to you and me.  Why?  Because when we were baptized, we were baptized to become a “prophet.”  Not in the sense of predicting the future (the meaning we generally have in mind), but as one who speaks or shows others how God is present with us HERE AND NOW.

In this role, we’re likely to have a family member or friend or acquaintance say to our “prophetic voice” a response like: “Mind your own business,” or some such dismissive reply to what we say.  We needn’t get on a soapbox, or “in someone’s face” when we live our prophet role.  As with the prophets of the Old Testament, so with us prophets of the New Testament.  You and I might be criticized or ignored or be martyred—but such is the role of prophets described in scripture.  Our challenge is to somehow make our Gospel point in a way that people can “hear.” 

Maybe when speaking with someone who we think needs our counsel, we can use a “hook” like the one used by Dr. Phil on TV.  When his guest reveals all the problems they’ve had with drugs or behaviors that brought lots of anguish, Dr. Phil asks them: “How’s that working for you?”  The reason this question is a therapeutically good question to ask—is that Dr. Phil is not himself outright telling the person that they’re really “messed up.”  He’s led the person to be able to objectively look at their behavior and respond something to the effect of “It hasn’t been working out for me.”  And so it is with our being a prophet.  We need to learn HOW we might deliver the counsel we prophets seek to provide. 

When the apostles told Jesus about other people doing good—but not doing it in the name of Jesus—they remind us of the first reading from Numbers.  Jesus is acknowledging good behavior when it is performed when he says: “For whoever is not against us is for us.”  Such people can be considered what’s been termed an “anonymous Christian.”  They’re doing Christian behavior without consciously calling it Christian.

This is the season when students are getting accustomed to a new school year.  Each Fall, I think of my many years in the classroom at Jesuit universities and am reminded of phrases associated with the 27 schools founded by my Order.  These schools tell students that Jesuit education doesn’t just teach one how to make a living.  It also teaches them how to live.  A spin-off of this thinking is that we try to produce “men and women for others” in the tradition of Jesus. 

Mass has these same goals.  In this sacred context of the sacrament, we learn how to live and become people “for others.”  This week’s Gospel reinforces these thoughts—but to understand how it echoes Jesuit orientation, we need to get a deeper sense of the first-century culture within which Jesus lived.

A surface reading of the passage leads us to think that Jesus instructed his apostles to be hospitable toward children.  The apostles had been arguing about who was the greatest among them, and Jesus placed a child in their midst to answer their questions.  “Whoever receives one child such as this in my name receives me.”  In doing this, they will also receive the One who sent Jesus.

What modern readers need to know is that when Jesus hugged the child and greeted it warmly, Mark was NOT portraying Jesus as someone who was simply kind to children.  Instead, Jesus was calling their attention to one who symbolized the “lowest level” of society.  It was children who held that unpleasant distinction.  Mr. Trump’s former press secretary said that his “core” followers did not know that in private he spoke of them disparagingly as “basement dwellers” for whom he had no interest other than getting their votes.  Jesus was pointing to the “cellar dwellers” of society when he pointed to a child.  Such persons were the ones who should receive the attention of his apostles.  Children were the “basement dwellers” of his time.  They held the status of little more than of a slave.

30% died at birth while 60% died by age 16.  Moreover, children had no rights, and were the last to be fed.  Proverbs and Sirach said that fathers should physically punish their sons lest they suffer abuse or neglect in later life (Prov 13:24; 19:18; 22:15; 23:13-14; 29:15, 17, 19; Sir 30:1-13).  As biblical exegete John Pilch noted: “This does not mean that children were not loved or appreciated. Mediterranean discipline fuses love with violence as parents explain: “We only do this because we love them.” Even God disciplines “him whom he loves, and chastises every son whom he receives” (Prov 3:11-12).  1200 years later, the great St.Thomas Aquinas even described the status of children in terms that seem abhorrent to us.  He said that when rescuing people from a fire, a man should first save his father, mother, wife, and children (in that order).

In today’s Gospel passage, we might think Jesus is saying that we need to treat children kindly.  While that understanding is not wrong, it is not his main message.  Rather, Jesus is telling his followers that it is the least among us who we should serve.  It is those without status or without power who true Christians serve.  Recall, too, the scripture that echoes this thought when Jesus says he came not to be served but to serve.  That is his answer to who is the greatest among us.   Evangelist Mark also countered false teachers who saw Jesus as a divine miracle worker and themselves as successors.  Thus, Mark emphasized service and humility—symbolized by the cross.

The teaching is still counter-cultural since we are raised to be hired into a fine job, seek promotions, acquire leadership roles with “perks,” and “ladder climb” throughout life.  By contrast, Jesus is telling you and me that our most basic identity is to be, as the Jesuit motto states, a “man or woman for others.”

Today’s reading is timely for people associated with Boston College—a Jesuit university regarded as one of the country’s finest educational institutions.  This is the weekend on which they play what is now called their “Red Bandanna” football game.  Just as Jesus used the symbol of a child to illustrate his point, so on our altar is the symbol of a red bandanna which commemorates the life of a Boston College graduate.  He embodied being a “man for others” when 9/11 took place.  Several months after that tragedy occurred, his parents learned the details of how their son perished that day.  He held a well-paying position and worked on an upper floor of the World Trade Center.  As stated in Wikipedia, survivors

“. . . didn’t know his name. They didn’t know where he came from. But they knew the man in the red bandana had saved their lives. He called for fire extinguishers to fight back the flames. He tended to the wounded. He led those survivors down the stairs to safety and carried a woman on his shoulders down 17 flights. Then he went back. Back up all those flights. Then back down again, bringing more wounded to safety. Until that moment when the tower fell.”

Welles Remy Crowther’s bravery and selflessness have inspired numerous tributes. In 2024, Rockland County introduced a cyber detection dog named “Remy” in his honor. Remy, a black lab trained to detect electronic devices used in criminal activities, is one of only 100 “cyber dogs” in the United States. The dog wears a red bandana, symbolizing Crowther’s iconic red bandana worn during the 9/11 rescue efforts.

Each year, the home football game closest to 9/11 sees Boston College players wear Crowther’s name on their jerseys along with their number appearing as a red bandanna.  Many in attendance wear red bandannas showing their solidarity with a BC graduate whose heroic, Christian sacrifice embodied a vision they were trying to incarnate. 

So this week we have a child, a red bandanna, and a cross—as symbols of the service that today’s Gospel states is what identifies us as Christians.  What follows are reflections you might spend private time considering:

If you’re not in service to others, you’re not living the Christian life. 

True honor can be found in the most unlikely places.

“Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”

“ . . . anybody can serve. You don’t have to have a college degree to serve.  You don’t have to make your subject and your verb agree to serve… You don’t have to know [Einstein’s theory of relativity] to serve.  You only need a heart filled with [desire to do the right thing]” 

And if the notion of service is intimidating, think of what Mother Teresa said:  “If you can’t feed a hundred people, then feed just one.” 

He who shuts his ear to the cry of the poor will himself also call and not be heard. (Proverbs)

Service is God’s therapeutic counsel telling you how to be fully you.

And the Christian notion of service is “wonderful because nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.” 

“A bone to the dog is not charity.  Charity is the bone shared with the dog, when you are just as hungry as the dog.” 

While not a liturgical holiday, “Grandparents Day” was a good event probably spawned by candy/flower/restaurant corporations.

Grandparents are included in Mother’s and Father’s Day celebrations, but our grandparents deserve recognition for the roles they play in many households.  They’ve learned from raising their own children, and have a second chance to do an even better job in doing it again. 

The Lakota Sioux Indians begin all prayer by addressing “Grandfather, Great Spirit” (Tunkashila Wakan Tanka)—recognizing the Creator as a very special relative and giver of life.  This idea gives spiritual substance to Indian cultures that frequently refer to “elders” as especially worthy of our reverence.  Black Elk reflected that elders should be taken good care of and learned from—since they are close to God when in their final years. 

Sometimes, grandparents (great-grandparents) feel that their presence is no longer useful, and so they get discouraged.  They often don’t realize that the family is just glad that grandmother and grandfather are present!  It doesn’t matter if they’re make the family meal, mopping the floor, or some other chore.  It’s their presence  that matters.  I don’t think of this experience without recalling the void my family felt when my grandmother went back to God.  I missed putting a shot of whiskey in her egg nog at Thanksgiving time.  I should say a “half a shot” of whiskey—as my grandmother did not imbibe well—and a “half” was plenty for her (even when she was young).

So it’s Grandparents Day this weekend.  It wouldn’t hurt to express your appreciation to your loved ones.  And if your grandparents are no longer with us—why not give your grandchildren a treat of some kind—and tell them you’re celebrating BEING a grandparent to them.

This is also the weekend that we read from Mark’s gospel instead of John’s.  Recall that Mark is the oldest of the 4 Gospels—and is thought to have provided material for Luke’s and Matthew’s books.  Mark’s is the shortest of the 4, and is the only one that has today’s story of the deaf-mute.  Interestingly, Mark’s Gospel is written in Greek and uses the same word for both “mute” and “deaf.”  Therein lies the potent meaning of the encounter with Jesus.  Think of people who can’t hear anything as infants.  They might never be able to speak.  Now think of this theologically.  If our young (or older ones) hear nothing about our faith and have no participation within the sacraments (like attending Mass), what will they be able to say about God,  or Jesus, or Christian virtues.  Our faith-life is SUPPOSED to stir within us a movement of Spirit that motivates us to feed the hungry, clothe, the naked, etc.  But if you hear nothing about your faith, what will motivate you to accomplish anything of value?

Within that long-ago first-century world, Jesus was a healer.  As with other tribes in other parts of the world (North America, too), people did not regard illness or physical misfortune the same way as us.  Instead of saying something like “He caught a virus” or “She slipped and broke her ankle,” people would say: “An evil spirit did this to him/her!”  And as was the custom, if an evil spirit was present (as with the deaf-mute whose condition signaled an evil spirit’s work), the healer would “spit” to chase it away.  In this instance, Jesus spit and then rubbed the man’s spirit-stricken disability.  Voila!  The miracle worker did his thing.  What a great miracle worker Jesus was.  Yay.  He could overcome evil spirits!  Write about his power in action-packed comic books.

Stop.  That’s not the main point of this story.

What we’ve read is that Jesus performed an exorcism that cast out whatever prevented the man from hearing THE WORD OF GOD and sharing it, or speaking it to others.  THAT is what Mark was telling his audience.  Put another way, any incident that reported someone locked in the grasp of an evil spirit or demon—is the Evangelist’s way of saying that Jesus can heal you of YOUR demons, and lead you out of the paralyzing addiction or affliction or behavior that prevents you from becoming the best version of yourself.

This deaf-mute story addresses we humans who carry memories of something we’ve done that shames or festers in our conscience.  At the beginning of the incident, we’re told that Jesus speaks to the man (you or me) “in private.”  And so it is, the healing we can receive from living the Christ-life is offered to us privately as the risen Lord speaks to our hearts.  I was reminded of a country-western song that might speak to you in contemporary terms of everyday life:   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wkZyqxVCPYs  (or Google Youtube Walk On Reba McIntyre).

This week we buried two parishioners and I was once again reminded of God calling each of us one day.  We’ve walked many paths in life and found ourselves in mid-Michigan.  Grandparents see family members and each of us deaf-mutes look at our lives and wonder if where we are is where we should be.  While thinking these different thoughts, I was reminded of a best-selling novel of several decades past: I Heard the Owl Call My Name.  It was made into a film and told the story of an Episcopalian priest assigned to an Indian reservation in Canada’s British Columbia

[Google this site to see the entire film: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MAoIYDxNefU]

The “reserve” (what Canadians say instead of our “reservation”) is a poverty-stricken fishing village, and the priest thinks of his role as that of one who will help people fit into the larger Canadian society.  By the story’s end, it is he who learned from the people.

A scene that came to mind was that of the priest speaking with the local school teacher.  This man was condescending toward his students and the reserve people in general.  The priest invites him to attend services and the man says he’s not a religious man.  The priest replies that if it weren’t for a teacher in the 7^th grade who inspired him, he’d be nowhere at all.  Whereupon the teacher said: “Look around you, vicar, this IS nowhere at all.”

Because the priest was trying to understand what his role among the people should be, the teacher’s observation hit home.  Then he learns that he has a fatal disease that will take him to eternity in the months ahead (the people believe that one’s death day is near when one “hears the owl call my name”). 

Like grandparents who might think their lives aren’t of much consequence now that they can’t get around like they once did.  Like each of us deaf-mutes who deal with our limitations and wonder if our lives will be of any further consequence, we’re like the priest (who was buried there on the reserve cemetery grounds).

Before the owl called his name, he learned that THERE on a destitute Indian reserve, was far from being “nowhere.”  Because he was God’s child, among other of God’s children from a far different background than his.  He was very much SOMEWHERE important.  And so it is that God know each of us by name, and is with us HERE—making our presence with others of supreme importance.