Make Room in the Grass

The 17th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Today’s Readings: 2 Kgs 4:42-44; Ps 145; Eph 4:1-6; Jn 6:1-15 [Link]

When we read our weekly gospel passages at mass, sometimes I feel like we’ve wandered into the room in the middle of a movie on TV. You can pick up the thread of the story, but then again, you’ve missed the context of what came before.

I think that’s very true today. We jump right into the story of Jesus going across the Sea of Galilee and performing the wonderful miracle of multiplying the loaves and fishes—without the context of what he was doing there in the first place.

Actually, Jesus—who was like us ordinary people in all ways except sin—was in shock and in mourning. Word had just come to him that his beloved friend and cousin—his forerunner—John the Baptist, had been yanked out of his prison cell and brutally executed, by beheading, at the behest of Herod. I’m sure you remember the story of Salome asking for John’s head on a platter. Jesus needed some time alone. So he went off to one of his favorite get-away spots, the seashore.

Already by this point in his career, Jesus was attracting a big following. Picture some celebrity being followed around by fans and supporters and groupies. Maybe a movie star or politician or a famous athlete… even if that person needs some private time, unfortunately not too many folks will respect those boundaries.

But unlike a disgruntled movie star who occasionally hauls off and punches a fan or smashes a paparazzo’s camera, Jesus didn’t respond that way. He was the picture of patience and loving compassion, despite everything weighing on his mind. He told Philip and Andrew, “Have the people sit down on the grass.” There were five thousand people there. Try to imagine being in a crowd that big…

Now, there is an amazing lesson of welcoming and inclusiveness in this gospel story. A few verses after the end of today’s passage (Jn 6:23)—see, there’s that context business again!—we read that the feeding of the 5,000 took place near Tiberias, a city on the southwestern shore of the Sea of Galilee. Tiberias was the Roman capital of the province.

No Jew would live there, because Tiberias had been built on a site where there were ancient tombs. In fact, most Jews wouldn’t even set foot in that city. Yet think about the crowd of people there. The multitude would have included Jews, Samaritans, Gentiles, Romans, soldiers, slaves, slave owners, women, children, lepers, the sick, Pharisees, priests, and a hodge-podge of the people called unclean and sinners. Truly, the crowd was a cross-section of people from all walks of life.

Jesus told the people to sit down to eat together. Actually, our gospel today uses the word “recline”: Jesus said, “Have the people recline.” That was the posture of the disciples at the Last Supper. In the culture of the day, people would not eat with others who were not of their same social rank, race, politics, religion, class, race or gender. To recline to eat made a person vulnerable to others. In fact, one of the most persistent customs of the Arabs in Palestine today is the practice of not eating with anyone who is a stranger or who might not be trustworthy.

What’s new and remarkable about today’s lesson is not the miracle of multiplying food. There was a lot of that in the bible. Moses gave manna to the children of Israel in the wilderness. Elijah multiplied a widow’s tiny bit of flour and oil so she could feed herself and her son for a year. In our first reading today, Elijah’s disciple, Elisha, multiplies a few barley loaves to feed a hundred people.

No, the new and remarkable thing about today’s episode is that all of the people from widely diverse lives and lifestyles for the first time sat down together to eat! This had never before happened in the history of Israel. It was the truly remarkable new beginning of including everybody in Christ.

When everyone had eaten, the disciples gathered up twelve baskets of fragments. Also pay attention when the Scriptures mention numbers, because numbers are significant and sometimes even mystical. The twelve baskets are a reminder of the twelve tribes of Israel. Just like the twelve apostles, this is another indication of the “new people of God” brought together in unity because of Jesus. The fragments were gathered so nothing should be lost. Nobody was, or ever would be, left out of this magnificent feast with Jesus!

I hope this story makes you feel good and warm all over. But let me burst your bubble a bit. What Jesus tried to teach us in Tiberias is often given a lot of lip service, but is not practiced.

I related to Jesus’ mourning for John the Baptist, because earlier this week, I offered an anniversary mass for a dear friend of mine named Mark who tragically died ten years ago. He died of AIDS. He suffered a horrible and painful kind of dying; I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. And even though it’s not polite to talk about how people pick up a disease like this, yes, he was gay.

When the disease had gotten to the “obvious” point, he was done hiding in the closet and playing games. He came out to his family, and praise God, they embraced him with deep love and compassion. He reconciled with God and the Church, too. So in the end, he had a beautiful death.

Mark would have been among the 5,000 people in Tiberias whom Jesus loved and fed… but gee, he wouldn’t have felt too welcome in many—maybe most—Catholic or Christian churches in the year 2006.

Others among those 5,000 who tend to get the cold-shoulder in our churches today: people who’ve been in prison or had trouble with the law… the divorced and remarried… the fallen-away… mixed-race couples and their kids… politicians who support certain positions—and politicians who don’t support certain positions… and lots of other groups and categories of people. In the name of Jesus Christ, in the name of Christian morality, in the name of the Holy Church—we cross off those people. We find them unworthy to recline with us.

As today’s gospel demonstrates very vividly, Jesus does not reject those people; we do.

Many of you are parents. How would you feel if somebody rejected your child? Yeah, that’s how Jesus feels, too.

The simple lesson is: don’t do that anymore. Instead, scoot over a bit and make room on a nice grassy patch next to you. Smile and say, “Hey, why don’t you come sit here next to me and have something to eat.”

Honeybees for the Lord

16th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Today’s Readings: Jer 23:1-6; Ps 23; Eph 2:13-18; Mk 6:30-34 [Link]

This past Wednesday, I stopped by a neat natural foods store in Urbana called “Strawberry Fields.” As I wandered around the shop, I picked up a jar of honey that caught my eye. It had a luscious golden color and just looked very special. I turned the jar in my hand to read the label, and I was amazed at what I found out. It said that a family of honeybees collectively flew 24,000 miles and visited three to five million flowers just to gather enough pollen to produce the honey in one jar. That’s the equivalent distance to a trip around the world—for one pound of honey!

Why would bees go to all this effort? We could say that it’s because God promised us a land of milk and honey, and made all creatures subject to us… but that’s not the full story. Obviously, God could have saved the bees all that work and just given us honey from heaven.

But I think we all know that God doesn’t usually do things that way. In fact, ever since he finished creation, God seldom does things directly. Instead, he uses his creatures as instruments or intermediaries. All his creatures—each in their unique way—become “Instruments of Divine Power.”

Hmmm… “Instruments of Divine Power”… IDPs… I like that!

So, each and every little honeybee is an IDP for honey lovers: us human beings, Winnie the Pooh, and countless other creatures.

This testimonial about our little honey makers could happily end here, but actually, it’s just the beginning. God’s plan is really too big for our imagination, and his gifts are too big for our appreciation.

There’s a vitally important reason why it takes so much effort to produce honey—why busy bees visit 3 to 5 million flowers to gather enough pollen for a single pound of this golden gift from God. You see, as the bees gather pollen for their nest, they also spread it around. They carry this pollen on their bodies from one flower to the next. In the process, they germinate the plants, and this makes it possible for the plants to produce fruits and vegetables. This is by far the most important work of honeybees, since most of the food we eat comes to us as a result of their activity.

The life of the honeybee is one of the great examples of the power and magnitude of the work of God’s IDPs. And the amazing thing is, the honeybee has no idea of all that happens because of its efforts! It just does what it is innately programmed to do. This tiny, but oh-so-important agent of God’s plan doesn’t know it is an Instrument of Divine Power… but it most certainly is.

And so are we!

It’s true! Just like the honeybee, each of us has a part in God’s master plan. As his IDPs, we’re supposed to do what we can to help produce our own version of golden honey to benefit other folks in his creation. And again, much like the honeybee, we don’t know all the results and effects that will come to pass because of our efforts. We don’t even have to think about it. That’s God’s business.

Our mass readings today make this point. God is the shepherd, and we’re the flock. The Lord tells us that we shouldn’t be afraid even though we can’t see where we’re going, because he is guiding us along the right path. And what’s more, God says that he’ll send other people, other shepherds, into our lives to take care of us. In other words, he’ll provide IDPs—Instruments of Divine Power—to accomplish his will in our lives. And the incredible thing is, a person may make an almost inci-dental appearance in your life without every realizing the impact they’re having.

I’ll never forget an episode during my first year of priesthood. I got a call from the hospital in the middle of the night. A parishioner was in Intensive Care and wasn’t expected to make it. Could I come down and give her Last Rites? I stumbled out of bed, splashed some water on my face, and quickly dressed and headed down to the hospital. The details are kind of sketchy—I don’t function at tip-top condition at 2 AM—but somehow, this woman pulled through and made a complete recovery. For her family, this experience was a turning point in their lives. Their faith was reenergized, and they became devout Catholics and mass-goers. And for some unknown reason, they credit me with much of it…

Wow. All I did was to do my job—and not very alertly, at that. I was just a dumb ol’ honeybee dragging my pollen to the hospital that night. God, of course, did the real work. He healed the woman and stirred up her family’s faith. But for some reason, he involved me in the process.

Do you know often this kind of thing happens? All the time!

Think about the so-called “chance” conversations or meetings you have with people while you’re standing in line at Wal-Mart or the grocery store. The surprising words that come of your child or grandchild’s mouth. The magazine article you read in the doctor’s waiting room. The call from and old friend that seems to come out of the blue. All of these may be truly graced moments, masterminded by the Good Shepherd as a way to bless and guide you—without the human agents ever being aware of what’s happening!

When you think about it this way, it can be a little disconcerting. You mean, if I say something uncharitable to someone—or am abrupt or distant with someone—or blow somebody off when I really could give them a few minutes of patient attention—or make an unkind gesture while driving (someone sent me an Internet joke about funny bumper stickers; one said: “Horn doesn’t work, watch for finger”)… you mean, I could be depriving them of some special grace that God wanted to give them through me? Yep. Exactly.

Honeybees can’t do that. They’re “pre-programmed” in nature to do their job. But we people have free choice. We can say, “Nah, I don’t feel like lugging pollen today.” And God won’t force us to.

On the other hand, honeybees also don’t say, “Boy, I feel good today! I’m going to double the number of flowers I’m going to visit.” But we can. We can turn to God in our prayer and offer to be his instrument.

Today’s a good day to pause and think about how you’ve been doing as a honeybee for the Lord. May the Good Shepherd touch your heart and guide you in right paths for his name’s sake. Amen.

Unload!

Ulysses S. Grant traveled light

The 15th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Today’s Readings: Amos 7:12-15; Ps 85; Eph 1:3-14; Mk 6:7-13 [Link]

It’s been quite an experience this week in Penfield watching the I & I farm show take shape: tons of people pounding in stakes, setting up tents and tables and booths and equipment, hauling in supplies… plus all the folks arriving from out of town who are camping out during the show.

As I watched all this activity—and reflected on our mass readings for this weekend—I had a mental image of the troops arriving for one of the battles of the Civil War. Maybe it’s because I went to the seminary in Emmitsburg, Maryland, which is just 8 miles down the road from Gettysburg…

During the Civil War, you may remember that General Ulysses S. Grant was commander-in-chief of the Union Army. And of course, he later went on to serve as president of the United States for two terms.

I didn’t learn this until very recently, but Grant was apparently a real model of simplicity. In a biography of him, one of his cabinet members described what Grant was like as he left on one of his military campaigns.

In those days, the custom was for generals to get caught up in the trappings of their rank. Typically, they traveled with orderlies, a team of horses, servants, a great coat, plenty of clean clothes, and an assortment of other paraphernalia like books and maps and personal supplies of all kinds.

But not General Grant. He knew that everything in battle depended on being able to move quickly. It was crucial that he should be encumbered with as little baggage as possible. So on this particular 6-day campaign that his colleague wrote about, literally the only thing he brought along was his toothbrush. The biography said, “He fared like the commonest soldier in the command, partaking of his rations and sleeping on the ground with no covering except the canopy of heaven.”

General Grant traveled light—and so did Jesus and his apostles. The gospel today tells how Christ instructed the Twelve to take nothing for their journey but a walking stick: no food, no sack, no money in their belts.

Naturally, there’s a lesson in this for all of us. Jesus also wants us to be his apostles… to spread his message by our words and actions. And the fact of the matter is, we can do better if we are not weighed down with a lot of unimportant stuff that takes up our time, our attention and our money.

Sure, lots of the stuff that makes up our baggage is good, because it adds to our comfort and convenience, or because it helps us do our work better and faster.

But truthfully, many of the things we hang on to are actually extra baggage. They divert our time and our minds away from the important spiritual and intellectual work God would like from us.

Now of course, I’m not suggesting that we should all get rid of everything we possess and live like St. Francis of Assisi or the poorest beggar. Yet, if we do want to have the spirit of Christ, then we’ve got to be a little bit ruthless about getting rid of the unnecessary and superfluous excess baggage in our lives that weighs us down physically and spiritually.

When you get back home, you might have a look in your closets, your basement, your attic, your garage, your sheds, your cabinets, and see just how much gulch you have accumulated over the years. Do you really need 26 sweaters… or old pants in several different sizes… or attachments for the vacuum cleaner you don’t even own any more… or your collection of cooking or hunting magazines that dates back 20 years? Lots of us are “hoarders”—and we would do well to unload a bunch of it! Maybe you can give the usable stuff away and haul the rest to the dump.

Our house cleaning should go beyond just physical property and possessions. Also think about your time baggage. Do you clog up your days with too much TV or computer time… or anything else: sitting around drinking coffee… gossiping… shopping… playing video games… napping on the couch? Do you think you could better serve the Lord if you were to free up a few extra hours a week?

And finally, think about some of the emotional baggage that you carry around that consumes your energy. Are you still hauling around old hurts and grudges? Are you a worrier? Are you a nervous person… or a pessimist… or a perfectionist stuck in this far-from-perfect world? If you just relax a little and trust in God’s mercy and providence, I’ll bet you could trash a lot of those anxieties… and empower yourself to serve the Lord.

It’s awfully good to pause now and then—like today!—and remind ourselves that we are on a journey to heaven. When we leave this life, we’re going to leave behind our property here on earth. So the less baggage we drag around now, the more we can concentrate on the essentials… and the more time we can give to the spiritual dimension and the future that really matters.

Yes, our Lord traveled light in every sense, and he taught the apostles to do the same. Ulysses S. Grant learned that lesson, and it gave him success in battle. And we, too, should do the same, to build a life that is well-ordered and joyful. Pray today for this liberating grace in your own life!

The Missing Piece

14th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Today’s Readings: Ezek 2:2-5; Ps 123; 2 Cor 12:7-10; Mk 6:1-6 [Link]

Over the years, I’ve bought many things that came in kits. You know, you open the box and there are all kinds of plastic bags filled with parts… and of course, simple directions—if you have an engineering degree from MIT. Usually, they tell you to begin by taking an inventory: now make sure that you have 37 Phillips-head screws that are 1⅜-inches long…

I’m kind of an impatient person, so I would usually just dive in to the assembly process. One time, well into it—and into the night! —I found to my horror that an important piece was missing. I searched high and low. No luck. I bet you can relate to that sinking feeling.

I think this experience is kind of a metaphor for how lots of us approach life. Maybe you feel that life’s a struggle because somehow there’s an important piece missing.

What’s your missing piece? Maybe it’s an education you weren’t able to get. Maybe it’s the love or closeness in your marriage or some other relationship that you really want but it just never happened. Perhaps it’s some kind of physical or intellectual or emotional difficulty that forces you to limp through life while for other people, life seems smooth and easy. Or maybe it’s some other unfulfilled dream or tragic loss that you can’t seem to get past. Missing pieces are as different and unique as each of us is.

Paul tells us today about his own missing piece in his Letter to the Corinthians. He calls it a “thorn in the flesh.” We don’t really know what his exact problem was, but it must have been a real struggle for him, since he asked God three times to take it away. The Lord kept saying, “No… my grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.”

How unpleasant.

Or is it? Actually, this short passage is pretty amazing to reflect on. In a strange sort of way, Paul teaches us that we can be more whole, more complete, when we have a missing piece, because in our quest to fill the empty space in our life, we are driven to Jesus Christ.

What an amazing discovery, because even though God doesn’t always agree to restore our so-called missing pieces, he is always willing to use those gaps to bring about a lot of good.

I have a friend named Doug whose father died suddenly when he was very young. All his life, Doug searched for a way to fill the void his father’s death left. He went through a lot of really bad relationships to try to fill the loneliness. That didn’t work. Then he became one of those “driven” people who lived life in the fast lane. He worked like a demon, made a ton of money, bought everything he wanted at the moment, traveled a lot—but he quickly learned that no matter what he achieved or bought, the pain and emptiness in his soul remained.

One day, in a wonderful epiphany of faith, it dawned on Doug—like it did for St. Paul—that if he put Jesus at the center of his life, then he could make peace with the thorn in his flesh. Doug realized that a weakness he had no control over was prodding him right into the arms of Jesus, giving him a different kind of strength and delight.

Think for a minute about your own experience. How many times have you gotten the very thing you thought would satisfy your deepest hunger or dream? A new job or promotion or a fat raise… a new home or car or marriage or children… a dream relationship… getting your health back—only to discover that the pleasure these things gave was only temporary. Even great things can be terribly disappointing. You know why? Because only God can give us perfect fulfillment. That’s the idea behind heaven! We are created in his image, and only the presence of Jesus in our lives can ultimately fill the God-shaped hole in our soul. And if some missing piece in our life helps us discover this, what a blessing we have received!

What this means is that if God doesn’t give us our missing piece, he can still give us a new attitude of acceptance that can become a source of strength and joy. That’s how Paul can write that he can boast of his weaknesses, and delight in insults, hardships, persecutions and his other weaknesses. He says, “For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

Is this man a nut case? Can you imagine saying, “Yippee! I’m weak! I’m sick! I’ve got problems! Isn’t it great?!”

No, Paul wasn’t entirely delusional. What happened is that he experienced a radical change in perception and attitude. He has new criteria to use to measure his worth. The only way we can explain his change in perspective is by realizing that he let God intervene.

Rather than continuing to gripe in his prayers about his thorn or his missing piece, now Paul is experiencing the power of God in ways he never imagined. Joy has replaced bitterness when he considers what he has or lacks in life. Only someone in this kind of relationship with Christ can make the astounding statement, “When I’m weak, I’m strong.”

Each and every one of us has our own challenge—our own thorn or missing piece. Beethoven, at the high point of his career, went totally deaf. He ran off to a monastery to pray for his hearing back, but God wouldn’t do it. Instead, the composer had a surprising insight. He began to hear new music in his mind. Writing furiously, he transferred silent sounds to musical notes of praise to God… music of power and joy. The result was his famous Ninth Symphony, which Beethoven himself conducted. He couldn’t hear the music, but he felt the vibrations with his feet. He couldn’t hear the applause either, but he turned around and saw it. Yes, God changed Beethoven’s attitude toward his missing piece, his lack of hearing... and it became a blessing to the world. Is deafness good? No, of course not. What’s good about a missing piece is what God can do with it.

What wonderful, wonderful news that the weaknesses in our life—whatever form they may take—can become our greatest strengths and sources of joy and delight if we’re willing to turn to Christ. Please don’t be afraid to trust him. Don’t be afraid to ask. Just put yourself into his hands.

The Lord’s Full Attention

The 13th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Today’s Readings: Wis 1:13-15 and 2:23-24; Ps 30; 2 Cor 8:7, 8, 13-15; Mk 5:21-43 [Link]

In the gospel today, in the middle of the story about the little girl who was dying, we hear about a woman who had been suffering from bleeding for twelve years. Mark writes that she spent all her money going from doctor to doctor, and she still didn’t get any better.

If you’ve had to deal with a sick spouse or parent, or maybe with your own health problems, that routine might sound all too familiar. Sometimes the rigmarole of getting medical care is worse than the disease itself—what with HMO’s, referrals, preferred providers, income limits, insurance forms, Medicare, billing, all kinds of side effects from the drugs or treatments... And then there are the hours spent in waiting rooms, tests you have to fast for but that they are never quick about, appointments that are hard to make and even harder to keep… Being sick for a long time can be a nightmare.

As bad as it is being chronically ill, imagine having an illness that also carried a social stigma—something contagious or physically revolting or embarrassing—maybe something like leprosy or AIDS. That’s what it was like for this poor woman in the gospel.

Remember, she was a Jewish woman living under the law of Moses. The Book of Leviticus (15:25-30) says that if a woman has a flow of blood for several days outside her monthly period, then she remains unclean or impure as long as the flow continues. Anything she sits on or lies on—a chair, a bed, a couch—also becomes unclean. Anyone who touches her becomes unclean and has to bathe and wash their clothes. Can you imagine?

That’s what this woman had to live with for twelve years. She became an outcast. She couldn’t participate in any social or religious or community activities. People stayed away from her for fear that they would also be contaminated.

It’s hard to even picture how lonely she must have been. Can you imagine going for so long without a hug or a tender, loving touch from another human being? Through her illness, she probably felt fear and shame and self-loathing and social ostracism.

The sad thing is, there are lots of people like this woman. They’re afraid and filled with shame and self-hatred. Many are condemned or shunned by others. It may be so bad, that sometimes they may even think about suicide. It may be because of illness like the woman in the gospel… or it may be because of sexual orientation, race, religion or for some other reason. We may call it by different names, but the resulting loneliness and sadness and isolation are universal.

And so: here’s that unnamed woman who pushed her way through the crowd to get to Jesus from behind so she could just touch his cloak. She had heard about him and she had a feeling that he might be able to help her. Mark tells us that as soon as she touched his garment, she knew she was healed.

Jesus, meanwhile—and remember, he was rushing with his disciples and Jairus to get to the little girl’s house—stopped cold, spun around in the crowd and said, “Who touched my clothes?”

I’m sure the disciples were baffled and impatient, wondering what kind of foolish delay this was, especially since time was of the essence if Jesus was going to save the girl. But Christ stood there, searching the crowd.

In fear and trembling, this previously ill and desperate woman came forward. She knew that Jesus wasn’t going to move on until she identified herself. Even though it was considered highly improper for a Jewish woman to speak publicly to a man other than her husband, she mustered every ounce of courage and reluctantly came up to him. You can imagine that every eye in the crowd must have been riveted on her as she quietly shared the whole truth of her illness and suffering with Jesus and the gaping crowd.

Jesus listened intently and compassionately. Then he publicly blessed her and praised her: “My daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace, and be healed of your trouble.”

By saying this, the Lord pronounced that she was once again religiously clean and healthy. She could once again join in the community. Her neighbors, friends and family would no longer fear being near her. She could now entertain… experience meaningful touch by the people who loved her… and attend public functions in town and her synagogue. She was an outcast no longer. Jesus healed much more than her physical illness. He also healed the deepest needs of her soul.

As we reflect on this beautiful and touching story, there is much good news for us to take and apply to our own lives.

One amazing lesson is that when you reach out to Jesus, he’s going to stop and listen with total interest and deep compassion. At that moment, there’s nothing that’s more important to him. You’ve got his full attention. So don’t ever be afraid to pour out your heart to him.

We also learn that Jesus will heal the deepest needs of your soul, just as he did for this woman. He’ll take away your hurts and your loneliness. He’ll affirm you and love you and flood your soul with peace and joy—if only you reach out to him in faith. Trust that he can do that for you—because he can, he wants to, and he will, if you let him.

Pray today for the wisdom and courage and trust to put your deepest needs in the hands of Christ the Lord. As the woman in the gospel found out, it’s guaranteed that you won’t be disappointed.