Joy at the Tomb

Easter Sunday
Today’s Readings: [Click here]

Today, on Easter Sunday, the worldwide Church shouts “Alleluia!” with great awe and joy because Jesus Christ is alive. On Friday—Good Friday—he truly died like any human being does. But now he has been resurrected. He is just as truly alive again, exactly as he predicted.

To begin with, this is a mystery almost impossible for us to grasp. People don’t typically die on Friday and come back to life on Sunday. Now, I have watched that new show on TV called New Amsterdam where John Amsterdam had a massive heart attack on a subway platform, was pronounced dead, and then got up from the hospital table and walked out—very much alive. But in real life? Not at all likely.

Even Mary Magdalene, certainly one of Jesus’ best friends on earth, wasn’t really expecting the miracle of the resurrection. In fact, the other gospel accounts tell us that she went to the tomb with spices so she could mourn her friend’s death and perform her last charitable service to him by anointing his body and blessing it for burial. No way did she expect to find that he had gone missing—most especially on his own power!

When the new reality of the situation started to sink in—in other words, when Mary remembered that Jesus said he would rise again—and of course, when it occurred to her that he actually could probably do it just the way he did it with Lazarus—wow! All of a sudden the sadness and finality of death evaporated in an instant. She was now filled with joy.

And for us as Christian believers, that joy is even more incredible for still another reason. Jesus said that not only would he be resurrected to eternal life, but so will we! So the thrill of the empty tomb is our own story, as well.

That’s why to understand this and to believe it on faith is the very core of Christianity.

Six years ago, my mother passed away. Like the rest of my family, she was Jewish. While I blessed her body with holy water and prayed and offered masses for her, it was the rabbi who performed the funeral. I remember his sermon. In essence, he said that when a person dies, that’s it. There is no more life. However, he said that the person went on living through the remembrance of others and through their enduring good works and kindnesses and charitable deeds.

I remember shaking my head and thinking: how sad; what an impoverished understanding that you live and die and are forever forgotten within a generation or two, at best. Surely our all-powerful and all-loving God intended more. And I thanked God profoundly for leading me to his Son… for leading me to find his much, much better truth.

In one of my previous parish assignments, I had the sad duty to bury a young man named Randy whose life was snuffed out at way too early an age. As you’d expect, his family and friends were numb when they went to the grave to grieve and to honor the one they loved.

Then, a few months later, Randy’s parents did something that you might think is a little unusual—but something that I think would make Jesus smile and give Randy a hug. Across from the grave marker, a very proper bronze plaque with Randy’s full name and dates, they placed a beautiful granite bench engraved not with his formal name, but rather the name that those who loved him best called him: “The Randy Bear.”

Now, people don’t just go to Randy’s tomb, but to his bench. They sit for a while. Some told me that they can really feel his presence and his love—and of course, Jesus is there, too, as he is present whenever God’s love takes human form.

On this Easter morning, we remember that Jesus came out of the tomb and left. He didn’t want to leave us with a place to go and weep, as respectful as that may be. Instead, he wanted to teach us that it is the joy of life that is eternal… that God and those of God’s children who have gone before us smile upon us and wish us long, full and happy lives—and the promise that one day, when our own earthly journey comes to an end, we will also cross over and share in the same resurrection. The grave won’t contain us either.

In the beautiful words of Psalm 30: Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning.

Happy Easter. Amen. Alleluia!

Getting Connected

Holy Saturday | The Vigil of Easter
Today’s Readings: [Click here]

One of the psalms in tonight’s beautiful vigil of Easter liturgy starts out this way: Like a deer that longs for running streams, my soul longs for you, my God. What deep desire these words express! All of us long to be with God—at least ultimately! We’ve come here tonight, on this most holy of nights, to celebrate that desire.

Has this ever happened to you? You’re driving along and talking on your cell phone to someone you love, and then you hit a black hole and your call gets dropped. One of you has to call the other one back… then ask what happened… laugh a little… then try to pick up the conversation where you left off.

In some ways, that same pattern describes our connection with God.

From the moment we came into existence, we have been connected to Almighty God. He gave us flesh through our parents, and their parents, and their parents before them—and then going all the way back to Adam and Eve. We’re also connected to him spiritually, through our soul, which God individually and with tender love gave us and united to our body. And it is this very soul that reaches out to the Lord. My soul longs for you, my God.

You can almost picture God’s enormous, heavenly switchboard with one set of wires connecting to every person who ever lived.

But then sin entered the world, and boy, did service get interrupted! Our previously close relationship with God was replaced by silence—dead air… a dropped connection. And man knew instantly that he had been cut off. More than anything, we wanted to be reconnected to him… and God wanted the same thing.

And so, the Lord set into motion a marvelous plan to help us get reconnected. He gave us faith-filled patriarchs starting with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. He gave us victory and freedom from the slavery of Pharaoh under the leadership of Moses. He gave us the promise of a Messiah through the prophets like Isaiah and Ezekiel.

And then, in the fullness of time, he gave us his only begotten Son, Jesus Christ, who taught us, then suffered and died on the cross, and finally rose triumphantly, to reestablish that long-lost connection and make it forever complete and unbreakable. Each of us is invited to share in that connection. Picture Jesus as the Master Splicer who hooks us back up, one by one.

The reconnection is made through the sacrament of baptism. When we present ourselves to be baptized, Christ asks us: “Do you want to be connected?” We must say “yes”—or our parents answer for us if we’re too little to speak. In just a little while, we’ll all have the opportunity to renew our baptismal promises and our “yes.” We’ll celebrate that we’re connected for all eternity to God, not just as creatures but as family: his own adopted sons and daughters. Then every time we receive Holy Communion, we celebrate our permanent union and covenant with the Lord.

While the connection is permanent, we sometimes loosen it. That’s what happens when we sin. And that’s why tonight is the perfect time to ask ourselves if there’s any static on the line… if our divine connection is loose.

My soul longs for you, my God. Yes, these are our words, too. We see how much we need God to guide us, help us, and show us the way past the bumps and bruises of life. We can’t do it without God. Life is just too hard.

Well, God longs for us, too! Remember, we’re his children. Even if we’ve strayed some, he doesn’t love us any the less.

If you think you might be somewhat disconnected from God, just pray. Talk to God. Tell him that you need his help and support in your life. Tell him in detail what you’d like for him to do for you. Keep pestering him in your prayer.

If it’s somebody special who seems to be disconnected—a child, a spouse, a dear friend or relative—intercede for them with God. Jump in with prayers asking God to touch their heart and draw them to himself.

I make you a very cool promise: when you’re connected to God through frequent prayer, you will begin to change and life will get better. Maybe not all at once—but soon. You will become what you pray you’ll become. And that’s one of the awesome mysteries of Easter and the Resurrection—being reborn in a glorious new way.

Tomorrow, when you celebrate Easter with your family and friends and they ask you what happened tonight, you can say that God let you in on the amazing power and majesty of the paschal mystery of Jesus Christ, his Son.

You can say that a deep longing and desire for God was satisfied.

Or you can simply say: I got connected.

May our Risen Lord reach out this very night and touch your heart and bless you with his infinite love. Amen! Alleluia.

Security

Good Friday
Today’s Readings: [Click here]

Today, on Good Friday, we remember Jesus Christ’s passion. We have just listened once again to John’s gospel describing Our Lord’s betrayal, arrest, trial, death sentence, execution and burial.

And how can you not be sad when you hear this story? It’s part of human nature to be emotional and empathetic when we learn about the terrible tragedies or suffering or burdens that other human beings endure.

And yes, as Catholics, we’re especially blessed when it comes to guilt. It doesn’t take a lot to push us Catholics to remember that it was OUR sins that did this to poor Jesus!

Think of how I feel as a converted Jew. First I was told that it was my people who killed Christ. So I become a Christian. Now I’m told it’s my sin that made him suffer. Oy vey.

By no means do I intend to make light of Our Lord’s passion and the role of the human race in bringing it about. We know that if it hadn’t been for the fall in the Garden of Eden, we’d all still be in paradise and there would have been no need for God to send his Son to redeem us. In fact, theologians tell us that in a way, it’s a good thing that sin came into the world. Why? Because that brought us Jesus Christ, so in the end, we wind up better off than if we never had sinned and never experienced God’s mercy, forgiveness and so much grace. That’s why tomorrow, at the vigil mass of Easter, the priest sings: “O happy fault, O necessary sin of Adam, which gained for us so great a Redeemer!” (It’s at the bottom of page 116 of the missalette if you want to check it out).

But guilt does a lot more than just make us feel bad about situations. It can also distort our view of things. Sometimes we can get so caught up in the idea of sin, that it overshadows the good news that Christ came to bring us. Just reflect on your favorite gospel stories. How often do you see Jesus wagging his finger and raging against sinners like the worst of today’s fundamentalist preachers? No, Jesus saves his venom for the religious hypocrites who put burdens on the people… but how gentle he is with regular folks, including thieves, adulterers, prostitutes, murderers and every other kind of scoundrel. Doesn’t that tell you something!

Many religions, including Christianity, promise an afterlife of eternal peace and happiness. Often, though, we’re told that certain conditions are attached to attaining this eternal life—conditions that have to do with striving to achieve a state of perfection that will make us pure enough to be one with God.

But Christ promises us quite simply that if we but follow and trust the good shepherd, we will have eternal life. “My sheep,” Christ says, “follow me; and I give them eternal life.”

I can’t stress enough how important it is to recognize that the emphasis here is not on the character of the follower, but rather on the assurances of Christ. We do not have to achieve perfection, since we can rest secure in Christ’s absolute trustworthiness.

And that, you see, is really what today’s commemoration is all about. Christ is so thoroughly trustworthy that despite the personal cost to him, he is going to pay the price for us to get us into God’s good graces… to get us into the eternal joys of heaven. Yes, maybe he could have cut corners. Do you remember his comment in Matthew’s passion account where he was about to be arrested in the Garden of Gethsemane? He said to the posse that came out to get him, “Do you think I couldn’t call on my Father and he wouldn’t provide me at this very moment with more than twelve legions of angels?” But no. Jesus willingly swallowed the bitter pill because he promised he would.

And in the same way, you can bet your bottom dollar—you can bet your soul—that he will also deliver your salvation.

So: we celebrate today that Jesus laid down his life to destroy the things that would destroy us: fear, guilt, anger, resentment, sickness and ultimately death itself. With such a Savior watching over us, we have nothing to fear.

The Eucharist: Transformed

Holy Thursday | Mass of the Lord’s Supper
Today’s Readings: [Click here]

Tonight, as we celebrate the Mass of the Lord’s Supper on this Holy Thursday, we begin the Sacred Triduum, the holiest days of the Church year. On this night, the Lord gathered his apostles around him to celebrate the Passover, but with a special twist: this was the time and place that God ordained from all eternity to establish his new covenant in the blood of his Son. So in anticipation of his death—on Good Friday, tomorrow—and his resurrection—on Sunday, Easter—Jesus Christ instituted two awesome sacraments: the most holy Eucharist and the most sacred Priesthood.

Tonight, I’d like to speak with you about the first of these: the Eucharist.

It’s remarkable to think that Jesus uses ordinary things in the Eucharist: ordinary bread and wine. But by the power of God himself, they literally become Christ’s body and blood. And only by the gift of faith are we able to grasp the enormity of this transformation.

When we, as believers, receive the Eucharist, another transformation likewise takes place: God reaches out to us to consecrate our ordinary, mundane daily lives. Just as the bread and wine become something new and a means of grace for us at the Eucharist, so also do our very lives become the focus of God’s grace in this world.

It is no exaggeration to say that the Eucharist is a meeting between heaven and earth. Here, the eternal, invisible sphere and the temporal world join together. We experience our complete dependence on God, and God’s unshakable faithfulness to us. And once we realize that God will always be with us—he’ll never abandon us for any reason whatsoever—then we can completely be who we are; we can be vulnerable.

That’s why there is such sacredness in this holy Eucharistic banquet. Jesus promises eternal life and resurrection to those of us who participate. What a moment of grace!

I love the way the theologian, Paul Tillich, put it. He wrote, “At that moment a wave of light breaks into our darkness and it is as though a voice were saying, ‘You are accepted, accepted by that which is greater than you, and the name of which you do not know. Do not ask for the name now; perhaps you will find it later. Do not try to do anything now; perhaps later you will do much. Do not seek for anything; do not perform anything; do not intend anything. Simply accept the fact that you re accepted.’ If that happens to us, we experience grace.”

Most of us here tonight have received Holy Communion hundreds or even thousands of times. Each time is an occasion of grace… a moment of transformation. Often the process is slow. Did you ever hold up a length of movie film and look at the individual frames? Often the change from frame to frame is almost imperceptible… but when you play several feet of film, all of a sudden, the action emerges. It can be like that with us, too. Gradually, but definitely, the action occurs. And what is this action, this transformation? Very simply, we begin to change into Jesus! As we come to know Christ more fully within ourselves and within our community, Jesus moves to the center of our relationships and they are transformed. As we claim Christ’s love and forgiveness for ourselves, we are able in turn to extend that same love and forgiveness to our other relationships.

In short, whenever we follow the path of Christ, we are saying “yes” to God’s working in our life. And there is literally nothing on earth that can help us onto this path more or better than the Eucharist.

Tonight, on this Holy Thursday, rejoice in the great gift of the Eucharist. We have done nothing to deserve such an incredible gift from God—but how blessed indeed we are.

Welcoming the King of Peace

Palm Sunday
Today’s Readings: [Click here]

Today the Church celebrates Palm Sunday. Our Lord makes his triumphant entry—his last—into Jerusalem. But it’s a bittersweet day, too. Today is also known by another title—Passion Sunday—because it begins Holy Week: the time when Christ winds up his earthly ministry… faces his passion and death… and prepares for his eternal and heavenly reign.

Clearly, Jesus was at a crossroads. Some might say he was getting ready to meet his fate or destiny. Others would say he’s forging ahead to make a divine appointment. At this crossroads, the Lord made the choice to courageously go forward to his death on the cross.

In the preceding chapter of Matthew’s gospel, Jesus predicted exactly what was going to happen. On the way to Jerusalem, he pulled his disciples aside and said: We are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be betrayed to the chief priests and the teachers of the law. They will condemn him to death and will turn him over to the Gentiles to be mocked and flogged and crucified. On the third day he will be raised to life! (Mt 20:18-19).

With our 20/20 hindsight, we know precisely what Jesus meant. But at the time, the disciples and the cheering crowds had absolutely no idea of what was to come. They did not grasp that this was the very reason why Jesus was born… why he knew and accepted his divine fate. They did not know that Jesus was about to forever change the world.

And what a point Christ made with his entry into Jerusalem! He made it clear that he came for peace. He rejected violence and force. All the details of this gospel story highlight the fact that Jesus is a new kind of ruler, reigning in love and peace.

To begin with, Jesus came meekly, on a lowly animal that was a symbol of gentleness, even though the Scriptures said he was a king. The prophet Zechariah wrote: See, your king comes to you, righteous and having salvation, gentle and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey (Zech 9:9). Jesus relied on the anonymous assistance of friends. Some nameless follower provided the ordinary animals for his transportation.

And then, simple people accompanied him. He was escorted by children and common folk, armed with palm branches rather than spears, singing songs of praise rather than war chants. Isn’t it ironic? Here we are in the midst of another presidential election year. Can you imagine if this was what we saw from our political candidates?

Despite Jesus’ intention to show what kind of ruler he was, some of his followers tried to give a different impression. Maybe these ancient “spin doctors” were trying to force him into a more political role. By spreading their garments on the road in front of him, they echoed the actions of Jehu, a great and powerful king of Israel who ruled by armed might (2 Kgs 9:13). But regardless of the attempts to force Jesus into another kind of power, it didn’t happen. It is the image of Jesus as the serene, loving, peaceful ruler of our hearts that comes down to us through the ages. And this is the model that our Church presents to us to edify us, empower us, embolden us, inspire us.

I’ll admit it: sometimes, I look for a Savior who will come with sword and fury, punishing those who are especially vexing me at the moment. Sometimes I look for Jesus to come and force those who oppress me or the people I love to mend their ways and do as God wills… or at least do what I want to be God’s will.

But then I remember. Then I picture this tranquil image of Jesus, the Prince of Peace, sitting silently and stoically on a donkey, serenaded by the songs of children. Hosanna! Hosanna!

As we accompany Jesus Christ into Jerusalem and then through the final and agonizing hours of his earthly life, how I pray that the Holy Spirit will enlighten us so we may truly see just what kind of Savior God has blessed us with.

Our Weeping Lord

The Fifth Sunday of Lent
Today’s Readings: [Click here]

Have you ever had a door-to-door missionary or evangelist visit you? It even happened to a priest of a small parish. A pair of energetic proselytizers tried to convince him that they had the true religion. The priest, being a kindly man, listened for a while and then said: “Gentlemen, look. I have a proposition for you that will settle this. I have a glass of poison here. If you’ll drink the poison and then stay alive, I’ll join your church—and not just me, but I’ll bring along my entire congregation. But if you won’t drink the poison, well, then, I can only conclude that you are false ministers of the gospel because you don’t trust that your Lord won’t let you perish.”

This put the missionaries in a bind, so they went off to a corner to put their heads together. They said, “What on earth are we going to do?” Finally, after a while, they came up with an idea. They came back to the priest and said, “We’ll tell you what, Father. We’ve got a better plan. Why don’t you drink the poison, and we’ll raise you from the dead!”

Our gospel today is the well-known story of Lazarus who died and who then was brought back to life. He didn’t drink poison on a dare, but he evidently just got quite sick and started to decline rather quickly. So in a panic, his sisters sent word to Jesus to get over there fast.

But Jesus does something that may strike us as rather callous: he waits four days before going. And of course, Lazarus died, and his sisters, Mary and Martha, were put through terrible suffering and grief—all of which could have been avoided if Jesus had simply come right away! We’re told it was only two miles away!

Sometimes we may wonder why the Lord delays answering our prayers when we really, really need him and beg for him to come… just the way Lazarus’ two sisters worried when it appeared pretty certain their brother was going to die. But Jesus teaches us how even in the worst of circumstances—even in the case of death itself—our faith can bring us to experience greater glory. In the case of Lazarus’ death, it was the glory of the resurrection.

This gospel story is very rich, very profound. One interesting detail is that Jesus wept so profusely at his friend Lazarus’ death, that the other mourners remarked among themselves, “See how Jesus loved him!” Yet literally only moments later, Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead. Wouldn’t you think that instead of crying, he would have said to Mary, Martha and the others: “OK, folks. Don’t cry. God’s going to raise Lazarus in just a few moments! Hang on a minute and you’ll see!” But this wasn’t Jesus’ message at all. Instead, he himself also wept. We wonder why.

Perhaps our Lord felt such empathy for Mary and Martha that he wept for their sorrow. Maybe, as the onlookers assumed, his friend’s death moved him to tears. But maybe it’s just as likely—and just as consistent with Jesus’ actions recorded in other parts of the Bible—that he was weeping over all the sin, death and corruption that he saw in the world.

A central message in today’s passage, therefore, is this: God weeps with us in the midst of our need. God weeps for the systemic sins of society… for the greed, the pollution, the child abuse, the physical and sexual abuse, the discrimination and injustices, and all the other things that weaken our families and corrupt our planet. And to be sure, God also weeps for the personal pain in each of our lives.

The Scriptures say that Jesus is our high priest—the one who has endured everything we endure on earth, but in his case, without sin. So it makes sense that Jesus can feel for us and weep with us, even though he knows the outcome will renew us and glorify God—just the way it did in Lazarus’ case.

Later, on the day we call Good Friday, Jesus undergoes an untimely and cruel death himself. But we know that he is really victorious. The defeated one, surrendering to the will of God, becomes the victor through the power of God—right into the resurrection!

For many, if not most, Christians, Christ’s suffering, death and resurrection are an unfathomable mystery. We may wonder what all that has to do with us. But our Lord wants us understand that death is the ultimate healing. Only by passing through death can we go on to live forever in the presence of God. To die is also to be reborn. It may seem scary from where we now stand. It may seem like something to be avoided at all costs. Yet at the same time, we know that in the end, it’s something each and every one of us will have to do.

Jesus’ beautiful promise to Mary and Martha that he is the resurrection and the life, and that those who believe in him will live even if they die, underscores the ultimate good news of our faith: death is not all there is. We will go on living! Even if we aren’t sure what kind of life it will be, the example of Lazarus, and then of Jesus, assures us that it will be glorious—and how that should fill us with great hope and confidence! Jesus could not be conquered, and if we stick with him, neither will we.

We pray today to understand that because we live in a world that is not yet fully redeemed, suffering and death are a part of human existence. But we can also rejoice that because we believe in Jesus, because we trust him, we and those we love will live, even though we die.

Thinking Outside the Box

The Fourth Sunday of Lent
Today’s Readings: [Click here]

You’ve probably heard the expression: Thinking outside the box. It refers to the ability to look at a situation or problem from a fresh perspective, without preconceived prejudices or limitations. Business and science try to encourage this kind of lateral thinking to come up with new solutions or opportunities through brainstorming and “what if” sessions. Many of the products and technologies that we take for granted today came about originally by people thinking outside the box.

Maybe you never thought about it this way, but our faith life—our life with God in the Spirit—also takes thinking outside the box. A vibrant faith life is not a matter of knowing the laws of the Church and following them to the letter any more than a vibrant marriage is just knowing the essential obligations of matrimony and obeying them! In both cases, our passion comes from a loving relationship—in one case with the Lord, in the other with our spouse. And, of course, part of the excitement of a relationship comes from keeping things fresh rather than falling into a rut—and that frequently takes thinking outside the box.

Our mass readings today give us some wonderful insights into how this kind of thinking should work according to God.

I love the story of David’s anointing in First Samuel. So many conventions and stereotypes are shattered in this little passage! In fact, you can just picture the great prophet Samuel having his mind stretched by God as the story unfolds.

When Samuel arrived at Jesse’s house in Bethlehem, he thought that the Lord was going to have him anoint Eliab as king. Eliab was the oldest son, so according to convention, he would have many rights and privileges under Jewish law. Remember Jacob and Esau fighting over their birthright? The first-born son would receive special blessings, would inherit more, would have the right to marry first, and so on. Samuel, of course, knew all this, so he expected that Eliab would be the first son in line for the throne of Israel. And then when he saw him and saw that he was tall and strong and kingly looking, Samuel just knew that this was the one!

But then the kicker! God told Samuel that Eliab was not the Lord’s chosen one. His position and status and physical appearance were of no consequence. And it was the same for all the other brothers right down the line. Instead, the baby of the family—young David—was finally brought in, and God told Samuel that he was the one that he had chosen. One bible translation says he “was ruddy, and had beautiful eyes, and was handsome.” It’s not too often that you find a description like that in the Scriptures! He must have been supermodel good-looking—and this, too, startled Samuel. Michelangelo thought so, too; have you seen his statue of David? You can see what might have caught Bathsheba’s eye, and Jonathan’s as well.

Usually we think of good looks—physical beauty—as a great and desirable gift from God… as well we should! God wants us to appreciate the beauty he made, whether it’s in a stunning sunset or in another human being. But sometimes beauty can be a detriment. Think of the “dumb blonde” jokes we’ve all heard. Think of a political candidate who’s so good-looking that people don’t take him seriously. Think of the person who’s treated more as an object or a trophy or eye-candy rather than for their more important traits. Yes, sometimes we have to remind ourselves to think outside the box.

As much as I like the story of David, that’s how much I dislike the gospel story today about the blind man whom Jesus heals. My fists clench up and I feel my blood heating up as I hear how those Pharisees totally ignore the miracle that Jesus worked, while instead focusing on the fact that this healing somehow violated the Sabbath law and was therefore evil. As I hear how this fellow is interrogated—and then his parents—I just get more and more angry.

And of course, that’s the point. Jesus wants us to get upset at this stupid story. He wants us to recognize that giving a blessing to someone in the form of a good deed is most certainly not a violation of the law of Sabbath rest, but a celebration of God’s love and goodness! It’s not something to be avoided, but something to be embraced and even sought out!

If you don’t agree, then just think about this: Jesus could have so easily avoided this entire scene if he simply healed the blind man on a Monday or a Tuesday! The fact that he chose the Sabbath tells you something.

As Christians, we have a rather important lesson about thinking outside the box to learn from this gospel story. You see, sometimes we play the role of the blind man, and sometimes we play the role of the Pharisees… and both roles can potentially trip us up.

When we’re the blind man, we can be condemned for something beyond our control or understanding. The assumption was that the blind man was blind because either he or his parents had committed some terrible sin deserving of God’s punishment. Wow. Is that why something bad happened to me? Is that why someone dear to me got sick and died? Is that why I’m gay, or why my wife left me, or why I drink too much? And if God should step in and heal me—either by taking away a difficult burden or by giving me the grace of self-acceptance—do I have to somehow justify this before others?

Alternatively, if we play the role of the Pharisee, are we being so narrow and rigid in how we interpret the word of God that instead of loving people and drawing them into the Body of Christ, we are actually booting them out? To hate and reject others—and then to call it “love”—is not only the height of hypocrisy, it is also evil. It’s the same as the Pharisees telling Jesus that he drives out demons by the power of the devil.

Yes, we are called to serve and love our Lord by thinking outside the box. There is so much food for thought in our lesson today. I pray that our good and gracious God will continue to open our eyes and hearts to his message of love.