Honor and Humility

We can probably spend the next hour telling humorous and outrageous stories about seating.  From seats at school, seats on airplanes, and stories of being seated at wedding receptions with folks that are, …what can I say?  “Unique” seems like a good word. We even have stories about seats at church.

Did you know that until the early/mid twentieth century, it was common practice in Anglican, Catholic, and Presbyterian churches to rent pews in churches to families or individuals as a means of raising income? This was especially common in the United States where, unlike Europe, churches lacked governmental financial support. So, churches rented pews to families, which of course enforced a sort of social status in church seating within a parish. It led to all kinds of problems. Should the pew rents simply be renegotiated, should they occasionally be subject to auction, can they be included in the will, bequeathed to the next generation?  

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I know you

We know from St. Paul’s First Letter to Timothy that God desires that all be saved (1 Tim 2:4).  It is Paul’s way of telling that the call to salvation is offered to everyone; it echoes the message of today’s first reading from the Prophet Isaiah. We already know that is God’s desire, and yet we sometimes have the same question asked in the Gospel: “Lord, will only a few people be saved?” Jesus’ response does nothing to comfort the questioner: “Strive to enter through the narrow gate, for many, I tell you, will attempt to enter but will not be strong enough.” 

Scripture doesn’t tell us what is in the background of the one who asked the question. But what about us? Why are we asking? Maybe we have the same worries as they did more than 2,000 years ago. Perhaps we are worried about family members and friends gone astray. Folks who are no longer active in their faith; folks holding views on issues such as birth control, divorce and remarriage and others at the intersection of the Church and the modern world. People who have works of mercy but are without faith, will they be saved?

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Distractions and Finishing

In the second reading today from the Letter to the Hebrews, the author tells us “persevere in running the race that lies before us.” It is an apt sports metaphor for life. Perseverance in life – the needed persistence in doing something despite difficulty or delay in achieving success. We know all things in life take preparation and practice. Even then things don’t always go as planned.

In the 1968 Mexico City Olympic Marathon, one of the runners from Tanzania was John Akhwari. During the race he fell, dislocated his kneecap, injured his shoulder, and was bruised and bloodied. After receiving medical attention, he continued the race. He finished more than 1 hour after the winner. By the time he finished, the medals for the Marathon had been awarded. Most people had left as darkness drew over the stadium, but people had heard there was one more competitor on the course, injured but persevering. He entered the stadium to complete the lap that would finish the race – there were still 7,000 spectators remaining. He finished, cheered on by a “great cloud of witnesses” giving him a standing ovation. Later he was asked why had not quit, why he continued, he replied, “My country did not send me 7,000 miles around the world to start the race, but to finish it.”

God did not send you into this life just to start the race, but to be able to join with St. Paul, “I have competed well; I have finished the race; I have kept the faith.” (2 Tim 4:7)

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Know who, how and when to serve

By faith…” Abraham went out from a land not his own to a place he and Sarah were to inherit. And in that long journey they continued to move forward, against all odds and sense, but always in faith.  That journey was not only of faith, but also of service.  Three weeks ago our first reading was an example of how Abraham and Sarah welcomed three travelers with hospitality – and this adds to the accounts of Abraham’s service – to his family and clan, to Lot and his family, to the King of Salem, and so many others. The story of Abraham’s life is a story told in the outlines of faith and in the outlines of service – all part of discipleship.

Discipleship has been a focus of the summer gospels, all from Luke. Jesus has pointed out the importance of trust when engaged in mission (14th Sunday); compassion and the universality of the meaning of neighbor (15th Sunday); how anxiety can burden and impede discipleship (16th Sunday); the necessity of prayer (17th Sunday); the way earthly riches can interfere with discipleship (18th Sunday); and finally this week the parable of the reliable steward.

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The Things We Store Away

The Rich Fool of our parable gets a bad rap.  Compared to other parables, there is no wrongdoing, no theft, inflating invoices, skimming off the top, no taking advantage of workers in the vineyard. Maybe he is just preparing for his retirement where he and his family can finally rest and relax, – and sure, eat, drink, and be merry. His goals seem similar to our own concerns with our savings and retirement plans.

Let’s be honest if you or I had a bumper crop like the Rich Fool we would be figuring out ways to store and preserve our good fortune. Maybe not the way in which the Rich Fool does.  Hopefully we would thank God for his harvest, from his fields, via his rains. Hopefully we would not consume and possess things indiscriminately, relentlessly grabbing for all that we can, hoping to insulate ourselves from our insecurities and our fears.  Those are the concerns of this life, but what about eternal life?

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Wrestling with Prayer

I think that lots of us wrestle with prayer. A friend of mine has been separated from her husband for several years, and has prayed that God would reunite them. She hasn’t seen any movement on the issue and her husband seems to be moving on. She asked me “At what point should I stop praying for my desire and simply ask for acceptance of the situation?”  Tough question.  Equally as difficult are the questions about illness and dying – our own or that of a loved one. At what point do we move from prayers for healing and a cure of a serious illness, and begin to ask God for a peaceful and happy death?  Just like in life, so too we are often betwixt and between in prayer.  It seems to me that when praying for personal concerns, two questions often confuse us. 

– How persistent should we be in prayer, and

– How boldly should we pray

How long should we persist in making a request to God? For some it seems like we reach a point when persevering in prayer amounts to pestering God, being overly pushy – or worse yet, is it a case of  refusing to accept God’s will? When does persistent praying indicate faith, and when does it indicate a  stubbornness bent on changing God instead of ourselves?

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Being Complete

There is a contrast between our first reading and the gospel. In the first reading (Genesis 18:1–15) Abraham is praised for his generous hospitality to the three visitors who are often interpreted as angels or a theophany of God. In the gospel (Luke 10:38–42), Martha is busy serving Jesus but is gently corrected for being “anxious and worried” rather than sitting and listening to the Lord like Mary. It might raise the question: why is Abraham’s activity in service to the guests rewarded while Martha’s service to the guests is gently admonished? Let’s explore that question.

Abraham’s hospitality is framed as a model of ancient Near Eastern virtue. He rushes to provide water, organize bread, meat, and rest — crucial life-saving gestures in a desert setting. That is what Abraham offers. Did the visitors offer anything other than their presence? Yes, in the end they offer the divine promise of a son in response to that hospitality. The reading underscores the virtue of hospitality as a means to encounter God – and in the encounter to enter more deeply into the covenant promises and so step on the path to completeness.

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Your Choices and the Coming Kingdom of God

There was a time in the history of the Franciscans where we were a raucous, contentious, squabbling bunch – each group claimed to know St. Francis’ real intention about the way to follow Christ. The minister general of the day, St. Bonaventure, gathered the friars together- and like Moses, gave a sermon that was not too mysterious or too arcane. In a way, he simply told them that to truly follow the intention of St. Francis they had to choose. Choose what each friar would become as a result of their choices and, just as important, consider what the world becomes because of their choices. They were becoming a religious order noted for internal infighting.  And because of it, the world was becoming darker because of their example of following Christ.

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Invited in a miracle

A reflection from Dr. Susan Fleming McGurgan


Today, we read about a miracle—a miracle of bread and fish and of hungry people, fed by the providence of God.

Scholars have long tried to explain this miracle away. Most people of that era travelled with a bit of food tucked away in their cloak or pouch; the force of Jesus’ personality inspired people to share what they had saved for themselves alone. 

This story is a metaphor for the ways God provides for his children; we are not supposed to take it literally. We don’t really KNOW what happened on that hillside, but it doesn’t really matter whether it “happened” or not, the miracle is in the telling of the story.  

It’s ironic. We trust our lives to a technology that few of us understand. We believe in microbes and nanobots we cannot even see. We sneak a good luck charm into our son’s pocket on game day, and fear mythical demons that go bump in the night….. but when it comes to Biblical miracles, we wrap our sophistication around us like a shield  and tell each other that it really “doesn’t matter” if it happened or not.

Yes, it does.

That day, on a hillside in a remote corner of the world, thousands of people were fed from five little loaves and two small fish. Despite the size of the crowd and the doubts of the disciples, and the scarcity of the fish, everyone ate and was satisfied.

That miracle of the loaves and fishes was not simply effective pastoral care, or a dramatic way to grab people’s attention.

It was nothing less than a foretaste of heaven. That impromptu meal pointed to the time when our Lord’s body would be broken and shared and his blood would be poured out for our salvation. This miracle has been repeated every time God’s people gather to celebrate the Eucharist and remember God’s mercy.

This miracle lies at the very heart of our faith. It matters what we believe.

Yet, still, we have this urge to explain it away—to make it “less than”—to tame it and explain it and cut it down to size so that we can force it to fit into our world rather than expanding ourselves to fit into God’s.  

Maybe it’s because we have been duped by snake oil salesmen far too often. Maybe it’s because our woundedness makes it hard to trust in anything, let alone a miracle involving bread and fish. 

Maybe it’s because we fail to leave space for silence and time for awe. Maybe it’s because we are afraid—afraid that if we open ourselves up to miracles, we will be forced to admit we are not in control, and never have been. 

But the truth is,  this miracle of the bread still happens every day.

It happens right here and around the corner and across the ocean and anywhere hungry people gather in His name.

The Bread that comes down from heaven continues to be broken and shared. The Blood of our salvation continues to be poured out for us all. Like the hungry people on the hillside that day in Galilee, we are invited to eat our fill full measure, packed down, overflowing.

Like the hungry people on the hillside that day in Galilee, we are, quite simply, invited into a miracle.

The Gift of Silence

Suddenly two men dressed in white garments stood beside them. They said, “Men of Galilee, why are you standing there looking at the sky?…” We are never told of the immediate reaction of the apostles.

I suspect it was one of those moments of silence which quickly became a bit uncomfortable and perhaps awkward.  Maybe they looked around at each other, waiting to see who would say something or move. Maybe all eyes turned to Peter who was desperately trying to think of something to do or say.

Finally someone cannot endure the silence, “So guys, what do you think we should do?” “I don’t know, what do you think?”  “Maybe we should go back to Galilee”  “I think we are supposed to go back to Jerusalem”   “Jerusalem? And do what?”  “Wait.”  “For what?”  “For the power of the Holy Spirit.”  “I don’t know…..”   And then there is another period of silence…until someone finally begins to move off towards Jerusalem and the grand silence.  The days between the Ascension and Pentecost when they are without the presence of Christ among them. 

I do not think it would be too much of a stretch to imagine one of the disciples saying in joy, “He is risen, alleluia…,”  only to have the following alleluia kinda’ fall off into a question mark, not of doubt, but of what’s next. One of them plaintively offers: “Jesus was always there to lead, to teach, to show…. And now we have silence and waiting.”

Silence and waiting are definitely an acquired taste.

When I was a child in the days between the end of school and Christmas, silence and waiting were definitely not part of my skill set.

Years ago when I was first working in the commercial sector, my company sent me to a sales training seminar. I did not want to go, but it was actually quite helpful. I learned the skill of asking a question and waiting in the silence while the person hems, haws, processes, or ponders the question. If you want to be truly helpful to the prospective client, you need to hear what they have to say.  

Plato taught that often precedes insight. Søren Kierkegaard held that silence was necessary to develop authentic individuality. Simone Weil saw silence as a form of attention and spiritual receptivity. For her, silence allows one to truly attend to the presence of God, the needs of others, or the reality of suffering without rushing to fill the space. Across time, great thinkers have held silence in great esteem.

I find the same patient waiting in silence to be a valuable skill for hearing Confessions, talking with couples in marriage preparation, grief counseling, and a whole host of other pastoral settings. It is indispensable in preparing homilies.  I can’t tell you how often I have sat in silence, waiting for an idea. …And I find it invaluable in my life of prayer.

“Men of Galilee, why are you standing there looking at the sky?…

Perhaps the apostles should have said, “Hold your horses, I am looking at the sky, because I am taking this all in.” Maybe in the silence and the waiting, they realized that for the first time: “…in the Ascension, humanity has entered Heaven.  Jesus, true God and true man, now sits at the right hand of the Father. In the Ascension, we have been shown our destiny.  We have been shown the desire and hope of the Father in heaven, that all people will come to their inheritance, to their home.”

Maybe their thoughts continued “And Jesus just spent three years teaching and showing, caring and loving, and more. I can’t resurrect anyone, but I can lift people up. I can help them ascend in this lifetime to be ready when the power of the Spirit comes to them. I need to sit with all this a while and figure it out….”

And maybe they needed more time and silence to begin to contemplate the implications of the Ascension. “We are called to be witnesses to the end of the earth. We have to wait for the power of the Spirit to come upon us.” 

The “Spirit of wisdom and revelation” as it says in the second reading. The wisdom and revelation that need to be pondered and considered, and to sit with , so that … “May the eyes of your hearts be enlightened, that you may know what is the hope that belongs to his call, what are the riches of glory in his inheritance among the holy ones” (Eph 1)

Silence can be awkward or welcomed. But I would offer that the wisdom and revelation of God is best served in the silence and the waiting.  We don’t have enough of it in our lives. So, be it life or angels, don’t let anyone rush you past the silence and the waiting.

“Men of Galilee, why are you standing there looking at the sky?…

Because from time to time, we are supposed to – it is a gift of God.

Find some time this week to enjoy the gift.

Amen