June 2, 2019 at St. Peter the Apostle Church in Naples, FL

Acts 1, 1-11 + Psalm 47 + Ephesians 1, 17-23 + Like 24, 46-53

There is a little story about young man in his twenties, walking along a city street. He spotted a hundred-dollar bill, and felt really good about it. Ever there after he decided to keep looking down where ever he went. By the time he was seventy, had had collected a lot of stuff: hundreds of wallets with credit cards and IDs, and the money he collected became quite a sizeable amount. From time to time he gathered some valuable stuff: he picked up at least ten mobile phones and i-pads. But above all, he also ended a hunch-back, unable to look anyone in the face.

This feast today invites us to look up. To have our eyes fixed on heaven. Now, to those first disciples of Jesus who produced this Gospel, the whole idea of looking up came naturally because this description in Luke’s Gospel would have reminded them immediately of something they knew from the First Book of Kings. You see, they knew the Old Testament a lot better than most of us. So, I have to tell you about it, but they got it immediately. In the second chapter of First Kings it tells of how one day Elijah was with his disciple Elisha near the river Jordan. Suddenly there appeared a chariot of fire drawn by horses of fire. Elijah was taken up in a whirlwind as Elisha looked up to heaven. The old prophet left his cloak behind for his disciple to put on. From that time Elisha received the spirit of his master and was empowered to continue his mission in the world. In fact, from then on Elisha was able to perform the same deeds as his master. Luke, inspired in his writing, wants us to make a connection here.

Too often too many spend too much of their lives looking down; looking down on others, looking down on themselves, looking back down the past at old hurts and offences. Disciples of Jesus cannot do that. Disciples of Jesus are people who look up, who look ahead, who look for the constant signs of Christ’s promise to stay with us always. They look up in respect and love to all of God’s creation. We are people filled with the same Spirit that moved Jesus Christ to look into the eyes, the hearts, and the lives of lepers, the blind, the deaf, those pushed to the margins of society and see the face of their creator. You can’t see that looking down.

This place here in Naples is our Jerusalem. We gather in this holy place like those disciples who returned to Jerusalem to be clothed with power from on high. That power from on high is going to wrap around us all in just a few moments as we receive and put on, in a sense, the Body of Christ. Yet this communion is much more than “the body of Christ.” It is his life, his Spirit, his very soul and divinity. As always, we think it’s about us. We like think: “In going to communion” or “I’m going to receive holy communion.”  Did you ever stop think that it might just be the other way around? We’re not just receiving communion or going to communion. Christ is receiving us. Christ is taking over our lives. We’re about to be possessed, possessed as his own. His Spirit becomes our Spirit, and from now on just like Elisha, we continue the mission of our master, and in fact, we can perform the same deeds as our master who went about forgiving and healing what was broken.  We ought to try it, but it’s only going to be possible for those who look up and look ahead.

May 26, 2019 at St. Peter & St. William Churches in Naples, FL

Acts 15, 1-2, 22-29 + Psalm 67 + Revelation 21, 10-14, 22-23 + John 14, 23-29

Two promises are proclaimed today: The Spirit and Peace. That Spirit he promises is the very soul of Jesus: that spark of life, that power that animated him. It is the very presence of God that empowers anyone filled with that Spirit to be the presence of God to another, to exercise the work of Jesus Christ forgiving and healing whatever is broken keeping us from each other and from the Father. It is by and through that Spirit that the dream, the hope, and vision of Jesus that we might all be one is made possible. And then, unity, the bond of love between us a God, is the Peace he promises.

This world keeps thinking that “peace” comes from boarders guarded by huge armies, or weapons stock piled to strike fear in a foe; but the truth is, that is a war ready to happen. This world grows comfortable with a “peace” that is merely that absence of violence while restless unemployed youth, hopelessness and poverty grow greater and greater like a fuse waiting to be lit. Jesus knows the difference between this world’s idea of peace and what he wishes to leave within us.

Each time Jesus stepped into that upper room crowded with fearful and disappointed followers, he said: “Peace be with you.” In his language the word of Shalohm at that time, when used as a verb, described the mending of a net. It had to do with putting back together what was broken. When Jesus speaks that word, it announces that he is present in their midst, and that the relationship he had with those believers was not broken by death. He is there with them in that Spirit.

The peace Jesus leaves with us has little to do with feeling good inside and even less with an assurance of a calm, unruffled life or a successful career. The peace given by the crucified Messiah does not manifest itself in trivialities. The peace of Jesus has to do with fidelity toward the Father, with the awareness that we are loved and accepted by God. Hear that in these verses. Once we accept the staggering truth that God loves us in spite of everything we are and have done to him and to others, we can look at one another as children of God and be at peace with ourselves. This brings about a unity among us that reflects the unity of God. Understanding this is why racism or nationalism is so curious and so odd making us so uneasy and far from peace. Instead of finding our common unity in God, we fragment and individualize our identity. Unchecked, we will hardly ever recognize that we have a common Father.

The Peace Jesus leaves with us springs from the truth of our oneness which is never achieved by paring down or ignoring the complication of life, but only by entering into the magnetic pull of God’s grace, God’s love, and the unity God shares with His only Son. Living in peace is not optional. It is a requirement of our faith, and the unmistakable sign that we are filled with the Holy Spirit. The basis of human peace is peace with God.

In the Maronite Rite: The Fifth Sunday of the Resurrection: Peter receives his ministry

May 19, 2019 at Our Lady of Lebanon in Norman, Oklahoma

Ephesians 2, 1-10 + John 21, 15-19

These verses near the very end of John’s Gospel take us right to the very heart of faith and to the one condition, the one element without which there is no church, no faith, no hope, and no future. In the other Gospels, Peter makes some very profound and courageous acts of faith. Now in John’s Gospel, Peter’s act of faith comes at the end after his courage has been crushed, his pride broken, and all his weakness exposed for all to see. With three questions Peter makes a profound act of faith, and what matters most when it comes to discipleship and leadership is established once and for all. It is not a matter of being perfect. It is not a matter of being consistent. Theology degrees, speaking skills, knowledge of rules and regulations, who you know and who knows you does not matter at all. One thing identifies a companion and a friend of Jesus Christ, love, and Peter has it in spite of all his foolishness, mistakes, and ambitions.

What Jesus looks for in all of us is that love, a love that is greater than loyalty, charity, or sentimentality. It is the kind of love that leads one to surrender everything for the sake of the one loved. As Jesus describes it this is a love that even surrenders one’s freedom and one’s own independence, things we, in this world, prize above all. The kind of love Jesus speaks of finds in Peter and still looks for in us is the kind of love that means you can stretch out your hands and arms and be taken where you might not want to go. This is the kind of love that leads to complete surrender and total self-giving.

Love is the one, supreme condition for each of us who might want to be a disciple of Jesus. It is the one thing that Jesus looks for in us, and he can find it because he has given it to us. Having received this love, we do have it to give. What matters is that we recognize and trust that God’s love for us made manifest in Jesus Christ is real. What gets in the way all too often is a failure to believe, to trust, and to embrace the truth that we are loved and that we are loveable. Why else would Jesus have suffered what he did for us. Was he a fool? If, Peter had said: “Oh no, you can’t love me. I failed to defend you.” Or, “I denied you in front of others when I could have told them the truth.” You see? In the heart of Peter, there rested the love he had been shown and given. He realized that day that he was lovable, that he was good in the eyes of his friend, and the love that had been given to him was real and true drawing him into a relationship that had everything to offer and the promise of eternal life for those who would surrender to the power of that love.

I believe that Jesus looks at each of us today and through the power of a Gospel proclaimed in the context of this Sacred Liturgy he asks one thing of us. He never says, will you be perfect, will you obey the rules, will you always do the right thing, will you always look good, or will you always be happy. His question reveals all that really matters: “Do you love me?” Christ knows from personal experience that this is all that matters.

This love is stronger than hate. This love lifts the soul from the tomb and brings it home. Like laughter, love brings people to tears. Like Christ, love reminds us of where we want to go.

May 12, 2019 at St. Peter and St. William Churches in Naples, FL

Acts 13, 14, 43-52 + Psalm 100 + Revelation 7, 9, 14-17 + John 10, 27-30

The story is told about two people asked to recite the 23^rd Psalm for a congregation. One was a professional Shakespearean actor but a non-believer who stood up and delivered the verses. Using just the right tone of voice, the right inflection, pausing in just the right places and emphasizing just perfectly the right phrases, he left the congregation spell-bound. It was magnificent. Then, an ordinary member of the congregation stood up. He mispronounced some of the words. He stumbled through the images using the same tone of voice all the way with emphasis and pauses in the wrong places. He sat down feeling embarrassed, but he had one thing going for him. He spoke from his heart. Later someone from the congregation approached him and said: “You did a wonderful job.” The man said: “I thought the actor did a wonderful job.” The other man said: “Believe me, one thing was very clear. The actor knows Psalm 23. You know the Shepherd.

We should never forget that King David who wrote that Psalm which clearly was inspirational to Jesus did not say, “The Lord is a Shepherd” even though he is. He also did not say, “The Lord is The Shepherd” even though that is the truth. You know what King David wrote, say it, “The Lord is my Shepherd.” That one word makes all the difference in the world, and it makes all the difference in the world to come. It is that one little two-letter word that affirms, establishes, and bears witness to a relationship that is personal, intimate, and unique. Outside of that relationship, there is nowhere to go, nothing to do, and nothing to be.

The focus of these verses today is not the Shepherd. It is the sheep. Comforting as the image of the Shepherd might be, these verses are about us, about those who have heard and who listen to the voice of the Shepherd. In this noisy world where there are competing and conflicting voices, the sheep must know which voice holds the promise of unconditional love, the promise of freedom from death, and holds the hope of life everlasting. Those other voices are loud and attractive. There is a voice of power and prestige, a voice of privilege and wealth, a voice of pleasure, of sexual liberty, the voice that says “I am first.” “I am the best.” “I deserve whatever I want.” “It’s my right to do whatever I please or have whatever I want.” There is no end to those voices. You know them as well as I do. Yet, those voices have nothing to offer that lasts, and in following those voices we would always be vulnerable from outside. Only one voice can make the promise that we shall never perish, and the protection promised by that voice does not come from force, fear, guns, or walls. It comes from what the Shepherd has to offer, a relationship with the Father like his own. “The Father and I are one.”

The Shepherd invites us to know him and to enter into the very intimacy and oneness he shares with the Father. It is an invitation to be touched by the divine, to be created again in the image of the one who loves. The only way for this to happen is for us to listen to his voice spoken in the Word and desire with all our hearts to know him, to love him, and to serve him as the Shepherd knows, loves, and serves his father in obedience and sacrifice. Let it always be known to anyone who would observe us that in this church, in this faith, in the communion of the altar, we are one with each other, one with the Son, and one with the Father through the power and grace of the Holy Spirit which is the very breath that breathed life into us and called us each by name.

May 5, 2019 at St. Peter and St. William Churches in Naples, FL

Acts 5, 27-32, 40-41 + Psalm 30 + Revelation 5, 9-11-14 + John 21, 1-19

By listing the names of these fishermen, John is giving us more information than just who was there. First of all, counting Peter, there were seven of them, and that number seven in the Scriptures always carries with it a deeper meaning. In this case, the sense of totality. Everyone is there. The seven named by John represent every possible type gathered in assembly just like us today. There is the impulsive Peter, the doubting Thomas, the shrewd Nathaniel, the sons of Zebedee so intense in their feelings, and “two others” just in case you can’t recognize yourself among the five with names. The wonderful grace of being with the risen Christ is being revealed and discovered, and John tells us today where we shall find the Risen Lord.

“I’m going fishing”, says Peter, and the others say, “We’ll go with you.” They are going back now to their ordinary lives, and with that the scene is set and the message of John’s gospel is revealed. Remember, this is not about those individuals named, it’s about us. John is writing to you and me with a message about where and how the risen Lord is to be found. There is no earthquake, no thunder and lightning. There are no talking angels. A group of people are going about their ordinary lives, doing what puts food on the table. Someone comes along the shore and asks a question that anyone would ask of someone fishing: “Did you catch anything?” It can’t be more ordinary and simple. They say “No”, and the stranger on the shore suggests something. They try it and it works. Suddenly there is more fish than they can manage, and this last episode of John’s Gospel takes us back to the first one, a wedding feast with a lot of wine! The gospel of John ends as it begins with a remarkable story of the great abundance that comes when you do what Jesus asks.

What is so very ordinary evolves into something almost mystical however and John adds some little details that invite us to wonder. Peter gets dressed and jumps into the water. Maybe it should have been the other way around, but he seems to want to be presentable to the Lord that John has recognized from his loving heart. Then there is that scene around a fire so different from the scene around the fire in Courtyard of Pilate. No denials this time. Once again, Jesus feeds them, and the way John describes the gestures invites us to think of the Eucharist.

What is being revealed to us today in this Gospel is what we are doing here in this place. The wonderful mysteries of grace are unfolding as we go on with our ordinary lives. No matter what you are doing, cooking dinner, washing dishes, folding laundry, serving somewhere as a volunteer, or even playing cards or walking the beach, a loving heart filled with faith will see the risen Lord. As we go from here back into our very ordinary lives, we carry with us the message that echoes deep in our hearts realizing that he is here in our midst, and his promise to never leave us has been kept.

T

April 28, 2019 at St. Peter and St. William Churches in Naples, FL

Acts 5, 12-16 + Psalm 118 + Revelation 1, 9-11,12-13,17-19 + John 20, 19-31

As we proclaim this Gospel today, it is easy to zero in on the Apostle Thomas, but if we do, we run the risk of missing the whole point of John’s narrative here. John is writing this Gospel long after most people who had seen and heard the historical Jesus have died. John is writing to people who have never seen Jesus. The people who were to receive this Gospel never saw or heard Jesus before his resurrection. That’s the point of having Thomas absent and then having him come to faith in the risen Christ. So, Thomas becomes you and me unless some of you are older than I think! Having seen Jesus before his death and resurrection is no longer the measure or the criteria for who belongs in the Apostolic church. Now, by our faith because we have not seen but believed, we are included, says John, in the mission of Jesus Christ.

John sees and reveals to us that creation is happening again. The breath of life, the very Spirit of God, passes through Jesus into us. God breathes life into the body of His son. His son breathes life into us. We have in us, and we are because of Jesus and the Spirit he has breathed into us the very power of God, and that should scare us just a little bit. By the breath of that Holy Spirit breathed into us, we have and may exercise the power of God. The responsibility that comes with that power ought to make us tremble. And so, we have to ask, “What is this God Jesus has revealed?” “Who is this God with whom we have become one through Jesus Christ?” Well, we know his name. It is Mercy! Forgiveness is his Peace. Reconciliation and healing are the consequence of this God’s presence. Without mercy, there is no God. Where there is no Mercy, God will not be found.

Jesus Christ made man is the greatest act of God’s mercy. It was God’s way and God’s plan for forgiveness. In Jesus Christ with the human and divine made one, our alienation from God is healed and our oneness with God is restored. With God’s live breathed into us, we become mercy and forgiveness is not ours to receive any longer as much as it is ours to give in the name of Jesus Christ. We have been warned by Christ that we have the power to “retain” sin, and his words in that regard are more of a warning than a commission. “Don’t do it” is what he says, because if you do, your sins will be retained.

Vengeance, retribution, and justice without mercy are all signs that sin is being kept or retained, and this only give sin more power. As disciples of Jesus sent out into this world, we are heralds of mercy and bringers of peace which we can only bring through forgiveness. The words: “As the father has sent me, so I send you” spring out of this Gospel today right in our face. This is God speaking to us, not just to that group on the shore. The power that comes with this commission is the power to bring peace, to restore respect and love on this earth. When we get this right, we shall once again be living in paradise where there will be no more fear, no more tears, no more sadness: only the love and the glory that belongs to those who are blessed.

April 21, 2019 at St. Peter and St. William Church in Naples, FL

Acts 10, 34, 37-42 + Psalm 118 + Colossians 3, 1-4 + Matthew 28, 1-10

A choice is presented for the Easter Sunday Gospels, and I have chosen Matthew because it is the Gospel of this year. A problem arises when faced with this choice because each of the four accounts of the Resurrection is very different, and after reading and hearing them over the years, they all blend together. This is a problem because the blending “waters down” the unique elements of each Gospel account leaving us with too many details and no way to identify what is significant. When put together, they are all significant, and it is simply TMI, too much information. For instance, in John’s account, Peter and “The Beloved Disciple” run to the tomb. Peter arrives last in that race, but the other disciple stands back to let Peter enter first, and Peter is then the first to conclude that the Lord has risen. Notice that there is no mention of that in Matthew’s account. It is quite different, quite simple, and almost without detail until you begin to take it apart.

In Matthew’s Gospel, unlike the others, there is an earthquake. There is an angel sitting on the stone that had been in the way. I like the image! There are no spices. The two women named Mary are simply going to visit the grave. There are guards only in Matthew’s Gospel, and they are “like dead men.”

When there is an earthquake, no matter what you are doing, it gets your attention. I’ve been through a couple in San Francisco, and we are beginning to become more accustomed to them in Oklahoma. None the less, we still know when they happen. Things shake. Some things fall down. We remember that we are vulnerable, and we look around and pay attention because something is going on out of our control. No matter how we might want to or try, an earthquake is not under our control. So today the Resurrection is announced by an earthquake. Wake up. Pay attention. Things are coming apart. What was closed is open. It’s an earthquake!

An angel came. Even though Matthew gives the angel no name, I like to imagine that it is Gabriel. Luke is the one who names angels, and Luke liked Gabriel. Besides, it’s the same message: “Do not be afraid.” So, why not the same angel? Every time that angel shows up, God is doing something no one could have ever imagined, and in doing so, God is being revealed. An angel says to an old childless couple, “You’re going to be parents.” Now there is something new, and it is something only God could have done. An angel says to Mary, “You will conceive a child by the Holy Spirit.” Something new again. That has never happened before, and only God could do it. An angel says: “He is risen as he said.” Again, something new and never imagined! This is God at work, God being revealed. Then there is an image I really enjoy: that image of an angel perched on a rock. A stone that had blocked the entrance to the tomb…. or was it blocking the exit from the tomb? It works both ways. That stone kept the women outside unable to see the emptiness, and that stone kept the Lord of Life in. It had to go, and there sits the angel right on top as though it were a throne. There is the angel sitting on the obstacle. It is a kind of victory pose that is a message in itself.

Finally, there are the guards, the brave, big, tough, fearless Roman Guards! They are afraid of nothing. They have conquered the world, but they fall down in the face of the one who conquers death. In contrast to life itself, they are like dead men. Suddenly the dead are alive and the living are dead suggests Matthew. That is earth shaking!

Then the women are sent to Galilee. That’s not home. The angel sends them to the outside world, away from home. They are sent out, and there they experience the risen one. Not in the Temple, not in the safety of their homes, not in the synagogue or any of the places where they are safe and comfortable.

My friends, on the cross we venerated two days ago, the world did all it could to Jesus. At Easter, God did all God could do to the world; and the earth shook! You do not explain that, you witness it. The risen Christ appeared first to his own; the ones who heard him teach, heal, and forgive. They witnessed his arrest, trial, and crucifixion. He went to them first because they would be the ones to recognize that this was the crucified Jesus. That crucifixion was not an unfortunate mistake in the Roman legal system. It was the inevitable and predictable result of saying the things Jesus said, and doing the things Jesus did. That is what the world does to people who threaten the way things are. Face the facts here!

On that first day of the week, God presented a new fact. The God who made light from darkness and a world from a void took the worst we could and turned it toward life. The earth shook, and a new world is offered to us. Jesus came back to forgive the disciples for abandoning him. The new world is about forgiveness, not vengeance, and the earth shook. When the stone was rolled away, and the earth shook, we got our first glimpse of a new world where death does not have the last word, where injustice is made right, and innocent suffering is vindicated by the hand of God.

Those two women came to a cemetery to grieve over the sad story of death and one more chapter in the sad story of how the good always get it in the end when cruel power, jealousy and fear have their way. But then the earth shook, the obstacle, the barrier between life and death is moved away. That angel plopped itself right down on that stone in one final act of impudent defiance of death and Roman soldiers. It is as though the angel says to the soldiers, “Boo! Be afraid! Your world and what it was built on is shaking apart.” To the others the message is simply: “Go out and away from the old familiar places where you feel safe and secure. You will find him elsewhere.”

So just as with another story that opened Matthew’s Gospel, there is a story here at the end in which no body went back the way they came. Once we experience the risen Lord, healing and forgiving, there is no going back.

April 14, 2019 at St. Peter & St. William Churches in Naples, Fl

Isaiah 50, 4-7 + Psalm 22 + Philippians 2, 6-11 + Luke 22, 14 to 23, 49

Luke 19, 28-40 At the Beginning of Mass

In the Passion account we have just proclaimed, Luke puts before us three crowds of people: a crowd at the entry of Jesus into Jerusalem, a crowd in the courtyard with Pilate, and a crowd following Jesus to the site of his crucifixion. Each crowd is different. There are now three days before Lent ends on Holy Thursday. You might reflect Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday about in which crowd you might be found. Each crowd is characterized by an emotion: the first is jubilation, the second angry crowd demanding crucifixion, and the weeping crowd walking the way of the cross. You may notice that this last crowd is the only crowd to which Jesus speaks. Pay attention to how many times the second crowd cries out: “Crucify Him.” Three times. It should connect with something Peter did before the cock crowed.

We must look at where we can be found. Which crowd? Does the Joy of our faith ever show when we’re not in a crowd of believers? Are we complicit bystanders who avoid speaking up when something is wrong? Maybe we simply recognize our weakness and walk with Jesus as a sign of our solidarity?

For just a couple minutes, I want to give you something to think about and ponder through this week we call Holy. You reflect upon it, and with a prayer to the Holy Spirit, you can bring this lent to a fruitful conclusion.

You have to wonder where were those people in the first crowd when the second was shouting for Barabbas. They were all into “Jesus” when he was like a “Rock Star”. They were like a lot of people who can and do quote the Bible, but avoid living it. Their commitment wasn’t very deep or lasting. When it gets hard, they can’t be found. That second crowd just followed the leaders without questioning the demands of their leaders. Were those demands right or wrong? They went with the flow. Then there is a third crowd that Luke identifies as “women.” They can do nothing but be there. They seem to know that presence is the only and most important thing they have to offer.

April 7, 2019 at St. Peter & St. William Churches in Naples, Fl

Isaiah 43, 16-21 + Psalm 126 + Philippians 3, 8-14 + John 8, 1-11

Today we get a report from St John about mob violence which is something that sadly is still too common. We have seen it over and over again in the past years from Charlottesville, Virginia to Suburbs of St. Louis, and Pittsburgh. It happens with gangs of bullies on school playgrounds and parks, and today we hear about it in the Gospel of John. It has become so common that we are almost insensitive to it, and that is dangerous. The danger lies in the fact that any of us could be caught up in this senselessness at any time or in any place. Mob action is always anonymous, and the mob can end up doing things that are as self-destructive as they are offensive. In that anonymity a mob can get away with doing things most of those people in the mob would never think of doing if they were in their right mind. What we see in the news if often good people who somehow have lost their bearings, have surrendered to some collective madness that leads them into behavior and thinking that is far from the reality of their lives and their goodness. That mass action of a mob generates feelings of indisputable righteousness even when the behavior is contemptible. We’ve seen this all through history to the shame of the human family and even the church. The Spanish Inquisition made the Roman Coliseum look like a picnic. A century later it was witch hunts in Salem, then came the mob lynching we are just beginning recognize here in this country only to move on to Selma, and Charlottesville.

These people who drag that woman before Jesus were probably good people angry and fed-up with something they abhor and something that strikes at the values of their lives and the community in which they live and want raise their children. The whole scene, ugly as it is, puts both of them, the woman and the mob on trial. The woman is exposed in public. There are witnesses, perhaps even the man with whom she committed that adultery was hiding the crowd. Imagine that. Anonymity is a safe place to hide. They want to force Jesus to choose between the law and mercy. He doesn’t choose. The fact is, and they knew it: the same law that required an adulteress be stoned demanded the same punishment for a rebellious child. They knew that, and no one among them had ever stoned their child for drinking, smoking, or wrecking the car!

What Jesus is doing here is get the crowd to come to its senses. He shows a merciless crowd what mercy can do. He gets them to realize that genuine religion invites people to ask for and rejoice in forgiveness rather than pretending or even attempting perfection. They left one by one John tells us. Perhaps in breaking up the mob, those people could only look at themselves in truth and in all honesty without the fake righteousness of the mob. Jesus does not let the woman off easily. He firmly instructs her to stop sinning, but his real focus is on those who accuse others and excuse themselves. Perhaps, when his successor assumes the burdens of the papacy, Pope Francis will be remembered for one thing he said that touches us all: “Who am I to judge?” When we finally embrace what that question means, we will be well along the way to have established peace, and build up the Kingdom of God.

31 March 2019 at St. Peter & St. William Churches in Naples, Fl

Joshua 5, 9-12 + Psalm 34 +2 Corinthians 5, 17-21 + Luke 15, 1-3 & 11-32

We have just proclaimed familiar and much-loved verses from Luke’s Gospel. It is a complex story that explores much more than the dynamics of the human family. It is study inviting us to reflect upon freedom, duty, and love. Those two sons are really good people who in many ways reflect the reality of our lives, all of us. We are one or the other, or perhaps even a combination of both. The younger one lives his freedom. He leaves home when he chooses, and he returns when he chooses without a thought about how anyone else might feel about it. His older brother lives his duty. He serves loyally without complaint asking nothing in return.

It is easy to look down on the younger son. His disrespect comes through as he squanders what the father and probably the older son have worked to save. His return home is hardly admirable. He goes back because he’s hungry without a thought about what pain he has caused anyone else. His brother is no shining example of virtue in spite of his loyalty and the duty with which he has worked. He may never have complained, but you can hear his resentment. He does what is right as a way of gaining his father’s approval, not for some higher ideal like love. The return of his brother reveals his shallowness as he sees his brother receive on the easiest terms the affirmation and affection he wanted and worked to receive. Both of them are lost. They have habits that cut them off from others. Between them stands the father who lives with freedom and with duty because he lives with love. He is free of attachments to things which he generously gives away to someone who has not deserved it. He is free to forgive everything and welcome back this son. He knows what is more important, his son of the squandered stuff. At the same time, lives with a sense of duty when he leaves the celebration to speak with the older son who is outside pouting and angry. He knows that this one needs his love as well, maybe even more at that moment.

In a recent film called, “The Green Book” that many of us have seen, there is a line spoken that touched me deeply. In speaking to the musician who has revealed that he is estranged from his brother, the tough chauffer says: “The world is full of lonely people just waiting for someone else to make the first move.” My friends, God has made the first move in sending his son who waits for us all who stand outside alone in shame or resentment. Either way, the promise has been spoken: “All I have is yours.” It is a stunning promise made to all of us who sometimes feel resentment or anger when someone gets more than we think they deserve. We must remember and tell this story over and over again to remind ourselves of that promise remembering as we do that freedom and duty both serve a higher purpose that can get lost when they are exercised without love. Only those who turn all things toward love will be able to welcome back those who are lost and enter the joyful celebration that is the Kingdom of God.