30th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year B) Oct. 28 (Jeremiah 31:7-9; Psalm 126; Hebrews 5:1-6; Mark 10:46-52)

Jeremiah was not the happiest of prophets. His anger, gloom and frustration pervade the book that bears his name — he was a bit over the top, even for a prophet.

In light of the stubborn and sometimes violent resistance that he faced, his reactions are understandable. He prophesied from 626 BC to the final destruction of Jerusalem in 587 BC at the hands of the Babylonians. During this time Israel was being continually bullied by two superpowers, Egypt and Babylon, so a catastrophe of some sort seemed inevitable. Among all of the predictions of disaster, however, was a beautiful promise of hope. Despite the destruction and disruption that Israel was going to undergo, God had not abandoned them. The image of a parent was used: parents stand by their children even when they do stupid things or make a mess of their lives. Love is not conditional on good behaviour or success. God’s promise to Israel was restoration and redemption, not a free pass to escape the impending tribulations. After Israel had passed through its purifying experience, God would lead them back — showing the scars of their struggle to be sure.

The promise makes it very clear that no one will be left out: the blind and the lame, as well as those bearing children will be treated exactly the same. It is far too easy to be swallowed up in the negative energy and fear of current events and to give up hope. Regardless of what happens, God is there and God is working unceasingly on our behalf. Jeremiah’s prophecies have much to tell us today about remaining faithful to God in the way we conduct our lives, but even more so about keeping faith and hope in a very scary world.

One of the most potent and dangerous drugs of all is power. It has brought many to ruin, both those who abuse power and those who are their victims. In the religious realm the potential for abuse is even greater for words and actions are cloaked in God-language and existential fear. The author of Hebrews pointed out that any high priest worthy of the name is deeply aware of his own weaknesses and faults — he stands with and on behalf of the people, not over them and above them.

Although He was sinless, the life of Jesus was a sterling model of how not to abuse power as well as the secret of being an effective and compassionate shepherd of souls. Jesus faced temptations and the limits of life in the body. His life was marked by struggle and suffering. This enabled Him to relate to us with empathy and compassion. The greatest abuses of religious power have occurred when individuals forget their own humanity with all of its flaws and imperfections. It is difficult to be harsh with others when we are aware of how much we are in desperate need of God’s grace and mercy.

God’s mercy was most evident in the story of Bartimaeus, the blind beggar who spent most of his time by the roadside in hopes of offerings from passersby. In the snatches of conversations that he overheard, one name seemed to be on the lips of many: Jesus of Nazareth. When he realized that the great man was nearby he began to shout and beg for mercy. His lack of physical sight was offset by spiritual insight as he recognized the Messianic credentials of Jesus as Son of David. There were many who tried in vain to shut him up: what right did he have, especially as a blind beggar, to bother someone of the stature of Jesus? The man would not be put off by the naysayers and guardians of propriety and he shouted all the more. His persistence was rewarded, for Jesus called to him. Jesus respected the man’s freedom by asking him what he wanted rather than imposing a solution to his problem, to which he responded with a request for restored sight. This was immediately granted but it was clear that faith was the deciding factor.

Throughout the New Testament, this faith is understood as absolute confidence in God’s compassion and mercy even in the face of resistance, suffering, darkness or obstacles. Praying boldly and persistently is both an act of faith and courage.

29th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year B) Oct. 21 (Isaiah 53:10-11; Psalm 33; Hebrews 4:14-16; Mark 10:35-45)

Suffering is the world’s oldest and greatest mystery. Philosophers and theologians of all varieties have made attempts to explain it with limited success. Anything that sounds too glib or that serves some particular ideology should be viewed with great suspicion and caution.

Isaiah and his nameless prophetic colleagues had their work cut out for them. They had to explain to the people of Israel why their nation had been destroyed and the people exiled in Babylon. The bigger part of that question was why God — with whom they presumably had a special relationship — had allowed it to happen. Sin, idolatry and laxity in matters of the law provided an answer to the first part of the question. But they also insisted that God had a plan and continued to work for the restoration of the people and nation even in Babylonian exile. The suffering that they had experienced was for cleansing and renewal. There would have to be a collective conversion of minds and hearts and a commitment to follow the ways of God carefully and zealously.

There was a problem — a fair number of the exiles were not only resigned to their fate but were quite comfortable and content in Babylon since they did not suffer any significant degree of cruelty or oppression. The prophets worked overtime to rouse the exiled community and reignite the fire of devotion to Israel’s God. They may have been persecuted by their own for their troubles for the suffering servant figure appears as an anonymous exile who suffered greatly for his teachings and prophetic efforts. The important part of the prophecy was the assurance that the suffering was temporary and that the vision of light — a restored Israel — gave strength and courage to the servant. Things of lasting and noble value are worth suffering for and we have the witnesses of countless saints, visionaries, reformers and other leaders who have given their comfort and even their lives for the sake of others. Suffering is never good for its own sake but only when it has purpose and meaning.

Redemptive suffering was most clearly demonstrated in the life of Jesus. His exalted status and His ability to be our advocate and guide was based firmly on His life of sacrifice. Jesus “paid His dues” by becoming human with all of its limitations and being tested in every way. He experienced pain, loneliness, grief, betrayal, fatigue and disappointment. By standing firm in His obedience to the Father and practising unceasing love He rose above temptations and became our compassionate high priest.

Our culture, as well as our economic and political systems, thrive on promising people something for nothing. No taxes, instant weight loss without dieting and exercise and fabulous rates of interest on investments at no risk are fine examples of this mentality. Success without sacrifice is an illusion, and James and John fell for it. They were enamored with the power that Jesus seemed to wield as well as His talk of the kingdom of God. Visions of glory and fancy titles probably filled their heads as they anticipated basking in the Lord’s glory.

The two ambitious apostles approached Jesus and made a request that probably disappointed Him deeply — they wanted the places of honour at the right and left of Jesus in His state of glory. They clearly had not understood His teachings. He pointed out that status in God’s kingdom means being least in the human realm. The exaltation of Jesus was a consequence of His being willing to give His life as a ransom for many. Jesus went on to inform them that He was not in a position to hand out places of honour for it was entirely up to God. They had to be willing to follow in His footsteps with only love as motivation, even to the cross itself.

James and John were just a little too quick in their insistence that they were able to embrace the baptism of suffering that Jesus was about to endure and even then Jesus did not promise them glory. Perhaps they should have added, “With the grace of God.” True spiritual advancement only occurs when we are willing to let go of self-interest, notions of honour and status and selfish ego. Voluntary “downward mobility” is the path to the Kingdom of God.

28th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year B) Oct. 14 (Wisdom 7:7-11; Psalm 90; Hebrews 4:12-13; Mark 10:17-30)

It would appear that gold, oil, stocks, natural resources and other precious commodities make the world go around. Indeed, people have been killing one another cheerfully for millennia in order to possess more.

Things that glitter can drive people to absolute madness. In the Wisdom tradition of the Old Testament, there is something that makes all of these things seem worthless in comparison and is more valuable than even health, beauty and power. This is wisdom, and it is not to be confused with knowledge or cleverness. There are those who have been educated far beyond their intellectual or emotional intelligence and others who use intelligence for immoral or evil ends. Wisdom, on the other hand, is something that most of us have fervently hoped for at times — the ability to know what is right, especially when there are many conflicting choices. The one endowed with the divine gift of wisdom remains focused on a path that combines justice, compassion, generosity of spirit and a God-centred mind and heart. We recognize these rare individuals as sages, saints, humanitarians and great statesmen and rulers. We probably know far more of them that are not in the history books, such as certain friends, relatives, teachers and others who have been influential in our lives. The wise person is often the one to whom we turn for advice or to ask the deeper questions of life.

Wisdom does not come easily — it requires humility, an open and seeking mind, thoughtful reflection and prayer. Life and its many experiences is the best teacher. Above all, wisdom will often urge us on a path of action that might be at odds with culture, traditions and the opinions of others. The most difficult part of gaining wisdom is not letting it be eroded or whittled away by the many pressures and negative voices that the world can exert.

A piercing and cutting two-edged sword is a strange metaphor to use for the Word of God. There is an obvious danger in violent and militant religious symbolism. But its uncompromising, levelling and unmasking qualities are certainly correct. “Word” means far more than what is written on a page. It is God’s communication with humanity and it can reach us by many paths. The recent pastoral letter Verbum Domini points out that God’s Word can be expressed in salvation history, events, inspired speech, messengers such as the prophets, art, music and, most of all, Jesus who was Himself God’s Word. A genuine expression of God’s Word does not confirm the status quo or allow hypocrisy and self-delusion. It can be painful and disconcerting but it also transforms and gives life and it is most effective when applied rigourously to our own life rather than used against others.

These qualities of the Word were evident in the story of the rich young man in the Gospel. Jesus the Word brushed aside the young man’s attempt at ingratiating flattery and pointed out that he already had the answer to his question concerning eternal life: he should practice the principles of his religion. The rich man had a nagging sense that there was something more. Jesus did not judge him — in fact, He looked on him with love while at the same time piercing through all of the man’s defenses and self-delusions. Jesus saw that the man derived his identity and security from his wealth as well as his ability to control his own destiny. Jesus invited the man — if he really wanted to move to a new spiritual level — to leave it all behind. By giving the wealth to the poor and following Jesus he would discover his true self and would really learn what it meant to rely on God and be led by the Spirit. It was too much for the rich man to handle all at once and he went away shocked and sad, causing Jesus to comment on how difficult it was for a rich person to enter the Kingdom of God.

Maybe the man had a change of heart later on — after all, with God all things are possible. Renunciation and discipleship is foolishness in worldly eyes, but as Jesus reassured Peter those who do so receive far more than they have given. Freedom, happiness and letting go are different ways of saying the same thing.

Questioning Faith

Once, a parish priest asked me and my brother if we would offer a Bible study in the nearby seniors’ home. We invited all residents to an afternoon series in their lounge. Two or three showed up regularly, but nobody else. What were we doing wrong? Why didn’t they like us?

Finally one of the attendees, who was Protestant, acknowledged to us: “They wanted to come because they like this sort of thing, but they couldn’t understand why anybody would send Catholics to do a Bible study.” This took the pressure off!

Though it cherishes a sacred book, Christianity is not a religion of the book. It’s a way, “the way,” to use one of its earliest names. It offers life through encounter with One who is the door to life. Why then does the Church have a special book (or rather, collection of books) that it considers sacred? Where did it come from, and what are we supposed to do with it?

The Church considers the Scriptures “inspired.” Perhaps this makes them seem distant, reserved for the learned few. We may want to get closer to them, without knowing the way (which, at times, is how we feel about God, too). On Oct. 18, we celebrate the feast of St. Luke, one of the four evangelists. Luke, tradition says, was a physician and knew the Mother of God. The first semester of my theological studies included a class assignment to read a Gospel from start to finish. Because the feast day was nearby, I chose Luke’s Gospel; the experience was moving and educational. I discovered somebody behind the Scripture texts. I’d always been taught God was behind them, but now I began to see and hear a human writer. Could it be that God and Luke were writing together?

What a combination — a collaboration between God and a human, in which I could join. It was like being part of a conversation and discovering that in the process, you were getting to know God. So I learned that if the Bible is inspired, that doesn’t put it far away from me, but brings it close. It’s for me, for all of us (including Catholics)!

But what does it mean to say the Bible is inspired?

The other day I saw a photograph of a nice-looking young man. A self-portrait, it showed him wearing a black, short-sleeved T-shirt and black shorts, sitting on a column like a Greek hero. His figure exuded strength and compassion. Noteworthy, but not dominant, was the lack of three limbs, though the bare scarred skin was unabashedly visible.

While on assignment in Afghanistan in 2011, photographer Giles Duley accidentally triggered an explosive device. He endured the amputation of both feet and one hand, and resumed his photography career. Differently. He explains there are things he can’t do any more, such as keep his balance while looking through a viewfinder, and some things he can do in ways he couldn’t before, such as “focus even more on the connection with people.”

Duley’s story was inspiring to me. I imagined how I might respond to similar losses, reflected on the strength of his spirit, the human capacity to transcend itself, how it often falls short but at times rises to glory. His story, his person, evoked a deep response in me.

There are degrees of inspiration. We wouldn’t say the photograph is inspired to the degree the Bible is. We hope the inspiration we get from many things will help us learn to encounter the Spirit in the Bible, where of all books He is most meetable.

The word “inspire” means to “breathe into.” For Christians, it’s a deeply laden word with profound meaning. It reminds us that God “breathed into (Adam’s) nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living being” (Genesis 2:7). It’s the truth of our humanness, that held within us like a treasure is the living Spirit of God. The Mother of God is the archetype of inspiration, so open to God’s Spirit that the Word can take flesh within her.

“Inspiration” is not a thing, but a relationship. God breathed into Adam, but Adam also started to breathe. Scripture’s authors were inspired by God, but we too, people who read, study and pray with the Scriptures, find God’s Spirit within us helping us to understand them — we, too, are inspired. That’s why the Scriptures are the books of the Church, though the Church is not a religion based on books. It’s based on a relationship between God and us.

We need this sort of inspiration in our day-to-day lives. Otherwise we get anxious, like a tiny child whose parent is out of sight. The Scriptures help bring us into the ongoing dialogue between God and humanity, in our present affliction and struggle. They’re a unique place of encounter with God. The dialogue between God and humanity becomes a person. It’s this person whom we encounter in the Scriptures, Christ who alone fills our hunger.

27th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year B) Oct. 7 (Genesis 2:7, 15, 18-24; Psalm 128; Hebrews 2:9-11; Mark 10:2-16)

People have always asked “why,” “where” and “how” questions. Little children are great at asking these sorts of questions as any parent knows all too well. The ancient Hebrews asked the usual things: where do people come from, why are men and women different, and why do people unite in marriage and raise children? They borrowed freely from the creation and origin myths of the neighbours but always gave them a very different slant — one that emphasized creation as an act of love on the part of a unique transcendent God.

The description of the creation of the first humans does not fall in the realm of science and it should not be taken literally. It answers the “why” sort of question — it gives meaning to life and points to God as our origin. God is the author and giver of the life and breath that animates us. Naming things in the biblical world implies exercising power over them, but it also shows that humans play an important role in the story of the Earth. It also implies responsibility — exercising dominion does not mean exploitation, waste and wanton cruelty.

Bad exegesis makes for bad theology, and there has been more than a bit of dubious theology based on the creation of woman from Adam’s rib. Much of it was influenced by the ancient world’s view of woman as an incomplete or defective version of man and that view has played a part in the subjugation of women over the centuries. Looking at the passage from a very different angle we can arrive at a life-enhancing interpretation. Both the man and the woman are depicted as having a common origin and essence. Unity and harmony rather than subordination and dominance express our true nature. Ideologies and theologies that result in exclusion or domination usually do not stand up under careful, honest and informed analysis of traditions.

Hebrews is a rather difficult theological treatise that carries Paul’s name but was most likely not written by him. It is filled not only with beautiful imagery but challenging statements about Jesus and about us. Jesus voluntarily assumed the limitations of humanity on our behalf and was exalted because of His suffering and death. The author insists that God made Jesus perfect through these sufferings. This should be taken seriously and be understood as the development of the humanity of Jesus. Even more intriguing is the statement that both Jesus and those who follow Him spring from the same source and that Jesus was the “pioneer” — the trailblazer — preparing the way for many to follow. He did not come to be worshipped but to be joined by those He is not at all ashamed to call brothers and sisters. Our relationship with Jesus is one of friendship and solidarity.

The passage on divorce is one of those very hard sayings in the New Testament. Most people are in some manner acquainted with the pain of those who suffer from broken marriages. It was not intended to bind people to abusive partners or toxic relationships but to create conditions for a happy and fruitful life together. Perhaps it is fruitful to approach the reading from a different angle as with the reading from Genesis. Instead of asking what it prohibits we can ask what it affirms. The answer is simple: all people are equal in worth and dignity. No one may be used, viewed as property or treated in a calloused manner. This may sound obvious but to many long ago (and far too many today) it was new and unwelcome news.

Note that the initial question posed to Jesus revolved around the permissibility of a man divorcing his wife — not the other way around. Women were often treated as chattel and once dismissed from a marriage a woman’s place in society and ability to survive were precarious. Jesus was clear that marriage is a relationship between equals and highlighted its spiritual and unitive nature rather than contractual or utilitarian aspects. We can hope and strive to obtain this ideal. At the same time, human weakness and a host of other influences often stand in the way. In these instances, compassion and the insistence of Jesus, illustrated in His welcome of the children that no one be hindered from approaching Him, should be the guiding principles.

Love, patience, humility and service each day will pave the way

26th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year B) Sept. 30 (Numbers 11:25-29; Psalm 19; James 5:1-6; Mark 9:38-43, 45, 47-48)

The craving for power and control is at the heart of much human misery. Domination and exclusion go hand in hand with this desire and this is even more the case in the realm of the spirit. Religion is often used to manage people and societies and to define who is “in” and who is “out.”

Ironically, God is most generous with spiritual gifts — no one can ever accuse God of stinginess. In the reading from Numbers, Moses shared some of God’s Spirit that he had received with 70 elders of Israel — clearly a division and sharing of power. It was evident that the Spirit came upon them for they began to prophesy. Two of the group who were late and had missed out — this happens with any group — began to prophesy in camp. The reaction of Moses’ assistants was immediate and as expected: stop them! We can’t have this — they didn’t follow the rules and they weren’t here! Moses was neither impressed with their protests nor swayed. In fact, he chided the overzealous assistants. Why should they be jealous on his behalf? He didn’t feel the least bit threatened — in fact, he mused aloud that it would be wonderful if everyone in Israel were a prophet and had God’s Spirit within them.

The Spirit of God was poured out later on the first generation of believers in Jesus — on everyone, all flesh — as a fulfillment of a prophetic promise. Experiencing the indwelling of the Spirit of God and being able to give voice to the inspirations that it stirs within us is our birthright. Tragically it is one of the first gifts of God that we toss away, ignore or allow others to take from us.

No one owns or controls the Spirit of God, and as Scripture teaches us, the Spirit has a mind of its own and blows wherever it wills, often taking reluctant and protesting believers along for the ride.

Economic injustice is nothing new, even if it seems to be in the news more often. The author of James has something to tell us — something that Christians have not always been willing to hear: economic injustice is a spiritual issue. James’ rant against the wealthy was not because of their wealth but for the manner in which it was acquired. Defrauding the workers of their wages was regarded as dangerously close to murder in gravity.

We have our own examples of such fraud: the loss of life savings due to shady trading practices, the raiding and squandering of employee pension funds, as well as the bonuses and golden parachutes for some of those responsible. The letter of James is not as Luther claimed an “epistle of straw” but an epistle that we should all take to heart.

The same spiritual possessiveness noted in the first reading was alive and well among the disciples of Jesus. They were upset and outraged that someone who was not of their group was casting out demons in His name. After all, they had exclusive rights! Just as in the case of Moses, Jesus was unconcerned. If someone was inspired by His example and teachings enough to do good things in His name more power to them! The gifts of God’s Spirit will be given to those who have prepared their hearts and minds to receive it despite the label they may carry.

It is interesting that this was followed by some rather jarring language about people cutting off their hands and feet and gouging out their eyes. Biblical literalists pass over these words in silence and look for more congenial verses. This hyperbolic shock language is standard fare in biblical writings. It is meant to make a dramatic, stark and urgent point — in this case, the need for radical self-surgery if we are not comfortable with the type of person we have become.

Things will not “just work out,” nor will any divine intervention change our personality, character and level of spiritual growth — it doesn’t just happen. Opportunities will certainly be provided, but it remains to us to put into practice the necessary spiritual principles for transformation. There are no shortcuts, just the practical lessons of love, patience, humility and service each day.

25th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year B) Sept. 23 (Wisdom 2:12, 17-20; Psalm 54; James 3:16-4:3; Mark 9:30-37)

 

Many have discovered to their dismay that leading a godly life is not always the path to popularity or success. Being godly does not mean that a person is perfect or a saint — it is simply expressing the presence of God’s divine principles in every aspect of daily life.

The passage from Wisdom is very interesting and on target psychologically. The sight of an exemplary individual can arouse a variety of reactions — hopefully, a desire to do likewise. Often, however, there is just the opposite reaction: a feeling of defensiveness, anger or shame at oneself, and an overwhelming desire to somehow remove the challenge to one’s image of self. Wisdom speaks of “the godless” — this doesn’t necessarily mean atheists, but those whose lives do not bear witness to God’s presence — even if they are believers.

This practical or virtual atheism is one of the biggest problems of our world. The godless in Wisdom’s example hope to bring down the righteous one through their insults and torture, showing that the righteousness was all talk. They can then continue comfortably and with a sense of relief in their usual way of life.
We can see examples of this in modern muckraking and character assassination of those who challenge the status quo by their manner of life, their habit of speaking and living the truth and their efforts to change the world for the better. Some have even paid with their lives. The real challenge is for those who walk in God’s ways.

The “godless” provoke the righteous ones in an attempt to make them forget God for the moment and respond in all too familiar human ways. This is the ultimate test: can people remain “godly” in the face of these challenges or will they react with anger, violence, unkindness, revenge or cowardice? The most effective weapon against persecution and adversity is patience, forgiveness, compassion and steadfast commitment to one’s path. These are the very things the world seeks to destroy.

The author of James knew this well. He recognized that mere religiosity means nothing if it is characterized by “envy and selfish ambition” as well as conflicts and disputes. Divine wisdom cannot be counterfeited — it is expressed in honesty, kindness, peacefulness, mercy and good actions, all of which are expressions of wisdom from above. If we are at war with ourselves we will be at war with those around us. Only by being at peace with ourselves and in harmony with God can we create peace in our midst.

Jesus was the perfect example of the righteous one who walks in God’s ways — and He was and still is a challenge to all human beings. In a sense, He revealed to us who we really are beneath the layers of world-created personality and what we are capable of becoming again. He challenged our ideas, our behaviour, our values and our understanding of God. Many responded with joyful eagerness, while others sought to bring Him down and destroy Him — and this continues in our own day.

Ironically, this fearful defensiveness and desire to make Jesus over into a “safe” and domesticated image is often at the hands of Christians. Jesus warned His followers of His violent end but they were absolutely clueless, as proven by their argument over who was the greatest. They hadn’t understood a word of what He had been teaching and the consequences of living it out. In a simple but graphic gesture Jesus demonstrated that He undermined and redefined human notions of honour and status — in effect, He recast human relationships. In a culture in which most social interactions were exercises in calculated gain or advancement, He demanded that people welcome children — those lacking honour, status or advantage — as if they were Jesus Himself. In other words, human relationships and interactions were to be based not on external appearances or the labels that people place on others but on the presence of God within every human person.

Whoever welcomes another — especially a “nobody” — welcomes both Jesus and God who sent Him. This new way of living has rarely been completely understood and appropriated by Christians and over the centuries has been routinely ignored or forgotten. Cultivating an awareness of the divine presence in others and acting accordingly not only transforms the individual but also the world around us.

24th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year B) Sept. 16 (Isaiah 50:5-9; Psalm 116; James 2:14-18; Mark 8:27-35)

What sort of person allows the sort of abuse experienced by the Suffering Servant of Isaiah? People would have various interpretations: he is paralysed by fear; he is a coward; he is a masochist; he is crazy; he is a victim. When we look at the text carefully, however, we see an individual who set his face like flint (think of Jesus in Luke 9:59) rather than a passive victim. He allowed the violence against him because he knew that it was due to what he taught and stood for. It is always important to separate ego from the will of God, especially when we claim to speak on God’s behalf. He was absolutely sure of himself — not in the manner of a fanatic or megalomaniac, but one who had experienced the God of Israel and knew that God stood behind him. He knew that he would be vindicated by events that would unfold in the very near future — the release of the exiles in Babylon and their return to Jerusalem.

The prosperity gospel — the dubious gift of TV evangelists — has a long history. Some form of it was probably evident in the community to which the Letter of James was addressed. This distorted theology focuses on “what God can do for me” and does not expend time and energy meeting the needs of others. There is another version of this theology — one that is only concerned with personal salvation. As long as I am “right with Jesus” and therefore saved then the needs of others are of merely peripheral interest. Added to this is the Christian tendency to valorize suffering for its own sake — “the cross” becomes an excuse for tolerating the presence of gross inequality and injustice. James took aim at all of these tendencies with his insistence that following Jesus — being right with God — means faith plus action. Faith, as well as love, is always expressed in deeds. It is not a matter of winning God’s favour or earning one’s salvation. Simply put, faith is not genuine and complete unless it finds concrete expression.

How do we arrive at the truth about anything? This question has occupied the minds of philosophers and theologians for millennia and there is no easy answer. It does seem, however, that the truth is not necessarily found in either the academy or the marketplace. Many people are content to echo uncritically whatever they hear from politicians, the media, authority figures, communal traditions or conventional wisdom. In so many of these cases this amounts to shared ignorance. On the way to Caesarea Philippi, Jesus conducted a little opinion poll. What are people saying about me? The obvious answers came thick and fast: John the Baptist, Elijah, one of the prophets. There was no consensus except that Jesus was someone extraordinary. Peter had been uncharacteristically silent, but then he spoke up: “You are the Messiah (anointed one)!” He was not merely repeating what he had heard but had reflected on the deeds and words of Jesus and listened to the stirrings of the Spirit within him.

But acquiring a portion of the truth does not mean understanding it or that we have the bigger picture. Jesus was indeed the Messiah, the Christ, but He quickly disabused the apostles of their misconceptions of the term. Sweeping aside traditional understandings of the Messiah, Jesus insisted that His role was to suffer, die and rise from the dead. The apostles were horrified and a shaken Peter tried to talk Him out of it, offering alternative scenarios and “reasonable” arguments. Jesus raised the bar even further: anyone who wanted to be His follower could and should expect the same. Not exactly an inviting “recruiting poster,” and yet so many over the ages have chosen to follow in His footsteps.

We are probably surprised at the way in which Jesus turned on Peter in fury, calling him “Satan” or adversary. Peter was tempting Jesus, not deliberately, but by his use of conventional human values, opinions and emotional reactions. Jesus probably felt the allure of those arguments and recognized them for what they were.

The will of God or God’s ways should not be confused or identified with human motivations or desires. Our claims to truth should always be tempered with humility and openness to deepening our understanding.

In our city, we make the most of friendly summer weather to treat ourselves to much-needed holidays — escape from the routine, time with family or friends, exploring new places, enjoying a hobby.

This August, I observed a different vacation plan. A friend spent two weeks teaching teenagers at a “youth camp with a difference” to hammer, saw, assemble, paint, create and perfect. Together they built a handsome outbuilding which will stand for years to come as a manifestation of the power of community (for more, see The Register's coverage of the camp at www.catholicregister.org). The camp gave priority to families who might have had trouble affording such an opportunity for their kids. The out-building they built contributes to the site so that next year's kids will have an even better place to stay. 

The youth, rather than being given entertainment, were asked to learn, create and contribute. And, as they were able and willing, to pray. I watched them blossom under the opportunity.

It was a good experience. How much of its goodness arose from my friend's gift of time and self? He voluntarily spent two weeks of his vacation time to lead the camp, as well as giving his expertise, enthusiasm and love of building and creating. The kids received all this, without necessarily being aware of it. It's good to be paid for our work, as St. Paul reminds us; but something irreplaceable comes through simple generosity.

Something else happens when we close in on ourselves and refuse to be generous. I've felt the pull of stinginess, self-protection, closing down, looking inward, being careful, cautious, safe. These impulses aren't in themselves negative; they can be tools that help us recognize necessity, and do what we need to do. But they can also be the other side of an invitation to generosity.

Lately, I've repeatedly heard the expression, “he can afford to be generous.” This sentence fills me with wonder: what does generosity have to do with affordability? Each has its own value, but they are quite different. Affordability is about measuring, counting and weighing — all necessary skills. Generosity has to do with an inner space and an openness to someone else's need. We must have an awareness that the world doesn't begin and end with our own stomachs, a sense that we've received and have something to give, something desirable and helpful to give. Generosity and joy are cousins. As my friend kept telling me during the youth camp, he was enjoying himself. 

Generosity can be difficult to the point of painfulness. Think of what it's like to be in a spat with your spouse or other intimate. You know you're right; you have a just complaint; what you're saying and doing is perfectly fair and reasonable. And you know that in this moment of struggle, you can speak to your spouse a word of kindness, forgiveness, mercy, tenderness — or you can withhold it. What a difference it can make, to offer or withhold such a word at such a moment. How hard it can be, to be generous in this way rather than cling to justice. 

It's astonishing that we do perform acts of generosity, given human nature and life's hardships — all of us struggling to survive, in a world that often seems harsh and unforgiving. Frequently, even. Unseen, un-repaid, unsung. The poet William Wordsworth referred to “those best portions of a good man's life: his little, nameless, unremember'd acts of kindness and of love.”  Where do they come from? How did we get that way?

In our impulse to generosity — and even more, in our acts of generosity — we discover something about ourselves. We learn that we're more than we know, more than an instinct to survive, more than our stomachs and bodies, more even than reason and justice. There's something limitless about us.

“The measure of love,” wrote St. Francis de Sales, “is to love without measure.” We're capable of loving beyond measure, beyond reason. How could we do this if we hadn't first been given it? How can we discover our generosity without discovering our likeness to One whose generosity has no limits? Still, He limits Himself to our size so that we can discover our built-in connection to Him. And so we can exceed our limits, and find we’re bigger than we dream.

“I measure and count myself, my God,” wrote the poet Rainer Maria Rilke. “But you have the right to squander me.”

This is the triumph of the cross: the lived witness of the God who squanders Himself, who abandons infinity to be affixed to a piece of wood by His own creatures. And so gives us a glimpse of the infinite power of love and generosity.

It's a power we too can wield, as my friend did in his generous self-gift for other people's children. Once we start to perceive it, we might find it's far more common than we suspect. All round us and within us. Giving us life. Helping us become better, bigger, more human, more God-like.

Feast of the Triumph of the Cross, Sept. 14.

23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year B) Sept. 9 (Isaiah 35:4-7; Psalm 146; James 2:1-5; Mark 7:31-37)

Fear is probably the most destructive of all human emotions. When fear reigns, faith, hope and love are the first victims. Fear separates us from God, clouds our understanding and leads us into a riot of compensatory behaviours, most of them negative. The world in which we live today is in the grip of fear and we see the unhappy results all around us.

Time and time again in the Bible, heavenly messengers — angels, voices, prophets and Jesus Himself — exhorted human beings to put aside their fear. The messenger always reassured people of God’s continual presence and unfailing love. The passage from Isaiah was addressed to the people of Israel in the tumultuous and violent period of the sixth and seventh centuries BC. They were threatened and attacked by a succession of Assyrians and Babylonians, as well as surrounding nations like the Edomites who took advantage of the situation. Who can blame them for being afraid? It is very difficult to go on day after day with the threat of destruction continually present, and this destruction sometimes came to pass.

The rulers of Israel often dealt with the threat by resorting to international power politics and military alliances. The prophets exhorted Israel unceasingly to look upon God as their protector instead. If the nation was right with God all would be well. Being right with God meant more than what we would think of as religion — it included the application of God’s laws of justice, truth and honesty to society. The poor, weak and marginalized had to be protected and cared for. The nation had no cause to fear if this were the case — tragically, it often was not. The prophecy makes it clear that God is about life, healing, abundance and human flourishing — not punishment and destruction. Those things we bring on ourselves by poor choices and infidelity to the one who gave us life.

Before God there are no distinctions based on class, wealth, gender, ethnicity or religion. All are treated with the same compassion and care and Jesus made it clear that we are to do likewise. Because we are human this is often violated — people judge others based on appearance, influence and wealth. Christians have not been immune, for the wealthy and powerful have often wielded an excessive influence in the Church. James insists that this is not the Christian faith and we make a mockery of it when we behave in this manner. All of these signs of wealth and power can be stripped away in an instant — and often they are. In order for the Church to be an effective sign of contradiction in our world this example of equality and love without distinction must be recovered. We are who we are before God and nothing more.

The miracles performed by Jesus were always more than mere acts of compassion — they made a statement about God. There must have been many deaf and mute people in the land, so we might wonder why this man was singled out. Each miracle was a proclamation to all who witnessed the act that God’s reign had come very near. If that is the case, this miraculous healing was a bit out of the ordinary. Jesus took the man away from the others, in private, and the healing involved touching, saliva and an actual command to the afflicted part of the man. Consistent with Mark’s account, Jesus commanded the man to keep the whole matter under wraps (perhaps some reverse psychology!), which of course the man failed to do. Word quickly spread, and the astounded crowd was amazed at Jesus and the powers that He displayed, but His actions were also charged with meaning.

The prophetic tradition, especially Isaiah, portrayed the visitation of God as a time when the blind, deaf, mute and crippled would be restored by the compassionate mercy of God. The healing of this man, and so many others in the Gospel, were irrefutable signs that God had come very near indeed in the person of Jesus. God approaches an open and loving heart as well as an environment that reflects this, and when God visits wonderful things happen — new life, hope and joy. Preparing an opening for God is one of the most important things we can do to extend God’s Kingdom.