Bulletins on Sunday Bulletins (Page 15)

Chapter 15 of the Gospel of Luke is one of my favorites in all the Bible. It could be called “The Lost Chapter,” for it deals with the lost sheep, the lost coin and the lost boy (otherwise known as the parable of the Prodigal Son or of the Merciful Father). The gospel passage this weekend is about the lost sheep and the lost coin. Jesus makes the point of His teaching very clear: I tell you, in just the same way there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous people who have no need of repentance (verse 7). The dynamic of forgiveness and repentance is one of the primary lessons that we learn from the Lord. It teaches us how to be toward one another and it also instructs us on the way God reaches out to each of us. One of the seemingly lost practices of the Church is sacramental confession of sins and reception of absolution. While some few approach the sacrament each week, the sense of sin and/or the appreciation of God’s forgiveness and our reconciliation with the Church is something else that seems lost in the twenty-first century. If we approached the sacrament with an understanding of the “joy in heaven” that the finding of the lost causes and if we realize that Penance/Confession/Reconciliation are offered as encouragement and not condemnation, we might rediscover its immense value in our lives.

Jesus puts before the vast crowd the cost of being His disciple. It is couched in terms of choosing Him over family, of taking up one’s cross and a willingness to commit oneself for a successful outcome. The invitation to take up your cross does not seem to be the way to successful recruitment of followers; but for Jesus it is the challenge to be willing to merge our path with his. In the end, it is the way we can join our lives to the Lord’s life. Our community of faith – this family of families that we call parish and Church – helps us along the way to be counter-cultural, to embrace a way that we might otherwise try to escape. We support one another in living for and with Christ.

“When you hold a lunch or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or your wealthy neighbors, in case they may invite you back and you have repayment. Rather, when you hold a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind; blessed indeed will you be because of their inability to repay you. For you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous” (Luke 14:12-14). With these words, Jesus turns social convention upside down. Specifically directing his hearers not to invite those who could lavish them with gifts and flattery, but to welcome the marginalized, who cannot repay their hosts, the exalted will be humbled and the humbled exalted. It is worth consideration of what it is that motivates us. Who do we aim to please, what kind of people do we welcome into the circle of our lives, our parish, our Church?

We might wonder what was behind the question put to Jesus, “Lord, will only a few people be saved?”. Was the questioner hoping that the number who would be saved would be very small? Or, perhaps, the person was looking for another answer, namely, that salvation was offered to many. Interestingly, Jesus’ answer is both. While many of those who were called will not be able to enter God’s kingdom, even more people– from the farthest reaches of the earth – will find welcome there. For Jesus, it was not a matter of religion or geography, but of one’s willingness to “enter through the narrow gate,” to welcome Jesus’ way and live it. Even though He uses this imagery, the circle Jesus draws includes all kinds of people, rather than trying to exclude anyone. This inclusivity extends to us and is a challenge for us also to draw the circles of our lives broadly, allowing as many people in as possible. I say that it is a challenge, because many of us are comfortable only with those whom we consider to be like ourselves. Our richly diverse parish family is rich because of its diversity. And still we rejoice in our unity in the Lord. May the tapestry of our lives be the same.

Jesus said to his disciples: “. . .Do you think that I have come to establish peace on the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division. From now on a household of five will be divided, three against two and two against three; a father will be divided against his son and a son against his father, a mother against her daughter and a daughter against her mother, a mother-inlaw against her daughter-in-law and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law” (Luke 12:51-53). These “divisive” words of this weekend’s gospel passage are not so much a prediction as they are a reflection of real events in the lives of first century Christians. At the time the gospel was being written, faith in Christ was tearing up families and communities. The evangelist puts on the lips of Jesus words that can shock us even now: “I have come to set the earth on fire, and how I wish it were already blazing!” (verse 50). In the twenty-first century, we could ask ourselves if there is anything about Jesus, the Gospel, or our Catholic/Christian faith that is so important that it could affect our lives as it did in the time of the apostles and the young Church. Do we experience faith in Jesus as the anchor of our lives, or as something peripheral, on the margins?

This Thursday, we will observe the Feast of Saint Clare of Assisi, Patroness of our parish. Our annual celebration gives us an opportunity to reflect upon the Franciscan charism of Clare and how we continue to be faithful to it more than 800 years after she began her ministry. Looking back to her life and ministry, we look to the many families that form our one parish family. As Saint Clare joined with Saint Francis to renew the Church, so it falls to us to give new life to our Parish, our Diocese and our Church. We join together in preparation for our Diocesan Synod, the first in our 41 years as a local Church. We are one with Catholics across the United States in renewing our understanding, appreciation and faith in the mystery of the Eucharist, which was so dear to Saint Clare. On Thursday evening, we will have a special parish celebration of the Eucharist at 6:30 pm, followed by a reception in the Rectory Garden. Last year’s Feastday Mass was a diocesan gathering during the 40th Anniversary Jubilee Year. This year, our celebration will be more modest, a parish-wide gathering. I hope you and your families and neighbors will be able to be with us. Weather permitting, we will be in the tent for Mass. It is not too late to let us know of your intent to be there: https://forms.office.com/r/TLV3ekRe6g

In today’s passage from Saint Paul’s Letter to the Colossians, we hear a simple summary of both the Old Testament and the Gospel readings for this Sunday: “Think of what is above, not of what is on earth” (Col. 3:2). Otherwise, we will find it impossible to follow Jesus’ teaching: “Take care to guard against all greed, for though one may be rich, one’s life does not consist of possessions” (Luke 12:15). And in another place, we read that “the love of money is the root of all evil” (1 Timothy 6:10). It is very important that we keep all of this in mind and in the proper perspective. Money, possessions and “things” are not evil in themselves. It is, rather, what importance we give to them. If our goal is, in biblical terms, “piled up wealth,” then we will come to no good end. Because we live in this world, we cannot do without money and the things that money can buy. We need to tend to the proper upkeep of our homes, our church, our school and other buildings that house the work that we do. Our recent parish expenditure on a new roof for the church is not an end in itself, but to foster our gatherings for worship. The same is true of any upkeep and improvements that we make, including the upcoming project to air condition our school buildings. But our buildings are not an end in themselves and neither are very modest savings that the parish has after paying off the new roof. As we consider our personal and family relationships with our material possessions, may we see them, too, as means to good ends, allowing each and all of us to “think of what is above” and to be good stewards of the gifts that we share.

It has been said that “prayer is conversation with God.” If this was our experience, it is likely that many of us would pray more often and more heartfelt. Our Catholic Tradition has handed on to us many formal prayers; one could fill a library with compilations of prayers and litanies. While these may all be helpful to us when we cannot give voice to our own prayers, reliance on formal prayer can also become a crutch, serving as a buffer between our minds and our hearts. The story of Abraham’s bargaining with God (“What if there are no more than twenty [innocent people]?) and Jesus’ instruction to “ask, seek and knock” give us the pattern for the prayer of our lives. The Lord’s Prayer, on the other hand, gives us the broad outline for our prayer: It is directed to the Father of Jesus, tries to align our will with God’s and seeks forgiveness that is rooted in our willingness to forgive others. Sometimes, our prayer might express frustration and sadness; and at other times, joy and thanksgiving. But isn’t this the way between friends? Yet that is what God, in Jesus, has become for us: “I shall no longer call you servants”. . .but friends (John 15:15). Let us speak to our friend, the Lord and, like Mary in last week’s gospel reading, listen to the words He speaks to us.