HOLY WEEK

The events we remember and celebrate during Holy Week are almost too much to comprehend let alone try to get our hearts and minds around, to grasp fully. It is as if the church is asking too much of us in offering Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, the Great Easter Vigil and the Easter itself as occasions for worship, reflection and remembrance.

But here we are. Even as late in the year as it is this year, Holy Week is somehow suddenly upon us and we are asked to clear our calendars and immerse ourselves in the events of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection. And even if we can, and even if we do, once the week is concluded and we are back to our normal lives coming the day after Easter, we will find ourselves trying to put everything into some semblance of perspective.

So how do we get at least a small handle on some of what took place that week so long ago? How do we make some sense of it all and apply it to our own lives? How do we make Holy Week personal but not too personal so as to be so overwhelmed by it all that we throw up our hands and walk away believing that it is simply too much for one person to comprehend?

Perhaps we already have. Perhaps that is why the celebrations during Holy Week are so sparsely attended: we’re convinced that it is religion overload and we can only take so much at one time. Yes, our time is important and our calendars are already full and to ask us to clear those calendars to come and worship so often is just asking too much. Maybe so, but there it is.

Yet each of those celebrations/remembrances of events in Jesus’ life is also an opportunity for each of us to examine our own lives to discover that what happened to Jesus happens to us not just one week of the year but every week of every year. Palm Sunday’s celebration is a reminder that as Jesus was entering Jerusalem from the east, Pilate and his army was entering Jerusalem from the west. Every day we are asked whom we serve: Jesus or Caesar.

Maundy Thursday with our remembering Jesus’ washing the feet of his disciples and the institution of the Eucharist remind us that we are called to serve those less blessed than we and know that we can do so through the strength we receive from the Eucharist. How are we fulfilling that calling and how often do we take advantage of the offered Strength?

Good Friday reminds us that Jesus died because his living example of love for all was a threat to those whose lives were being lived contrary to what he taught. Do our lives model Jesus’?  Do we back off on doing what is right on the one hand and do we do that which we know we should not on the other all because of peer pressure?

The events of Holy Week give us much to ponder about ourselves, about our lives, about how we live out our faith. The best way to do some needed pondering is by taking the time to do so, in church, at worship.

SOMETIMES THE HARD WARD IS THE ONLY WAY

Why does it seem that the only way to learn a lesson is the hard way? Why do we always have to touch the pan that we know is hot to learn not to touch hot pans? Why do we have to go down that road that we know, absolutely know, we should not go down because there is nothing good at the end of the road and yet still travel down it and always, always, always to our pain, chagrin and humiliation?

Why do sensible people act in nonsensical ways over and over and over again? We see it all the time. It’s up front and personal, in the headlines, the Number One item on the nightly news, fodder for talk shows and bloggers and pundits everywhere, and who isn’t a pundit anyway? We’ve all judged (fill-in-the-blank) both silently to ourselves and vocally to anyone who would listen. They did something they knew was foolish and wrong and, hopefully, are learning from their mistakes, and learning the hard way, much to their public humiliation and the vast blow to their pride.

While we may derive a scintilla of glee when “stars” get their comeuppance, it had better be momentary as well as thankful. We’ve all walked in their shoes, perhaps not to the same degree and certainly not with the same notoriety, but we have all been there. It’s called sinning. We all know from firsthand experience what that is and know, even more, how painful and how humiliating it is to admit that any sense of glee we get from the downfall of another does not justify our own failings.

Meanwhile the issue still remains: why do we have to learn the hard way? Why do we think that somehow we are going to be the exception to the rule? Why do we think that when we touch the hot pan, while everyone else will get burned, we will not? Why do we think that while it was obvious that So-and-So would get caught, we can get away with whatever it is we know is wrong?

We can’t and we won’t because our past sins have already caught up with us, the ones we thought we could and would get away with. Yet the pain and humiliation that came when our sins came to light has not prevented us from acting foolishly again, if not in the same manner, at least foolishly in other ways. We’re still touching that hot pan knowing full well we will get burned.

Sometimes I think that God looks on us and simply shakes his head (or her head – pick one), smiles, and hums that old peace-song refrain, “when will they ever learn, oh, when will they ever learn?” It’s a haunting question, isn’t it, especially when we know that it is so apt when we look at ourselves in the mirror and ask ourselves if we will ever learn, not only from the foolishness of others but from our own foolish ways?

It is no consolation that we human beings seem to demand to learn the hard way and that we will have it no other way. And while the public humiliation of others may give us pause, it does not seem to move us to get our own personal house in order. Life would be so much more pleasant and joyful were we not to repeat the mistakes of others and even our own. But, alas, that seems to be a pipe dream rather than a dream that can come true.

TELLING THE TRUTH CAN BE FATAL

One of the Ten Commandments admonishes us to never bear false witness. In other words: always tell the truth. Most of the time we have no trouble obeying this command. By nature we are wont to tell the truth at all times and we do. To be sure, there are occasions when we will allow ourselves a little white lie or tell a half-truth, but blatant lies are not part of our usual discourse.

We may not always tell it like it is because sometimes blatant honesty can be very hurtful to another, as when your spouse asks, “Does this outfit make me look fat?” It may also find you sleeping by yourself on the couch for the next week or two.  Sometimes, too, the one asking us a question has no need to know the answer as well as no right to ask the question in the first place. Another person’s personal business is none of my business and vice versa.

Yet there are those times when telling the truth is what is demanded and anything less would be wrong, such as when we are in court and on the witness stand. The truth about telling the truth is twofold: first, we are always on the witness stand, if you will. Our lives are to model what we believe. In fact, they do, no matter what we say about what we believe. We may profess our faith in Jesus as our Lord and Savior but our lives may very well witness to the truth that we really do not, as when we say and do that which us rather un-Christ like. 

At times, however, it almost seems as if we have come up against a rock and a hard place, times when telling the truth can be fatal, literally and figuratively. I believe Jesus got killed not because he was a threat to the Roman Empire and not out of political expediency but because he always told the truth about how we are to live and he modeled that truth by his life. He made too many people too uncomfortable. Silencing him, silencing his truth-telling, would make their lives easier. So they did.

We may never find ourselves in such a situation where our life is on the line because we told the truth, but telling the truth can still be fatal. I think of Walter Mondale telling the voting public that he would raise taxes were he elected President. Such truth-telling was fatal to his election. Telling the truth is not about sticking one’s finger in the wind and discerning which way it is blowing and then saying what the people want to hear. It is about saying what must be said in spite of the consequences.

Again, those consequences can mean the death of a career, political or otherwise, or the death of a relationship. Speaking and acting on the hard truth will always give us pause as only a fool blurts out the truth without thinking about how those words will be heard and understood. Truth-telling is always momentous and often dangerous.

In speaking the truth we must measure our words carefully but we must also be certain that our lives support what we are about to say. Speaking with a forked tongue may still be speaking the truth, but we are not going to be heard. Might that not be the reason why we often are reluctant to tell the truth, to say what needs to be said? Just asking.

CONFESSING ISN’T EASY

Confessing to someone else that we have done something that was wrong, perhaps terribly wrong, isn’t easy. If we have been in that unfortunate and unhappy position, we know the truth of this truth. If we have not been, all we need do is ask someone who has been there and done that. Even years removed from the sin and the confession, it still is painful to remember and recall the deed.

Why? Why is confessing our sins and transgressions, especially the grievous ones, so difficult? The simple answer is that it is humiliating. Even children understand that. Notice how they always find someone else to blame. It is a blow, even a severe blow, to our pride. We are better than that, we say. We knew better when we did the deed that now embarrasses us to high heaven as we confess it to another or to others. Even being caught in the act does not lessen the embarrassment. In fact, it only adds to it and makes it worse.

Perhaps that is one of the reasons, even the main reason, why we avoid making any kind of confession to anyone other than a general confession to no one. Such a confession is easy and it is certainly not in any way humiliating because we have confessed to what is obvious to everyone, including God and ourselves, namely, that we have done that which we know we should not have done and we have left undone that which we know we should have done.

But who hasn’t? We’re all sinners. It is only when we get specific with ourselves that it becomes difficult to verbalize those sins, even to ourselves. As long as we do not have to get specific, we will never be humiliated and, of course, we will never change for the better. Our actions will only get worse, more selfish and hurtful. As long as we never have to confront ourselves with the fact that we have mistreated our subordinates or willfully disobeyed our parents or cheated on our taxes or….

Well, we all get the picture. No one wants to be humiliated. If we can avoid it, we will; and a sure and certain way to do so is to not admit to our specific selfish words and actions. But it is only when we humble ourselves and admit at least to ourselves our specific sins that we will grow up and not regress. If nothing else, Lent is certainly a time for such intentional humiliation.

This is not meant to be a harangue as much as it is a self-directed sermon. I know me; but I also know I am no different than any other human being. When it comes to being humble, we would all like that humility to arise because of something good that we did, some honor that we have received and for which we are now thankful to God for the gifts we needed to do that for which we are now being praised.

Confessing to specific sins is humiliating. There is no getting around that truth. There is also no getting around to another truth and that is as long as we refuse to become so humble as to admit our real failings and shortcomings, we will never grow in our faith and we will never grow up.

FORGIVENESS ISN’T EASY

One of the most difficult, if not the most difficult acts for a human being to perform is the act of forgiveness. It does not take the proverbial rocket scientist to know this truth. Each and every one of us knows it and knows it from the inner most of our very being. We have all been hurt, sometimes hurt deeply, knowingly and willingly by another. Our last thought during those times was about forgiveness. In fact, we may not have even given forgiveness a thought at all.

To not think about forgiving another who has deliberately hurt is not only not sinful, it is quite natural. What we are thinking about, and quite naturally, during those times are thoughts of revenge, of getting even, of paying back. Sometimes, because the hurt has been so deep, our only thoughts are about revenge. Forgiveness is not on the radar screen and not even close to ever getting there.

The truth is that we have a right to seek revenge on the one who has hurt us. If this were not so, then society would be in chaos. If we could do whatever we wanted to another, no matter how hurtful, no matter how unjust, no matter what, and the other would have no right or recourse to seek vengeance or punishment, then all hell would break loose. Thankfully, society and even the church, our faith, all say that we have a right to punish those who unjustly inflict pain and suffering on another or others.

But we have a choice in the matter, do we not? When confronted with someone who has slapped us on the face for no reason at all, Jesus tells us that we do have a choice about how we should respond. We can forgive the one who has hurt us by turning the other cheek or, left unsaid by Jesus but surely understood by his listeners, we can strike back. We have that right.

Jesus, of course, would have us forgive, even turn the other cheek and, perhaps in the process, to receive a second unjust, uncalled for and even more painful slap. Nevertheless, we would be within our rights to reject Jesus’ suggestion and do what comes naturally: strike back.

Forgiveness, then, is giving up our right for vengeance. That is why it is so very, very difficult to do all too often. We have a right to pay back and the one who has deliberately hurt us has no right to expect forgiveness let alone punishment. We can forgive another and not waive the punishment that the sinful, perhaps criminal action merits. Total forgiveness, however, grants pardon and does not seek punishment, as was the case with Jesus on the cross, as in turning the other cheek.

It goes against everything we hold just and fair to forgive unconditionally someone who willingly and deliberately has hurt us. Such forgiveness does not come naturally. It is only possible with the grace of God. That grace is always offered but it is only made manifest when we, of our own accord and free will, ask for it. That will never be easy to do. Jesus needed God’s grace to forgive his executioners. He accepted and forgave unconditionally. So can we if we so choose even as we have a right not to.

TIME FOR A TRIP THROUGH THE DESERT

My old spiritual director in seminary loved the imagery of the desert and the oasis in the middle of the desert. He maintained that life is a journey and that there are times when, on that journey, we have to pass through the desert on our way to the next oasis where we will find rest and refreshment. He also loved the imagery of being in exile in Egypt like the ancient Hebrews and looking forward to leaving slavery behind and finding freedom in the Promised Land.

When he melded those two images together, what we were led to mediate on was that life is all of that and more. If we are indeed living in exile in Egypt in this life and if our goal is the Promised Land of heaven, then to get there from Egypt would mean that we would have to travel through the desert, stopping along the way at the many oases we found in order to refresh ourselves for the next part of the journey.

The best parts of the journey, at least spiritually, are the times in the desert. It is then that we find out who we are and of what we are made. For whenever we arrive at those oasis spots, we seem to quickly forget about the past while we revel in the joy of not having to struggle with whatever it was that made the past seem like trudging through the desert where water and food were scarce and life was always tenuous.

We all would avoid those desert experiences if given the choice. They are not pleasant and are often quite painful. Only a fool would freely choose to walk through the desert and we are no fools. Yet, as that spiritual director warned, unless we sometimes deliberately walk out into the desert, when the time comes when we suddenly discover ourselves in the midst of one, we will not be prepared.

Lent, which is upon us, is just the time to take a walk through the desert. It is a time for deep personal reflection. When the ancient Hebrews were on the march from exile in Egypt to freedom in the promised land, they had an abundance of opportunities to ask themselves why they chose to leave Egypt where they at least had three squares a day to risk their lives wondering if that day would bring any food or drink.

There were times when they thought themselves to have been fools. But those desert experiences strengthen them so that there came a time when they no longer worried about food and drink because their experiences in though desert had steeled them for any and all hardships that would come before reaching the Promised Land.

Desert times are times for “prayer, fasting and self-denial”, as the admonition on Ash Wednesday reminds – times for deliberate, freely-chosen, honestly-desired prayer, fasting and self-denial. Lent is such a time for you and for me. We are encouraged to use this time in prayer, fasting and self-denial to strengthen ourselves for the journey to come. If we do, we will be prepared when suddenly thrown in to the desert because of life’s vagaries. If we do, we know, when those times come, that we will survive because we have strengthened ourselves just for such hard and difficult times. Now is the time for that personal trip through the desert.

THE SOUNDS IN SILENCE

It’s getting to be more and more difficult these days to even hear oneself speak. There is noise everywhere and if we do not hear noise, we probably think we are dead. The TV is on, someone else is on a cell phone, another one is ringing, someone else is texting, and a video game is being played. And even when we can crawl up into a favorite corner and be all by ourselves, it is still difficult to find silence.

We might even prefer it that way. Sitting in silence is not the same as going into our “nothing” box as we men are wont to do on a very regular basis, almost always at the wrong time, as when our spouse is talking to us and we have not heard a word she has said nor have we heard anything else. We are dead to the world and even dead to ourselves whenever we are in that box.

There is silence in which we hear nothing and there is silence is which we hear sounds. That is the silence that is difficult to come by and often one that is also avoided. It can be somewhat frightening to listen to those sounds that come from within, those sounds that speak to us about us, about who we are and what we are about. Those sounds can often be unpleasant and disconcerting, which is one of the reasons why we do whatever we can to avoid listening to them.

Yet we should. For it is only in the recesses of our hearts and minds, when we are still to the world and the world is still to us, that we can hear ourselves. It is only in that silence that we are able to hear our conscience talking to us, our lives and the way we live them speaking to us. It is all too easy for the sounds on the outside to drown out the sounds we can only hear on the inside.

We don’t have to go off on some kind of retreat or seek solace in a quiet room to hear those sounds, but it would certainly help. Yes, we can come up with all kinds of excuses why we can’t do it, why we do not have time to do it, why there are so many more things to do at the moment. And all those excuses would be valid. Life is difficult and the demands placed upon us simply trying to get through this life with some semblance of sanity are immense. No one questions that truth.

But the greater truth is that unless we stop at times to listen to what is going on inside us, to how we are and what we are about, to what we should be about, we will only make matters worse and our lives more complicated. We know that. We truly do. There is not one of us who does not long for some silent time, quiet time, time to think and reflect. We are spiritual beings, are we not? But getting in touch with that spiritual part of us, listening to it, can only take place in silence.

Lent, which is approaching, is as good a time as any and better than most to make and take that time to find a silent spot, that quiet and comfortable place wherever it may be, to listen to the sounds we hear in the silence of our hearts and heads. What we will discover if we make and take that time is that we will want to go back there more and more on a regular basis. The first step into that silence, however, is the most difficult one to take.

TRUTH

In a dramatic scene in the Gospels Jesus is standing before Pilate who has it in his hands, his power, to do whatever he wants with Jesus. He has to give no explanation for his actions or any justification. He is in charge. He has the power. Pilate thinks, because of Jesus’ accusers, that Jesus has come on the scene to become a king, to usurp power not only from Pilate but also Caesar himself.

On the contrary, Jesus tells Pilate, he has come on the scene, come into the world, in fact, the only reason why he was born was for only one purpose, and that is testify to the truth. Pilate, in his cynicism, asks, “What is truth?” and then drops the subject. Perhaps Pilate does not go down that road because he is afraid of the answer. Pilate, like all of us, is afraid of the truth.

Why? Why are we so afraid of the truth especially when we know, as Jesus reminds us elsewhere, that that the truth will make us free? Walter Brueggemann, the great Old Testament scholar, in commenting on truth, says that where truth operates, poverty turns into abundance, death turns into life, war turns into peace and hunger turns into food. In other words, truth is one of, if not, the most powerful forces in the world.

Think about it: whenever (if we have the courage and the will) we truthfully and honestly address issues like poverty, death, war and hunger, those issues, those realities, can be eliminated from this world. But they are realities because we will not address them truthfully. For whenever we do address poverty, for instance, we, in the end, as a society and even individually, come up with what we want to deem as reasonable excuses and justifications for poverty’s existence.

But there are none. We have within is as a nation, certainly as a world, the ability to eliminate poverty, hunger, premature death and even war but only to the extent that we are willing to be honest about the reasons such realities exist in the first place. And the reason: greed. There is poverty in our world because those who have are not willing to share enough of what they (we) have with those who have little or nothing. That is the gospel truth.

There is disease and premature death in impoverished countries, even in our own, because it is more important to make billions of dollars in profit on medicine than to take less and take care of those who can’t afford the necessary medication to get better or not get deathly ill in the first place. That, too, is the gospel truth. We go to war as nations to insure our lifestyle remains viable at the expense of others. We waste enough food in this country alone to feed millions of starving people. That is the gospel truth.

The truth is we know that. None of this is rocket science. But asserting the truth is dangerous, as Jesus pointed out and because of which Jesus became a victim. Telling the truth and making it a reality all costs us something. It may not cost us our lives but it will cost us something: downsizing, fewer toys, sharing, compromising. The list is long. The truth is that we are reluctant to face the truth because we are not willing to pay the price.

JESUS WAS RIGHT

Life sometimes, probably more often than we think or can even imagine, is a two-edged sword. In one sense Jesus was wrong when he said on the cross that those who were putting him to death did not know what they were doing. They certainly did. They were having him killed because he was a danger to the establishment, meaning them. As the High Priest opined, it would be better for one man to die than for the Romans to have an excuse to interfere with and take away their priestly privileges.

On the other hand, Jesus was right because they truly did not understand both the implications and far-reaching effects of their actions. All they saw was one man, innocent though he was, being the scape goat whose death would allow their lives to go on in relative peace. In effect their action was truly a two-edged sword even if they only saw one side of that sword.

Isn’t that true for so many of our actions? We tend to see only the immediate effect of what we are doing. We cannot see, because it is impossible to see, what the long-term effects of any of our actions, even our words, will be. The results of Jesus’ death on the cross can only be seen from hindsight and not foresight. So, too, with us. While we hope our actions will be as beneficial in the long term as we deem them to be in the present, we cannot be certain that that will occur.

That’s the two-edged sword. The problem is that we often deceive ourselves into believing that what we are doing is not only good for us in the present but will also be good for others in the long run. Or at least we want to believe that to be true, which allows us to do what we are doing in the first place. And the reason why these actions can be so deceiving is that we take some kind of pleasure from them in the here and now.

The High Priests took immediate pleasure from Jesus’ death and probably never even considered whether or not their would be long-term ramifications from their actions. They were just too rapt up in the moment. Aren’t we all at times. It is only in hindsight, when learn of the ramifications of our actions, that the realization of what we did sets in, for good or for bad.

We trust that our good actions will produce good results. We know our selfish actions will not, even as we may try to convince ourselves otherwise. We may even try to convince ourselves that our selfish actions will be beneficial to others. But the pleasure we get from doing what we are doing clouds the truth. We can’t and we won’t let ourselves see beyond the moment.

In many ways its all so simple and basic: first-grade stuff. Back in the day my text book was called Think and Do. Think first before you act. Think about the consequences as best you can. It was tough for this first-grader and it hasn’t gotten any easier over the years. Maybe it isn’t supposed to, life getting more and more complicated as we grow older. On the one hand, we know what we are doing. On the other hand, we really don’t; but we need to try to understand as we best we can before we act.

JESUS WAS WRONG

Whenever I read the Bible, there are lots of verses that I have trouble with and wish they were not there, verses like telling me that if I want to follow Jesus, I need to turn the other cheek and walk the extra mile and be kind to those who are not kind to me – stuff like that. I suspect that I am not alone in having such feelings. Following Jesus can be quite uncomfortable and quite demanding at times.

Of course, the truth is that whether we like it or not, we know this to be true; and even though we fail more often that we would like to, certainly more that we would like to admit either to ourselves or to others, we do make a very good effort every day to take what Jesus has to say very seriously and make a very serious effort to comply. It is not always, if ever, to be a Christian.

Even as much as I know Jesus is absolutely correct in what he says, there is one verse in Scripture, one utterance of Jesus, with which I take umbrage and think Jesus was wrong. That is the verse where he is hanging on the cross in sheer pain and agony and looks at those who are putting him to death and then asks God the Father to forgive them because, he says, “they do not know what they are doing.”

Baloney! They knew exactly what they were doing. They were putting to death an innocent man for some very selfish motives. And to make matters worse, they did not care. Jesus was making their lives, the lives of the Jewish leaders who orchestrated his condemnation, very difficult if not downright miserable. Better to shut him up permanently than to change their ways even if they had to come up with some trumped up charges. As for Pilate, he could not have cared less about Jesus’ guilt or innocence.

No, they all knew perfectly well what they were doing. And Jesus knew they knew even if he vocally, for his executioners to hear, said otherwise. They knew. But, and here’s the kicker, he forgave them anyway. Can you imagine that? Jesus, dying in excruciating pain, raises up on that cross and up and forgives them. That must have been a real kick in the pants when they heard his words. Or it should have been!

But, then, it is a real kick in the pants for me and, I suspect for all of us. The truth is, maybe the issue is not that Jesus was wrong in saying that those who were putting him to death did not know what they were doing. Maybe the real truth is that we have a difficult time coming to grips with the first part of Jesus’ utterance: “Father, forgive them.” Let’s be honest, were we in Jesus position, the last thought on our mind and the last words we would utter would be words of forgiveness.

There are a lot of things Jesus said we had to do if we wanted to follow him. Almost all of them we sometimes begrudgingly accept yet try as best we can to fulfill and follow. It is this issue of forgiving unconditionally those who knowingly and willingly hurt us with which we have a great deal of difficulty and would rather not. That said, the bottom line, the unvarnished truth and the greatest kick in the pants, is knowing that God also forgives me when I knowingly and willing do that which I should not.

WE ARE GOD IN THE WORLD

When I was studying theology, one of the authors I had to read was Karl Rahner, an abstruse German (that’s probably redundant) Jesuit (which may make him even more abstruse!). It usually took me three readings before I could understand what Rahner was trying to convey. Sometimes I never did get it. Maybe that’s why he was a theologian and I turned out to be a simple parish priest.

One of Rahner’s deep but very-insightful and certainly profound observations was that when we are human in the fullest sense, we are “God’s existence in the world”. By that Rahner means – at least that’s what I think he means – God is in the world, God works in this world of ours in and through human beings. Whenever we do Godly deeds, we are being God in this world. God works in and through God’s creatures and God’s creation and really in no other way. Why? God only knows the answer to that; but what we do know is that is how God has chosen to act in this world of ours – for better or for worse.

Of course the “for better or for worse” all depends on how we human beings act. The burden for making this world the world God intends it to be therefore is laid upon our shoulders and it is a burden that we cannot avoid carrying. We may not want to carry such a load – who would? – but we have no choice. It comes with the territory of being human in the fullest sense.

In essence this means that when we begin to question why things are the way they are, when we ask why bad things happen to good people, we are really asking ourselves why we allow such bad things to happen. Being God’s existence in the world means that we have responsibility for what goes on in this world, for preventing the bad and for doing the good. God works in and through us.

It is a burden. There is no doubt about that. There are two ways of going about carrying this burden, or at least the attitude that should underpin everything we do. There is the positive attitude, if you will, and there is he negative one. On the one hand we can define ourselves by what we stand for, what we support. On the negative side, we can define ourselves by what we are against. Perhaps even more we can define ourselves by who we are rather than by who we are not.

It’s a mindset. When we choose to define ourselves by who we are and what we stand for, then we have the responsibility for living out those stances. We are doing something and not simply standing around opposing but doing nothing. We may be in error about what we believe is right, but at least we are acting and we are open, open to learning that we might be in error and open to change.

All this can be somewhat frightening as well. To think that whatever we do is a reflection of God in and to the world should give us pause. The responsibility can be overwhelming if we think we have to go it alone. But we do not because we have one another and because it is impossible. Jesus didn’t go it alone because he could not. That’s why he gathered a group of disciples of which we are a part. We are now God/Jesus to the world.

THE HUBRIS OF THE PRESENT MOMENT

When I was in seminary, the food in the dining hall was served family style. There was no buffet or cafeteria style dining as there is in most colleges and universities today. What was placed on the table was what was for breakfast or lunch or dinner. There was no ordering pizza in or dispenser machines where we could buy junk food. In fact, back then there was really no such thing as junk food or at least the opportunity to stuff ourselves with unhealthy food.

During my twelve years of high school, college and theology my seminary employed the same chef. And during those twelve years the menu varied only slightly every two weeks. The food wasn’t bad. It was just the same. Thus, on those many occasions when we sat down to eat and looked at what was being served, we could smile and say, “It doesn’t get any better than this.” And it wasn’t going to either.

Sometimes, however, those of my generation think back on those days and from time to time even long for them. Life was much simpler them, choices much fewer, times much slower. Now life seems almost too complicated, with too many choices and moving all too fast. We ask: “It can’t get any better than this?” And we think, “It could if we could go back to what once was.”

But we can’t and we deceive ourselves if we think the good old days were all that good. We only seem to be able to remember the good of those days and easily and readily blot out the bad. No one of us would give up the conveniences we have today, the speed of communication, the ease of travel, the choice of meals, even the fast food and junk food that clogs the arteries and puts inches around the waist and cholesterol in the veins.

None of us would trade today for yesterday no matter how much we complain or how wonderful our remembrances. On the other hand, to reflect on what is and to assert that it truly can’t get any better than this is, to quote a writer whose name I have forgotten, to succumb to the hubris of the present moment. It is to forget that the present is built upon the past and that the future will be built upon the here and now. It can and it will get better than this.

To be all caught up in the moment can sometimes lead us into false pride and bravado so that we fail to see our own inadequacies and shortcomings. The chef back at my seminary must have assumed that the meals he was serving were the best and that no one could cook better than he. That is why we were subjected to the same old same old. But someone came along and proved him wrong.

Times change. That is inevitable. People change. Likewise. The past was good. The present is better than the past, our fond memories notwithstanding. The future will be better than now, our hubris of the present moment even as a given. (We should be proud of what we have accomplished, should we not?) But it can get better than this. It must, if we are to fulfill our responsibilities as children of God and if together we use, to the best of our ability, the gifts with which God has blessed us.

MAYBE WE ALL NEED TO BE WOKE

During the last political campaign the word woke was bandied around to define anyone who was deemed a liberal – whatever that word means or meant to those who used the term in a disparaging manner. No one ever seemed to define the term but only to use it in a demeaning manner and to point out that woke policies were bad for the country and should be avoided at all costs.

Maybe they were and are wrong. Maybe we should all be woke. Maybe we have been woke all along and never knew it. Maybe to be woke means waking up to new realities, new understanding of the world and what is going on in the world around us, waking up to understanding what our responsibilities are to one anther in this world, waking up to what it means to be a Christian.

Maybe those who disparage those they consider woke do so because it lets them off the hook when it comes to dealing with societal issues they would rather ignore because they are too difficult to address – and, of course, too expensive, as if cost suddenly becomes a factor when it is someone else on whom the money – and one’s tax dollars – are being spent. When the issue is our own personal problem, we have little or no qualms about the expense, especially if the government is paying the bill.

The truth is that we all, deep inside ourselves, would rather not have to wake up to what is demanded of us by our faith. It costs too much in the way of giving our time or our money or our God-given abilities to address the issue or issues at hand. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. If the issues and our responsibilities to address those issues are not front and center, it is all to easy to ignore them and, perhaps, write them off as woke and therefore somehow too political.

That, of course, is to ignore the body politic with the realization that we are all in this world together, that we are responsible one to another, whether we like it or not. It is not an issue of we-and-they but of us-and-us. Jesus was constantly being confronted by those who used the law to keep them from their responsibilities to help those who needed help. He never let them get away with it, much to their chagrin.

Our faith won’t let is either, much to our chagrin. Again, we can all find reasons, perhaps sound and logical reasons, why an issue is not our issue. And when we do, we give it a name and walk away. It is only when we woke (that word again) up to what is really behind both our excuses and the issue itself that we begin to take it seriously. Giving an issue a name – like woke – only keeps us divided and prevents us from doing what we can, as little as that sometimes is, to help solve the problem.

Jesus’s message was all about getting our attention to the needs of the last, the least and the lowly of this world, that we will be judged on how we responded to those needs, on how we should judge ourselves. Maybe Jesus’s message was and is that we should all be woke: be awake to what our faith, and maybe even our politics, is calling us to do, even demanding that we do, no matter how difficult and whether we like it or not.

POSSESIONS CAN LEAVE US EMPTY HANDED

Sometimes we all have a difficulty with sharing our possessions. We are like the little child who grabs the ball from his younger brother and says, “That’s mine!” and will not, under any circumstances, share it. Even when Mom or Dad tries to explain why he should share his ball with his brother, he resists. He can neither understand why he has to nor will he give in even under parental orders.

Again, such selfishness is not the sole prerogative of children. Adults are just as susceptible to holding on to what they have and being unwilling to share it with anyone, even a sibling or parent, as are children. There has to be some specific possessive gene within each of us that makes us so. Yes, some people are less prone to hoarding possessions than others, but even the greatest of saints is tempted to do so and even gives in on occasion.

When we find ourselves doing such hoarding, what we will also discover, if we stop to think about what we are doing and why, is that we are preventing ourselves from gaining something more and something even more valuable. For when we close our hands, literally and figuratively around something, some possession, we are then unable to open those same hands to receive anything from another, from others.

When we unclasp those hands to let loose of something, they are then opened to receive back from another thanks and love, friendship and support. It is so true that it is only in giving that we receive because it is only in opening our hands that they can reach out and receive something from another. What is received, we soon learn, or if we have learned are again reminded, is always more valuable than that which we have let go.

Over the years I have saved over 200 lives having donated over twenty-five gallons of blood. I did not hoard my blood but shared it. What I have received in return is the knowledge that I have indeed saved that many lives, but even more, I benefited from giving. My blood and blood pressure got tested every two months. The truth is that even in my generosity I had been somewhat selfish.

The point is that even in totally selfless giving, there is always a modicum of selfishness. Thus, that is why it is also true that there is more pleasure in giving than in receiving because, again, we always get back more than we give, even if what we get back seems at first glance to be so much less. We give gifts because doing so gives us pleasure, makes us feel good in the process and even makes us feel good about ourselves.

The saddest people in the world are not those who have nothing but those who seem to have everything but are unwilling and even unable to share something, even some small piece of their abundance, with anyone. They hold their hands so tightly around their possessions that they literally squeeze the life out of them, the life those possessions could be giving to those in need and, at the same time, squeeze the life out of themselves. It is sad but it happens and it can happen to us. That possessive gene can rear its ugly head and grab us by the neck when we least expect it. Beware!

 

CONFESSION DOES NOT EXCUSE

It is never easy to take the high moral ground as much as we preachers are tempted to do. We can all name several famous, now infamous, clergy who have railed against moral transgressions only to be caught transgressing themselves, much to their shame. Every last one of us is a sinner. It goes with the territory of being human.

Thus, we all have sins to confess, moral transgressions for which we are ashamed. It does take guts to stand before other sinful, fallible human beings and confess to our transgressions, even when we cannot deny them, especially if they happen to become front-page news and/or fodder for holier-than-thou talk show pundits. We sinned. We were caught. Now we confess, tears streaming down our faces in humiliation.

We now want to think it’s over and done with. We think that confessing to our sins is punishment enough, that the press, the media, the public, and even those we have offended the most – spouse, children, family – should accept our confession, our sorrow and then allow us to move on as if our courage in confessing was and is enough. It isn’t nor should it be. It should only be the beginning.

For when we are caught in a lie, whatever that lie, that sin, courage is not the issue. There is no one else to blame, even as much as we would like to blame society or human nature or bad genes for our misconduct. We did it. We did it knowingly and willingly. Everyone knows we did it. We cannot blame anyone else because there is no one else to blame. To refuse to accept the blame is not courage but cowardice.

However, standing up to our sins, confessing that, yes, we did it and there is no excuse for what we did, is only the first step. It is not the last step nor is it the only step, as much as we would like it to be. Punishment follows. The problem, of course, is that we want to believe that because we have confessed to an obvious transgression, we are now excused from having to pay any penalty, from being punished.

That’s not courage. That’s hypocrisy. What is even more hypocritical is when we lambaste those who have publicly sinned while engaging in our own immoral and/or illicit activity.  Confession is always the first step in getting back on track even when we have no choice but to confess because there is no way to deny our transgression. Believing that confession now makes us exempt from any sort of punishment other than the humiliation of being caught is an even worse offense.

We live in an era where public confession of public misdeeds is deemed sufficient. It is not because it only leads to worse offenses in the future. It’s akin to confessing to the State Trooper who has just flagged us down for speeding that, yes, we were indeed speeding and believing that, because we owned up to our offense, we should not get a ticket. If the Trooper is kind and let’s us off with a warning, odds are that sooner rather than later, we will be stopped again. Had we received the deserved ticket and the points, we would be less inclined to speed in the future. Escaping deserved punishment does not make us better. It often, sadly, leads to greater transgressions, as we all can attest.