IT’S NOT DIRECTED TOWARD ME

Church attendance is down all over the world. That is obvious, the megachurches notwithstanding whose members exit the back door as quickly as they enter the front.  There are, no doubt, many reasons for this, much of it the fault of the church itself. Perhaps it is cyclical. Perhaps we are in one of those downturns in the outward observance of religious practices. Perhaps we are awaiting the next Great Awakening to revive church life. Perhaps. Only time will tell.

In the meantime it is always good to explore why less and less people are attending church, especially in the West, the “sophisticated and educated” part of the world. Are we in the West so wise not to be so foolish to think that organized religion is all that important in our daily lives? Have we not found meaning and fulfillment outside the church structure and found guidance for our lives outside of church dogma? Many seem to think so.

Many people these days, according to the poll-takers, claim that while they are not religious, meaning they do not belong to or attend a church, assert that they are indeed spiritual people: spiritual but not religious. Perhaps they are. They claim to get more out of sitting on a bank of a creek soaking in all of God’s creation than they do going to a worship service at some church. They assert that a quiet Sunday at home, reading the paper, drinking a latte they hurried down to the nearest Starbucks to purchase, conversing with their spouse is more fulfilling than formal worship. Besides, they say, “I don’t get anything out of worship.”

They are probably right. To get something out of worship we have to put something in to it. And what we have to put into worship is ourselves. Even more, and the main point of all this, is that worship is not directed toward the worshipper. It is directed to the one we gather to worship in the first place: God. We come to church to worship God, not to be entertained, not to be calmed by the rippling sounds of the creek or the soothing taste of that latte in our hands. Worship was never meant to be entertaining or even soothing.

We call our worship service liturgy. The root meaning of that word in Greek is “public service”. In other words, it means work. Liturgy is truly the work of the people. Worship is to be work, our work of worshipping our God. In fact, when we have concluded our worship, we should be tired, even exhausted because we have put so much of ourselves into that service. Worship is not so much about getting something out of what we are doing as it is about putting all of ourselves into what we are doing. It is indeed work.

It is easy to be spiritual. It is a walk in the park, literally and figuratively. Being spiritual is centering on the self and is all about oneself. It is directed inward. It is difficult, hard work, to be religious, to do what is necessary to be the person God created us to be. Why? Because being religious means being centered outside ourselves: on God and on others. That does not mean that one cannot be religious and spiritual at the same time. In fact, when we are living out our faith, when we are worshipping our God, it is indeed, in word and in deed, a deeply religious and spiritual experience.

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS

Frank, or maybe it’s Ernest, I’m not sure who is who, is reading the newspaper (in the Frank & Ernest comic strip by Bob Thaves), asks, “What concerns you more about politicians, unanswered questions or unquestioned answers?” Lest anyone’s hackles get aroused, let us all admit that while politicians are experts at both not answering specific questions with specific answers and insisting their answers to specific questions be unquestioned, so are we all.

We citizens are even more guilty when we demand of our politicians, our elected leaders, that they give us a simple and short answer to a very difficult and convoluted issue. We want answers and we want answers now and we want the answer to be as least painful to us individually as possible, no pain being the preferred choice. We know in our heads that that is impossible, but that is what we would like and what we want to hear.

There are no simple, easy answers to the many and varied questions, issues, that confront us as a nation, as a world, as a church, even as individual people. What is even more difficult to deal with is that there will always be more questions than answers and that when we have resolved this question, this issue, another will follow right on its heels and probably be even more difficult.

That said, the point of Thaves’ strip is still valid. No one has all the answers: not the President, not the Pope, not you or me. Further, just because we may be in a position of power does not give us the right to believe our answer should go unquestioned or that our response of “because I said so” is sufficient.  Ignoring the question only makes the matter worse because it won’t go away and make it even more difficult to resolve.

And no one answer is the answer. This world, this life, is too complicated for simple, easy, uncomplicated solutions to complex issues. We know that. We know that in our own lives. Personal issues are almost always very complex and cannot be resolved with simple answers. Why? Because more than one person is usually involved in the problem and its resolution. The more people involved, the more complicated and the more difficult the resolution.

And even when the only person involved is our self, when the issue at hand is very and strictly personal, even then the correct response, while simply given, is hardly ever easy to fulfill. The problem of being overweight is simple: eat less. The problem of over-spending is to spend less. The problem of being unkind all too often is to change our ways. The problem can be simply stated and the resolution simply given, but that does not mean it will be easy for us to actually resolve the problem.

The further issue is that we are often our own worst enemy. We do not like to admit that we are both part of the problem and we are also part of the solution, whatever the problem. While we can blame and castigate our politicians for acting like the politicians Frank and Ernest think them to be, all too often in our personal lives in many ways we are they.

PSALM 23

A friend of mine sent me a reflection on Psalm 23, the King James Version (the one, it seems, that is most popular even though its language is somewhat dated). In the reflection, each line in the psalm has a one-word explanation, if you will, of what that line really means for us who pray the psalm and believe and mean what we are saying when we do use it in personal prayer: thus, the words of the psalm, their one-word meaning and, for what it’s worth, my reflection on that word.

The Lord is my shepherd: that’s relationship. (Without a relationship with God life would be meaningless and empty.)  I shall not want: that’s supply. (God gives us all that we need.)

He maketh me lie die in green pastures: that’s rest. (is vital to a whole and healthy life. We must take those times of rest to rest.)  He leadeth me beside still waters: that’s refreshement. (While we rest, we are refreshed.)

He restoreth my soul; that’s healing. (We are all wounded, wounded by our own sin and by the sins of others. We are all healed because God always forgives.)

He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness: that’s guidance. (Whenever we get lost, and we all do at times, if we are open to God’s leading, we will find our way.) For his name’s sake: that’s purpose. (Why we do what we do: we do it for you, Lord.)

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death:  that’s testing. (Testing is part of life, part of being human. We are all tempted: no exemptions.)  I will fear no evil:  that’s protection. (God is stronger than any evil. Never forget that.)  For thou art with me:  that’s faithfulness. (God never, ever abandons us. Never.)

Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me: that’s discipline. (We learn through discipline, from the pain our mistakes, deliberate and otherwise, cause. That is good.)

Thou preparest a table for me in the presence of mine enemies: that’s hope. (When, at times, all may seem lost, we know it is not. We will find our way. God will see to it.)

Thou annointest my head with oil: that’s consecration. (We are God’s children.)

My cup runneth over:  that’s abundance. (We always have more than enough.)

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:  that’s blessing. (We are never alone. We never walk alone. God is always with us.)

And I will dwell in the house of the Lord: that’s security. (Our house is the Lord’s house. The Lord’s house is our house, our home.)

Forever: that’s eternity. (No more need be said.)

FAITH AND DOUBT

We are a people of faith. We are also a people filled with doubts about that faith. The doubter never expects to receive anything because the doubter doubts that anything he desires will be his. His life is one of negativity. The person of faith, on the other hand, expects his desires to be filled even though he knows that not all of them will be. His life is one of positivity.

There is a further difference. The doubter wants his will to be done but believes it will not be done because his faith is not what it should be. The person of faith wants God’s will to be done even as she prays that her will becomes God’s will and even as she knows that her faith is not all that it could be. The person of faith can live with her personal desires unfulfilled because she knows God knows what is best for her. The doubter lives with the belief that his desires will be unfulfilled because he doesn’t know if God really cares about him.

We all have doubts, of course. Such is the nature of faith. Faith is never knowledge and, thus, never certain. We may live in sure and certain hope but not in sure and certain faith. We are always growing in faith, little by little, each day. We certainly hope so, do we not?

That growth is usually imperceptible but it is real and can only be realized over time when looking back. I know my faith is stronger today than it was five years ago and maybe stronger than it was five days ago. But I can recognize the growth over five years but not over five days.

Yet, because of the nature of faith, certainly the nature of my faith, and, I suspect, yours, there is always that nagging doubt that hovers around the fringes. It kicks in often when we least except it, asking us if we truly believe what we say we believe, if we truly trust in this God whom we say we trust. It does not shake our faith; it simply gives it a little prick, but one that is felt.

When we think about it, doubt is good, is a good. It reminds us that even if we have a very strong, a sure and certain faith, we cannot take it for granted. We must always examine it, try to understand it, grow in it. When those trials of any kind arise, we know we should rejoice because they are an occasion to put our faith to the test, to put it to work. When we have passed through the fire, singed perhaps, but still safe, we can look back and see how our faith got us through and how it grew in the process.

That is not to say that we look for occasions to be tried and tested. We are not that foolish. But we are wise enough to know that they will come our way, especially when we least expect them to. We need to be ready and wise at all times.

Even more importantly, we need to be thankful for that gift of faith and, even more, for the times that faith is put to the test because that faith gives us the confidence that knows God will see us through.

"WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WITH THEM?"

At the end of John’s Gospel Jesus appeared to his disciples who had gathered in that upper room because they were afraid of what might happen to them as followers of Jesus. They believed that the Jewish authorities who had had Jesus executed would now come after them and demand the same punishment. So they locked the doors and waited to see what would happen next.

What happened next was that Jesus suddenly appeared in the room and wished them peace, peace of mind and peace of heart. Then, according to John, he told them he was sending them off to be his disciples just as God the Father had sent him. Then he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” (John 20:21-23)

In other words, Jesus is giving his followers the power to forgive sins – his followers, those who believe in him, you and me. We can forgive the sins of those who have sinned against us. We don’t have to, of course, just as Jesus said. Sometimes we don’t. And sometimes, probably more often than not, even when we do forgive, it is not easy to do so. In fact, the only way we can forgive someone who has selfishly hurt us, sinned against us, is through the power and strength of the Holy Spirit.

That power and strength is always there to be accepted and utilized – or not. The choice is ours. We have that freedom. Over the years we have used it and we have rejected it. What I find telling about this ability to forgive or not forgive are Jesus’ words in another translation of the Bible, Eugene Peterson’s The Message. Thus, “If you forgive someone’s sins, they’re gone for good. If you don’t forgive, what are you going to do with them?”

That is the question, is it not: What are we going to do with all those sins that we refuse to forgive? Well, what we do do with them is hold onto them. We all have over the years, and I dare say we are all holding on to some of those past sins even today. We have not forgiven and are still not ready to forgive; and until we do forgive, we hold on to them. They weigh us down and hold us back. They are a burden and they become more and more of a burden the longer we hold on to them.

It is not easy to forgive someone who has deliberately hurt us, for all sins are deliberate. The other knew what s/he was doing when s/he said or did whatever it was to hurt us in whatever way we were hurt. For us to forgive that deliberate hurt is very, very difficult. The greater the hurt, the greater the difficulty in forgiving. It can’t be done unless we want to forgive and unless we allow the strength of the Holy Spirit fill us with the ability to do so.

The choice is always ours: we can hold on to the sins others have committed against us or we can unburden ourselves, forgive and move on with our lives, freed from the heavy load those sins truly are. The heavier the load, the more difficult life is. The lighter the load, the easier it becomes. What are we doing with those sins?

VESSELS OF CLAY

Back in the dark Ages when I was in seminary (1957-1969: high school, college and theology), every day from 12:00 noon to12:15 there was a time set aside for what was called “Spiritual Reading”. If our Spiritual Director did not have a meditation for us to ponder before lunch, one of the students read from a spiritual book that was to give us some food for thought.

The only book I can remember anything about from all those years was one that was read when I was in high school. It was written by a priest, Leo Trese, and was called Vessels of Clay. The point of the book was that even though priests were, by their vocation, to be role models for the people they were called to serve and even though this was a tremendous responsibility, anyone aspiring to become a priest needed to be reminded that he (always and only he back then and still now in the RC Church) was still a very fallible and fragile person – a vessel of clay.

Over the years I have come to realize just how true that is. Clay vessels are easily cracked and even broken into pieces. They are not like bronze vases that can be slightly dinged and then re-polished or hammered back into their original shapes. They are not almost unbreakable and even everlasting like those made of metal. All earthen vessels, all vessels of clay must be handled with care and sometime even with kid gloves.

Trese was trying to remind his readers, and especially us young seminarians, that as great a vocation as everyone said we were called to fulfill in being a priest was, that was no guarantee that fulfilling it would be easy and that simply because we were priests we would be automatically holy people and inspiring leaders to the various flocks we were called to lead and serve.

Over the years I have learned from experience that it has not been easy and that I have not always, if ever, been that holy and inspiring person. Every one of us, every priest and every lay person, we are all, each and every one of us, a vessel of clay. The older we get, the more nicks and cracks. Some of us, perhaps many of us, have been broken and then pieced back together almost as good as new, but not quite.

The fact that I am just like everyone else has given me some consolation even as I recognize my many failures and shortcomings. It should give all of us consolation. No one of us is perfect. We are all fragile human beings. We have all made our share of mistakes and committed our fair share of sins, maybe even more than our fair share. But with the help of others, with our own self-will and determination and with the grace of God, we have been pieced back together.

Trese’s book has been a constant reminder over the years, if only in the back of my mind, that it does not take much for the vessel to be cracked and even broken into pieces if I am not careful. But that is true for all of us no matter who we are, what our vocation or how old or young. The truth is that “Handle with Care” should be stamped on all our foreheads and into all our brains.

UNDER CONSTRUCTION

For as long as I have been alive, or at least for as long as I can remember, and that is a very long time, Route 28 from New Kensington, where I grew up, to Pittsburgh has been under construction. It still is and probably always will be. No matter where we live, there are roads that are under construction. And while we bemoan the delays when travelling them, we are thankful that sooner or later the construction will be completed and our travels will be back to normal.

Roads under construction are part of life; but, then, too, so is life itself. Life is a process of construction, of building, repairing, fixing-up. Some would also say that life is also a process of destruction, especially as we grow older and the body wears out and no amount of transplanting and grafting and plastic surgery and Botoxing will stem the tide of disease, decay and, eventually, death.

Not only is our physical life constantly under some form of construction (destruction, for those of us who feel the pains and limitations of aging), but so is every other part of our life. No one of us comes out of the womb a mature human being – not physically, not mentally, not emotionally, not spiritually. Every part of our life is in constant flux, is constantly changing, as long as we have life and breath in us.

Sometimes, just knowing this truth, or at least in grudgingly acknowledging it, we find some peace of mind. As children there were times when we were angry because we could not do what our older siblings or acquaintances could do simply because they were older and bigger and stronger. But we were assured by our parents that someday we could and would and that knowledge allayed some of our anger and frustration.

Life is always, at any and every age, a work in process, a time of construction even as part of that construction is constriction, the lessening of our abilities to do what we were once able to do but now, because of our age, preventing us from doing so. And while our limitations and debilities constantly remind us that we are not getting any younger, we still have life and an abundant one at that.

Yet, even when we have or had or will have life in abundance, even in those years when we can (or could) go and go and go and never seem to tire, when questions about health never arise (or arouse), there is (or was) areas of growth, parts of our life still under construction. The older we get, the wiser we become even when our memory begins to fail us.

Even when the latest construction projects on Route 28 and the Turnpike are completed, both will still be under some form of construction forever. That’s the nature of anything material. Ever known a homeowner who was not repairing, upgrading something? The same is true for us human beings. We need to remember that truth whenever we reflect, for instance, on our spiritual lives. Most of us bemoan the truth that we are not as spiritual as we would like to be or know we can be. We have room for growth, for construction. Drive that road carefully, but drive.