DANCING AT THE WEDDING

When I was ordained, the first priest I served under as an Assistant Pastor I had also served as an altar boy many years before. There were times when he still thought of me as such. That was his problem even if it once or twice caused some problems for me. One of those occasions was fifty-six years ago this month. I remember it vividly and still smile, albeit perversely I admit, when I think about it.

It was January and he was on vacation back in his home country in Italy. A visiting priest took two of the Masses and I had other three. The Gospel that Sunday was the one about Jesus turning water into wine at the wedding feast in Cana. In my sermon I intimated, no, I asserted that if there had been dancing at that celebration, and there probably was, Jesus surely danced at the wedding.

Not long after he returned from his vacation, he called me into his office and proceeded to chew me out. He had heard about my sermon, he said. Someone in the parish was so scandalized by my assertion that Jesus would dance at a wedding that person had called the Bishop to inform him of my assuredly heretical belief. The Bishop must also have believed that what I said was heresy because he called my boss to enlighten me about my false theology and to make certain I never wandered down that road again.

I accepted my chastisement humbly and promised never to be so foolish again to even think Jesus would lower himself to such an obvious display of silliness and, even worse, to proclaim my belief from the pulpit. Of course, the person who ratted on me, my bishop and my boss were wrong back then and they would be wrong to assert that I was wrong even today. If there had been dancing at the wedding in Cana, Jesus danced.

So there! And why not? Why would Jesus not dance? Because he would have to hold a woman in his arms? Oh My God, that would be leading him into temptation and Jesus must never be led into temptation. But, then, he did hang out with a lot of prostitutes and public sinners on many an occasion, did he not? I can’t believe any one of that ilk was at the wedding let alone be a dancing partner of Jesus. But, again why not?

As Christians, as followers of and believers in Jesus, we are asked to imitate his life. Even on a very mundane level that is difficult enough to do. But if we begin to put the standard Jesus set so high that we cannot possibly attain it, we will soon not make the attempt. If we believe that Jesus would refrain from any human and acceptable activity, like dancing at a wedding, because it might lead him into temptation, or worse, scandalize those who believe him to be God’s Son, then Jesus can and could no longer be a role model. He would simply be a plastic, perfect figment of our imagination.

Our Jesus, the one you and I believe in, and I hope the one that parishioner and my Bishop and my boss believed in, was tempted in every way as we are. Any situation can be an occasion of sin, even dancing at a wedding. That does not mean that every situation is, even dancing at a wedding. My Jesus danced at the wedding. I guess my Bishop’s didn’t. Your Jesus?

WHERE HAVE ALL THE PROPHETS GONE?

Contrary to popular belief, a prophet is not one who predicts the future. A prophet, at least in the biblical-Old-Testament understanding is simply someone who speaks for God. The majority of, if not all the Old Testament prophets were reluctant prophets. They knew that if and when they spoke for God, they would not be willingly heard because their message was that unless the people changed their ways, some very bad things would happen to them. Sometimes the people listened and changed and sometimes they did not and what the prophet predicted happened.

Prophets are always caught in the middle. True prophets know what the people need to hear and yet know that the people don’t want to hear what they need to hear. For what the people need to hear is what is true and not some varnished or partial version of the truth. In today’s politically charged world that is what we are getting: half-truths and even downright lies that are purported to be truths, anything to appease a constituency that does not want to hear the truth because it might be painful.

The truth is always painful when it costs us something, when it demands sacrifice, when it asks those who are blessed to share some of their blessings with those who are not so blessed, when it reminds the blessed that it is only because of God’s grace they are so blessed and not because they are special or privileged, when it demands that the haves share with the have-nots.

That is prophetic language that has no place in politics and often has little place even in religious circles. No one likes to sacrifice. We somehow want to believe that we have what we have because we have earned it, deserve it, and have a right to it and that no one has a right to take it from us or ask us to share it with others let alone demand that we do so. Prophets would demur.

It is certainly not politically expedient to be a prophet by telling the truth when the populace is averse to hearing it no matter what one’s political persuasion might be. We all have our biases. That makes it difficult for us to accept what is true because it goes against the grain and even more so if it demands that we have to charge our beliefs or, God forbid, make some sacrifices for the common good.

Yes, it is often difficult to know what is the right thing to do, what sacrifices need to be made and what changes are demanded even as they may be difficult to both accept and to make. The Old Testament prophets had it easy even though their lives were in danger every time they opened their mouths. Their one job was to tell the people what they already knew but were unwilling to do, namely change their sinful and selfish ways.

Today we don’t kill our prophets, if and when we find them. We simply don’t listen to them or call them foolish or out of touch with the real world. We choose, rather, to listen to those who tell us what we want to hear and not what we need to hear. That has always been the case from time immemorial. And as it was then, so it is now, we do so at our own peril.

“JOE COOL” NOT “JOE COLD”

Charles Schultz always had a way of getting to the heart of the matter, and in four cartoon panels at that. The message was clear and not always subtle but certainly with a tinge of humor, which is why Peanuts has lasted so long and is now into being a “Classic” as far as the comic strips are concerned.

We’ve all had (and, perhaps, still have) a security blanket like Linus. There are times when we have been the odd-(wo)man-out like Charlie Brown. We’ve all encountered, or seen reflected in our mirror, the loud-mouthed Lucy who needs to shout to hide the inferiority complex deep inside. Peanuts’ little people speak large truths about all people, including Big People.

My favorite is Snoopy as Joe Cool. Joe Cool, sunglass-clad, hip, above the fray, calm and collected: my hero, especially when I am anything but, certainly feel anything but. Joe Cool trumps the insecure Linus in me, the “why-am-I-such-a-loser?” feeling I sometimes get, the belief I need to shout, or at least raise my voice, because I think no one wants to hear my opinion. Wouldn’t it be great to be Joe Cool all the time?

Perhaps. However, if we can remain cool while everyone around us is losing their heads, it may simply mean that we do not understand the situation. Being Joe Cool among chaos has its advantages if we understand that there is chaos and that someone has to remain calm in order to help resolve the situation. If we all lose our heads, the matter at hand, whatever that matter, only gets worse.

We need the Joe Cools among us. We also need to be Joe Cool ourselves, to be that calming factor, the level head, the one who can say to others, “Follow me and we will get through this.” That requires faith, of course, faith in ourselves and, even more, faith in God’s grace, knowing that God will give us, working together, the strength we need to get through. The resources are already there, of course. We simply need to be calm enough, collected enough, to discover them.

On the other hand, Joe Cool can easily become Joe Cold, the one who not only stays above the fray but who stays away as well, even walks away because s/he does not want to get involved, because “it’s not my problem”. Joe Cold is not willing to make sacrifices for others because “I’ve earned what I have and I deserve what I have.” Joe Cold is so cold that he has become frozen. The suffering of others does not faze him in the least.

Not so with Joe Cool, calm and collected, who is still vulnerable. He feels the hurt, the suffering, the insecurities and uncertainties of others. That’s why he gets involved. That’s why he cannot look away and pretend that this is someone else’s problem. For underneath that calm exterior beats a heart that is going a hundred miles a minute out of love and care and concern.

There is always that temptation to become Joe Cold so as not to be hurt, to remain invulnerable. But that’s why Joe Cool wears the sunglasses. It’s to hide the tears.

ONE WISE MAN

Many years ago two of our daughters, Tracy and Autumn who were sharing an apartment in Baltimore, were driving together to go shopping. Autumn was driving Tracy’s car when they were stopped by a Maryland State Policeman. He pulled them over because the windows on Tracy’s car were too darkly tinted. [A father’s disclaimer: she purchased the car used and they were already so tinted.]

When the Officer approached the car and Autumn rolled down her window, both she and Tracy were at a loss for why they had been pulled over. Since Autumn knew she was not speeding or driving errantly, she asked the Officer what she had done wrong. He explained to her that the tint on the windows was too dark according to Maryland Law and he would have to cite her.

Before Autumn said anything to the officer, she turned to Tracy and said, I’m not paying this fine, you are. It’s your car.” Tracy replied, “Oh yes you are. Remember when we lived in Spokane and you used my library card and got a large fine and I had to pay it? Well, you’re going to pay this fine.” “No, I am not,” replied Autumn.

The Officer standing by the window heard this conversation, bent over, looked inside the car at Tracy and Autumn and said, “Have a nice day, ladies,” and walked back to his car, got in and drove away. No ticket issued. Wise man; one wise man. Or as Kenny Rogers sings in “The Gambler”: “You got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away, know when to run.”

Sometimes we don’t. That particular officer did. Discretion is often the better part of valor. Sometimes even being in the right is not worth the effort of pointing out or even enforcing what is right. No use trying to get into the middle of an argument between two sisters on a hot summer day. There are always better fish to fry, as they say, better tickets to issue and enforce.

Again, there are times in our lives when we simply need to back off even when we are in the right. The policeman at least had warned Tracy. If she did not do something about her tinted windows and soon, there would be another officer who would pull her over and who would not be so forgiving this time around.

It is not always easy to know when to throw in your hand and wait for another and hopefully better deal or to take your chance that you will prevail with the cards you are holding. Would that we could always know when it is the best time to say or to do something that needs to be said or done. But we don’t, not always. Sometimes we speak too soon or jump into the fray too late. Even saying a sincere and heart-felt prayer is no guarantee that we will make the right decision.

In Tracy’s and Autumn’s case, the Officer probably did make the right and wise decision. He even had a funny story to tell his fellow officers. Yet, he may have made an unwise decision the next time several miles down the Interstate. Such is life – his and ours.