by Fr. Edward Foley, Capuchin<\/p>\n
Thirty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year\u00a0C<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
To suggest that I am unenthusiastic<\/p>\n
About being in the pulpit this morning<\/p>\n
After such a shocking and chaotic week<\/p>\n
Is an understatement<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
While I do love the spirit of this community<\/p>\n
And the embrace of kinship that enfolds our Sunday gatherings<\/p>\n
I feel stymied, perplexed and indeed a bit weary<\/p>\n
Of attempting to reflect on what appears to be<\/p>\n
Genuine chaos in our country and in the world<\/p>\n
Especially as refracted through such foreboding readings<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Quite frankly, I toyed with the idea of scheduling<\/p>\n
An elective root canal this morning<\/p>\n
Which I perceived would be more pleasant<\/p>\n
Than slogging through apocalyptic texts<\/p>\n
After this apocalyptic week.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
On the other hand, like you,<\/p>\n
I need make sense for myself what is happening in this country<\/p>\n
And need to discover,<\/p>\n
for my own sanity and salvation<\/p>\n
what this faith we hold so dear<\/p>\n
calls us to be in this present moment and in the days ahead<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A few weeks ago, I finished a dark and brooding novel<\/p>\n
The buried Giant <\/em>by Kazuo Ishiguro (NY: Alfred Knopf, 2015)<\/p>\n Described by some reviewers as a \u201cquest narrative\u201d<\/p>\n Set in mythical Post-Arthurian England<\/p>\n Central to the narrative are an elderly couple<\/p>\n Axl and Beatrice<\/p>\n Long married and quite beloved of each other<\/p>\n But who seem to be suffering from some form of amnesia<\/p>\n An amnesia that has enveloped the British countryside<\/p>\n And all its inhabitants<\/p>\n Both Saxons and Britons<\/p>\n Who, like Axl and Beatrice<\/p>\n Live in a foggy peace with each other<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Besides this elderly couple this is another paradoxical twosome<\/p>\n Wistan, a young Saxon warrior<\/p>\n And the Briton Gawain, an aging knight and nephew<\/p>\n Of the long dead Arthur<\/p>\n <\/p>\n To explain these two requires a spoiler alert<\/p>\n So if you want to read this melancholy novel on your own<\/p>\n You might exercise your Catholic option<\/p>\n And tune out of the homily and into the bulletin now …<\/p>\n <\/p>\n It seems that at the center of a m\u00e9nage-a-trois<\/em><\/p>\n that reveals Wistan and Gawain as respectful yet mortal enemies<\/p>\n Is not a beautiful woman but the aging dragon Querig<\/p>\n Whom Merlin enchanted years ago<\/p>\n After Arthur\u2019s bloody conquest of the Saxons<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Querig\u2019s breath is the fog that induces this societal amnesia<\/p>\n dampening the memories of hatred and slaughter<\/p>\n Rivalry and division<\/p>\n that grew out of Arthur\u2019s bloody conquest of the Saxons<\/p>\n <\/p>\n And so there was a Camelot of sorts<\/p>\n But more a camelotic mask<\/p>\n A camelotic ruse<\/p>\n And once the dragon is slain<\/p>\n Memory returns …<\/p>\n A memory that will once again feed a smoldering anger<\/p>\n Between Britons and Saxons<\/p>\n And a memory that will feed smoldering doubts<\/p>\n Between Axl and his beloved Beatrice<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Memory is the buried giant here<\/p>\n And when it raises its fiendish head<\/p>\n Personal division and societal chaos ensue.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n While significant sections of the U.S. population this past week<\/p>\n And apparently most representatives of the media<\/p>\n Misjudged the degree of unrest and anger<\/p>\n That pervades a large part of the electorate<\/p>\n The election did not create the unrest or division<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Rather, like the slaying of Querig<\/p>\n The election erased some amnesiatic fog<\/p>\n a false camelotic veneer that<\/p>\n seemed to have settled over significant swaths of the country<\/p>\n And exposed us in stark but unmistaken ways<\/p>\n as anything but the \u201cUnited<\/em> States of America\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n And what do believers do in the midst of such conflict and division<\/p>\n What direction do we get from this Sunday ritual<\/p>\n And the readings that punctuate it?<\/p>\n On the one hand, today\u2019s readings<\/p>\n Could be interpreted to predict dark and gloomy days ahead<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The Prophet Malachi predicts days blazing like an oven<\/p>\n A divine fire and people reduced to stubble<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Luke is even cheerier, with Jesus announcing<\/p>\n That nations will rise against nation<\/p>\n Kingdom against king<\/p>\n Earthquakes, famines and plagues<\/p>\n <\/p>\n On an individual level, there is the promise of persecution<\/p>\n Familial division<\/p>\n Hatred and even death …<\/p>\n Though at the end of the gospel there is that perplexing line<\/p>\n \u201cnot a hair on your head will be destroyed\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Which prompted one blogger to suggest that<\/p>\n Although you\u2019ll be persecuted, imprisoned and put to death<\/p>\n To borrow a phrase from Billie Crystal<\/p>\n Your hair is going to look \u201cmarvelous\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Maybe, however, there is another way to look at these texts.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n First Luke is not talking about the end of the world<\/p>\n Or the \u201clast things\u201d<\/p>\n But narrating a particular moment in Jesus\u2019 life<\/p>\n <\/p>\n It\u2019s chapter 21 and Jesus has been traveling toward Jerusalem<\/p>\n since chapter 9, that we read on June 26th<\/sup><\/p>\n the 13th<\/sup> Sunday in Ordinary time<\/p>\n <\/p>\n today he seems to foretell the destruction of the Temple<\/p>\n which might suggest that Luke is including this pericope<\/p>\n to prove that Jesus was a prophet who could<\/p>\n see into the future<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Yet Luke is writing 10 years after the temple\u2019s destruction<\/p>\n So this is no prediction \u2026 but ancient history for Luke<\/p>\n And therefore something more is going on here<\/p>\n <\/p>\n in this sequence of Jesus in the temple precincts<\/p>\n Luke reminds us that Jesus is not only predicting a new temple<\/p>\n But a different kind of temple<\/p>\n A vision of God\u2019s reign built on mutuality, kinship and respect<\/p>\n And the Christ would be our cornerstone<\/p>\n <\/p>\n While it is easy to read today\u2019s texts<\/p>\n In the face of electoral debacles<\/p>\n And national divisions<\/p>\n War and terrorism in the Middle East<\/p>\n a growing nuclear threat from North Korea<\/p>\n and earthquakes in New Zealand<\/p>\n That these are signs that the end is near<\/p>\n <\/p>\n If that was the case, my job as a preacher<\/p>\n the equivalent of my grade school teachers<\/p>\n Who in the 1950\u2019s taught us, in case of a nuclear attack<\/p>\n get under our desks and put hands over our heads<\/p>\n Remember duck and cover?<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Happily my job is not, however, to invite you<\/p>\n To the spiritual equivalent of \u201cduck and cover\u201d<\/p>\n Because the readings today are not a prediction<\/p>\n About the future or demise of earth<\/p>\n Or this fragile constitutional union<\/p>\n Rather, what the texts and the liturgy asks today<\/p>\n Is how are we going to live in these days<\/p>\n When catastrophes do happen, institutions do collapse<\/p>\n And life does seem fragile even threatened<\/p>\n <\/p>\n That is why Jesus is no clairvoyant in today\u2019s gospel<\/p>\n Rather he understands that<\/p>\n Every temple is a temporary structure<\/p>\n Every framework … ever cause<\/p>\n That promotes our vision of the world<\/p>\n Will fade, will disappoint, maybe even die<\/p>\n Except his<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Yet in the midst of these apocalyptic texts<\/p>\n There is a promise … a light .. a hope<\/p>\n A divinely enchanted memory<\/p>\n that humankind too often forgets<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The promise is found in the enduring memory of God<\/p>\n Who never forgets any child or any nation<\/p>\n Whose persistent spirit lingers in the world & in our lives<\/p>\n Even when it feels like those might be coming to an end<\/p>\n <\/p>\n This liberating memory lifts the fog and recalibrates hearts<\/p>\n And enables us to recognize<\/p>\n that sometimes it is our experience of Golgotha<\/p>\n of loss, crucifixion and death of a person or a cause<\/p>\n That is most apt to draw back the veil<\/p>\n And exposes the very faithfulness of God<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Thus the poet Rilke writes:<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n God speaks to each of us as he makes us, \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n These are the words we dimly hear:<\/em><\/p>\n You, sent out beyond your recall, <\/p>\n Embody me.<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n Flare up like a flame \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. <\/p>\n Don’t let yourself lose me.<\/em><\/p>\n Nearby is the country they call life. \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n Give me your hand.\u00a0 <\/em>(Rainer Maria Rilke, Book of Hours<\/em>, trans. Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy.\u00a0 New York: Riverhead Books, 1996. I:59).<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n A second divine antidote to our spiritual forgetfulness<\/p>\n Is the holy remembering that the promise of God\u2019s steadfastness<\/p>\n Is more than a personal balm, or private analgesic<\/p>\n It\u2019s much richer and more taxing than that<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Jim Wallis, the founder of Sojourner, tells the story from some years ago of volunteering in a church homeless shelter around Christmas time. The church basement was decorated with banners and Christmas decorations, \u201cGood news! Christ is born!\u201d \u201cGlory to God in the Highest\u201d and so on. One of the men who lived each day out on the streets looked around the room and asked, \u201cWhat is the good news anyway?\u201d Jim said there was a long pause; no one knew what to say. Finally someone spoke up from the back of the line, \u201cThe good news is that it doesn\u2019t have to be like this.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n It doesn\u2019t have to be this way<\/p>\n If we do what Paul requires of the Thessalonians in 2nd<\/sup> reading<\/p>\n And that is if we get to work<\/p>\n <\/p>\n If we get to the work of kinship<\/p>\n Not only with North Lawndale<\/p>\n But promote the work the vision of kinship<\/p>\n In our families and our neighborhoods<\/p>\n our work places and across this deeply divided nation<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Kinship is a particular strategy for remembering<\/p>\n That from the birth of mother earth<\/p>\n To the birth of each one of us<\/p>\n That we are in, and all interrelated<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The Jesuit priest Gregory Boyle,<\/p>\n Who presentation at Old St. Patrick\u2019s Church some years ago<\/p>\n Gave rise to the kinship initiative with North Lawndale<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Defines kinship as i<\/em>nching ourselves closer to creating a community such that God might recognize it. Soon we imagine, with God, this circle of compassion. Then we imagine no one standing outside of that circle, moving ourselves closer to the margins so that the margins themselves will be erased. We stand there with those whose dignity has been denied. We locate ourselves with the poor and the powerless and the voiceless. At the edges, we join the easily despised and the readily left out. We stand with the demonized so that the demonizing will stop. We situate ourselves right next to the disposable so that the day will come when we stop throwing people away.\u00a0 <\/em>(Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boudnless compassion.\u00a0 <\/em>New York: Free Press, 2010)<\/p>\n <\/p>\n In some ways this past election was about many folk<\/p>\n Who felt that they were being thrown away.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Jesus definitively announced his kinship with humanity<\/p>\n We are divinely cajoled to do the same<\/p>\n And to the extent that in God\u2019s good spirit we achieve it<\/p>\n We will no longer, in Fr. Boyle\u2019s words, be pursuing justice<\/p>\n But celebrating it … and authentic joy will abound<\/p>\n <\/p>\n this election was not the political Grinch that stole kinship<\/p>\n It did not erase the promise of justice<\/p>\n Nor did it eradicate authentic and sustained joy<\/p>\n Rather, it has jogged our memories to the bone<\/p>\n So that we might recall with sacred clarity<\/p>\n what divisions must be addressed<\/p>\n On the path to kinship, and justice and joy.<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n Today\u2019s appointed Psalm, number 98<\/p>\n the scriptural basis for Isaac Watt\u2019s celebrated \u201cJoy to the World\u201d<\/p>\n While we usually think of it as a Christmas carol<\/p>\n [\u201cJoy to the World\u201d] was not originally composed as a carol<\/p>\n Celebrating Christ\u2019s first coming in history<\/p>\n But rather celebrated<\/p>\n his apocalyptic return in glory at the end of time<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Ps. 98 and Watts\u2019 hymn remind us that God is active in the world now,<\/p>\n That there is evidence of God\u2019s majesty and goodness around us<\/p>\n And that the proper response to the world we live in<\/p>\n The people we meet<\/p>\n The country we cherish even in its division<\/p>\n Is not fear or apprehension or dread<\/p>\n But Joy, wonder and gratitude<\/p>\n <\/p>\n It is not a childish giddiness but a sober joy<\/p>\n A sober joy that our democracy works<\/p>\n That the election was not rigged<\/p>\n That a peaceful transition of power will take place<\/p>\n And that disparate voices of a diverse electorate have been heard<\/p>\n And will be heard again and again and again<\/p>\n In new constellations of every shifting demographics<\/p>\n <\/p>\n And in the midst of it all, may the fog continue to clear<\/p>\n So that every American can remember<\/p>\n That kinship was written into our founding documents<\/p>\n That all are created equal<\/p>\n Endowed with inalienable rights that cannot be voted away<\/p>\n As is befitting true Children of God<\/p>\n Through Christ our Lord.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u00a9 2016, Edward Foley.\u00a0Fr. Edward Foley, Capuchin, is the Duns Scotus Professor of Spirituality and ordinary professor of liturgy and music at Catholic Theological Union in Chicago.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" To suggest that I am unenthusiastic about being in the pulpit this morning after such a shocking and chaotic week is an understatement…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":28,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"_wpas_customize_per_network":false},"categories":[46,1321],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-34827","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-homiletics","category-homilies"],"yoast_head":"\n
\nthen walks with us silently out of the night.<\/em><\/p>\n
\ngo to the limits of your longing.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nand make big shadows I can move in.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nJust keep going. No feeling is final.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nYou will know it by its seriousness.<\/em><\/p>\n