SECOND SUNDAY OF LENT
28 February 2010

Homily

This homily presented by Father George R. Szews, pastor.

There is an in between space in our consciousness,
running along the bordering margins of sleeping and waking.

It is that place where ghosts and insights mingle,
where regret and hope wash against each other wearing away the future.

It is this place inside him and on the mountain top
which are the same for Peter in the gospel today.

He is no good at sorting it out.
Heaven can be as scary as hell if you’re not expecting it,
God’s favor as chilling as death if you’re following someone on his way to a cross.


ASH WEDNESDAY
17 February 2010

Homily

This homily presented by Father George R. Szews, pastor.

Each year I try to go away a bit during January.
I am not a winter person and going someplace warm, sunny, good for walking, is a smart thing.
But, as so many of you know, each successive year my attempts are met with some calamity
mostly bad weather, as if God is telling me–“There is no way to escape your life Bucko.”

Still I try. This year I went to the Big Island of Hawaii.
My friends and I had the gracious offer of the condo which Marty Haugen and his wife Linda own there.
We arrived at the condo at midnight.
The next morning the workers arrived at 8 am and shut the place up, covered every window,
only left the back door open for us to come and go.
Ocean swells meant that the water was hitting the front of the condo with such great force that it
was literally overwhelming the structure and landing in the parking lot on the other side.
My friends stayed in the dark cave. I moved out, three blocks down there was a hotel.
I got a room on the fifth floor.
There was also a forest fire–1800 acres with no trade winds–
that meant the smoke settled along the coast–most of it in my room at the hotel I think.
I couldn’t sleep at night because I was choking.
I could hear the echo of God’s voice: “There is no way to escape your life, Bucko.”

When Saturday rolled around we went to church.
The nearest church was found to be unsafe so they put up a tent in their parking lot.
It was the strangest thing as I sat there–
To the left us was a garbage dump.
I could watch people going through the garbage, eating what they found.
To the right of us, was Bubba Gumps. People coming and going, laughing, having a great time.
And right ahead of us, just beyond the altar, the parish cemetery.

All through Mass I kept looking to the left and to the right, distracted, troubled.
Like so many people I am pulled away from God,
by the tragedies and hardships of life– which can make any of us give up on God,
and by the good things of life–which can make God seem unimportant, dull, a spoiler.
I did not look so much ahead, to the cemetery,
to the hard reality that some day each of us will meet God face to face.

But I thought, God could make it easier on us,
Easier to love, less likely to be pulled away.
God could have made our lives duller,
no garbage dumps and poverty,
no bars and booze, and passing fancies.

Just then the collection basket came.
I shoved in some money.
Apparently, I did it too quickly, the elderly Hawaiian gentleman holding the basket
rattled it again in front of me. He hadn’t noticed I’d given anything.
I rummaged around for a dollar in my shorts, put it in. He smiled. But the way he smiled...
Maybe he had noticed the first contribution after all?
Or maybe it was God in one of the least of my siblings reminding me:
“There is no way to escape your life, Bucko, and me.”

Each of us who come here this Ash Wednesday,
comes with lives which are full of things which could pull us from God.
From troubles and sorrows and cynicism, to success and money and full bellies.
And yet we are here which is always some sort of miracle.
The ashes on our foreheads reminding us that we will all meet God someday face to face,
Each of us is called to make the best of this short time we call life, that we can–


On the flight back, I sat very near the front.
I watched one of the flight attendants strap himself in just before the take off.
As we were taxying toward the runaway, I saw his lips begin to move.
Who was he talking to? There was no one close to him.
Then I matched the movement of my lips to his.
My God, he was praying–saying the rosary.
What was he afraid of? What did he know?

Maybe he knew that despite the many things which can pull us away from
God, it is also true that they don’t have to.
That even in the midst of fear and trouble, good and bad times,
God can be our constant companion, the one we look to,
The one we will greet at the end of our days.......

Maybe he knew from flying all the time, that none of the tourists escape their lives.
Most of us go home, and if we are very lucky, we go home to God.

Lent is about the journey home to God–in our every day lives.
There is no escaping them and because we are blessed, there is no escaping God.

SIXTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR
14 February 2010

Homily

I am always moved when I proclaim these beatitudes.

I’ve noticed over the years that when I do proclaim them,
there is something that perks up in the assembly.
I don’t know how to explain it but I always believe everyone listens more intently.
Maybe you like I, faintly hear the echo of Jesus’ voice in these words–
even in English.
There is, it seems to me, a residue of emotion that
comes to us even centuries later.

What is interesting about the Lucan account,
is that the beatitudes are given to us not as the sermon on the mount–as they are in Matt.
--but Jesus comes down from the mount and literally “stands among them,”
when he says these things.
He is truly Emmanuel, “God with us,” God in the center of us.

When the framers of the lectionary chose these verses for us,
They left out a couple.
Today we get Luke chapter 6, verse 17 and then verses 20-26.

What is left out?
The people sensed something about Jesus and just wanted to touch him–
And as many as could did, and says, the Lucan author, “they were healed.”
It must have been a moving experience for them AND FOR JESUS.
Maybe that is why there is still something so moving about hearing these words.
It is after they have touched him, been healed that he says:
“Oh, yes, you are so blessed.
You live hard lives–you are hungry, poor, sorrowing, hated,
But do you not see, you are also loved by God.
Live today as loved children of God.”

For just a moment on that day, these people could see heaven,
could see God and that is all that mattered.
I think those are the days that keep you going,
those are graced moments that don’t last forever.

The real question for us this weekend is “Can you name your last graced moment?”
The moment which keeps you going?
If it’s been a long time since you’ve had one,
Then maybe you can understand the need for the Lent that is coming.
Maybe the job for all of us this Lent is to find a way to get close to Jesus,
to touch him in some way and for just another graced moment,
believe in Easter.

FIFTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

7 February 2010

Homily

We're told the lives of the disciples are changed in an instant--
Immediately, they follow him.

I have fears of days like that.
An oncoming car crosses the median, smashes into you,
you're paralyzed for life.
A nagging headache turns into brain cancer in the doctors office one day.
Your husband or wife dies.
Everything changes immediately.  Your life is not so much your own as you always thought.

There are more positive things which happen as well,
You run into someone in the library on the first day of classes,
it is love at first sight, a story to tell your children.
You conceive a child, everything changes for you and for your child.   But again, your life is not so much your own as you always thought.

Is it true, the impression we have that everything changes in an instant for the disciples?  Listen carefully to what Jesus says:

"You are fishermen, I make you fishers of men."
It's not just clever wording by a skilled gospel writer.
Jesus is saying something important:  "You already have within you what you need for the journey.  Each of you is filled to the brim with what it takes to live your lives in the Kingdom.  Fulfill your potential."

There is a great poem by Alicia Ostriker which says it well:

To be blessed said the old woman to to live and work so hard that God's love washes right through your like milk through a cow.

To be blessed said the dark red tulip is to knock their eyes out with the slug of lust implied by your up-ended skirt.

To be blessed said the dog is to have a pinch of God inside you and all the other dogs can smell it.

Each of us have that pinch of God inside us, grace welling up, which needs the light and air of day.  It may seem like our lives are changed in an instant, but each instant the Lord is calling us to something new--something we are already prepared to do, something that has been planted deep within us.

"You are fishermen, I call you to be fishers of men."

What is the Lord saying to you today?




FOURTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR
31 January 2010

Homily


So which is it?
Are the gospels about Jesus?
Or, are the gospels about us?
Mostly about Jesus, a lot about us though as well.

Today’s gospel I think is more about us than Jesus.

It’s a vivid scene–the people of the synagogue, the already religious,
driving Jesus out of the holy place, intending to get rid of him.
Jesus could rub people the wrong way.

In this case he was a bit too uppity for them.
In this case they liked him for what he could do,
but not for what he said they should do.
Jesus was okay as long as he answered their pleas for help
but not when he said they too had a part to play in caring for others.
When he told them piety could never be a cover up for neglecting the needy.

Jesus could point out goodness and God clear enough,
but he could also point out sin.

So, if Jesus were standing here where I stand, what would you ask of him?
If he were standing here, what would he ask of you?

Are you in the mood to drive him from your sight for what he might ask of you?
Or would you travel with him from this day, doing what he asks?

---

Third SUNDAY OF THE YEAR

24 January 2010

Homily

This homily presented by Father George R. Szews, pastor.

Last fall I went to hear a talk at the university by a sister,
a woman who has double doctorates, in pharmacology, and historical theology.
She teaches at the Washington Theological Union.

In her talk she proclaimed: “I tell you in truth, and you can see it:
The lame walk, the blind see, those near death are given new life.”

Is it Jesus or is it technology?

Since her talk was about technology and religion,
Of course the answer is “technology.”

Interestingly enough, technology offers us the same things that Jesus offered.
His inaugural speech in the gospel today
offers liberty, sight, freedom–suggesting this is a great time to be alive.

And isn’t that what we know?
New joints fabricated and implanted in us, give us freedom of movement.
Robots, free us from drudgery and repetitive labor to give us more leisure time,
Everything from eye glasses to corneal implants restore our sight.

It’s a great time to be alive.
It would seem that we are on the verge of being able to live forever.

It sounds like the Christian myth doesn’t it?
It sounds like Jesus in the gospel today doesn’t it?

There is only one difference.
The Christian myth, the gospel Jesus proclaimed has one dimension none of us wants to accept.
In the Christian myth, we still have to die.

Ultimately, to be a follower of Jesus we all have to trust God more than we trust our ability
To be creative, to think, to develop new technology.

Can you trust God that much?
All eyes turned to Jesus after he read that reading–looking for some sign that he was the one.
In the end, they all had to make that leap of faith. So do we.
Can you trust God that much?