Up the Mountain

March 23, 2019

The Prodigal Papa

Up the Mountain. What is really cool about being on top of the mountain, is that you can see people coming and going.
 
In today’s Gospel, Jesus talks to us about going, coming, and staying. Using the famous story of the “prodigal son,” Jesus introduces us to “the man” who is father to “a younger son” and “elder son.”
 
Sinners listen to Jesus. The righteous complain; he “welcomes sinners and eats with them.” Jesus responds with a parable – an allegory about the relationship between God, sinners, and the righteous.
 
Do you remember the story? Two sons. A divided inheritance. The younger son leaves with all he has, goes off to a distant land, squanders it all, and becomes destitute. He hires himself out to take care of the pigs. His hunger wakes him up - his father’s servants are well fed, he has sinned, he lost his inheritance, he would gladly be a hired hand. He heads home. Meanwhile, his father is watching; sees him from a distance, runs to him, embraces and kisses him, seemingly ignores his confession, wraps he the finest robe, and calls for a feast.
 
Enter the older son who was out in the fields. He hears the celebration and, when he learns his younger brother has returned, is angry and refuses to join the party. The father comes out to him, pleads with him, but the son complains about obeying, no feasts for him, and sins of his brother. “My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours. But now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.”
 
The story is wonderful and deserves our thoughtful consideration. Yet, Jesus tells this story to address a complaint. If sin is a sickness, Jesus is the doctor. If sin a squandered inheritance, Jesus is the merciful father who welcomes him “back to life.” The Pharisees and scribes need to live with Jesus in the land of mercy and cherish their relationship with God; “all I have is yours.”
 
Up the Mountain. Perhaps we are the younger son. Perhaps we are the elder son. We are all called to become like the Father giving all we have to our children, giving life to future generations. In prayer, ask yourself what gifts you have squandered. In your fasting, replace your complaints with gratitude. In almsgiving, help someone find their way home.
 

March 22, 2019

 We are Tenants

Up the Mountain. There is a lot of perspective on top of the mountain. We can see for miles in all directions. Lots of time we try to find “our house” – we see if we can spot our town, our neighborhood, maybe even the house we call home. The land that is ours is so small compared to the expanse of the horizon.
 
This is the place for us to remember – and pray with – a foundational truth. This space that I occupy is not mine; I am merely a tenant, not the landowner.
 
In today’s Gospel, Jesus invites us into this truth through a parable of a landowner, who plants a vineyard, that he entrusts to tenants who become greedy, and unwilling to give the landowner “his produce.” Their greed makes them violent. Violent, to the point of killing – first the servants and then, eventually, the landowner’s son.
 
Why did they kill the son? The landowner will have no heir, there will be no one to claim the vineyard, the tenants will steal the land and claim it as their own. They believe they can rob the landowner of his ultimate power. They are wrong. They will be dealt with – they will be consumed by the very evil they themselves did and the vineyard will go to someone else; to a people who are humble enough to be tenants.
 
The parable ends, and the lesson begins. Jesus reminds the chief priests and elders about their own scripture – the stone rejected (not chosen) has become the corner stone (essential) – from Psalm 118:22. If you fail to produce the fruit God intends, then the Kingdom of God will be “taken away from you” and given to a “people that will produce its fruit.”
 
They knew. The chief priests and the Pharisees knew “he was speaking about them.” Jesus was speaking truth to power. Their greed, their arrogance, blinded them and tempted them to violence. They wanted to arrest Jesus. The only thing stopping them was fear of the crowds who regarded Jesus as a prophet.
 
Notice, too, the subtle shift; the Gospel opens with Jesus speaking to the chief priests and elders. Some must have listened.
 
Up the Mountain. There was a t-shirt that showed up at World Youth Day 1993 that said something along the lines of “there is a God and you are not him.” Do I accept the truth about the human condition – my human condition – that I am merely a tenant. I did not build the vineyard. The vineyard will still be here long after I am gone. May our prayer be humble. May our fasting strip us of our presumptions. May our almsgiving remind us that any abundance we have is meant to be shared with others – especially the poor.
 

March 21, 2019

 Encountering Lazarus

Up the Mountain. Sometimes it is very hard to relate to the stories Jesus tells – they come to us from a great distance in time, place, and culture. In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells us the story of Lazarus and the “rich man.” How do we climb this mountain, get some perspective, and take a message into our prayer, fasting and almsgiving?
 
First, there is a rich man who dresses well and eats very well each day. But this rich man is a stay at home kind of guy, he is not off, traveling the world, nor is he filling his days acquiring possessions. No, he uses his wealth to eat well. We can imagine the undertaking something like that lifestyle would require – lots of food, cooks to prepare it, servants to serve it, a luxurious dining room where you can feast. A lot of resources are needed to establish and maintain that type of lifestyle.
 
It is hard for us to imagine a man like this and, probably, it is hard for the people of Jesus day to imagine such a man as well. He is a caricature, if you will, of self-absorption.
 
Then there is Lazarus. Perhaps he is a leper since he is covered with sores. He is at the rich man’s door, hungry enough to make a meal out of the scraps from the rich man’s table, his only company are the dogs that come and lick his sores.
 
Lazarus and the rich man both die; Lazarus is taken by the angels to the bosom of Abraham and the rich man was buried, in the netherworld, tormented by flames, beneath Abraham with a great chasm between them. The rich man cries out to Abraham for mercy – send Lazarus to cool my lips – but Abraham cannot because he was self-absorbed during his life (the measure with which you measure), he ignored Lazarus, but God did not, and there is a great chasm separating them.
 
Up the mountain. We go to the top of the mountain to gain perspective. Do we see the Lazarus in the faces of others in need? Are we aware enough to see our own self-preoccupation that blinds us to the needs of others? The rich man learns compassion through his suffering – he wants to warn his brothers.
 
One form of prayer is the examen – a review of the day that Saint Ignatius of Loyola gave the Church. Today, did I see the needs of others? What did I do or what did I fail to do? There are so many ways we feed our self-absorption; fast from those activities (video games, movies, social media, binge watching Netflix, books, bars, etc.). Who are the needy “at our door?” Give them something to eat. CRS Rice Bowl is a great way to share our resources with complete strangers all over the world.
 

March 20, 2019

Servant, Slave, Sacrifice

Up the Mountain. We come to the top of the mountain to pray, to see differently, to ponder the pillars of our faith. Today, we are asked to befriend death – or more specifically – what makes death meaningful.
 
In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells his disciples clearly that he is headed to Jerusalem where the “chief priests and the scribes” will condemn him to death and be handed over to the Gentiles to be “mocked and scourged and crucified.”
 
The words are barely out of his mouth when the mother of two of the disciples asks Jesus to “command” that they are given places of honor at his right and left hand.
 
Jesus is remarkably kind. Who among us would not have torn into this poor woman with “are you out of your mind?” and “did you hear anything I just said?” Rather, he gives a mild rebuke – “you do not know what you are asking.” He asks his disciples if they will follow in his footsteps, drinking the same chalice that he drinks. Even when they say “yes,” he responds with humility, “this is not mine to give.”
 
When the other disciples here about this, they were “indignant.” Jesus uses it as a teachable moment. We do not “lord over” others; we find our greatness in service, leadership in slavery, because the Son of Man come to serve, and not be serve, to do the will – to be the willing slave – of the Father, and to surrender his life “for many.”
 
Up the mountain. Our death, just like our life, only finds meaning and value in our service to others, our obedience, our slavery, to the will of God for the good of the whole, and our sacrifice – our selfless love – for others.
 
Who and what are you willing to die for? This is a heady and uncomfortable question. I know I would risk my life for my son because I have done that already. I would like to believe I would do that for others – even strangers. But there are other types of death that are more challenging. Giving up control. Putting others first. Surrendering to authority.
 
Up the mountain. Today, pray that God will give you some sense of your own death and the service, the slavery, and the sacrifice that defines your life.
 

March 19, 2019

Solemnity of Saint Joseph

Up the Mountain. One of the advantages of going to the top of the mountain, is it gives you a new perspective. “I have been to the mountain top” is a famous sermon by Martin Luther King, Jr. just days before his death.
 
Today the Church gives us a feast day to celebrate Saint Joseph, the husband of Mary, the Mother of God, and the adopted father of Jesus.
 
Up the Mountain. Part of the grandeur of the mountain top is that you can clearly see the horizon – you have a clear sense of what is “in” your field of vision and what is beyond your field of vision. Have you ever wondered why we hunger for what is “beyond?” It is as if we are wired for curiosity, for wonder, for possibilities, for dreams.
 
Yesterday, we reflected on mercy. Today, through the life and witness of St. Joseph, we can consider revelation – God speaking to us from beyond the horizon, from beyond our field of vision. Joseph received four revelations from God – from beyond his field of vision – and it was only his faith in God that propelled him to act.
 
In his first dream, the angel of God assures Joseph that he can accept Mary as his wife because she was “with child through the Holy Spirit.” Joseph does take Mary “into his home.” There was a second command, “you are to name him Jesus.” Joseph, in Matthew’s Gospel, welcomes Mary with child into his home, and names the child Jesus, because the salvation of God’s people is revealed to him in a dream.
 
In the second dream, Joseph is told to take Mary and Jesus and flee to Egypt because Herod was seeking to kill Jesus. Joseph acts immediately on this revelation – leaving in the middle of the night.
 
The third dream occurs in Egypt telling Joseph that it is time to go back to Israel.
 
The fourth, and final dream, occurs on the road home and directs Joseph to Nazareth.
 
Consider all the promises that are fulfilled in and through Joseph – the promise to David is fulfilled, the promise of a messiah, Jesus is named, Mary, the Virgin Mother of God, has a husband and a companion in her mission to bring Christ to the world, God’s son is called out of Egypt, and Jesus is known as the Nazarian.
 
Up the mountain. In our day and age perspective can get easily lost, twisted, blurred, confused, truncated. So much of what we see is mediated through the 24-hour news cycle, social media, a phrase here, and tweet there. Today, take a moment to turn off and put away all your devices. Unplug. Look up and out – find the horizon, notice where the sun is in the sky – is it rising or is it setting – notice what blocks you from seeing and what let’s you see more.
 
Do you believe that God reveals himself to us from beyond our own experience – both as individuals and as a people? Does God reveal himself to you in your dreams – both your sleeping dreams as well as your waking dreams?
 
Mission takes us beyond ourselves. What seemed impossible yesterday suddenly becomes possible and even necessary. Can’t you see it? A world without hunger? The cure of cancer and AIDS? Every child loved and cherished from the moment of conception? All the nations of the world at peace? Don’t dismiss it as “pie in the sky.” Go up the mountain and dream.
 

March 18, 2019

Up the Mountain. The mountain that Jesus presents to us today is nothing less than the mercy of God. St. Thomas Aquinas said mercy is the greatest attribute of God. We can not get any higher than the mercy of God.
 
The challenge, of course, is how do we show mercy, how do we reflect the mercy of God? Jesus gives us practical advice.

1. Do you judge? If you judge, then you will be judged.
2. Do you condemn? Others will condemn you.
3. Do you forgive? You will be forgiven.
4. Do you give? You will receive – packed together, shaken down, and overflowing.
5. Or do we measure? If we put conditions on giving, then what we receive will be measured.

There is a principle that I associate with St. Ignatius of Loyola – assume the best intentions. When we enter a difficult conversation, begin by affirming the value you have for the relationship, appreciate the other’s gifts, and then state the challenging behavior – with no judgement.
 
We will not always do that well. There is another barrier that we should not cross – condemnation. Two activists got into Chelsea Clinton’s face about being at a memorial service for the victims of the New Zealand massacre. They accused Clinton of “causing” the massacre because of her rebuke of a Muslim member of Congress whose language she viewed as anti-Semitic.
 
All we have are a few headlines, but it points to a growing trend in our media rich culture (print, broadcast, online, social media, etc.) to a social cancer infecting our civil discourse. If we, as a people, cannot control our impulses to condemn, demonize, or vilify our competitors, opponents, even our enemies, then we will have to regulate our speech less it gets out of control. It is wrong to yell fire in a theater when no fire exists. In New Zealand, they have not released the gunman’s “manifesto” because they did not want to give “any oxygen” to his point of view. Indeed, there is evidence that he, the gunman, wanted this massacre to be an internet phenomenon.
 
Jesus knows that judgement and condemnation are tough – both for us and for others. That leads us to forgiveness. Justice demands the truth. When I have injured someone, I must admit what I have done and take responsibility for it. There maybe mitigating circumstances but, at the end of the day, I must own what I did, or what I failed to do. I must ask for forgiveness. In a similar way, I must forgive those who have injured me. Forgiveness is not reconciliation; rather, it is a path away from revenge and towards justice and reconciliation.
 
This leaves us with the “golden mean” – give without measure and we will receive more than we can ever imagine. Sometimes, as we get older, old hurts return. This is an opportunity to give without measure. To forgive again. The injury will no longer cripple us, even the scar will begin to fade.
 
Up the mountain. Is there space in my life for the mercy of God? Do I rely on it and can I give it to others? In prayer, we lift-up our need to give and receive mercy. We fast to give-up something to purify ourselves of knee jerk reactions that too quickly judge or condemn. In almsgiving, we step-up to the needs of others, making space for their poverty – and our own – in the world.
 

March 17, 2019

 A Place to Pray

Up the mountain. In today’s Gospel, Jesus and some friends go “up the mountain to pray.”
 
There is a physicality to mountain climbing. Remember the cost to your feet, legs, and lungs as you lift your body up a few more feet. Turn the corner, lean into the grade of the road, one foot in front of the other, another hairpin road and suddenly you are above the house you just past a few minutes ago.
 
One foot in front of the other. You look up, catching your breath, trying to gauge how far away is the top, and you keep moving. You cannot even phantom Alex Honnold’s free (no ropes) and solo (alone) climb up El Capitan, the vertical rock face (3,000 feet) in Yosemite National Park. Roads have an incline, or grade, of less than 7%; the steps in your house are probably around 30%. On El Capitan, Alex was spider like, finding and testing crevices for footholds or handholds, on a 90% incline. Literally, straight up. (Free Solo is a National Geographic documentary of Alex Honnold’s climb).
 
The top is getting closer, and you find yourself slowing down, breathing deeply. The air is thinner up here. What are the mountains that you must climb? Sometimes, we see mountains as obstacle – we figure a way around them, through them, or over them. Often, they are the stuff of growth – landing a new job, acquiring a new skill, learning a foreign language, completing a degree.
 
Up the mountain. For Jesus and his friends – Peter, John and James – the mountain is the stuff of encounter; it is a place for prayer.
 
We do not know for sure what mountain they climbed; tradition holds that it was Mount Tabor – a dwarf of a mountain (elevation 1,886’) compared to El Capitan (elevation 7,569’) and the tallest of all mountains, Mount Everest (elevation 29,029’). Mount Tabor is even small among the mountains of Israel. Nevertheless, it is unique given its unusual dome like shape. More importantly, it is a place of prayer, encounter, and revelation. Moses receives the Ten Commandments from God on Mount Sinai. Elijah encounters God in the “still small voice” (1 Kings 19) on Mount Sinai. On Mount Tabor, Jesus is transfigured.
 
Up the mountain. Then the moment comes. We have reached the summit. We begin to drink in the vast vistas. The world – our town, the farms, the wilderness, the ever-expanding horizon, looms before us. Our whole body has been lifted-up and we see differently. How many times, upon reaching the summit, our first words are “oh my God.”
 
This week we are going to befriend our mountains as we pray, fast, and give alms. To prepare for this adventure, it is good to ponder, for a moment, what happened to Jesus, Peter, John and James when they reach the summit of Mount Tabor.
 
Jesus is transfigured – his face changes in appearance and his clothing becomes dazzling white – while he is praying.
 
This prayer, this transfiguration, begins a conversation with Moses and Elijah. They are not transfigured but rather reflecting the glory of another. It is a hard conversation because it is about the “exodus” that Jesus must “accomplish” in Jerusalem. If the transfiguration anticipates Easter, it must also anticipate the cross. Jesus is the suffering servant.
 
According to Dianne Bergant, CSA, this story reminds us that the extent of God's love for us is revealed in the suffering and death of Jesus, which, though painted in hues of defeat and disgrace, really present the image of unimaginable victory and glory. Realizing this, we must learn to look behind the faces of those who suffer defeat and disgrace in order to find there the unrecognized face of Jesus.” Jesus was transfigured, not us. Robert Schreiter, C.PP.S. reminds us that the work of reconciliation always begins with the victim.

We may be a lot like the Peter, John, and James. It was just too much for them. They are “overcome” by sleep. Becoming fully awake, they witness Jesus transfigured talking with Moses and Elijah. Peter, the perennial fisherman, wants to catch this moment and haul it in with a tent. As Peter is speaking, a cloud came and cast a shadow over them, and then engulfed them, and they were afraid.

This is theophany; the manifestation of God. The cloud spoke – “This is my chosen Son; listen to him.” The cloud is gone. The voice silent. The Moses and Elijah fade with the dazzle. They find Jesus, their fellow mountain climber, alone and they fell silent.

Up the mountain. Any words that come from our lips pale in comparison to the luminosity of the summit. Humbled, we are silent before an experience we cannot deny, explain, capture, or control. According to Timothy O’Malley The essence of Lent is to “attune our eyes to the luminosity of love made possible through Jesus.”

A poet once said that if we had the eyes to see, every bush would be burning. It is a reference to Moses and the burning bush on Mount Sinai; every moment, every experience, could be a transfiguration.

Today, identify the mountains before you – the place you want to go, the type of person you want to be, the deepest desires of your heart. Perhaps some of them are straight up, 3,000 feet of vertical granite. Perhaps some are distant in time and distance, snow covered, mysterious, and uncomfortable. Some may be close by, accessible, relatively easy, and modest. These are the places of prayer for us this week, the places of encounter, the places of transfiguration.