Twenty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time

"The one who humbles himself will be exalted." Once more, we return to trust, a trust that challenges me viciously, particularly now as I contemplate the coming death of my friend Fr. Greg. My fear is not of death itself, but about the possibility of being forgotten; not me personally, but rather this work, this calling. Perhaps because he is a Capuchin, my mind keeps comparing Greg's situation to the death of St. Francis. I do not expect that Greg's brothers will strip him naked and lay him out on the floor of his hospital room. But I do know that my friend's final days have been just as sublime of a prayer as were Francis', and our Brother Jesus' for that matter. Their deaths exalted their vocations. Will I share such a fate? Or will my fears come true: a pointless death for a forgettable prophet.

But if I and my message are forgettable, is it because that reality is exactly what God desires? Every scheme to make this work go viral has failed. Was that because I did not try hard enough or because that outcome is contrary to our Parent's plan? Personally, I lean towards the latter, because they are really good at telling me no. Should I take this revelation and start a new church/religion? NO. Should I go out and find me some disciples? NO. Should I package and sell it like every other wannabe guru? NO. Should I do any of the things that sensible people do when they are trying to spread a message? I think you get the answer by now. The memo they keep sending says, "Take your place at the wrong end of the table and trust us to do our thing as we see fit." Alleluia! Alleluia!

Sirach 3:17-29; Psalms 68:4-11; Hebrews 12:18-24; Luke 14:1-14

Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time

Earlier this week, I found out that a friend of mine is dying. I met Father Gregory Coiro in 2002. It was my first full year of teaching high school religion and he was returning home from a parish assignment to be the campus chaplain. I invited him to speak to my classes about his life as a priest, but instead he opened our eyes to a good news that is both wildly messy and intensely beautiful.

Greg's spirituality is delightfully complex. He has an earthy sense of humor and a gift for storytelling, which made him a perfect fit for an all-boys school. His annual talk on appropriate behavior at school dances was everything you might imagine it to be. No question was off-limits. And despite students' best efforts, nothing seemed to embarrass him. Yet when Congressman David Drier visited one year to talk to the senior class, Greg boycotted the assembly because he considered Drier's voting record to be insufficiently pro-life. Similarly, he recounted without apology his refusal to attend weddings that did not take place in the Catholic Church. He believed that a priest was always a representative of the Church, and he did not want his presence to convey a false sense of approval of things he knew to be contrary to Catholic teaching; that outcome would have been too scandalous.

Needless to say, Greg is too contradictory for some people. But I always saw a logic to the madness: he actually believes everything the Church teaches. He embraces "the discipline of the Lord" and the truth of "the narrow gate." But he also heeds our Parent's call to bring everyone, "all you nations … all you peoples," through that very same gate. With the use of clowning and crudeness, Greg teaches us that even when we feel damaged and dirty, God continues to move within us. Because if God is love, then our Parent will never leave our side. And Greg truly believes that God is love.

I have so many fond memories of my friend, but I will end with the end. I phoned Greg in the hospital after learning of his present condition. I asked him how he was doing, and with an amused tone in his voice he simply said, "Dying." He then went on to say that the hardest thing was knowing the pain his decision to stop dialysis was creating for those who loved him. Yes, the last are truly first in the eyes of grace. I am going to miss Greg terribly, but I also know that he is going home. Soon he will join the communion of saints, and their prayers on our behalf will get a lot more interesting. (I can almost hear God's chuckling already.) So farewell, dear friend … until we meet again.

Isaiah 66:18-21; Psalms 117:1-2; Hebrews 12:5-13; Luke 13:22-30

Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Truth is divisive. Partly because we are so bad at recognizing it, but mostly because we are so good at rejecting it. Either way, truth brings conflict. The problem, however, is that too many of us are more terrified of conflict than of dishonoring truth. Yes, listening is as noble as evangelizing. And humility is as necessary as conviction. But enabling ignorance does not promote peace, no matter how blissful it might feel. Nor are capitulation and appeasement manifestations of loving our enemies. The prophets of tolerance and diversity have good intentions, but minimizing truth will not make hatred and tribalism go away. No, the only way out of the swamp is the kingdom, in all its uncomfortable glory.

Jeremiah 38:4-10; Psalms 40:2-18; Hebrews 12:1-4; Luke 12:49-53

Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

I have no pretty words for you tonight, just "evidence of things not seen." I pray it is enough.

Wisdom 18:6-9; Psalms 33:1-22; Hebrews 11:1-19; Luke 12:32-48

Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

"All things are vanity!" Once more, truth slaps us in the face. Money. Power. Fame. Every marker we use to define success is nothing more than chaff. Love is the treasure that matters to our Parent. Not our freedoms. Not our tribes. Not our institutions. Only love. Only love lasts. Only love will linger after we, and this entire planet for that matter, are turned "back to dust." So let go of the lusts and the lies, and instead let love be "the work of our hands." Only then shall we know true glory.

Ecclesiastes 1:2, 2:21-23; Psalms 90:3-17; Colossians 3:1-11; Luke 12:13-21

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

"Ask and you will receive; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you." We pray, but do not receive peace. We march, but do not find justice. Is our Parent failing to live up to their end of the bargain? Or are we refusing to step through the door that has been offered? The enemy in need of empathy. The stranger in need of mercy. The friend in need of truth. These are the opportunities for grace for which we have pleaded. These are the solutions to the chaos and confusion surrounding us, not programs or politics. Family is what we need, and it is waiting just beyond the open door.

Genesis 18:20-32; Psalms 138:1-8; Colossians 2:12-14; Luke 11:1-13

Feast of Saint Mary Magdalene

"My soul is thirsting for you," the One "whom my heart loves." Oh how I struggle to do your will, to tell your story. I do such a piss poor job of it, but you refuse to release me from my burden, you refuse to take back this gift. Thank you. Thank you for the honor of this particular cross. I am ready to bear its weight once more. And with the help of Sister Mary and all our kin, it shall not crush me.

Song of Songs 3:1-4; Psalms 63:2-9; John 20:1-18

Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity

Today is our annual reminder that the Divine is not the rational and reasonable object we wish them to be. God is strange, in so many ways. We can try to explain away such truth. Or we can accept it. We can embrace it. And then we will come to know someone wonderful, someone far more wonderful than any consumer-friendly version peddled by corporate religion. Yes, God is strange! Alleluia!

Proverbs 8:22-31; Psalms 8:2-9; Romans 5:1-5; John 16:12-15

Pentecost Sunday

"Lord, send out your Spirit, and renew the face of the earth." What image did you hold in your mind as you sung these words today? Are you waiting for a miracle, of either divine or political origin, to get us there? Or are you willing to be an instrument of the Spirit right here and right now? All our Parent asks of us is that we acknowledge our neighbors as our family, then allow grace to take over our hearts. It is the only renewal we need. And also the only one with even the slightest chance of success.

Acts 2:1-11; Psalms 104:1-34; Romans 8:8-17; John 14:15-26

Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord

"Lord, are you at this time going to restore the kingdom to Israel?" Or perhaps the disciples said it like this: "Jesus, now are you going to make Israel great again?" And perhaps they stood there "looking at the sky" because they were disappointed in our Brother's answer. Yes, we have always longed for the sort of savior who pledges to "restore the kingdom" according to our image. But will such a person, be they man or woman, left, right, or socialist, ever provide us with what we truly need? If the Ascension teaches us anything, it is that we have a very bad habit of looking in all the wrong places.

Acts 1:1-11; Psalms 47:2-9; Hebrews 9:24-10:23; Luke 24:46-53