Fr. Rick Spicer

There is something unique about the location of our parish. I do not know of any other parish with a pasture nearby where sheep graze. Have you ever watched them? They move about with their eyes to the ground, always grazing, seeing only the patch of grass in front of them.  We may be more like sheep than we care to admit, for like them, we can be too focused on what we want to consider the consequences of our choices and actions. As we graze our way through life, how often have we fallen over a cliff of sorts because we didn’t see where we were going? God knows well that we need good shepherds to lead us.

Without someone to guide us, we can easily go astray. We have many leaders in our lives, beginning with our parents when we were kids, but as Jeremiah observes, not every shepherd could be trusted. He quotes God as chastising the leaders of ancient Israel who led the people astray. “Woe to the shepherds who mislead and scatter the flock of my pasture. You have scattered my sheep and driven them away.” God then promises to bring the scattered flocks back to their meadow by raising up a king who would govern them wisely.

That promise was fulfilled when Jesus arrived on the scene.  Calling himself the good shepherd, he could see that many in the vast crowd were like “sheep without a shepherd,” so “he began to teach them many things.” In his wake, Jesus founded the Church to serve as our spiritual shepherd today.

Which shepherds do we trust and really listen to? I would like to think that every Christian listens to the wisdom of Jesus Christ, the good shepherd, but that isn’t so. Otherwise, our churches would be filled with people following the advice given in today’s gospel. Jesus, if you recall, invited the apostles to “come away to a deserted place and rest a while.” They had just returned from their first mission of sharing the good news with others and curing the sick. They needed a place to pray.

His timeless advice is meant for us as well. Jesus invites us to get away from the busy events of our lives and to make time to rejuvenate our spiritual well-being. He isn’t speaking of hiding out in some chat room on the internet. Instead, he is inviting us to find tranquility and awe in the presence of our God.

We can do that in any number of ways. For the sake of nurturing our faith, we gather each week to feed on both God’s word and the Eucharist. Alas, many people downplay the value of this time together. They remind me of sheep too intent on grazing to even notice the shepherd in their midst who seeks to guide them. When we ignore the opportunity to be in touch with the good shepherd, who then is taking his place as our shepherd?

We also need something more than the Mass to feed us. Jesus talked about a deserted place, which to me, means, a place apart from our daily commotions to be spend time in prayer with him. Think of all the many things you do in the course of a given day. How much of your time is time spent alone with Jesus? I suspect that those who make no time for daily prayer don’t give themselves the chance to see just how delightful prayer can be.

Perhaps one hiker can shed light on this for you. A woman was walking through the jungle when she suddenly came upon a pack of tigers. She ran and ran but the tigers were getting closer and closer. When she came to the edge of a cliff, she saw a vine hanging over the edge. With the tigers in pursuit, she climbed down the cliff, hanging on to the vine for dear life. She barely made it over the side before the tigers could pounce.

Looking down, she hears growls. Oh no! More tigers were waiting below. Looking up, she could see tigers above.  Now what? Then she is startled by a rustling in front of her. Two mice appear and begin gnawing on the vine she is clinging to.

The desperate woman then notices a beautiful bunch of strawberries growing wild in a nearby patch of grass. She looks down at the tigers below, she looks up at the tigers above, and she looks at the mice gnawing at the vine. The woman then reaches for one of the strawberries and puts it in her mouth and enjoys it thoroughly. If only for a moment, despite all the perils around her, the woman experiences bliss.

Tigers above, tigers below, and any number of distractions and challenges threaten to undo the vines we cling to. Our days are filled with predicaments demanding all of our time and energy, our good will and patience. But if we look hard enough, we will find “strawberries” to enjoy and savor, reminding us that our lives are so much more than the tigers we outrun. These are the “deserted places” Jesus is urging us to seek out, the moments and havens of rest and quiet prayer which Jesus invited his apostles to experience. Face it, the advice here is simple: we must consciously look for and embrace such moments of grace.

We do so when we take time to be alone in prayer, meditation, reflecting on scripture, or even day-dreaming with God. Whatever you want to call it, Jesus calls us to a take delight in these moments we spend with him for they can truly be filled with bliss. Through prayer, we find the grace we need to make the right choices for our daily journeys.

A month ago, Pope Benedict declared this to be the Year of the Priest. Since we are called to serve as shepherds of Christ’s flock today, we stand in need of your prayers. Pray that my brother priests and I foster in our hearts a yearning for spiritual perfection upon which the effectiveness of our ministry rest. Pray that we remain strong in our calling to serve as your shepherds. Pray that we are given the strength, understanding and wisdom we need to follow in Jesus’ footsteps.  Pray for the grace we need to stay focused on our calling in life. Thank you. 

We can relate to this gospel story, can’t we? How often have we found ourselves in the midst of a storm, feeling very much alone? Literally or figuratively, life is full of storms. Like the apostles, some of us have found ourselves literally caught up unexpectedly on small crafts in stormy conditions, wondering if we would survive. We were fortunate, unlike the passengers and crew who perished when their plane broke apart recently over the Atlantic Ocean en route from Brazil to France or the many fishermen in Alaska’s Bering Sea whose boats have capsized.

More likely than physical storms, however, we find ourselves in life’s other storms. Some are major, such as being diagnosed with a grave illness or learning that someone close to us is ill, or when a relationship goes amiss or the loss of a job to name a few examples.  Others are minor such as a spat over what channel to watch or who does what chore around the house.

Whatever the storm may be, some times our reaction is fear, just as it was for the apostles. They had set out for the other side of the lake not expecting to encounter such foul weather, but violent storms can arise suddenly and without warning on the Sea of Galilee when strong winds come through from the Mediterranean Sea. Without warning the storm hit and their boat was being tossed about by high waves and strong winds. The boat they were in could be likened in size to a cabin cruiser, perhaps with a capacity to hold 13 people.  Can you just hear the panic in their voice as they awaken Jesus, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”

Clearly they were afraid and why not? They had no reason yet to think that Jesus had such supernatural power to still the wind and calm the sea.  At a time when life jackets did not exist, they expected to drown if they didn’t reach shore.  Fear gripped them.

How often has fear gripped and paralyzed us? In his first inaugural address, Franklin Delano Roosevelt had this to say, “Let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself—nameless, unreasoning terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance.”

After quieting the stormy sea, Jesus asked the disciples, “Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith?”  In the original Greek, Mark records Jesus as actually saying, “Why are you cowards?” That isn’t exactly the response I bet the disciples expected to hear, nor us. If anything, we expected him to say, “There, there now. Everything will be all right.” After all, isn’t a Messiah is someone who will save us in times of crisis, no?

Many people literally expect Jesus to be there to rescue them whenever a storm of any sorts arises. They truly believe that he is there to get them whatever they need or to solve their problems. They see Jesus as their “cosmic bellhop.”

If you need this or that, be it a new job, a parking place, a spot in the next ferry line, a baby sitter, a cure for your illness, you ask God for it. You need help out of a jam? You need someone to step in and straighten things out? Call on God! After all, God is there to solve our problems!

Is that what you have built your faith on? Are you in this relationship with God so long as things go your way and everything goes smoothly? Then expect Jesus to chastise you just as he rebuked the disciples and for good reason.  Is that really faith that is keeping you linked with God?

If everything is to go our way, we are setting ourselves up for a self-centered outlook on life. We see God as arranging things just to satisfy us, but that really cannot happen for ultimately God is not in control of our world. God can’t be if at the same time, we are given free will, which is a must if we are to love and be loved.

Jesus is telling us to quit being cowards and instead have faith. But faith in what? If God isn’t going to solve our problems, what then is faith all about?

Faith is this: knowing that God is present in our lives at all times and in all places. Faith means trusting in God no matter what happens in this life. No matter what difficulties we may face, no matter what dangers we confront, in the end, God will win. If we keep faith in God, then we will be saved for all eternity.

When God doesn’t deliver what we want here and now, the temptation is to abandon our faith in God, but where does that leave us? Are the challenges of life going to be any easier to handle if we leave God out of the picture? Most likely not. When we retreat from God, we will be left more and more to our own resources. On the other hand, when we endeavor to advance in our faith relationship with God, we increase the likelihood of dealing with our crises in ways we would not otherwise have considered. That is the role the Holy Spirit plays in our lives.

This weekend, I celebrate my 23rd anniversary of ordination to the priesthood.  Like any other father, I have experienced my fair share of storms during all that time, but I haven’t been alone on this journey either. In my bedroom, I have a plaque that reads, “Lord help me to remember that nothing is going to happen to me today that you and I together can’t handle.” Yes, God can get us through our storms, perhaps not in the way we want, but ultimately in ways that can render us courage and inner peace.

God may not always give us ready answers to satisfy our human longings, but by deepening our faith so that it is more than a self-serving relationship, we come to see that this Jesus will calm our fears and make us strong.
 

Who is this God whom we worship? From the very beginning, human beings have had a relationship with spiritual deities, defining who their god is. Some cultures, like the ancient Romans and Greeks, had many gods, each with an assigned mission, such as Mars, the god of war and Eros, the god of love. The Israelites believed in one God, whom they called Yahweh.

In his parting words to the disciples, Jesus redefined God in a new light, telling them to go forth and baptize all nations “in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” Like our Jewish forbearers, the followers of Jesus believed in one God, but now this God has three persons. For some, the concept makes little sense. If this God has three persons, then why don’t we admit to believing in three gods, instead of one?

The concept of a triune God has baffled countless generations of Christians, even Thomas Aquinas. St. Patrick is remembered for explaining the Trinity with the use of a three leaf clover. I recall a priest using the image of water in its three forms, liquid, steam, and ice, as an analogy to explain the Trinity. Each form is unique, yet still the same. Given certain conditions, namely, temperature, we experience water molecules differently.

Likewise, given certain conditions, we experience God differently. God, the Father, is viewed as our creator; God, the Son, as our redeemer, and God, the Holy Spirit, as our sanctifier. One of my seminary professors used those titles when making the sign of the cross at the start of Mass. Perhaps he thought he was being politically correct by omitting any references of masculinity, but the titles he used could be viewed as limiting God’s roles in our lives.  The notion of a triune God is not done to provide us with God’s job description but to define who God is.

Another physical image that comes to mind that helps me to grasp the notion of one but three is fire. Recall how God appeared to Moses in the form of a burning bush during the exodus.  Fire has three elements: flame, light, and heat. None can be separated from the other two and without all three, one doesn’t have fire. Anytime you have fire, even if it comes from a solitary candle, you have all three elements.

In the same way, the three persons of our triune God are intertwined. One person cannot be separated from the other two. They are not personalities in the modern sense, but the expression of an intimate loving relationship. They complement each other.  Although the concept of a triune God was not expressed until Jesus arrived on the scene, God hinted at this reality repeated throughout the Hebrew Testament. In the book of Genesis, God speaks in the plural, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness.”  God had company all along as creation was unfolding. In the opening lines of his gospel, John speaks of Jesus existing from the very beginning. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”

St. Augustine explains the Trinity in this way. “He is not called Father with reference to himself but only in relation to the Son; seen by himself he is simply God.”  In effect, the mystery of the Trinity highlights for us the reality that God is continually relating, not only to one another, but also to us and so must we.

Nearly 90 years ago, T.S. Eliot wrote a poem entitled, “The Wasteland,” which details the journey of the human soul searching for redemption. His best known poem portrays a spiritually desolate society, one that is governed by self-gratification, belief in the false gods of defiant nationalism, commercialism and faith that cannot save. Eliot considered this poem to be his view of western civilization.  He envisioned the day coming when people would be killing one another in the streets. History proved him right in so many places even here in America since the poem was published in 1922.

That may not be literally happening in our neighborhood, but given that so many people are caught up in a culture of hedonism and materialism, we are in the midst of a spiritual crisis. Our society is a wasteland because not every professed Christian is carrying out the mission which Jesus entrusted to his disciples. By their example, the three persons of the Trinity are calling on us to put aside our self-centeredness and strive instead to be people of love. With love, we can best demonstrate the message of the Trinity to those who have yet to witness the reality that above all else, God is love.

There is nothing Christian about the absolutely rugged individualist who needs nobody else, or who is concerned about nobody else, just as there can be no family when its members choose not to relate to one another.

Do you get the point? We were created in the image of God and if God cannot survive alone, neither can we. Our hearts are made for one another.  Every act of love gives witness to the Trinity. The Trinity says God is community and so we seek. The Trinity says God is relationship, and so we search. The Trinity says God is love, and so we love. We are most God-like when we are in love, give love, and receive love. We need one another if we are to experience the fullest expression of God in our lives.

The Trinity is an expression of who we are called to be: people of love, followers of Jesus Christ, interacting with one another, ever mindful that all creation is linked together, revealing that our triune God is the ever-present, magnificently powerful, affectionately intimate, and irresistibly reconciling God in whose image we are made.
 

Have you ever been engaged? If so, I invite you to think back to the experience. Most likely the person whom you were engaged to commanded your undivided attention. You could not imagine life without that person whom you were planning to marry.

Now that you are married, do you find yourself relating to your spouse with the same enthusiasm you had when you were engaged? Are you as passionately in love as you were during your engagement? If so, your spouse is indeed a true friend.

Or might you be what I would label, “not engaged?” The zest has faded out of your marriage.  You still love your spouse, but gone is the passion.  Instead, other interests and people command more of your attention than your spouse does.

Worst yet, are you “actively disengaged?” In lieu of affirmations, negativity is eating away at your relationship. Bickering, insults, infidelity, abuse of any kind have drained the marriage of whatever real love there was during the engagement.

We usually associate the word, engaged, with the time before a wedding, but the word has many more meanings, such as to attract and hold the attention of, to win over, to involve, to become occupied.  Hence, to be engaged can be applied to other situations besides betrothal, such as one’s faith.

On the eve of Pentecost, the apostles had yet to be engaged to their faith. They hungered for the living water that Jesus had promised while still with them. But now, he was gone, having ascended into heaven, so what were they to do? On Pentecost, they were in the upper room, hiding in fear, when the Holy Spirit filled their hearts. No longer afraid, they were empowered to venture out and proclaim the good news at any cost, including their own lives to anyone who would listen.  In the early church, those who were baptized devoted themselves to the apostles’ instruction and the communal life.  With its members fully engaged, the church grew in great numbers.

Today, we gather because people in our past were also engaged in proclaiming the good news; they invited us into this faith community. By belonging, we came to believe, but not everyone has.  You and I know Catholics who have not remained in the faith. According to a recent survey conducted by the Archdiocese, only 88 out of every 100 infants baptized over the past 20 years received first communion, 35 out of every 100 eligible teenagers were confirmed, and 49 of every 100 Catholics baptized as infants were married in the Catholic Church.

In that same survey, over 3000 parishioners were asked to describe the faith of their adult children. One third are practicing Catholics, 45 percent attend Mass occasionally, 11 percent have joined other denominations, and in the case of the remaining 9 percent, their parents were not sure of their faith practice.  If you have siblings or children who no longer practice their faith, you aren’t alone.  For any number of reasons, being Catholic made little or no difference in their lives. They weren’t engaged.

Does being Catholic make a difference in your life? If one has endeavored to be engaged, that is, to live as Christ lived, the answer would be, “Yes!” Ideally, every Catholic strives to be holy. That is done by centering one’s life on a faith community and celebrating its many sacramental encounters with Jesus. By belonging, they come to believe and deepen their faith in Christ.

Many think that believing leads to belonging, but not necessarily. Statistics reveal that many Catholics believe but few belong. They are not engaged.  Coming to Mass is not a top priority for them, nor is seeking to grow in holiness. They heard the gospel, but did not listen to its message. In effect, their lives have not been impacted by the message of Jesus Christ.

Those who are engaged in their faith are more satisfied with their lives.  By living their faith, they invite others, encouraging them “to come and see.” They are more inclined to give, not only of their time but also of their treasure and talent for they see the value of stewardship in their lives. They seek to grow in holiness, not just an hour a week, but throughout the week.  Quietly and assuredly, they bring the gospel to others each in their own way.

At a workshop I attended last week, Fr. Dan Mahan noted that in the average parish, 16 percent of us are engaged, 49 percent are not engaged, and the rest are actively disengaged. He called them “cave” people: an acronym for those who “complain about virtually everything.” They are too preoccupied with their own issues to become engaged in the mission of growing in the faith.

How might we all become engaged in our faith? Pentecost provides a clue. God sent the Holy Spirit into our world to continue the presence of his Son, Jesus. In his letter to the Galatians, Paul points out that the fruits of the Spirit can be seen in acts of love, joy, kindness and generosity.  If that became our goal to treat everyone in our congregation with love, kindness, joy and generosity, instead of indifference, malice, or any other unchristian conduct, wouldn’t you agree that everyone here would feel as though they truly belong? And if they felt that way, they too would also become engaged in living the faith, seeking to be holy and involved in the parish.

A good starting point would be to banish strangers in our midst. That can be done by introducing yourself after every Mass to someone you do not know.  Let us make every person feel welcomed here. In the cursillo movement, we have a saying, “Make a friend, be a friend, then bring a friend to Christ.” Do that and you will enable one more person to become engaged, rather than disengaged in the faith we celebrate together. 
 

Transitions are nothing new. We are always letting go of something or someone, moving from one relatively comfortable setting to something new and unfamiliar. Even if we never moved away the town of our birth, we experience transition, such as graduation, getting married, starting a new job, having a baby, moving into a new home, coping with an illness, recovering from a stroke, dealing with the death of a loved one or the end of a once cherished relationship. Yes, life is always changing.

Admittedly, transitions are not always easy. We cling to what we know and remain afraid of the unknown. That is why death, for example, frightens so many of us. The loss of someone or something dear to us results in grief, but sometimes that grief can be transformed into joy.

Years ago, I read a charming story entitled Dragon Kite of the Autumn Moon, featuring a young boy named Tad-Tin. He learned that lesson when his grandfather, who made kites for them to fly together, became too ill to make a kite for them to fly in the annual kite day celebration.  Consequently, if he was to participate in the annual event, Tad-Tin had to fly his cherished dragon kite, which his grandfather had made years ago when Tad-Tin was born. Now, traditionally every kite had to be set free at the end of the day so that they would carry all the troubles away with them, but Tad-Tin ached at the thought of letting go of this magnificent dragon kite. He finally garners the courage to let go of the kite, then returns home to discover that his grandfather has fully recovered from his illness.

The ascension of Jesus conveys a similar message of transition. In letting go of the physical Jesus, the disciples felt the same intense loss as Tad-Tin had felt when he first let go of his kite, but later they experienced Jesus’ return in ways they had never anticipated. They soon noticed that Jesus was acting through them empowering them to carry on the mission of proclaiming the Good News. The apostles found themselves becoming, as Jesus had promised they would, his witnesses “in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

This feast does not celebrate the end of Jesus’ presence in the world. Rather, we witness a transition that marks a change in the way Jesus is present in our world. Instead of using his own voice to address people, his own heart to love people, and his own hands to reach out to people, Jesus was now acting through his disciples. He used their voices to proclaim the good news to people, their hearts to love people, and their hands to reach out to people. Two thousand years later, he is using you and me to do the same thing. In other words, Jesus did not go away. He is very real and very much present in our midst, using our voices to address people, our hearts to love people, and our hands to reach out to people.

Another way to understand the lesson of this feast is to imagine that we are participants in a relay race. Just as a baton is passed from one runner to another, Jesus has passed his message of salvation onto the disciples, who in turned passed it onto those who heard them. That baton, our Catholic faith, has been passed on for countless generations. At some point in our lives, the baton of our faith was passed onto us and now Jesus is counting on us to pass this baton on for the sake of future generations.

I would not be one bit surprised if many of you feel powerless when it comes to sharing the good news. Many Catholics do not see themselves as evangelizers. At a loss for words or lacking the confidence to share their convictions, they say little or nothing about their faith. “I don’t discuss my religion with others,” they claim. Keep in mind, however, that actions speak louder than words and if your lives resonate with the values of our Catholic faith, you are indeed passing on the baton. We best pass the baton of faith on by giving witness to what we believe.

At the end of Mass, you are told in so many words, “The Mass is ended, go in peace.” Sometimes, you hear the rest of the line, “to love and serve the Lord.” In effect, you are being sent forth on the same mission given to the apostles, that is, pass on the baton of the gospel. Hopefully, the Mass has nourished and strengthened you spiritually for this mission. The odds are that you will rub shoulders with many others throughout the day who are hungering to hear what you heard. Might sharing your faith leave a positive impression on them? Jesus certainly hopes so!

If you find yourself amongst Catholics who for whatever reason choose not to attend Mass, don’t nag or scold them. Don’t stop loving them or praying for them either! Instead, ask them how they are nurturing their spiritual lives, then invite them to come with you to Mass next weekend when we celebrate Pentecost, the traditional birthday of our church.

In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul is urging us to get on with our mission of being Christian witnesses in this world. He never said being one would be easy. In fact, he suffered in ways we cannot begin to imagine, but he never let up, and neither must we. Like Paul, “I urge you to live in a manner worthy of the call you have received, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another through love, striving to preserve the unity of the spirit through the bond of peace.” Live your faith so that others who may be spiritually hungry can see the value of living the faith as well.  Perhaps, you will make a difference in someone’s life just as someone else made a difference in yours.

As we transition back to our daily routine, ponder what it means to be a Catholic beyond the four walls of this church. Remember, you are the church, so let go of whatever hinders you from fully living and sharing your faith for Jesus is counting on you to do your part in proclaiming the gospel to every creature.