2007

The Good Samaritan Revisited

Many of you may be familiar with the television program M*A*S*H.  It is the humorous series about an American mobile medical unit in the Korean War.  During one of the episodes, Col. Frank Burns, a tiresome, whining, moralistic bore, decides he is going to get the unit to stop drinking.  He does this first by seizing everyone’s booze.

He then asks Father Mulcahy, a meek Catholic chaplain, if he could give the unit a fire and brimstone sermon against the evils of drink.  Fr. Mulcahy responds with great doubt.  “Hmmm…I don’t know, he says, I have never given a sermon like that. I’m better with the classics; turn the other cheek, the Prodigal Son, the Good Samaritan. You can’t go wrong when you have good material.”

Well, today we have one of those classics, the parable of the Good Samaritan from the Gospel according to Luke. As I look out into the congregation and see so many faithful Catholics, I wonder what more I can say to people who may have heard this Gospel proclaimed hundreds of times in their lifetime. But I am here, and you are expecting something from me, so here goes.

The parable of the Good Samaritan, at the first level of meaning, is clearly about three things: 1) to be willing to help others even if we do not know them or feel they may have brought trouble onto themselves; 2) to recognize that all people are our brothers and sisters, not just those with whom we are comfortable or with whom we are friendly; and 3) when we help others, the help should be practical.

But there is at least one missing element of meaning on which we seldom focus. That has to do with the victim on the road. This is understandable in one sense. We do not know from the parable, what the victim did once he recovered. Did he seek out the Good Samaritan and thank him for his help?  Did he change the way he lived, perhaps becoming more charitable and willing to live as the Good Samaritan did, loving God and others?

And what about us?  Do we just pocket the help from the Good Samaritans God sends us, or do we, as the first reading from the Book of Deuteronomy calls us to do, return such help with all our heart and soul?  Do we fail to change our lives when they are saved in many different ways by Good Samaritans, or do we come to emulate the sacrifices of such people, who are themselves emulating the sacrifice of Jesus Christ for all of us, as St. Paul reminds us in our second reading.

For me at least, what the victim does is a somewhat different challenge of the Good Samaritan parable, for it affects us directly and makes the parable more than just an interesting story. Accordingly, I offer you this true story as an example.

One day a man named Robert Peterson met a six-year-old girl on a beach near where he lived. Peterson often drove to this beach; a distance of three or four miles, whenever he felt the world was closing in on him.  The little girl was building a sand castle, or at least trying, when she looked up. Her eyes were as blue as the sea.

“Hello,” she said.  Peterson answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child. “I’m building,” she said.  “I see that,” Peterson said, not really caring. “What is it?”  “Oh, I don’t know, I just like the feel of the sand.” That sounds good, Peterson thought, and he slipped off his shoes.

Just then a bird called a sandpiper glided by. “That’s a joy,” the little girl said.  It’s a what?” Peterson asked.  “It’s a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy.” The bird went gliding down the beach. Good-bye joy, Peterson muttered to himself. Hello pain. He continued to walk down the beach. Peterson was depressed; his life seemed out of balance. But the little girl persisted. “What’s your name? the little girl said. “Robert, Robert Peterson.”  “Mine’s Wendy. “I’m six. “Hi Wendy,” Peterson said. “Your funny,” Wendy giggled.

In spite of Peterson’s gloom, he laughed too and walked on. “Come again, Mr. P,” she called. We’ll have another happy day.”  But the next few days were not so happy for Peterson. He dealt with unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, and an ailing mother. The next day, Peterson saw the sun shining and decided he needed a sandpiper to be out. Once on the beach, Peterson received a cool breeze and tried to recapture the serenity of a few days before.

“Hello Mr. P,”  Wendy said.  “Do you want to play”? “What did you have in mind?” Peterson asked. “I don’t know, she said. “You say.”  “How about charades?” Peterson asked sarcastically.  Wendy burst forth with her delightful laugh. “I don’t know what that is.” Peterson said, “Then let’s just walk.  Looking at her, he noticed the delicate fairness of her face. “Where do you live?’ Peterson asked.

“Over there,” Wendy said. She pointed toward a row of summer cottages. It was early winter, and Peterson thought, what a strange answer.

“Where do you go to school?” Wendy replied, “I don’t go to school. Mommy says were on vacation.”  Wendy continued to chatter as they strolled along the beach. When Peterson left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day. Peterson agreed. He felt better.

But three weeks later, Peterson rushed back to the beach. He was in such a bad mood, he even did not want to greet Wendy. In fact, he was in such a foul mood that if he found Wendy at the beach, he said to himself, he would ask her mother to keep her off the beach so he could be alone.  Sure enough, Wendy was there.

Wendy was pale and out of breath as she encountered Peterson. “Look, if you don’t mind,” he said to Wendy, I would rather be alone today.” “Why?” she asked.  Peterson snapped at Wendy. “Because my mother died!” Peterson wondered and was a little bit ashamed he had said this to a child.

“Oh,” Wendy said quietly.  “Then this is a bad day.” “Yes,” Peterson said, “and so was yesterday and the day before and oh, just go away!

“Did it hurt?” she inquired.  “Did what hurt?’ Peterson was exasperated with the little girl.

“When she died?”  “Of course it hurt,! Peterson snapped at Wendy. He walked off quickly so that Wendy could not catch up with him.

A month later, Peterson was feeling guilty about how he had treated Wendy. He decided to go to the beach to seek her out and apologize. Wendy was not there. After a walk, Peterson decided to approach the cottage where Wendy said she lived. He knocked on the door. A drawn looking young woman with blonde hair answered the door.

“Hello,” he said, “I am Robert Peterson. “I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was.”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke so much about you. I am afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please accept my apology.”

“Not at all, she’s a delightful child,” Peterson said.

“Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson,” her mother said. “She had leukemia. Maybe she didn’t tell you.”

Peterson was struck to his soul. He groped for a chair to absorb the emotional blow and catch his breath.

Wendy’s mother continued. “She loved this beach, so when she asked to come, we couldn’t say no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days.  But the last few weeks she declined rapidly. ”  Her voice faltered. “She left something for you, if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look?”

Peterson nodded, still in shock over the news. Wendy’s mother handed him a smeared envelope with a MR. P printed in bold childish letters. Inside was a drawing with bright crayons, a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was a carefully printed caption.  A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY.

Tears welled up in Peterson’ s eyes. His was a heart that had almost forgotten how to love. Now it opened wide. He took Wendy’s mother in his arms. “I am so sorry, he said, “I am so sorry, I am so sorry.”  He uttered it over and over again as he wept with Wendy’s mother. Peterson hung the picture card in a frame in his study. Six words, A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY, one for each year of Wendy’s life, spoke of the harmony, courage, and undemanding love the child Wendy had shown to a strange grown man on the beach. 

Peterson’s life was changed forever   Wendy was the ultimate Good Samaritan. It serves as the ultimate reminder to all of us that we need to take time to enjoy living and life and each other. For the price of hating other human beings is loving oneself less.

Brothers and sisters, in our lives the hustle and bustle, the challenges, even the traumas can make us feel like victim on the road to Jericho. But God puts Good Samaritans in our life to remind us that there is so much in this world that is good, and that by loving God and others we come to love ourselves as more.  Sometimes, they only come once in your life, and you never see them again.

Feeling like a victim is easy and rather ordinary. But when we receive kindnesses from unusual or unexpected places, how do we respond? Do we reciprocate that spirit? Do we become Good Samaritans? Do we learn all over again to love God and others?  Let us pray that all of the victims of life’s challenges learn not just to accept the help of Good Samaritans in our lives, but to become one as well. With God’s grace, may we not be ordinary victims, suspicious of those we call strangers,. but extraordinary Christians who call strangers friends.
 

Not long after Jesus ascended into heaven, the archangel Gabriel asked him, “Lord, what is going to happen now that you are back here in heaven? Who is going to carry on the work you began down there?” Jesus replied, “I am leaving that up to Peter, James, John, Martha, her sister, Mary, and the rest of the disciples.” “But,” protested Gabriel, “what if they don’t do it? What if your plan doesn’t work out? Then what?” “Gabe,” Jesus answered, “I have no other plans.”

Fortunately, for us, they and countless generations of Christians carried out the work that Jesus began. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here, celebrating the birth of his cousin, John the Baptist. As the conversation between Jesus and Gabriel suggests, God uses people to carry out his divine mission.

To be used by others is not always appreciated. In fact, some people resent being used or put upon. But who among us wouldn’t feel honored if Jesus stood here in person and asked a favor? Wouldn’t you be flattered?

Do you honestly feel that God’s plan includes you? Some scientists, notably those in the field of biology, tell us that there is no purpose to our existence. Like insects, we come and go and the world goes on. One Nobel Prize winner noted, “Destiny is written concurrently with the event, not prior to it. Our own destiny was not written before the emergence of the human species. Our number came up in the Monte Carlo game.” What a woeful look on human life, telling us that basically our lives are pointless, meaningless, and of little significance. God certainly doesn’t think so.

An irreligious person could easily fall into such a mindset. When we become oblivious to God’s love, we become oblivious to God’s plan as well. Long ago, I learned that God knows everything, but because of our free will, God doesn’t control our lives. To say that God is not in control, however, does not mean that our lives have no destiny.

John is remembered on his birthday for living out the plan God had in mind for him. His parents’ neighbors asked, “What will this child be?” They knew the hand of the Lord was on the boy and that his life wasn’t a random toss of the dice or a fluke in time. God also knew that Zechariah and Elizabeth would consent to raising a son, whom they would name John; a son who would boldly go forth to call people to repentance at the risk of losing his own life.

So what might your destiny be? I cannot say, but I do know that by virtue of your baptism, you are called by God to be part of this divine plan that Christ began so long ago. The hand of the Lord is also upon you, just as it was on John the Baptist. You are blessed with a destiny that, if you choose to live it, will bring you God’s gift of eternal salvation.

At this moment, we may have some idea of what tomorrow will bring with the goals we’ve  set for ourselves, but we cannot predict all that the future can be. God alone knows what potential the future holds for us.  Meanwhile, God invites us to journey toward the future, sustained by the conviction that God will be with us all the way.

Forty years ago, I graduated from high school. While in college I visited Whidbey Island for the first time. Had you told me then and there that I would someday become a priest and serve as a pastor on this island, I would have shaken my head in disbelief, for back then, the notion of becoming a priest was the last thing on my mind. But God has always worked in interesting and at times mysterious ways, sending people into my life who impacted my destiny by what they said and did.

And I am not alone. God does the same thing with you. In countless and often unsuspecting ways, God sends people into your lives to shape your destiny with the hope that you will choose to grow even deeper in your love. God also sends you, perhaps in ways you least expect to be used, into the lives of others, anticipating that you will make a difference in bringing someone else closer to God.

To think that God hasn’t called you to be part of this grand plan of salvation would be a mistake.  While our destiny isn’t likely to be as far-reaching as John the Baptist, God does have a plan for each of us to follow, but first we must recognize what being a disciple entails and live accordingly. In addition to living out the commandments, that means being people of compassion, justice, and forgiveness. If John the Baptist were to stand in our midst, undoubtedly he would challenge us to make choices that send the message that God is first in our lives.

In the first passage from Isaiah, we read that God’s servant was like a ready instrument should the Lord need him, “He made of me a sharp edged sword…a polished arrow…You are my servant through whom I show my glory.”

As Christians, we are baptized into Christ and we “put on Christ.” As a priest, I see my life as possibly “another John,” pointing others to Christ as John the Baptist did, preparing the way for Christ to enter the lives of others. I know that I am not alone in this undertaking for I think of every Christian, and that includes you, as another “John” as well, favored by God, called to become strong in the spirit, to speak with courage against evil in the world and, to ponder if we really are ready for the one who is to come. After all, Jesus has no other plan. He is counting on you and me to do our part.
 

Father’s Day Message, 2007

Recently, a middle-aged man, we will call him John, was contemplating an upcoming Father’s Day. There had been some changes in his life. The kids were grown and out of the house. His company had been downsizing, and John had accepted early retirement.  But his wife Nancy would have to take a job so that their income would stay the same and their health benefits would be sufficient.  How would John and Nancy adjust to their new situation? How would their roles change in family life?

John decided that he would try and be a loving and considerate husband.  But soon after Nancy went back to work, John noticed that the quality of her housework had deteriorated.  He decided he would not yell at her about it.  Also, when Nancy got back from a day of work, about the same time John returned from fishing or hunting, Nancy would always say that she had to rest for a half an hour before starting dinner.  John was very hungry but didn’t yell at her.  John just asked Nancy to wake him when dinner was ready.

In earlier days, Nancy always did the dishes right after dinner. Now they sat on the kitchen table for hours after they finished dinner.  John thought he was being very considerate by reminding Nancy several times that the dishes weren’t getting done by themselves and that she really shouldn’t leave them before going to bed.  John even said that he understood that now that she was older, she seemed to get tired so much more quickly.

The washer and dryer John and Nancy have was in the basement.  Nancy told John that sometimes she was so tired after work that she just can’t make another trip down those stairs.  John decided not to make a big issue of it, so long as Nancy finished the laundry the next night.  That is of course, unless John needed something ironed for the Monday lodge meeting, or the Wednesday and Saturday poker club, or the Tuesday and Thursday bowling nights.  By being more tolerant with Nancy, John reasoned that this gives her more time after work to shampoo the dog, vacuum, and dust.  By being more tolerant with Nancy, John reasoned Nancy would have more time to gut and scale the fish at a more leisurely pace if John had a good day fishing.

John noticed that Nancy was starting to complain a little, saying that it is difficult for her to find time to pay the monthly bills during her lunch hours.  In spite of her complaining, John told Nancy to stretch out paying the bills over several days.  He even suggested that missing lunch completely now and then wouldn’t hurt her any since she was not getting any slimmer.  When doing simple jobs, John noticed that Nancy took more rest periods. She had to take a break when she was half finished mowing the yard.

John told himself not to embarrass Nancy when she takes these little breaks.  John told her to fix herself a nice big cold glass of freshly squeezed lemonade and just sit for a while.  And as long as she is making one for herself, she may as well make one for John too. Then, when Nancy takes her break by the hammock in which John is laying, she can talk with him until he falls asleep.

John felt quite proud of himself. It was not easy, John thought, to be this considerate of your wife as she grows older. Nancy apparently felt differently. On Father’s Day, John was found strangled in his hammock.  Upon hearing the details of the case, the police decided not to press charges against Nancy!

Today is Father’s Day.  It is a day when fathers are honored for their many contributions to the lives of their wives and children. And this is as it should be.  I remember with great fondness and love my own father, who passed away more than a decade ago.  He was not only a great father but he was a great friend.  Together with my mother, their Catholic faith and their passing it along to me are the main reasons I stand before you as a deacon today.  My wife Lois recently lost her father just a few weeks ago. They had a very loving and close relationship. She was daddy’s little girl, and my father-in-law, together with my mother-in-law gave me the greatest gift a man could ever receive: the gift of their daughter who has put up with me now for almost 29 years.

It is also a great joy to be a father myself, and what a gift from God it has been for both Lois and I to raise our two wonderful children.  I am sure many of you have similar memories and experiences.  Thank God for all that has been accomplished by fathers in our lives, and in the history of our country.

Nonetheless, it is also true that how one measures up as a successful father, what maleness means in today’s society is clearly changing, and often not for the better.  Fathers are under growing pressure as professionals to be constantly reinventing themselves to be competitive in a brutal job market.  The days of a man spending decades working in the same place are over.  Young men who enter today’s job market will change jobs at least five or six times over the course of their careers, provided they can find employment without intermittent job loss.

The pressure on men to be breadwinners is daily and can crush the pride of a man.  Globalization has shattered job security, and union busting, worker intimidation, and global trade patterns that drive down wages and lead to business closings threaten economic justice in this country. This has increased pressure on employers not to provide health insurance for their employees or to provide coverage that is not sufficient for families.  And so men and women both work to make ends meet. This raises issues of daycare, childcare, shortages of time to spend with each other in the family unit and concerns about family and faith formation.  And in the process the kinds of very practical issues humorously portrayed in the story of John and Nancy are very real indeed.  Male and female roles are changing and pressures on families grow.  How do we as Christians keep our spiritual values in a secular world that often viciously assaults them?

The first way it is done is by never, never, never, letting God out of your life.  Men are often wired to think that they have to solve the problems of their lives by themselves. In a foolish belief that they control events, a mistake a woman would never make, men can believe that prayer is something for women and children for old widows or for men who are sissies. But time spent with God in prayer, the sacraments, the Mass, and Scripture is always time well spent. And God is always there; ready to clear the confusion and be merciful and forgiving even to clueless men like the John in our story.

The pressures placed on fathers to keep their families safe and secure should never crowd out the one source that is always there to offer us joy and peace. By surrendering to God our troubles, challenges, and crises and asking for God’s help, we can discern what we need to do to preserve our families values and needs.  A life based on service to God and others is the path to salvation in the next life, but it is also the path to joy and peace in this one.

Secondly, in dealing with the challenges of today’s fatherhood, we also have the consolation of Christian truth. That truth is that we have been made in God’s image and likeness.  God does have a plan for the human race, for both men and women.  It is a plan by which all of us can return to God through an ever-deeper relationship with Jesus Christ. And that relationship is about service-based love to one another. We need only look to Scripture and the 2000-year teaching tradition of the church to discern the proper role of maleness. Scripture and Catholic tradition tell us that the nature of human fatherhood is related directly to the nature of God himself. God the Father gave us all life.  Human fathers also give life.

But the Judeo-Christian God is a tender loving God.  God the Father cares for his people. He pays the ultimate price for his children by laying down the life of His only begotten son, God in the person of Jesus.  And so fathers are called to be tender and loving and to lay down their lives for their wives and children.  The covenant relationship that God has with his people is unique to the Judeo-Christian heritage of faith. That heritage stresses that God showers his graces upon his people. And so Christian fathers are called to that same covenant with their wives and children, a covenant that also emulates the love of Jesus Christ for his church, making the family the domestic church with a father at its head.

But the spiritual authority of men includes being able to respond to loving feedback and shared responsibility from women and even children. Women as well as men, St. Paul points out this morning in his letter to the Galatians, are called to live in the spirit of Christ. Fathers need and are called to accept loving advice about how best to act on and carry out their fatherly responsibilities.

Complementarity is critical to a successful marriage and family life. Adam had everything in the Garden of Eden.  Yet Scripture says he was unhappy, because he needed a partner that would complement him and make him whole. This gender-based partnership of mutual love is essential to the happiness of males as well as females and without such an order; peace in human affairs is impossible, not just at home but in our society as well.

In this regard, Jesus in his public life promoted and stressed the dignity of women. While women were not apostles, they were clearly disciples and supporters as we read about today in our Gospel from Luke. We can imagine that Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Susanna and others did more than just the dishes. They were sources of financial support and sources of the incredible wisdom that women always bring to any table, not just the one in the kitchen.

Men and women complement each other. Men try to be clever, but wisdom is for women (wisdom is always referred to as she in Scripture). Men’s minds are analytic, women’s are holistic.  Women see the forest, men see the trees. Men’s desire to act is leavened by woman’s wisdom in discerning whether action will do more harm than good. Men talk to a subject, women communicate about a subject.

Women humanize men. They often demonstrate greater human dignity in the face of masculine rowdiness and contain and prevent that rowdiness from getting out of control and doing real damage in human affairs. Because women are often more vulnerable to the effects of public authority, they have every right, in the teachings of the Church, to participate fully in public life, seeking economic justice that is legally-based and enforceable, and counseling their husbands to do the same.

Additionally, while gender complementarity is a part of Christian truth, in some spheres gender mutuality is also perfectly appropriate. Contrary to John’s view in our story, there is no special female way to cook or clean, or run errands, or change diapers, or feed the kids or drive them to a whole range of activities.  Male authority, when exercised with dominion not domination, with sacrifice not selfishness is ultimately a strength in human affairs and not a repressive force. While on this earth, Jesus was given all authority over the world. But he did not lord it over anyone; he was in fact the ultimate lord of love who gave up everything for those he loved.  And fathers are called to do the same.

Jesus reminds us in our Gospel today that fathers and mothers, men and women are all called to deny their own desires for the benefit of God and others. The authority given by God to men is a stewardship of the world that is to be shared with women, a service-based love of God and others that takes place in spheres of both the profound and mundane. It is the key to the building of a new earth filled with joy and peace in this life and a new heaven for both men and women in the next.
 

When I first began to wear hearing aids, I was awed to hear sounds that I had never heard before, but in due time I grew accustomed to them. Psychologists tell us that if we paid attention to every sound we heard or every color we saw, we would literally go insane. To protect ourselves, we learn to block out certain sounds and sights. They call this process, “habituation.” Parents and teenagers call it “tuning out.”

There is a down side to habituation. After a while, we tend to habituate almost anything in life like sunsets, landscapes, or family. We lose our appreciation and excitement for the things we see all the time when we take them for granted.

Have some of us have added Eucharist to that list? When I say, “Body of Christ,” and the person receiving communion gives me either no response or a lifeless, “amen,” I wonder if we share the same belief in what I just said. If a fellow Catholic decides to skip Mass, I wonder if we share the same belief in what Eucharist can do for us.

Just before communion, the celebrant holds up the cup and host and boldly proclaims in this or similar words, “This is the lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world. Happy are those who are invited to this supper.” Are you happy to be invited? Does being here make a difference in your busy schedule or would you prefer to be elsewhere?

Ideally every Catholic would be thrilled to be here at the Lord’s Table. This meal should be the highlight of our week yet looking around; you and I both know that not everyone who could be here is present for any number of reasons. For some, other activities are more important or appealing than the chance to be with Jesus at Mass.

Much of our attitude toward Eucharist and the Mass depends on what we personally believe. The core of our Catholic faith is that bread and wine when consecrated, become for us the body and blood of Jesus Christ. Not symbols, as many other Christians believe, but truly the real presence of Jesus Christ.  Our Catechism tells us, “Under the consecrated species of bread and wine Christ himself, living and glorious, is present in a true, real and substantial manner: his body and his blood, with his soul and his divinity.” (1413). When you stop to think about it, the Real Presence is no more incredible than the incarnation itself. If God would choose to become human to make divinity present to us, why couldn’t Christ change bread and wine into his divinity and humanity?

Nonetheless, numerous surveys reveal that not all Catholics believe in the real presence of Jesus Christ even though this is what fundamentally separates us from other Christians. Contrary to what the Church teaches, many Catholics don’t believe that the bread and wine, once consecrated, have truly become the body and blood of Jesus Christ.

If you don’t believe in what the Eucharist is, I ask that you decline the invitation to come to this supper. Instead, stay in your seat and ponder what is stopping you from accepting this crucial belief of our faith. St. Cyril of Jerusalem, 1600 years ago, said, “Don’t judge the reality by what you see and touch and taste. Judge instead by your unwavering faith.” Before that, St. Augustine said, “Faith opens the door to understanding.  Unbelief closes it.”

How readily we are impacted by what is unfolding before us depends on the level of faith and love we bring with us to Mass. Just how open are you to God’s presence? When we approach the Mass without active faith in Jesus’ presence, we are pretty much in the same boat as the unbelieving crowds we often encounter in the gospels. They saw a carpenter, an itinerant preacher, an ordinary man. They didn’t see God and neither do we when we fail to see Christ present in our midst in the Word and in the Eucharist.

Even if we say that we believe in the real presence, our words are hollow if we don’t express our faith by our actions. Noting how nonchalantly many Catholics approached the Mass, a non Catholic once said, “If I believe what you say you believe, I’d be crawling to that tabernacle every day on my hands and knees to be with the One you say is in there.”

The way we approach the Mass, that is, our preparation, conduct, and follow up, reflects our belief in what is happening. Do we see ourselves as coming here to be in the presence of our God? Chances are, there is room for improvement to make the Mass more meaningful for us.

The Church calls on us to fast for an hour before communion for good reason. We should get out of our normal routine by quieting ourselves down to be in God’s presence. Seize the moment to ponder the readings beforehand or use the time in private prayer to prep yourself to pray with one another. Think of this time before Mass as a warm up time, much like one warms up before exercising.  Ask yourself, “Does the way I dress reflect that I am about to encounter God in this gathering?” Do you see this as an extraordinary opportunity or not? What if it were the President who was waiting to see you? Would you come nonchalantly or ill prepared?

If you are indeed happy to be invited to this meal, and I hope you are, then savor the moment. Take and eat, Jesus tells us. He didn’t say, eat and run. Allow him to then transform your lives in this extraordinary encounter that has changed the lives of countless believers.
 

“Lord, send out your spirit and renew the face of the earth.” Such was our response to today’s psalm but what is this spirit we are asking for to renew the face of the earth? One way to appreciate the role of the Holy Spirit in our lives was inadvertently demonstrated by a five year old boy.

His mother had brought him to a concert by the great Polish pianist, Ignace Paderewski, hoping that the experience would encourage her son in his own young efforts at music. She was delighted to see their seats were close to the stage. The mother then got so involved talking with an old friend that she failed to notice her son had slipped away.

The lights dimmed and the audience hushed. The curtains parted and the spotlight came on. Then the mother saw her son sitting on the piano bench, innocently picking out, “Twinkle, twinkle little star.”  Understandably, she gasped in disbelief, but before she could retrieve her son, Paderewski came on stage. Walking over to the piano, he whispered to the boy, “Don’t stop! Keep playing!”

Then, leaning over the boy, Paderewski reached out his left hand and began to fill in the bass. A few seconds later, he reached around to the other side of the boy, encircling him, and added a running obbligato. Together, the great maestro and the tiny five year-old mesmerized the audience with their playing. When they finished, the audience broke out in a thunderous applause.

Years later, almost all those present could not remember the other pieces that were played that night, but no one forgot “Twinkle, twinkle little star.”

The interaction between the great maestro and the five year old boy provides a beautiful image of how the Holy Spirit works with the Church to make the beautiful music of God’s love audible in today’s world.

On Pentecost we celebrate the coming of the Holy Spirit upon the disciples, as Jesus had promised.  “The advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything and remind you of all that I told you.”

Recall the image of Paderewski and the young boy.  Think of the boy as the disciples. When Jesus parted from their midst, they were like spiritual children. Their knowledge of God and how to spread the good news of Jesus Christ was terribly limited, like the little boy’s knowledge of music was.

Like the great maestro, the Holy Spirit came upon the disciples and encircled them with love, whispering words of encouragement and transforming their feeble human efforts into something beautiful and beyond anyone’s expectations.

Like the little boy, we play our tune. In our own way, we proclaim to others what is important to us. We make that known by what we say and do. Ideally that would be our faith in the good news of Jesus Christ. Seeing ourselves as evangelists may seem daunting to say the least, but no more than it must have been initially to the disciples. Empowered by the Holy Spirit, they began proclaiming the good news to anyone who would listen.

Like the disciples on the eve of that first Pentecost, most of us underestimate our potential and talents. In the face of all that has to be done, we see ourselves as being inadequate to make a difference when it comes to renewing the face of the earth, but believe me; you are quite capable of doing what is being asked of you for your mission is summed up in one word: love.

In a world that is filled with so much violence, poverty, and indifference, you might shrug your shoulders and say to yourself, “But what difference can I make? How could I possibly change the situation?”

For starters, allow the Spirit to work within you and renew you.  When you follow your conscience against temptation, you are allowing the Spirit to work within you. The world is a better place because one less sin has been committed. When you succeed in getting out of yourself and reaching out to someone, the Spirit is there to empower you. The world is a better place because love was present. When you forgo a pleasurable feeling for a simple joy, you are in the Spirit. The world is a better place because God became real.

In the gospel, Jesus spells out what he expects of us. “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.” Do this and I will give you a helping hand. To enable us to carry out our mission, he assures us that the Spirit will be sent to remind us of what he taught.  Like the Maestro guiding the young boy, the Spirit is there to help us with our obbligato in life:  to love more and sin less than we ever thought possible by transforming us into something powerful and beautiful.

Pentecost isn’t just a celebration of a past event. This feast is also a timely reminder that together with the Spirit, we can renew the face of the earth, each in our own way. Imagine the Spirit whispering in your ears, “Don’t stop! Keep playing! The world needs to hear our song!” Working hand in hand, may we always see ourselves as the community of faith, hope, love and forgiveness that we are called to be.