There’s something about climbing a mountain, of any kind, that lends itself to leaning in. Stepping ahead, slowing down, gaining traction, sometimes even resting. Hints here and there—leading, reaching, stretching—all progress in this journey.
There’s something about climbing a mountain, of any kind, that lends itself to letting go. Noticing moments filled with movement; movement filled with moments. Some are silent and others not. Some are focused more than others. A mix of sorts, obstacles slowly falling away, leaving room for air as well as airing.
There’s something about climbing a mountain, of any kind, that lends itself to learning. Exploring ups and downs, reflecting on what’s over, up ahead, or coming around. Changing ever changing, discovering what’s important and tossing what is not.
Jesus took Peter, James, and his brother, John, and led them up a high mountain by themselves. And he was transfigured before them; his face shone like the sun and his clothes became white as light. And behold, Moses and Elijah appeared to them, conversing with him. Then Peter said to Jesus in reply, “Lord, it is good that we are here. If you wish, I will make three tents here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” While he was still speaking, behold, a bright cloud cast a shadow over them, then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.” When the disciples heard this, they fell prostrate and were very much afraid. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Rise, and do not be afraid.” And when the disciples raised their eyes, they saw no one else but Jesus alone.
As they were coming down from the mountain, Jesus charged them, “Do not tell the vision to anyone until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.” – Mt 17:1-9
Opening the oven door as the kitchen timer worked its way toward zero seconds, an unanticipated outcome awaited. The bread inside, although cooked through, was not quite what was expected. Shocked at its stature and the rather dense outcome, and wondering what happened, I revisited all that went into its making. First, I envisioned all the steps, and then opened cabinet doors to look again at some of the baking ingredients, but nothing stood out.
Upon thinking some more, and feeling certain that baking powder was added, I thought perhaps it was expired and had lost its potency. Then, there it was. In the process of re-examining, the problem was revealed. It wasn’t baking powder after all that was used. The canister had the same shape, height, color, and text, but rather than containing baking powder, it held cornstarch. And although the bread tasted almost the same as any other banana bread that was made, its consistency and body was not at all the same.
Contemplating the Gospel passage for the Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Matthew 13:24-43) and reflecting on Jesus’ words as he tells the parables of weeds among wheat, the mustard seed, and the yeast, one is reminded of the importance of what goes into things. Or, in other words, what makes them up or influences them. Are there hidden ingredients? What’s the intent, the source, or motivation, and what, ultimately, is being sought?
So how does one really know what’s what with so much that is conflicting and competing in the midst of what can be confusing and misleading times? How does one distinguish between what things look like and what they really are, and decipher what’s happening around them and how it might be influencing them?
Prior to the Gospel, in this week’s readings, we read:
“The Spirit comes to the aid of our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes with inexpressible groanings. And the one who searches hearts knows what is the intention of the Spirit, because he intercedes for the holy ones according to God’s will.”—Romans 8:26-27
To discover what’s real, or what’s true, one must not only be willing to take a good look inside and out, but also be willing to look again, and then some more, searching with a heart that is sincere and an openness to the possibility that what looked like baking powder might not have ever been baking powder at all.
Breaking free of all that is clutter, To step away can be a struggle. More than noise and expectations, Theories and persuasion. Competing, always competing, Ever disguising might as right. What is it with this clutter, Going round both day and night?
It can be hard and very trying, To move beyond its reach, Or to strive to rise above it.
Yet, sometimes a willing heart, Into the wide and open air, Is all it really takes.
Then, leaning back, to catch a glimpse, And take a breath so deep, It carries inner strength and peace. Filled with hope and gentle wisdom, It’s time to return to what was left behind. Somehow, it’s all the same, But also, very different.
Because the loaf of bread is one, we, though many, are one body, for we all partake of the one loaf. – 1 Cor 10:17
Today, April 22, 2023, as we head into the 3rd Sunday of Easter, we celebrate Earth Day. The earth has been around for over 4.5 billion years, and Earth day? It has been celebrated for 53 years—since 1970.
Despite the comparatively young age of Earth Day, an appreciation for, and the call to honor and preserve the beauty of our planet, nature, and all creation has been ongoing for a far greater time than has been documented. In fact, it’s part of the plan, and path of life. Yet, as with many things, it can become a battle ground… a place for sides to be formed, to rise up against each other, to hold firm, to lose sight, and to stall any attempts at dialogue and resolution, never mind love and mercy.
In the readings for the 3rd Sunday of Easter (Acts 2:14, 22-23; Ps 16:1-2,5, 7-8, 9-10, 11; 1 Pt 1:17-21, and Lk 24:13-35), there lies an invitation to connect more strongly with the path of life as being bigger, and sweeping more broadly, than the circle in which any one individual, or group, travels. So often when we think we know, we don’t. The issues at hand are always more than what we can see, and the way that any one individual may or may not be affected, cannot be used to color the experience of all of humankind. How, after all, is it possible to be open to Divinity, without being open to possibilities?
Turning to Scripture, it seems that those who sought to crucify Jesus, were so sure that he was a threat. It’s clear that His ways were not in line enough with theirs and one can imagine how that might jeopardize their sense of identity, authority, power, and control. We can see how their ability to move in ways that embraced and imbued love, truth, justice, and mercy was hindered by their inability to recognize that they were seeing and acting through their own, limited understanding. There was no room for God on the path to which they were so deeply committed, and this led to them receiving and reacting in fear and seeking even greater control, rather than responding with love.
On the other hand, Jesus, who reacted with love and was inspired by God, could not be held down, even by death.
This man, delivered up by the set plan and foreknowledge of God, you killed, using lawless men to crucify him. But God raised him up, releasing him from the throes of death, because it was impossible for him to be held by it. For David says of him: I saw the Lord ever before me, with him at my right hand I shall not be disturbed. Therefore my heart has been glad and my tongue has exulted; my flesh, too, will dwell in hope, because you will not abandon my soul to the netherworld, nor will you suffer your holy one to see corruption. You have made known to me the paths of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence. – Acts 2:23-28
This is the message of our faith, and the model that we are to follow. Our faith and hope is to be placed in God, and doing so, our words and actions will reflect the Way of God. The Way where our eyes are opened and our hearts burn with desire to be in the service of Love, wherever it leads.
On the road to Emmaus, the two disciples requested of Jesus, “Stay with us” (Lk 24:29).
In our striving, we must do the same, and like the disciples, we must also leave room for the breaking of bread and having hearts that are open to receive, with the love of Jesus, whatever may be revealed.
“You cannot get through a single day without having an impact on the world around you. What you do makes a difference, and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make.” – Jane Goodall
Meet me at the Intersection. You know the place. The one where our wills meet, And where differences are laid aside. The one where hearts meld for all.
Meet me at the Intersection. You know the place. The one where face to face, Our guards recline and fears subside, As we recall the beauty of our Oneness.
Meet me at the Intersection. You know the place. The one, and only One, Where we help each other, And the choices made, Regardless of their ilk, Shine with greater Glory.
Meet me at the Intersection. You know the place. The one where we walk, hand in hand, And there is no wedge between us. Where we recall, together is our destiny.
Meet me at the Intersection, You know the place. For there is no other way, But the Way—open, just, and free, As life, in all its Glory, rises to its fullness.
When Jesus and the disciples drew near Jerusalem and came to Bethphage on the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, “Go into the village opposite you, and immediately you will find an ass tethered, and a colt with her. Untie them and bring them here to me. And if anyone should say anything to you, reply, ‘The master has need of them.’ Then he will send them at once.” This happened so that what had been spoken through the prophet might be fulfilled: Say to daughter Zion, “Behold, your king comes to you, meek and riding on an ass, and on a colt, the foal of a beast of burden.” The disciples went and did as Jesus had ordered them. They brought the ass and the colt and laid their cloaks over them, and he sat upon them. The very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches from the trees and strewed them on the road. The crowds preceding him and those following kept crying out and saying: “Hosanna to the Son of David; blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord; hosanna in the highest.” And when he entered Jerusalem the whole city was shaken and asked, “Who is this?” And the crowds replied, “This is Jesus the prophet, from Nazareth in Galilee.” – Matthew 21:1-11
Sitting in the audience as the story continues to unfold, there is a scene where one character calls out, asking, will you love me either way? Do you care if I win, or if I lose? Then comes the response, something along the lines of, to be honest, I don’t really care about those kinds of things.
Thinking about this exchange, it’s interesting how importance is assigned and judgments are made that are often based upon our (society’s) lack of understanding. And, in the process, these “ideals” often stir up false notions of what is good, righteous, and true, and even worse, they often fuel fear, in the competition to keep or attain the imaginary security living up to them brings.
The scripture readings for the Fourth Sunday of Lent show how these false ideals can lead to fear and judgment and get in the way of actual goodness, righteousness, and truth.
In the first reading (1 Samuel 16:1-13), we learn how David, the youngest of Jesse’s sons, was chosen by God to be anointed by Samuel. Upon encountering Jesse and his sons, Samuel’s assumption is that the one to be anointed will have certain characteristics that could be judged at first sight. However, it is written, “God does not see as a mortal, who sees the appearance. The Lord looks into the heart.” (v. 7b). It turns out that the last, and least likely to be judged as the chosen one, is in fact, chosen, and for qualities that cannot be readily seen.
As we go through life, we are constantly subject to judgment based on external values (clothing, education, mode of transportation, location of and type of housing, etc.). We are constantly being marketed to and pulled toward someone else’s notion of how to be and someone else’s definition of success. We also hear so much about first impressions. None of these things, however, really inform anyone of the most important feature of humankind—the heart, or the most important voice—that of the Creator. They are almost always based upon the external, and often look past qualities that convey deeper meaning, value, and purpose.
In Psalm 23, verses 1-6, it is written, “The Lord guides me along the way of righteousness.” (v. 3b). These words encourage us to trust, like David, that the path of righteousness is made known to us through God. If we were to look solely at man-made ideas about what’s important and how to live, depending on where we were and who we were surrounded by, we might be okay, but even if we were, the person or people leading us, would still be susceptible to falling away from what is good, just, and true. So, it’s important to have a relationship with God and to entrust oneself to the One who really knows the way that is best, and whose focus is the well-being of all hearts and souls.
St. Paul expands on this notion in the Letter to the Ephesians (Ephesians 5:8-14), when he writes, “For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light, for light produces every kind of goodness and righteousness and truth.” (v. 8-9).
When we look to the Gospel According to John (chapter 9, verses 1-41), we see the Pharisees, on the surface, defending the faith. However, what they are really defending is a way of operating that breeds fear and judgment and seeks to confine, control, and conform God’s ways to their ways. How do we know this?
Looking at the actions and responses of the Pharisees, we can see how they treat the blind man who was healed, his parents, and Jesus. Their hearts are closed. At one point, they say to the blind man who can now see (because of Jesus), “You were born totally in sin, and are you trying to teach us?” (v. 34). After saying this, they removed the man from their presence. All for answering them truthfully, when he was interrogated for a second time and said, “This is what is so amazing, that you do not know where he is from, yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but if one is devout and does his will, he listens to him. It is unheard of that anyone ever opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he would not be able to do anything.” (v. 30-33).
During this Season of Lent, it’s a great time to reflect on our words and actions, and with this Sunday’s Scripture passages, an even better time to consider how fear and judgment come into play in what we see and how we respond.
From a young age, one is often taught to pay attention to the weather. When you hear thunder, go inside as rain, wind, and lightning may be near or approaching, if not already there. If there are heavy winds and/or lightning, stay inside and away from the windows, and so on. When there’s snow or sleet, beware of the road conditions—stay home. Most of what is taught about stormy weather is about actively retreating or staying put for one’s own well-being. Yet, sometimes, these efforts can instill fear and anxiety as the motivators for one’s actions.
Considering the state of, or conditions in the world today, the feeling or thought that we are in stormy times, both literally and figuratively, is palpable for so many. At times, it can lead one to retreat or stay put, shrinking, or turning away from active participation in the larger world. And while a certain amount of self-preservation can be good, withdrawal serves one and all best, not only when it is temporary, but also when one is intentional in how that time away is spent, and the choices and actions that result from it.
So, while the times may be stormy, perhaps the storm is perfect. Perfect for taking a step back and noticing for what one’s heart beats. Perfect for contemplating where one is, and where one is moved to be. Perfect for retreating to prayer and reflecting on what the world needs, one’s openness to the invitations of Grace that await, whether amid the storm, on its edges, or in an entirely different relation, and one’s desire to become more aware of what active participation in this stormy world might mean on a personal level, as well as how these storms can be overcome by being held as a meeting place for Jesus.
We often think or speak of the calm after the storm, and it often seems easier to appreciate the beauty of the sun after a rainstorm, or the snow-covered trees when removed from the threat and possible dangers of the driving winds and snow. However, Jesus tells us that he is with us always. Thus, the calm never ceases. It’s up to us though, to nurture our deepest, truest desires, to strive to invite peace into each situation, and to choose to not only look for, but to also navigate in, with, and through Grace. In doing so, we stay connected, our retreating or staying put remains temporary, and brings forth fruit that is lasting. Fruit that is ordained by God, bringing us back into the fold, with greater life, and as unconquered hearts whose actions flow from, and glorify God, and all creation.
Give me, O Lord, a steadfast heart, which no unworthy affection may drag downwards; give me an unconquered heart, which no tribulation can wear out; give me an upright heart, which no unworthy purpose may tempt aside. Bestow on me also, O Lord my God, understanding to know you, diligence to seek you, wisdom to find you, and faithfulness that may finally embrace you, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. – St. Thomas Aquinas
When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain, and after he had sat down, his disciples came to him. He began to teach them, saying: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the land. Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be satisfied. Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. Blessed are the clean of heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you and utter every kind of evil against you falsely because of me. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in heaven. Thus they persecuted the prophets who were before you.” – Mt 5:1-12
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