The Feast of The Transfiguration- August 6, 2017

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Josép R. Martínez-Cubero,OHC

The Transfiguration- Sunday, August 6, 2017

Br. Josép R. Martínez-Cubero, OHC

Among the ministries I will be engaged in this fall, is directing a fundraising production of “The Curious Savage”, a wonderful play by the late American playwright John Patrick, at Saint George’s Episcopal Church in Newburgh. A few weeks ago, once I was finished planning the rehearsal schedule, I met with our prior (who had enthusiastically approved of this ministry) to let him know when I would have to be absent from the monastery.

I was proud of my plan- rehearsals on Saturday evenings that would require my absence from Compline, rehearsals on Sunday afternoons that would allow me to be back for Vespers, and rehearsals on Monday evenings. Mondays are our Sabbath days, so I would not be missing anything. After a pause that was short but felt perplexing to me, Br. Bernard said: “Josép, I’m not comfortable with the idea of you taking Sabbath time to do ministry.” I was shocked, and said: “But, I thought it would be a good thing that I wouldn’t be missing Compline two nights in a row every week for the duration of the production.” His response was: “Taking Sabbath time is more important than not missing Compline for a few weeks”. So, the rehearsals will be on Friday evenings instead of Mondays.

We have learned from the rabbis that, the Sabbath exists because God desired us to have rest. Taking Sabbath allows us time to evaluate our work as God evaluated God's work, to see if our work was equally good. Sabbath is a gift from God that gives us time to reflect on the meaning of life. Sabbath is resting time, and thinking time designed to change us, so that we can then change the world.

 One of the most common themes about the problems of modern society is busyness. The world is very, very busy, and we, in monasteries, are in no way protected from this. But Jesus and his apostles were incredibly busy, too. In Luke’s gospel, before the section we heard this morning, Jesus and his apostles had been through all the neighboring villages preaching, and curing diseases. They had dealt with, and fed thousands of people.

Mark’s gospel tells us that after a whole day of preaching in the synagogues, Jesus cures Simon’s mother-in-law, to then come out of the house to what is described as the whole city bringing people sick with various diseases to him. Later on in that gospel we see Jesus so exhausted, that he is sound asleep in a boat in the middle of a storm at sea. It is clear that Jesus and his apostles were very busy. It is also clear that Jesus would do to leave all the demands of his ministry behind to go to desolate places and pray. Our gospel lesson this morning is about such an occasion- Jesus taking time off with Peter, James, and John, leaving the demands of the anxious crowds behind, and taking Sabbath time up on the mountain to pray.

Mountains, in Greek, Hebrew, Roman and Asian religious literature, were always places where the human could touch the divine. In Celtic Christian tradition, there are times and places when and where the distance between heaven and earth evaporates so that the boundary separating them becomes permeable, like a veil that is parted. The Celts call these thin places, times and places we become so saturated with the presence of God that our hearts are opened, and we are transformed to our more essential selves. Today’s gospel reading describes such a time and place.

When Jesus prayed up on that mountain, the disciples couldn’t miss the Divine presence, and before they could rub their eyes, alongside Jesus, were Moses and Elijah in the present, as if time were a veil to be parted and stepped through. Peter wanted to freeze the moment so that nothing would slip away. “Let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” The dwellings he proposed were tents, the same used during the Jewish Festival of Booths, a celebration that remembers the past wanderings through the wilderness during the exodus.

Peter wanted to celebrate the past, and to memorialize this Divine presence so that nothing would change. I must confess that I identify with Peter. When I experience those “thin places” in my life, when the presence of God is so powerful that I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt that it is good for me to be there, the first thing I want to do is grab my camera, to freeze time so that nothing will change. But as Danish philosopher, Soren Kierkegaard once wrote, “Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.”

Moses and Elijah were speaking to Jesus about his departure, a word translated from the original Greek as “exodus.” They spoke of this exodus, not as something that would happen to him, something Jesus would accomplish. God was revealing a larger story that was not over. Like Moses before him, Jesus was to set God’s people free, only this time it was not from bondage to pharaoh, but from bondage to their own fear of sin and death.

The journey Peter wanted to memorialize was not over. And before Peter, James and John knew it Jesus was taking them down that mountain, into a world of illness yet to be cured, lepers that were still banned from society, and sinners who did not know they were forgiven. Jesus took Peter, James, and John back to the unbelieving officials, to the ineffective institutions, and to the demons down below.

This is not a gospel lesson about transcending the world. It is a story about God, who interrupts us and says: "Listen" to Jesus, and calls us to be transformed so that we can transform the world. This gospel lesson calls us to Sabbath, to become enlightened, and to come into an awareness of life. That is what Saint Irenaeus of Lyons was talking about when he said, “The glory of God is the human person fully alive”. Just as we are transformed in those thin places, we are called to participate in the continuing story, to come down the mountain into the valley of our humanity and the world around us, and bring it as close as we possibly can to the vision of God. Why? Well, scripture is very clear. What God changes, God changes through us, and we can’t achieve this by freezing a moment, but by taking up our cross, and following Christ with the confidence that what lies ahead is even greater than what we’ve already experienced. ~¡Que así sea! Amen+.

References:

1. Marcus J. Borg, The Heart of Christianity: Rediscovering a Life of Faith (Harper Collins, 1998)
2. Sandra Schneiders, IHM, Buying the Field: Catholic Religious Life in Mission to the World (Paulist Press, 2013)
3. Joan Chittister, OSB, 30 Good Minutes: The Role of Religion in Today’s Society (Transcribed and edited from program first aired on November 24, 1991.)
4. Barbara Brown Taylor, Dazzling Darkness: Luke 9:28-36, (The Christian Century, February, 1998)
5. Bruce J. Malina, Richard L. Rohrbaugh, Social-Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels (Fortress Press, Second Edition, 2003

Proper 11- Year A- June 23, 2017

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Randy Greve, OHC
Proper 11 -  Sunday, June 23, 2017

Br. Randy Greve, OHC

“Whoever says, ‘You fool’ shall be liable to the hell of fire.” “If your right eye causes you to sin, pluck it out and throw it away.” “If anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.” “Love you enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” “You, therefore, must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” “Do not think that I have come to bring peace on earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.” “For many are called, but few are chosen.” “You brood of vipers, how are you to escape being sentenced to hell?”

You get the idea. These phrases, out of context though they be, hyperbole though a few certainly are, are nevertheless the words of our Lord.  F. F. Bruce wrote a book called The Hard Sayings of Jesus which collected and made comment on what Bruce called two categories of hard sayings; one group hard because they are an ancient culture’s idiomatic way of communicating, thus making their meaning to us unclear and their interpretation difficult. The other group he labelled hard sayings because their meaning was crystal clear - the doing it is hard.   

Parables could be their own third category of hard sayings in the Gospels. Some have a clear moral message, but some are of the more mystical variety, and oriented toward a way of being rather than a particular action.  Our Gospel today is of this second grouping. They describe the mystery of a process:  a small, insignificant seed grows into a large tree. A bit of fermentation permeates a whole loaf of bread. A hidden treasure inspires one last, ultimate purchase.  A merchant searches for the one, great, elusive find.

 A net gathers in whatever happens to be swimming within reach. The images in these parables find commonality in their service to something greater than themselves at the beginning – the seed is not the tree, only its potential. The yeast of itself is useless without the dough. The hidden treasure, unless found, remains unknown. The one searching is not fulfilled without the discovered pearl. The net, unless it is used and cast, cannot get fish on its own. Each parable is about hidden power or desire let loose to do its thing; potential actualized which sets in motion a process which leads to fulfillment. Each object or motive needs activation, purposefulness, and meaning in order to do what makes its existence or action transcendent.

As a group these mini-parables begin to form some insight into the mystery of the kingdom of heaven. God is the cosmic conspirator of abundance. Kingdom is a verb. Kingdom is happening in the crisis of the recognition of the divine. The kingdom is not some distant or static time or place, but already present and happening now. It is a crisis because if truly recognized, its happening cannot be ignored.The reality of the kingdom is in encountering which must become responding, a reorienting of our lives around and toward that central, ultimate reality. The focus in parables is always on the urgency of the moment, the power of choice, which is all that is ours.

The parables of judgment which mention the end of this age are still of the present moment in rousing us to notice the path we are on – and its eventual endpoint. To our passivity and lack of attention, the kingdom can come as the experience of failure, but the cooperation with a process larger and more mysterious than we can grasp in the moment transforms the upheaval into life that could not happen any other way. If the Christian call is to being that is present to the possibility of this encounter and receiving it willingly, then these parables help us to know the kind of life we are welcoming.

Kingdom life is always a critique of our desire for immediate gratification, recognition, or control. The merchant is a good example of this. “Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.” This is a hard saying, although it is not mentioned in F. F. Bruce’s book.  Loving enemies and turning the other cheek have a certain concrete moral authority behind them – I can generally tell whether I’m even making an attempt or not.  “In search” is certainly a hard saying. I want the great experience, the miracle, the big success, the quick fix. “Search” is more open-ended, a way of being bigger than the neat, nailed-down answers that get me out of the tension. On a search I am not in control, do not know the where or when.

I want to achieve, get it done, do it right. On a search I cannot conform, there is no map. Searching evokes a commitment to presence and attention and expectancy, especially if something of great value is waiting to be found. And in finally finding I am defined by new relationships and commitments, “selling” my old identity for the value of the priceless pearl.

Parables resist easy moralizing because they bend time and space. Is the merchant encountering the kingdom in the search, in finding the treasure, in selling all, or in buying it?  Yes. It is not linear. They are happening simultaneously.  In the searching is the hope of finding and selling all and buying the pearl. Erasmo Leiva-Merikakis says in his commentary that, “this is the joy uniquely inherent in the one act that is at once, paradoxically, an act of supreme freedom and of supreme self-giving, of most radical self-emptying and of unimaginable fullness.”

Hard sayings are hard because they are telling us something about ourselves.  It is not that Jesus is harsh, demanding, or rigid, but that these unflinching declarations about reality hit the equally unbending reality of my willfulness. But the parables will not bend.

It is I who must yield to their wisdom.  If the parables and other provocative sayings of Jesus did not challenge our status quo, we would not choose to cooperate with the process of change desiring to work in us. Hard is good. Hard means they have the force of grace to break up my resistance, to reach my heart and change me as nothing else can.

The mystery of the kingdom is that God has chosen to be present and active in a way that is usually contrary to our egos’ inclination. This is the gift and the madness of the way of Jesus.  While the miraculous can happen, most of the journey is day-to-day faithfulness in the realm of the hidden, small, and slow. The hiddenness, smallness and slowness of the kingdom calls forth attentiveness, patience, perseverance, and a trust that something is indeed happening and that it matters in the long run and in the big picture, even though I can only see partially and incompletely. Like the merchant searching for his perfect pearl, the distance between me and the pearl I desire is my conversion. And in this searching and hope my heart is formed into something more wonderful and loving than it could be by itself, because it encounters itself and rests within the reality of God’s conspiracy of abundance.

The conspiracy unfolds in God’s own way and God’s own time, but unfold it does.  Everything on the way to heaven is heaven, St. Catherine of Siena says.  Cultivate and honor the longing and waiting, it is doing its work. Let us plant our seeds and mix in our yeast and set out on our search and cast our nets – and trust in God’s name. Amen.

Proper 9 - Year A - Sunday July 9, 2017

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Robert James Magliula, OHC

Proper 9 - Year A  - Sunday July 9,2017

Robert James Magliula 

When asked to distill the Gospel to its purest, most primitive expression —devoid of doctrine or dogma— the spiritual writer, Henri Nouwen contended that God was saying to the world in Jesus, “Come close.” We hear the same invitation in the beautiful passage from the Song of Solomon this morning. God has been trying to entice us to come close throughout all of salvation history. Jesus said to all who would listen, “Come nearer to this ultimate reality called Abba---with the simple-heartedness of a child running into the arms of its mother. Don’t keep your distance from God any longer. Become like trusting children, and come close.”

Immediately our inner, jaded self squirms. There’s got to be a catch. It’s too simple, too free of an invitation to swallow. How much more comfortable we would be with an invitation like “Come …all you deserving… all you bright and understanding ones… all you pious …all you considered worldly successes.”

Jesus knew God and called all who would listen to enter into this unique relationship with God. No questions were asked; no restrictions were laid down. All that was required to receive the invitation was a desire to trust and come close. Those who responded were not the educated or the sophisticated, but those who simply wanted change. They were the ones burdened by systems of economic and religious oppression imposed on them from above. They had no possibility of adhering to the purity code of the day. They were the unobservant and the unclean---tax collectors, shepherds, lepers, and prostitutes.

The Gospel today begins with the children of the land whose song is not understood. Jesus isn’t addressing individuals but the society as a whole, the entire generation. In this past week of patriotic celebration of the strength and determination of our nation, how can we fail to reflect on the ways in which our generation fails to understand the reasons for dancing and the reasons for weeping. We are so easily lulled by the other songs of our culture that we not only miss the moment that matters, but we regularly dance when we ought to mourn our burdened world. Jesus’ prayer is not for the powerful, wise, and intelligent who get our attention, but for those who are far from the places of influence that we yearn for. In God’s realm the things that attract our human attention are barely noticed. It is the innocent who somehow understand best the ways of God. Jesus’ invitation to intimacy births a significant engagement with our world before he offers his words of comfort:

Come to me all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and Iwill give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. (Matt. 11:28-30)

Setting yoke and easy next to each other seems paradoxical---especially considering the hot sun and rocky fields of Palestine. How can a heavy yoke rubbing on the necks of struggling oxen symbolize peace of heart and mastery of life’s problems? It boils down to this. By making Christ the master partner in our lives, by yoking ourselves to him, enables us to harness power beyond our own. It enables us to control and discipline our inner divisions. It may sound paradoxical to speak of discipline and obedience as conducive to freedom but that’s because we have a misguided notion about freedom having no responsibility. Freedom implies choice to be or do something. Discipline liberates us from our appetites that enslave us as strongly as any chains can.

In today’s epistle. Paul is describing the inner struggle of every heart. For all of his desire for living the Christian life, he boasted most of his weakness. For what Paul wanted to do and what Paul did were constantly at odds. He assumes that every one of us knows what this conflict feels like. Although this civil war raged within, for him the victory was found in Christ. His inner struggle was not the final story of who he was. Neither was his self-contradiction. His deepest self was yoked to Christ, whom he found most loving and powerful at the times of his greatest weakness. It released him from sin’s power to shame and destroy.

Paul views sin not as the breaking of a rule, but rather as the distortion of a relationship. The idolatrous distortion of our proper relationship with God, this turning from God-centeredness to self-centeredness, introduces a darkening of mind into the very center of our being. The turn to self-assertion unleashes the self’s insatiable desire to secure its own acceptability through acquisition and possession rather than trust in God’s love. The self’s means for converting its good intentions into good deeds is infected by the futility of self-centeredness. It draws itself by sheer willpower further from God. If Paul’s bad news is that the self is trapped and cannot rescue itself, Paul’s good news is that God intervenes in Jesus. God’s grace draws and restores the self back to God-centered wholeness.  In and with Christ, Paul carried on, falling down and getting back up. This is how he could go on in the midst of change and an uncertain future. He had accepted the invitation to come close, which enabled him to face anything.

We are so heavily invested in perfection---or at least the illusion of perfection. Paul assures us that doing the right thing apart from God’s grace is a losing battle. It is not that we are simply weak or lazy or not trying hard enough. There are forces at work in us with which we cannot contend. The will may be strong, but the flesh rules the day. Those who believe they are responsible for their own salvation, through military might or political power, through intellectual prowess or personal magnetism, have no need of the comforting arms of Jesus. He will not trouble them with heaven’s gifts.

Jesus insists that the trusting and the lowly know and accept his blessing. His invitation for us to come close draws us to identify with the suffering and struggle of those who live on the fringes of our society and our lives. 

Personal transformation and social transformation are of one piece. The true spiritual quest is that the world becomes whole and we along with it. Comfort and rest in this endeavor is not offered to the strongest and most powerful. It is offered to those who have been made weary by a world that fails to comprehend the burden of injustice. It is to those who recognize their need and the need of others that Jesus comes with comfort, lifting life’s burdens and offering rest. +Amen.