Author: patcamerino

Today’s question is about games for kids. And, no, it’s not about action games you play on an X-box 360. It’s about real games, not virtual ones. It’s a physical game. My question is this: how many of you remember “Hide-and-Seek?” How many of you played “Hide-and-Seek?” In fact, do they still play it?

Back in my day as a kid, it was probably much easier to play. There were a lot more trees and bushes around in my hometown. And you needed a lot of them! There was the “home tree,” of course. The tree where the one who was “it” had to hide his face and count at least to ten (or more, sometimes,) while everyone else ran to hide. Of course, you counted as fast as you could; and you didn’t peak – at least most of the time – before you yelled: “Ready or not, here I come.” Then you had to find all of the kids who were hiding behind those trees and bushes and run back and tag the home tree before they could. Yes, it involved a lot of running.

Running around, trying to make it home. Which brings me to another question, perhaps a more important one. How many of you have stopped playing “Hide-and-seek?” A game of hide-and-seek not only with other adults, but with God – with Father, Son and Holy Spirit?

How many of us feel that God is hiding from us? That the Father has hidden himself behind some huge tree in a vast forest? That Jesus is laughing quietly at us from behind the shrubbery? That the Holy Spirit doesn’t need to be invisible because he, too, is hiding behind a pile of rocks. Yes, God, for some of us – appears to be hiding from us and we are “it.” Our daily task is to run and find him.

Two thousand years ago, Jesus was walking along a road and was being followed by two of the disciples of John the Baptist. They were searching out the Lamb of God. Had they, too, thought that this Lamb of God was hiding from them? But he wasn’t. He was there in plain sight. He turned to them and asked a question. He said: “What are you looking for.” Do you believe he’s asking you the same question. “What are YOU looking for?” What are you searching for? What do you want out of life? What do you want IN life?

Do you desire a new car? A new house? A new job? A new spouse!? Do you need the latest electronic gadget to make you happy? Do you need more excitement in your life? Or perhaps, less excitement – more stability? Yes, he asks us the same question he asked those two followers long ago: “What do you seek?” And how did they respond? They asked their own question: “Where are you staying?”

“Where are you staying?” It’s a question that does not mean – “Where are you hiding?” Instead, it’s a question with a deeper meaning. It means: “Where are you abiding?” Where are you “living?” Where do you draw your strength, your comfort, your very being?

And his response? What did he say? “Come, and you will see.” He invited them to come with him. To experience how he lived. To be in his presence. To see and to be. This is what it means to become a disciple, a true follower. To observe the master in his totality and to become like the master by doing what the master does.

And what did the disciples do that day? They stayed with him. And when did they do this? According to the gospel we heard: “It was about four in the afternoon.” The end of the day was approaching. Yet, it was not too late for them to follow him. They listened and observed. They experienced the Lord, himself, – the life of the Lord, himself. It was not too late in the day for them to “come and see.” It is not too late for us, either, “to come and see” – to listen to the Lord, to experience him.

Our first reading tells us the same thing. It is never too late to hear the word of God, to hear his call – perhaps even for the first time. Samuel, the boy who served his master, Eli, was sleeping in the temple of the Lord and yet he had never experienced the Lord God. Nevertheless, the Lord God called to him. But, the young Samuel needed the help of his master, Eli, to respond: “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”

And the Lord God did speak to Samuel. He continued to speak to him throughout his lifetime. He spoke to him when Samuel anointed Saul as the first king of the Israelites and when, later, Samuel anointed David as Saul’s successor. Having answered the Lord God, having experienced the Lord God, Samuel became one who called others towards the Lord God.

And the same was true for Andrew, one of the disciples who stayed with and experienced Jesus the Christ on that long afternoon and evening. One who then rushed home to his brother, Simon, to tell him that they had found the Messiah.

Or had the Messiah found them? Who is “it” in this game of hide-and-seek? Perhaps, the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, our God, is not hiding behind trees, bushes and rocks. Perhaps he calls us to become, like Simon, the Rock itself. Perhaps it is we who are hiding from him?

Do you remember how the game of “Hide-and-Seek” ends? It ends in one of two ways. Either the kid who is “it” finds all of the hiders – or one of the hiders reaches the home tree and shouts: “Alli, Alli, in free.” It’s safe; come on in from hiding. Come home. It’s up to you to decide. Are you seeking God or is God seeking you? And who is the one who cries out: “Alli, Alli, in free?”

^{Second Sunday in Ordinary; January 15, 2006
1 Sam 3:3b-10,19; 1 Cor 6:13c-15a, 17-20; Jn 1:35-42}

The story in today’s gospel reading is a familiar one: the call of the first disciples – Simon, Andrew, James and John. Last week we heard a similar reading from John’s gospel. Today we have Mark’s version. In fact, today’s reading actually begins the cycle of readings for this liturgical year. This is the year for Marks’s gospel. Over the next five weeks, between now and Lent, all of our gospel readings will be from the first chapter of Mark.

Actually, much of Mark’s gospel can be summarized in one passage of today’s reading. That doesn’t mean you don’t need to listen to the gospel readings or the homilies for the next month if you happen to listen to today’s. What it does mean is that the focus for Mark is his initial statement of Jesus’ ministry: “This is the time of fulfillment. The reign God is at hand! Reform your lives and believe in the good news.”

This morning, I’d like for us to look at this focus of Mark – but first let’s begin our reflection with the latter part of today’s gospel story – the call of Simon, Andrew, James and John. However, I don’t want to start with the disciples, but rather with a seventh person mentioned in today’s reading. Not the four disciples: not Jesus, himself, nor John the Baptist who is mentioned in the opening line: “After John’s arrest, Jesus appeared in Galilee … “ but rather, I’d call your attention to Zebedee, the father of James and John.

Picture, if you will: Zebedee has been out fishing with his two sons and a few hired men. Zebedee has been making his living this way for years, fishing in the Sea of Galilee. No doubt he fished these waters with his own father. And now with his two strong, young sons. It’s likely James was in his early twenties, John perhaps in his mid- to late teens. They’ve been working all morning at the catch. It’s been a good one. Now at mid-day, they’re returning to shore, dog-tired. They’ve seen the crowd along the shore. As they drew nearer to the beach, they saw their friends, Simon and Andrew.

For some reason, Simon and Andrew had not gone out in their boat this morning. James and John aren’t sure why. They want to leave Zebedee and the hired men in the boat and run along the shore to find Simon and Andrew. But Zebedee wants them to remain with him to put the nets in order before they’ve dried too stiff in the hot sun. The nets have to be examined to make sure there are no loose knots. It wouldn’t do to have the nets break if they have to pull in a large haul. Zebedee knows his eyes aren’t as good anymore. His young sons can see if the nets are failing. All Zebedee can depend upon is the feel of them beneath his coarse fingers. He daydreams of the time he can turn his fishing business over to his two sons.

Now as his sons are tending to the nets, the crowd is moving along the shore towards them. Zebedee knows James and John would rather run off to see what the noise is all about. Especially since Simon and Andrew are in the crowd. The four young men always seem to be wanting to do something – never quite content enough to be fishermen.

Now what’s happening? That preacher-fellow does seem to be carrying on! Zebedee has only been half-listening to what the preacher has to say. His hearing isn’t much better than his eyesight. Something about “repent” … “reform your lives” … “believe in the good news”. Can you put yourself in the shoes of Zebedee, the fisherman? “As he made his way along the Sea of Galilee, he observed Simon and his brother Andrew. Jesus said to them, ‘come after me; I will make you fishers of men.’ They immediately abandoned their nets and became his followers. He caught sight of James, Zebedee’s son, and his brother John. They too were in their boat putting their nets in order. He summoned them on the spot. They abandoned their father Zebedee, who was in the boat with the hired-men and went off in his company.”

And now I have a question for you. How spontaneous are you in your faith commitment? That’s the question which comes from all three readings. How rapidly can you, yourself, re-form your life? In our first reading we have Jonah on a three-day walk through Ninevah, an immense non-Israelite city, telling of God’s wrath to come. But in a single day, the entire city repented, changed its ways.

In our second reading, Paul, too, reminds the Corinthians: ” … the time is short … the world as we know it is passing away.” Finally, we have Jesus, himself, saying: “This is the time of fulfillment. The reign of God is at hand.”

It would appear that as we begin this new year, this year of 1985, the Church, in selecting these readings, is pointing out to us our own need to begin anew. And to do it in the spontaneous way in which a young adult responds. This is what I would like to have you focus on for the remaining few minutes of today’s homily reflection, our need to be spontaneous in our response when we hear God’s call.

For those of you who are about my age, think about your own teenagers or the young adults you know. The people you’re thinking about are probably about the ages of John, of Andrew – or of James and Simon. Young men in their late teens or mid-twenties. I know it’s difficult for me to picture my own sons as being the ages of the disciples when they walked with Jesus. I usually think of the apostles as grey-haired Patriarchs. But I ask you to think of four young men, of how enthusiastic they are. How eager they are to follow another young man of thirty. And, yes, I also ask you to think of Zebedee who was willing to accept the spontaneous response of his two young sons.

When you think of these four young men … and of the young men and women you know, reflect on their enthusiasm. And on Zebedee, his willingness to let go. The question is: How can I be that spontaneous? Where do I begin to re-form, to change, my life? Perhaps you already have.

When was the last time you looked at a night sky and saw the stars there … and being overcome by the wonder of God … whispered “Alleluia?” When was the last time you heard about the tragic death of someone you did not know … yet ached with sadness for the loss? When have you seen the smile of a little child in a restaurant and waved back to express your own pleasure with simply being a child? When have you had a panhandler approach you for a dollar, and you gave it to him without thinking you were a sucker being ripped off? When have you received a mailing from Covenant House here in Houston and sent in a donation even though you knew it would mess up your budget?

Hearing the call of Jesus and answering it “immediately” … as did Simon and Andrew, James and John … does not mean quitting my job to become either a foreign missionary or a full-time volunteer in a soup kitchen. But it does mean that when I behold the wonder of God’s creation in the heavens or in a child’s smile, there is a need for a spontaneous response to His goodness. And when I hear the cry of someone in need, there is the demand that I respond spontaneously to meet that need … to re-form my life, to change my life.

There is the need to start with those attitudes and behaviors which can be changed immediately. You and I are asked to be spontaneous, to act without having to ponder whether this is what should be done. We are asked to be as spontaneous in our response to Jesus as four young men were some nineteen centuries ago. They abandoned their families; we are asked to abandon those things which tie us down to this world. “The reign of God is at hand! Reform your lives and believe in the Good News.”

^{Third Sunday in Ordinary Time; January 27, 1985
Jon 3: 1-5, 10; 1 Cor 7:29 – 31; Mk 1:14 -20}

I think I know the answer most of you will give to today’s question. My question is this: Do you feel overwhelmed? The answer for many of us, probably, is a resounding: “Yes.” There’s just too much coming at us. And no real end in sight.

Every day we’re reminded of our economic problems. In a lot of cases, our concern is not only what’s happening in the US-at-large, but more importantly, what’s happening among my friends and in my own family. How can I be concerned about a million-dollar bonus received by a Wall Street banker, when I’m not sure about the future of my own job or how I’m going to feed my own family in the coming weeks?

All of us can relate to today’s first reading from the book of Job – Job, a man who cries out: “Is not man’s life on earth a drudgery? … I have been assigned months of misery, and troubled nights have been allotted to me. … my life is like the wind; I shall not see happiness again.”

Paul in his letter to the Corinthians reminds them of the obligations which have been imposed on him. He has the obligation to preach the gospel either willingly or unwillingly. He has made himself a slave on behalf of others.

Even Jesus, himself, appears to have similar pressures. In today’s Gospel story, having just finished teaching in the synagogue and driving out unclean spirits from another person, Jesus goes home with Peter and Andrew – hoping, perhaps, to relax for the remainder of the day. But what happens? He must first cure Peter’s mother-in-law! And right after that, others – who heard about what had occurred in the synagogue – come to him to have their own illnesses cured, their own demons driven out.

And how does Jesus respond to such pressures, to the demands placed upon him? He goes off to a deserted place to pray. He goes off for a quiet conversation with God, his Father. And then, he returns with Peter and the other disciples to continue his daily work of preaching and healing throughout the whole of Galilee. He asks us to do the same.

Today, on this 5th Sunday in Ordinary Time, we are reminded of all the ways we are called to journey with Jesus the Christ and to be his disciples in the modern world. This call begins with our youth. For many, this weekend celebrates Boy Scout Sunday and their assistance to others. On the other hand, today also begins our annual participation in DSF – the Diocesan Services Fund. Our archbishop, in fact, has requested that a special video be shown at all masses this weekend. It’s a seven-minute presentation on how our own DSF supports the efforts of the local church as it provides “Hospitality to All, Especially the Stranger.”
Hospitality: our loving care for those in need of help.
Hospitality: the ministry that each one of us who follows Christ is called to provide.
Hospitality: the action which results from prayer and our dialogue with God through his Holy Scriptures.

This weekend we are given two opportunities to participate in this offering of our hospitality. Before Jesus continued to help those seeking his hospitality, he went off to listen to his Father, to be renewed by Abba. Today, we, too, are given an opportunity to listen to God’s word in his scriptures. After mass, today, you will be able to further this opportunity by purchasing a complete Bible for the very small price of five dollars. Each and every one of you is encouraged to participate in this way.

And secondly, each of us is urged to join in the actions supported by our DSF. Having heard the word of God in his scriptures and having consumed the Word made flesh in his Eucharist, we are to go forth to accomplish his word through being active members of the Body of Christ by providing “Hospitality to All, Especially the Stranger.”

^{5th Sunday in Ordinary: February 8, 2009; DSF Weekend (with video)
Job 7:1-4,6-7; 1 Cor 9:16-19, 22-23; Mk 1:29-39}

It’s been a while since I’ve asked you a question. I think I know how you’re going to answer it. My question is this: Do you feel overwhelmed? I would guess for many of us the answer would be a resounding: “Yes!” There’s just too much coming at us. Too much to do. And no real end in sight.

Every day we’re reminded of our economic problems and those of our daily life, our personal needs for relief from anxiety – from all that overwhelms us. In a lot of cases, our anxiety is not only about what’s happening in the U.S.-at-large, but equally important, what’s happening among our friends and in our own families. How can I be concerned about a million-dollar bonus received by a company’s CEO, when I’m not sure about the future of my own job – or how I’m going to feed my own family in the coming weeks? We may enjoy paying less for gasoline at the pump; but, here in Houston, how will this effect employment in our energy-driven economy? In the coming weeks, what will be the outcome of the actions of our representatives in Austin or in Washington D.C.?

Our concerns, however, go beyond our personal employment. Indeed, we face all kinds of large-scale problems: immigration issues, terrorism, epidemics – to name a few. We also must feed, clothe, and house our own families. Do we have enough set aside for health let alone for less demanding events such as entertainment? Do we look forward to a retirement with so-called “peace of mind?”

Perhaps in one way or another, all of us can relate to today’s first reading from the book of Job – Job, a man who cries out: “Is not man’s life on earth a drudgery? … I have been assigned months of misery, and troubled nights have been allotted to me. … my life is like the wind, I shall not see happiness again.”

Each of us has our endless, restless nights, while the days go by too fast, leaving us with uncompleted tasks, with more worries, with more obligations for tomorrow. Saint Paul in his letter to the Corinthians reminds them of the obligations which have been imposed on him. He has the obligation to preach the gospel – either willingly or unwillingly. He continues to offer himself without desiring to be paid for what he must say for the sake of others. He has made himself a slave on behalf of others – and of the Christ he serves.

Even Jesus, himself, appears to have similar pressures. In today’s Gospel story, having just finished teaching in the synagogue and driving out unclean spirits from another person, Jesus goes home with Peter and Andrew – hoping, perhaps, to relax for the remainder of the day. But what happens? He must first cure Peter’s mother-in-law! And right after that, others – those who heard about what had happened in the synagogue – they came to him to have their own illnesses cured, their own demons driven out.

And how does Jesus respond to such pressures, to the demands placed upon him? First of all, he does what is requested of him. He does what needs to be done, what must be done. Done for those who are close to him – such as Peter’s mother-in-law. He cures her. He also “lifts her up.” He raises her up so that she can continue to do what she, herself, needs and wants to do – to serve others. He also heals those he does not know. He heals others both physically and spiritually, those who come to him at the end of a long day.

Perhaps, we, too are called to do the same thing. To heal those who are close to us: our friends and family. To help “raise them up” so that they may accomplish what they must do. Perhaps we, too, are to assist those who seek us out, to heal those who require physical or spiritual wholeness.

And what does Jesus, himself, do in order to go on healing others, despite the long days he, himself, must endure? At the beginning of a new day, before the arrival of dawn and the work he knows is ahead of him, Jesus goes off to a deserted place and prays. He goes off for a quiet conversation with God, his Father. Perhaps this is what we must also do. Perhaps before the new day comes with its continuation of the uncompleted problems of yesterday, we must replenish our own reserves, renew our own being.

We need daily to have a quiet, intimate conversation with God, our Father. Some may find this over a second cup of coffee – before the busy day begins. Others may obliterate Houston’s traffic tie-ups by using those minutes in prayer as we wait for the cars ahead of us to move. Some may close the door at work, or take a short walk, in order to find a personal “deserted place” for renewal. At home, we may escape the kids during their nap time or behind a locked door. This is more than a time to get away from the stress of daily living; it is a time to share our stress with the only one who can help us rid ourselves from it. Time to be with the Father whom Jesus sought out each day.

And why did Jesus do this? Why in a busy, problem-filled day did he make time to be alone with his Father? Perhaps, he knew Peter and the others would find him, would bring him more problems he must solve, more people he needed to help. And to help them, to cure them, he required the power and the tranquility that come from God the Father.

He also knew he must not merely wait for them to come to him. He realized he had to go out to them. To the villages of Galilee where he must not only cure the people but – even more importantly – to tell them of the coming of the Kingdom of God, the Kingdom which is now and is to come. The Kingdom of which they are an essential part.

Although we might hope to wait it out, we know we must go out from our quiet place of prayer and re-enter the work of building his kingdom. Today and tomorrow are not about being overwhelmed by the stresses of our daily, human lives. Each and every day must be about seeking out a time for prayer with our Lord and Savior. Our Lord who provides us with renewed power and tranquility, our Savior who leads us further into the Kingdom of God – into a day when we are not overwhelmed by the cares of human life but, instead, a day when we are overwhelmed by the awesomeness of our God.

^{5th Sunday in Ordinary: February 8, 2015
Job 7:1-4,6-7; 1 Cor 9:16-19, 22-23; Mk 1:29-39}

My question today is for native Texans. But the rest of you can join in, if you want to. What little animal, what critter, do most folks associate with Texas? Well, I’ve seen no real statistics on this, but I’d suggest it would be the armadillo. I mean, in what other state would you see armadillos in beer commercials – or on posters for festivals? Where, but in Texas, do armadillos wear cowboy hats?

The next obvious question is: what do armadillos have to do with today’s readings – and a possible homily focus? Well, the answer is simple. Armadillos are known to carry the bacteria that cause Hansen’s disease, which is the modern name for leprosy. And leprosy plays an important part in our first reading from the book of Leviticus and in today’s gospel story.

There are some 2.4 million people throughout the world who are currently victims of Hansen’s disease. However, there are millions more who suffer the same condemnations as did the lepers in the days of Moses or of Jesus. We have seen their stories recently in “Time magazine” and in “Newsweek” – photos and stories of those in Africa and Asia who are afflicted with AIDS. And there are still millions more who suffer because they are thought to be “Unclean,” who are isolated from their surrounding societies, not as a result of any contagious disease, but merely because they are different.

Historically, for some three thousand years, lepers have been seen as the “unclean ones,” the ones who were forced to live outside the community, cut off from family and former friends, forbidden to enter synagogues or the temple in Jerusalem, alienated from the Lord God as well as from their people.

The thirteenth chapter of the book of Leviticus is devoted to the conditions the priests of Aaron should look for in deciding whether a person had leprosy and was to be declared ritually unclean. We heard a little bit of that chapter in today’s first reading. The entire fourteenth chapter of Leviticus goes on to describe how a person who was cured of leprosy was to be purified before being allowed back into the community. If the leper, whom Jesus cured in today’s gospel reading, followed the law of Moses, he would have been examined by a priest outside of the village. He would offer up two birds, one of which would be sacrificed, the other would be allowed to fly off, supposedly carrying off the disease. The man would then have to wash his garments and shave his head. He would then bathe in water and sit in front of his house for 7 days – in full view of the public at all times. Then he would again shave off all his hair, including his beard, his eyebrows and any other body hair. Then he would offer up to the Lord God, two unblemished male lambs, one unblemished ewe and a measure of flour and oil. The blood from one of the lambs and some of the oil would be used to anoint the tip of his right ear, his right thumb and his right big toe.

Perhaps this whole purification process for those cured of leprosy sounds rather amusing to us today. But it was not amusing to those who had to suffer the isolation which resulted from their affliction. What would be your own reaction if you had a son or a daughter, a father or a mother, a friend who had to ring a bell and shout out at the top of his voice: “Unclean! Unclean!” whenever he approached another human being?

“Unclean!” Of what was the leper “unclean?” The immediate response would be: the sickness, itself. And yes, the slow degeneration of the body was to be avoided. But back then, there was no knowledge the disease was the result of a bacterial infection. It was not because of the fear of germs that a leper was to be avoided, but, rather, because it was thought God was afflicting a punishment on a sinner and his sin might rub off on those who came into his presence.

The leper was isolated because of a fear of catching his sin more than a fear of catching his disease. Is it possible we act the same way today? Do we avoid certain people, or certain events, because of a subconscious belief we might expose ourselves to contamination? Somehow, we will come down with a similar affliction.

Why do healthy people tend to avoid those with a mental or emotional handicap? Is there a fear that, somehow, this person is “unclean;” that I, myself, will become “contaminated” by being in the presence of such a person? What about the poor? The homeless? Do I avoid them when I see them on the streets, because I fear that, somehow, they will contaminate me? Would I prefer they be required to ring a bell and shout “Unclean! Unclean” so I would know they are coming, and I could more readily avoid them?

And what about those who have a different shade of skin? Do I put up walls in my mind around those who are black or yellow or brown or white? Do I distrust someone who speaks a language I don’t understand, whether it is Spanish, Vietnamese, or Arabic? Is it possible today’s lepers come in many forms? Is it possible I still want to isolate anyone who is different from me. Do I believe only certain, select people should be allowed to live in my community.

A few minutes ago, I described the procedures required by the law of Moses that had to be followed before an afflicted person could re-enter the community. We smile at how naive they were. Yet, even today, many of us have our modern requirements for re-admitting separated members back into the community.

We demand the physically and emotionally impaired act as if they are not. We demand the poor and homeless get jobs or complete all of the forms and follow all the rules needed by our bureaucracies before assistance can be given to them. We demand everyone speak our language and follow our customs in order to be accepted into our neighborhood. We demand people be declared “clean” before they can come into our presence.

But what did Jesus do when the leper approached him some two thousand years ago? When he saw the man, Jesus was moved with pity. The original words suggest he was moved to his innermost depths. Jesus did not require the man be certified by the authorities as being clean before he approached him. Rather, Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him. He touched a leper.

He touched a man whose very presence rendered Jesus unclean. He did the totally unthinkable. He reached out and touched a leper. And he cured him. He cured him, because the man desired to be cured. The man needed to be healed, to be reunited with the community. Rather than hiding behind the law and the procedures of the law, Jesus undertook a positive action. He reached out. He touched another person. He healed. He reunited the separated one.

And yes, sometimes, “following the process” is needed. Sometimes an indirect response is acceptable. There is certainly nothing wrong in a person writing a check to provide help to those in need, to support agencies that help others. But there is also a time for us to reach out and to touch someone directly. Yes, it is good to bring food to this altar on Sunday. But it is also good to volunteer to help others directly on Monday through Saturday.

February 14th is a special day for many of us. It’s the day when we give our hearts to those we love. It’s the day when I want others to be my valentine. Perhaps, it can also be the day for me to begin to change my heart, to ask the Lord to help me change my heart so I might become more directly involved with the welfare of others. And yes, it will take more than a single Valentine’s Day. But we are fortunate. We have a whole season during which to begin the change.

In a few weeks Lent will be here. Already those in Galveston are rushing towards Mardi Gras with little thought about the next day, Ash Wednesday. But perhaps now is the time for us to plan for the days beyond Mardi Gras. The words of Paul to the Corinthians we heard a few minutes ago may be our guidelines for today, for this Lent, and for all the days to follow. “Avoid giving offense, whether to the Jews or Greeks” – that is, avoid giving offense to anyone who is different from you.

Indeed, now is the time to be, in the words of St Paul, “imitators of Christ” … “images of Christ” As Jesus once reached out to touch and to heal the leper, the one who was isolated from the community of Israel, now is the time for us to reach out and touch others. And with that touch to bring them back into the community of Christ: Christ the Good Shepherd.

^{Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time; February 13, 2000
Lev 13:1-2, 44-46; 1 Cor 10:31 – 11:1; Mk 1:40-45}

Today’s question is a simple one. It’s also a personal one, so you don’t need to answer it except for yourself. It’s this: Do you still play “let’s pretend”? “Let’s pretend.” Well for some of us this is the name of a radio program we listened to every Saturday morning. Yes, at one time, little kids did listen to radio programs. Rather than seeing cartoons and live action, we had to imagine what was going on. The pictures we saw were inside of our head and not on a TV screen.

But that’s what “let’s pretend” is all about, it’s imagining what’s happening. what you want to happen. Little kids play “let’s pretend” in many ways. But as they grow into big kids, another name for adults, they put aside childlike imagination – calling it, instead, childish behavior. They want to view only “reality” – and not look at what you can see with the “mind’s eye.”

However, I’d like to suggest, for the next few minutes, we put aside our so-called grown-up behavior and let our imagination return to its rightful place within us. After all, imagination is a gift of God. It’s the gift given to us so we can approach God as a child, a child of God. A child who listens to stories. who becomes part of the story, and who grows in understanding, because of the story.

The story I have in mind is the one told in our gospel reading for today. When you hear this story, is it possible for you to play the part of one of the characters in it? Is it possible for you to pretend to be with Jesus, himself, to be with him in the scriptures you read and hear? For this, after all, is the purpose of scripture. Scripture gives us stories about God’s interaction with his children, with us.

So, in today’s story, what character do you want to play? There are many to choose from. For the next few minutes, I’d invite you to close your eyes and become one of these many characters. For example: there are the people in the crowd surrounding Jesus. If you want to be part of a group and not stand out too much in your pretending, you might be one of those who merely listened to what Jesus had to say there in that house packed with people. And they were packed tightly together. Our story says that “… many gathered together [in the home where Jesus was staying] so that there was no longer room for them, not even around the door, and he preached the word to them.”

It was a crowd who merely listened to the word of Jesus. They may or may not have understood or accepted what he was saying. Within the crowd was a group of scribes. If you want, you can pretend you are one of them. They were the know-it-alls. The ones who did not agree with what Jesus was saying. They wanted everything to remain as it had always been. They were content with the certainties of their scripture, their writings of the law of God, even if their interpretation of the law was not life-giving.

And then something remarkable happened in our story. If you want, you can see it in your imagination. You can hear the noise on the roof, on the beams covered with straw. You can see the straw falling down on the people around you. You can cough with the dust falling on you. You can smell the debris as it covers those around you. You can see the beam of sunlight in the dust. You can hear the four men shouting as they lower a man on a mat stretched between two poles. If you are standing in the back of the room, pushed against a wall, you cannot see what happens next. You can only hear the mixed shouts of the scribes and others in the crowd.

You can just make out the words of Jesus speaking to them. And his instruction to the man who had been on the descending mat. Someone shouts that the man has been healed. He is no longer paralyzed. You catch a glimpse of him as he walks out the door where the crowds have now pulled back in amazement. Perhaps you, too, now join in the shouts of praise about this Jesus who has the power to allow the once paralyzed to walk out into the sunshine.

Or perhaps you remain silent. Puzzled by what has been going on. Or perhaps, as one of the scribes, you remain angered by the blasphemy you witnessed and believe it is a trick of Satan, himself. After all, it is your imagination. With it you can play any part you want to play. You can pretend to be whoever you want to be.

The same thing can be said about your real life, too. You can be whoever you want to be. You can be someone who merely listens to what Jesus is saying. You can be part of the crowd of observers. You can be impressed with the miracles you see all around you. Give them momentary praise and get on with your life as it was.

You can be one of the doubting scribes, one who demands the authority of the past and is unwilling to accept the signs of change all around you. One who scoffs and is critical of all that does not agree with what you have preconceived as being the truth. You might, also, be like the paralytic. One who has received a release from what once held you bound. One freed from what immobilized you. One who has heard the healing words of God: “Rise, pick up your mat … take what was once your protection … your comfort … what separated you from others … and now walk freely into the sunshine outside … enter into your new life.”

Or you might be like the four forgotten characters in this story. You might be one of the four who went to great lengths to help another person. One of the four who carried the paralytic to the home where Jesus stayed. Who struggled with him as you climbed onto the roof. Who tore apart the bundles of straw beneath your feet. Who felt the weight of the paralytic as you lowered the mat towards Jesus. Yes, you might be the one whose faith is so strong you are able to bring someone you love into the presence of the Christ who heals, who forgives, who offers salvation.

You can act as a member of the crowd who listens, praises and goes on with your existence as it was before. Yes, you can pretend to be one of the scribes and remain bound to the past. You can even be the one who is set free. Or you can be one who, with faith, helps someone in need of Christ’s salvation. You can play “let’s pretend.” Or you can be in the real presence of Jesus the Christ. The choice is yours. It is time to open your eyes and see.

^{Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time: February 19, 2012
Is 43:18-19, 21-22, 24b-25; 2 Cor 1:18-22; Mk 2:1-12}

I have a question for you older folk. Where were you when you heard President Kennedy had been assassinated? That November of 1963, I was working in a biochemistry lab at Oregon State University, when someone came running in with the news. I can well remember our crowding around a radio in the lab and listening in total disbelief. Most of us left the campus right afterwards. And as I wandered home, I could tell by the looks on the faces of the people I passed whether they, too, had heard the news. For the next four days, our lives were filled with the sound of muffled drums and the vision of a riderless horse.

Our times are, indeed, defined by the events which surround us. For those living today, the question from now on will be: where were you when you saw the bombs falling on Baghdad¹? One month ago, I was in Los Angeles for a meeting at the University of Southern California. The first session had ended early so I had a chance to go back to my hotel room before the evening event. It was about 3:45 in the afternoon, Pacific time, when I saw this man on CNN saying there were bombs falling around him. And the screen went black. No longer do we merely hear about these events which define our lives; now we see them: live and personal.

This is the First Sunday in Lent. You may well ask what do these two “marking” events have to do with this penitential season? I believe they have a lot in common. I believe Lent is more than a time of fasting, of giving up the “extras” in life. It’s my belief Lent is a time of hope and of remembrance, a time of expectation of the coming of the risen Christ into the human heart. Lent is more than the forty days before Easter. And Easter is not a mere re-enactment of the Resurrection of Jesus the Lord.

Christ died and rose again some two-thousand years ago. He will not rise again on the last day of March. He is risen now and is with us here, right now. Lent is not a “preparation” for Easter so much as it is a renewed time of hope and expectation that he can be with me in a deeper way than he is right now.

The days following President Kennedy’s assassination were dark days in the life of this country. And yet, there was hope. Hope and expectation that this nation would survive a time of crisis. Today, there must also be hope – hope and expectation that the crisis in the Gulf will be resolved. That peace can come to the Middle East. Perhaps we can kindle that spark of hope in our hearts by reflecting for a few minutes upon the hope which is part of our Lenten journey.

Our gospel reading is the beginning for our inner journey of hope. Today, Jesus presents for us two announcements and a double challenge. His announcements are these: first, “… this is the time of fulfillment”. Second, “… the reign of God is at hand.” And the double challenge, “… reform your lives and believe in the Good News!”

“Reform your lives.” Some would prefer the old-fashioned word: “repent!” And there is nothing wrong with repentance, when it is understood to mean “change”. Change your ways so much that your old self will not be recognized. Become so “new” your friends and relations will wonder who is this magnificent stranger who has taken over your body. “And believe the good news!” Believe the Reign of God has already begun. Believe salvation is yours. Believe total peace and union with all humanity is possible.

Lent is a time to enter into this hope, into this good news which Jesus proclaimed in today’s gospel reading. And how do we do this? Each Friday during Lent, we celebrate the Stations of the Cross. As part of that ritual, we sing a very haunting refrain. The line is: ” … were you there when they crucified my Lord?” For many of us, the immediate answer would, of course, be “no”. But then we recall his words: what you do for the least of your brothers or sisters you do for the Father who created you, for the Son who came to you and for their Spirit who breaths within you. He is there when someone hurts, when someone cries, when someone dies.

Each Friday, at the Stations of the Cross, there is no “re-enactment” of the death of Christ. Rather, there is a remembrance: that, in his love for all of us, he was willing to give up his life. We are called to be part of a “remembrance” at each Eucharist we celebrate. If Lent has a theme, it is this: remembrance. Lent should be the embodiment, the lived experience, the remembrance of what his life, his teaching, his struggle, his suffering, his death – and, most importantly, his resurrection – were all about. Not some two -thousand years ago, but right now in 1991. Right now, in these days of hope and expectation.

The Jews to whom Jesus spoke knew about “remembrance”. Each year they celebrated Passover as a special act of remembrance. For Jews, each Passover partakes, even today, of the first Passover which Moses and the Israelites experienced. And each Eucharist we celebrate today partakes of the experience of the disciples, who were with Jesus when he broke the bread and drank the cup.

We speak of that remembrance in our new covenant with God. Yes, there have been many covenants made with him. In our first reading from the book of Genesis we heard about the original covenant which God made with humanity, in fact, with all of life. In that reading we heard the words of God to Noah: “I am now establishing my covenant with you and every living creature that was with you: all the birds, and the various tame and wild animals that were with you and came out of the ark.” To reinforce that this is more than an agreement between God and Noah, the Lord God continues: “ … this is the sign that I am giving for all ages to come, of the covenant between me and you and every living creature with you; I set my bow in the clouds to serve as a sign of the covenant between me and the earth.”

Jesus reaffirmed this covenant between God and all living creatures. Jesus did not come to bring salvation to the Hebrews alone, but to all gentiles as well. And all gentiles include Moslems, Hindus, Buddhists and Confucians – as well as those Jews who, at Antioch, became known as Christians.

In our second reading from the Letter of Peter, the first of all the disciples reminds us of the covenant with Noah and how the Lord God had the patience to wait for Noah to build the ark. Have you ever thought about that?! About the patience of God to wait until Noah and his family were ready. If God can have such patience, why do we find it so difficult?

Patience is another name for hope. Hope is the patient expectation God will provide us with what we need, or he will wait until we acquire it through our own hard work. Patience and hope are the virtues which Jesus had during those forty days in the wasteland. There in the wasteland, there in the desert, Jesus existed for forty days with, as Mark puts it: “… with the wild beasts”. Yet Mark also adds: “ … and angels waited on him.”

I fear many of us, as we wait in our own wasteland, with our own, personal “wild beasts,” fail to recognize the angels God sends to minister to us. The word, angel, as some of you may recall, means “messenger”. Does God not send messengers, bringers of the Good News, to each of us as we wait and we pray in our own deserts?

The time in the desert is my time for change, time for me to “re-form” my own life; not the life of someone else, but my own life. It is time for my hope and my expectation.

Here in Houston, during the season of Lent, it is difficult to see the change in seasons. When I lived up north during Lent, I had the opportunity to go to daily mass in the university chapel at the beginning of each day. On those first days after Ash Wednesday, I would struggle to get there in the dark and over the snow. But as Lent drew towards Easter, the mornings became sunlit, the birds began to sing and the buds started to open. Here in Houston, it is more difficult to see the change. Yet it is still possible to look at the hard shell surrounding the buds on some of our bare-branched trees and see the blossoms hidden there.

Is it not equally possible to look within the hard shell which may be surrounding your heart and see the hope residing there? A few moments ago, I asked where were you when JFK was assassinated; or where were you when the bombs first fell on Baghdad? My final question is this: where do you hope to be when the Light of Christ enkindles your heart?

^{First Sunday in Lent; February 17, 1991
Gn 9:8-15; 1 Pt 3:18-22; Mk 1:12-15}

1. This was, of course, in 1991 shortly after the start of the Gulf War, Desert Storm. Little did we realize that bombs dropping on Bagdad would re-occur a decade later.

Since this is the First Sunday of Lent, I have a Lenten question for you. It’s this: when was the last time you had a really good temptation? But if this question makes you uncomfortable, I have another one: when was the last time you had a really good test? For those who are still in school, you might think about one of your history tests, or English tests. But if you are over age thirty-five, you might recall a medical test – a test to help diagnose a health problem.

I think you would agree there are many different kinds of tests. Besides academic tests and medical tests, there are physical tests – tests which measure how strong things might be, like a stress test to determine what force is needed to break a piece of metal. You can also have a test of physical skills, like the Olympic tests to determine who skates the fastest, or ski jumps the longest.

Yet, no matter what kind of a test you take, they all have something in common. Testing determines what needs to be improved, what needs to be changed. Testing, itself, leads to a question: where do you go from here?

This is really what today’s gospel reading is all about. Mark’s version, which we heard today, says Jesus went out to the wasteland for forty days, where he was “put to the test.” In the other gospels, the test questions are described in greater detail and are called the “temptations of Jesus.” But whether the word “testing” or “temptation” is used, the results are the same. This was the time for Jesus to discover who he really was; what he was called to do.

Do you remember when this testing occurred? It happened immediately after his baptism by John and his hearing the words: ” … you are my beloved son. On you my favor rests.” The very next line in Mark’s account reads: “… at that point the spirit sent him out toward the desert.” Jesus, in accord with the Spirit which moves with him, had the need to go off and determine what all of this meant. He was given an opportunity to learn who he was and what he had to do.

So, just what had he learned? What must he do?
● First, change, itself, is mandatory in order to usher in the Reign of God, the Kingdom of God.
● Second, action is required by everyone who is to share in the Reign of God.
● And third, he must go and teach this to others.

And so he went off to proclaim the Good News: ” … this is the time of fulfillment. The Reign of God is at hand! Reform your lives and believe in the Good News.” In his proclamation Jesus offered two challenges: first, … reform your lives. Make the changes that are necessary. Reform. Change. Repent. They all mean the same thing.

And the second challenge: “… believe in the good news.” And what is this “good news”? That there is a new covenant with God. Our first reading from the book of Genesis speaks of the first covenant of God with his people, the covenant made with Noah and all of his descendants after him and with all of the creatures of the earth, with “all the birds, and the various tame and wild animals that were in the ark.” All of them are now under God’s protection from destruction by the waters of the flood.

Do you recall why God had sent the flood? It was to wash away all evil and to bring about a new beginning. The first Christians saw in those flood waters, a symbol of the waters of baptism. Peter in the second reading we heard today, reminds the followers of Christ of the relationship of the waters of the flood and the waters of baptism, of how the waters of baptism wash away the sins of the past in order to bring about new life.

New life is what Lent is also all about. Lent is a time to prepare for the “new life” of Easter. Lent is a time to determine what needs to be changed in order to allow for “new life” to burst forth from the tomb of the past. Lent is a time of testing, of discovering what has already been learned and what still needs to be changed.

Sometimes testing is equated with temptations. As I said, the other gospels describe the “temptations” of Jesus. Actually, the Latin word, temptation, means testing. Some of you may even recall that a final line in the “Our Father” prayer, “…lead us not into temptation … “ can be translated as “… let us not be put to the test…” It is our prayer that the test we undertake will not break us; the temptations will not be too great for us to bear.

And we are assured these tests will not be too great for us. God does not give us test questions we cannot answer. God, unlike an engineer, does not test us to the breaking point to see what we are made of. God, our creator, already knows what we are made of. He does not force us to undergo a stress-test, but, rather, he provides each one of us with an opportunity to discover what we have learned about ourselves. He gives us an opportunity for improvement.

During the next forty days of Lent, we have an opportunity to discover what we have learned about who we are and who we are called to be. Each one of us can discover how generous we are in giving of our time and our talents to others. We can discover how thankful we are for what God has given us and how we can share these gifts with others.

Lent is not so much a time for suffering as it is a time for almsgiving, an old-fashioned word for giving assistance to those less fortunate; a word which comes from a Greek word meaning “compassion”. In the past, many people seemed to have focused on the suffering which accompanies giving something up we really desire to keep – like a piece of chocolate cake after dinner or a dish of ice cream before going to bed.

But Lent is not a time of suffering so much as it is a time for growth. And while some would say: “no pain, no gain.” the focus should not be on the pain of Lent but rather the prayer of Lent. For in addition to almsgiving, there is a continuing need for prayer.

In order for Jesus to be put to the test, in order to discover what he had learned about himself, and what he needed to do, Jesus went off, alone, into the wilderness to pray. We too, are called to follow his example. We do not need to find a desert; but we do need to find a deserted place, a place to be alone for a few moments each day so God can ask us his questions, so we can discover who we are in his sight.

Yes, the forty days of Lent do provide temptations – opportunities for testing – to see who we are; to see what needs to be changed; where we need to re-form our lives in order to partake fully in the life of the risen Christ and to be, truly, Easter people.

^{First Sunday in Lent; February 20, 1994
Gn 9:8-15; 1 Pt 3:18-22; Mk 1:12-15}

My question for today is about “women.” In the Hebrew scriptures, Eve is the name of the first woman created by God. However, in Greek mythology, what is the name of the first woman whom the god Hephaestus created at the request of Zeus? Is it: (a) Peter Pan; (b) Pandora; (c) Pancake or (d) Pandemonium? And I’m sorry, but those of you with cell phones cannot call a friend.¹

(B) Pandora? Is that your final answer? Very good, you just won $1000, collectable from Father Bill. (the pastor.) Now for your second question, for $2000. Pandora was given a box and was told not to open it. But she did anyway. And when she did, out flew all of the plagues of the body and the sorrows of the mind. However, she was able to slam the lid shut before everything flew out and so was able to hold back one gift. So, my question is this: what remained in Pandora’s box? Was it: (a) fear; (b) a rainbow; (c) hope; or (d) Regis Philbin?

Ok, those of you who said: (C) “hope” are correct. Hope. Today we begin another season of hope. Yes, you’ll say this is the First Sunday of Lent, but I believe Lent is, in fact, the season of hope. Hope is, after all, the confident expectation of divine blessing. After this time of waiting, everything will turn out well. And this is what the season of Lent should be about. This is our forty-day preparation for Easter. We await the celebration of the Resurrection of our Lord. And we await the return of our lord. We await the completion of the coming of the Kingdom of God.

Our readings for this First Sunday of Lent remind us of these expectations. They remind us of our hope. In the first reading from the book of Genesis, we heard how God made a covenant with every living creature. Never again, would flood waters destroy all mortal beings.

Flood waters. Why did God send down the forty days of rain in the first place? Why did God send the flood? You remember the beginning of the story, don’t you? You recall how over the years, since the time of creation, humankind became more obsessed with doing evil than with doing good. And so, God sent the waters to flush out the evil in the world, to cleanse the world with the waters of the flood. The early Christians saw these cleansing waters as the first version of the cleansing waters of baptism that wash away the sins of humanity. This is what we heard spoken by Peter in our second reading for today.

Only eight people were saved through the waters of the flood. Only Noah, his wife, his three sons and their own wives survived. But through the waters of baptism, all of humanity is washed clean. And although Jesus was free from all sin, he, too, felt the refreshing waters of the baptism by John. It was then Jesus heard the words of God: “You are my beloved son; with you I am well pleased.”

Immediately afterwards, Jesus retreated to the desert for forty days where he was tempted by Satan. And there, as we heard in today’s reading from the gospel of Mark: “He was among wild beasts, and the angels ministered to him.” Jesus was there, beset by the physical dangers of the world. But he was not alone with those dangers, with those threats to his life. He had with him: “angels who ministered to him.” Angels, messengers of God. That’s what the word means. But there is another term for messengers. And that word is: evangelists.

Evangelists. Those messengers who spread the Good News that Jesus proclaimed some two thousand years ago: “This is the time of fulfillment. The Kingdom of God is at hand.”

This week with the beginning of Lent, we begin here at Christ the Good Shepherd, as in many other parishes in our diocese, a program called “Disciples in Mission.” It is an opportunity for people gathered in small groups to reflect on the message proclaimed by Jesus: the message that the Kingdom of God is at hand, the Kingdom of God has begun. “Disciples in Mission” gives us a chance to reflect on the message and to live out the message; to live out the message in such a way that, through lived examples, others will see and hear the message and join with the growing community who awaits the completion of the kingdom and the return of Jesus the Christ.

This is a community who waits with hope, with the belief all will be well. It is a community who accepts the gift of faith, the belief God is with us. We are a community joined with God by a sacred covenant. It is a community who has not only the gifts of hope and faith, but also the gift of charity.

Charity is how we are to bolster the hope of others through our own human actions. While faith, hope and charity are gifts of God, it is with charity that we are to help others in practical ways so that they, in turn, may make use of the gifts of faith and hope which God has given to them. It is in our charity, in our love for others, that we provide food for the hungry. Out of our own hope and faith we stock the shelves of our sister parish, Holy Name, as well as the shelves of the Northwest Assistance Ministry.

It is in our charity, in our love for others, we participate in our Lenten project to buy livestock for families in Third World countries. Just as Noah took into the ark animals of every kind to re-populate the world, we are asked to provide livestock so that others may help themselves in their own revitalization. In today’s bulletin, you will find more information about how you, each and every one of us, can help stock “an ark for today’s world” through the “Heifer Project.”

Two thousand years ago, Jesus offered two proclamations and two challenges. He proclaimed: “this is the time of fulfillment.” And secondly, he proclaimed: “the Kingdom of God is at hand.” But he also offered two challenges: first of all, he said: “repent.” He asked his followers, and us, to repent, to reform our lives, to change our lives, to make those changes needed to help us be a more active part of the Kingdom of God.

And secondly, he challenged his followers, and us, when he said:” … and believe in the gospel.” Believe the good news. Have hope: live your life in the expectation God is with you. God wants only the best for you. God, himself, has saved you. Yes, Lent is the season of hope. Hope that the Lord who taught us, the Lord who suffered, died and was buried for us, the Lord who rose again from the dead and is with us now, that our Lord, Jesus the Christ, will indeed, lead us home to eternal life.

1. “Millionaire” was a popular TV quiz program hosted by Regis Philbin in which contestants could ask for help from the audience or by calling a “hotline” friend.

^{First Sunday in Lent; March 12, 2000
Gn 9:8-15; 1 Pt 3:18-22; Mk 1:12-15}

Today’s question is about the gospel story we just heard. But I might warn you, some of you may think it’s a “trick” question. The question is this: when did Jesus drive the moneychangers out of the Temple? Some of you might say he did it towards the end of his ministry. Sometime at the beginning of what we call “Holy Week.” Shortly after his triumphal entry into Jerusalem. Some say his actions probably contributed to his being crucified soon afterwards.

And you would be correct, if today’s gospel reading came from the writings of Matthew, Mark or Luke. But today’s reading is from the Second Chapter of the Gospel according to John. The Passover about which John speaks, occurs at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, not at the end. This is the first of three Passovers John describes in his writings. It’s from John’s Gospel we deduce Jesus spent three years in ministry rather than a single year – which is the impression we can have from reading the synoptic gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke.

But rather than discussing this difference between the synoptic gospels and John on the length of Jesus’ ministry, I have several other questions:
● What were those “moneychangers” doing in the Temple in the first place?
● Why was Jesus so disturbed by them that he was angry enough to drive them out with a whip?
● And why would John place this event at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry? What might John be focusing on?

To understand what moneychangers did in the Temple, we need to recall the purpose of the Temple in Jerusalem. The Temple was the site where the Israelites made their sacrifices to the Lord God. It was here holocausts or burnt offerings were made. Animal sacrifice was seen as the essential way for humans to communicate with their God. This was true ever since the days of Abraham, who sacrificed a ram instead of his son to the Lord God.

Passover was the most important time of the year to offer up an animal sacrifice:
● to please the Lord God,
● to thank him for the blessings of the past year,
● to take away sins, and
● to continue to receive God’s blessings in the coming year.
Passover was a time to remember the Exodus and what God had done to free them from the Egyptians.

In order to offer animals for holocausts, Jews returned to Jerusalem from not only outlying regions of Israel and Judea, but also, from all parts of the Mediterranean world: from Antioch, Athens, Rome, and Alexandria. The returning Israelites were very practical. They knew they could not bring with them the purebred animals needed to be offered up to the Lord God. Instead, it would be necessary for them to buy these offerings in Jerusalem, at the Temple, itself. But they could not use the unclean money they brought with them from Antioch, Athens, Rome and Alexandria to purchase these sacrificial animals.

This is where the moneychangers entered the picture. They exchanged foreign, unclean, coins for the shekels used in the Temple. And as any banker might want to do, they often made a profit in the exchange. By the time of Jesus, the whole practice of exchanging coins, buying and selling sheep, oxen and doves to be sacrificed by the priests – all this had become “big business.” The Temple seemed more like a marketplace than the house of God. Jesus, rightfully, was angry with the change in the focus of their worship.

And, so, in all four gospels, in Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, we have a story of how Jesus showed his displeasure with the change. However, in the gospel written by John, this evangelist wanted to show that Jesus had come to change not only the practice of the moneychangers, but the whole focus of how humanity should interact with God.

No longer would worship occur through animal sacrifices on the altars of the Temple in Jerusalem. Now this relationship of God and humanity would occur in the Temple of the Body of Christ, within the hearts of those who now called the Lord God by a new name: Abba, Father. This is the focus of John’s gospel: the new commandment of love and the relationships it embodied.

The end of Temple worship and the establishment of this new commandment of love brings us back to today’s First Reading from the Book of Exodus. In this reading, we heard those words which are usually called the Decalogue, the Ten Commandments. If you listened closely to them, you might have recognized that these commandments, these laws which make up the foundation of Torah, the Law, itself, … they all describe the relationships needed for our human existence with God.

The first three laws state the relationship which should exist between God and humanity, itself. There is but one God, the one who freed you from enslavement. The one, who alone, is to be worshiped, whose name is sacred and not to be used for secular purposes. The one to whom your life is to be totally dedicated on the holy, seventh day. The remaining seven laws state the relationships which should exist among all members of society. The relationship of children and parents. The relationship between men and women with respect to life and property.

These ten laws became so important for the survival of society that they have become a foundation for all secular laws as well. Replicas of these Ten Commandments are found in courthouses and parliaments through out the world and, in particular, here in the United States, where certain groups fail to see the intrinsic relationship of these laws with the stability of society, itself, with the secular state, itself. Instead, these groups call for the so-called separation of state and religion.

Yes, these Ten Commandments which provide a basis for our secular laws, focus on the relationships needed for the harmony between God and his Children and for the harmony among his children – these Ten Commandments may be the center for all of our relationships. However, for Christians, there is a new center, a new core, a new cross. Here we come to the words St Paul addressed to the Corinthians some two thousand years ago. “Jews demand signs and Greeks look for wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified.”

Yes, even today, some demand outward signs of an inner reality. Signs not unlike depictions of the Stone Tablets carried by Moses to the Israelites. Yes, some seek answers through signs written on stone; others seek answers written in our hearts. And while the tradition of the past and the advances of the present have their essential places in our life and society, we also need to recognize both life and society will continue into the future only by following the relationship provided by Christ’s commandment: “Love one another as I have loved you.”

During this season of Lent, we are called to set aside mere images of Temples and of Stone Tablets and remember:
● the law of God is written in our hearts,
● our reality depends on our proclamation that Christ suffered, died, was buried and is risen.
● the cross of Christ is not a piece of costume jewelry but rather his cross is the sign of our reality, a sign given in the Name (†) of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

^{Third Sunday of Lent; March 19,2006
Ex 20:1-17; 1 Cor1:22-25; Jn 2:13-15}