The Asking Prayer

“Keep on knocking and the door will be opened”
The Asking Prayer

July 25, 2010: 17th Sunday of Ordinary Time
Genesis 18:20-32 Colossians 2:12-14 Luke 11:1-13

Alleluia, alleluia.
A reading from the holy Gospel according to Luke.
Glory to you, Lord.

The Lord’s Prayer

Jesus was praying in a certain place, and when He had finished, one of His disciples said to Him, "Lord, teach us to pray just as John taught his disciples." He said to them, "When you pray, say: Father, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come. Give us each day our daily bread and forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone in debt to us, and do not put us to the test.”

Persistence in prayer

Then He said to them, “Suppose you went to a friend’s house at midnight, wanting to borrow three loaves of bread, and you would shout up to him, saying, `A friend of mine has just arrived for a visit, and I don’t have anything to give him to eat.’ And he would call down from his bedroom window, `Friend, don’t bother me. The door is already locked for the night, and my kids and I are in bed. I’m not going to help you this time.’ I tell you if he doesn’t get up to give the man the loaves he wants because they’re friends, he will get up to give him the bread because of the man’s persistence. So I tell you, keep on asking and you will receive. Keep on seeking and you will find. Keep on knocking and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives; and the one who seeks, finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.

What father among you would hand his son a snake when he asks for a fish? Or hand him a scorpion when he asks for an egg? If you then, who are wicked, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him?"

The Gospel of the Lord.
Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
Introduction
The Lord’s Prayer

The Lord's Prayer, also known as the Our Father or Pater Noster, is perhaps the best-known prayer in Christianity. On any Easter morning it is estimated that two billion Roman Catholics, Anglicans, Protestant and Eastern Orthodox Christians either read, recite, or sing the Our Father in hundreds of languages. Despite the many differences which divide Christians, at the end of the day we all say, “Our Father, who art in heaven,” and that is the one thing that always unites us. The Lord’s prayer as found in Matthew 6: 9-13 is longer than Luke’s, and is more like the one we are accustomed to pray.

A parable about persistence in our ` asking prayer’

The catechism lines up four kinds of prayer: The prayer of adoration of one who experiences the mystery of God. The prayer of thanksgiving of one who is deeply grateful for blessings from on high. The prayer of forgiveness of one who is painfully aware of his waywardness. And then there is the prayer of petition of one who finds himself in a great need. It’s also called `the asking prayer.’.

In Luke’s gospel, the Lord’s Prayer is followed by a parable about persistence in our `asking prayer.’ It likens God to a dad who’s snug in bed with his kids, and is inconveniently awakened late at night by a neighbor who keeps knocking away at his door. A friend has suddenly dropped in on him, and he’s in an embarrassing situation: he has no bread to feed his hungry visitor. The sleepy man is reluctant to get out of his warm bed in the middle of the night, and go downstairs to help his friend out. But he does so, not only because he is the man’s friend but also because the man is persistent: he keeps on knocking at the door. After getting rid of his friend by giving him the three loaves he asked for, he slams the door shut, locks it and hurries back up to his warm bed. The parable is about persistence in our `asking prayer.’ It’s about persistently knocking at God’s door when we’re in a great need of something.

Luke likes that theme; he reiterates it in the eighteenth chapter of his gospel. “One day Jesus told His disciples a parable to illustrate their need for constant prayer, and to show them that they must keep on praying until the answer comes.” A widow keeps knocking at the door of an evil judge “who fears neither God nor man.” She begs the judge to plead her case. He keeps putting her off, but finally gives in exclaiming, “This woman is driving me crazy! I’ll take her case; if I don’t, she’ll keep coming back and wear me down.” Luke continues, “Then Jesus said, `If even an evil judge can be worn down like that, don’t you think that God will surely give justice to His people who plead with Him day and night?’” (Lk 18:1-8)

The Holy Spirit instead of a fish or egg

There is a notable variance in this parable as found in Matthew and in Luke. In Matthew the parable ends with Jesus saying, "If you, bad as you are, know how to give good things to your children, how much more will the Father in heaven give good things to those who ask Him!” (Mt 7:11) God is a kind of Santa Claus who gives His children the things they ask for.

In Luke, however, the parable ends with Jesus saying, “If you, bad as you are, know how to give your children good things, how much more will the Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him!" (Lk 11:13) No Santa Claus image of God here. We ask God for a fish or an egg, but He doesn’t give us the fish or egg we ask for. He gives us, instead, the Holy Spirit (whom we didn’t ask for, in the first place!). We ask for some thing, and instead we get some one: the Holy Spirit! All of a sudden, it's about the Holy Spirit! That, indeed, is puzzling, and Luke offers no further comment.

The problem with `asking prayer’

The `asking prayer’ is problematic. Along our journey we’ve earnestly asked God for something, but it was not granted. We’ve begged God to cure a loved one, but the loved one was not cured. We’ve pleaded with God to lift a mountainous problem from our shoulders and cast it into the sea (Lk 17:6), but it’s still weighing us down. We’ve beseeched God to release a loved one from some addiction or bondage, but he’s still addicted or bound. In these hard economic times the unemployed (who have a family they have to feed or rent they have to pay) pray fervently to God for work, but they’re still unemployed.

On top of the heap of `unanswered prayers’ stands the Holocaust. We remember (because we can’t forget) that six million Jews in the concentration camps of Dachau, Auschwitz and Buchenwald earnestly implored the Lord God of Israel to deliver them from Hitler and his Nazi thugs, and they were not delivered. The `asking prayer’ is problematic, and most of the time we’re simply `too pious’ to talk openly about it.

A more profound idea of `asking prayer’

Luke has Jesus saying “How much more will the Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him.” Is he perhaps offering us a more profound understanding of our `asking prayer?’ Could he possibly mean that in response to our prayer of petition the Father in heaven does not give something: a fish, an egg, a cure, a job, a deliverance, etc. (we ourselves must try as best we can to give ourselves these things!) Instead, the Father in heaven gives us some one: His Holy Spirit!

Some say that sounds a bit shocking and even Marxist! On the other hand, however, a mystic friend writes,

When you speak that way, you’re really speaking to us about the poverty of God, who comes to us so poor that all God has to give us is Himself —His Holy Spirit. When you speak that way you are leading us into deep waters and into the darkness of God. You invite us to leave our playgrounds when we pray our asking prayer, and you invite us to follow you into the river of rebirth.

The power to forgive God!

To say that heaven perhaps does not give us something but only some one - the Holy Spirit – should not shock us. To be left with `only’ the Holy Spirit is not to be left with nothing! With the Holy Spirit of God, we have whatever we need for the human journey. With the Holy Spirit we have not only the power to forgive men’s sins against God (Jn 20: 23) but also the very power to forgive God’s sin against man!
What in the world is “God’s sin against man?” That’s God seemingly not opening the door when we keep knocking. That’s God not working the miracle we ardently pray for. “God’s sin against man!” That’s God not being a good Santa Claus, giving His children the things they ask for: a fish, an egg, a cure, a job, a deliverance. That’s God not giving us something but `only’ some one: His Holy Spirit

Conclusion
The power to want the thing we get!

At the end of the day, whatever our theology and feelings about the `asking prayer’ might be, we still keep on knocking at God’s door and asking Him for what we need, because Jesus said we should. And if, when the door is opened, we’re given the thing we asked for -- the fish, the egg, etc. -- God be praised and thanked. If, however, when the door is opened, we are not given the fish or egg but are given instead `only’ the Holy Spirit, God be praised and thanked for that too. For though we don’t get the thing we want, with the Holy Spirit we are given the power to want the thing we get! That’s power, indeed! And that probably is what Luke’s mysterious and unexpected switch from fish and egg to Holy Spirit is all about.

Martha Serving and Mary Sitting

Martha Serving & Mary Sitting
Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, July 18, 2010
Genesis 18:1-10 Colossians 1:24-28 Luke 10:38-42

Alleluia, alleluia.
A reading from the holy Gospel according to Luke.
Glory to you, Lord.

As they went on their way Jesus entered a village, and a woman named Martha welcomed Him into her house. And she had a sister named Mary who sat at the Lord's feet and listened to his teaching. But Martha was distracted with much serving, and she went to him and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her then to help me.” But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things; one thing only is necessary. Mary has chosen the better part, and it shall not be taken from her.” (Lk 10:38-42)

The Gospel of the Lord.
Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

----------------------

Introduction

Both have a problem

The two sisters, Martha and Mary, are featured in another gospel story. Their brother Lazarus, whom Jesus loved very much, became seriously ill and died. When the Lord heard about it He rushed to console the sisters. While Martha (that hospitable busy-bee lady) ran out to greet Jesus, “Mary remained sitting in the house.” (Jn 11:20) Mary has a problem: she’s not the active type; she likes to sit and listen. Martha, too, has a problem: she’s the active type; she likes to keep busy.

What’s better: the active life or contemplative one?

The traditional interpretation of this passage, which goes back to Pope St. Gregory the Great (540-604), sees Martha as the model of the active life, and Mary as the model of the contemplative life. And it affirms that the contemplative life is better than the active life, for Scripture says, “Mary has chosen the better part.”

By its various pronouncements Vatican II laid to rest that bald statement. The contemplative life is not better than the active life. Contemplative Mary-s are not better than active Martha-s. Those who sit and contemplate must in some way get up and serve. And those who run here and there to serve (if they are to be of any good to themselves and others) must eventually sit down and contemplate. The Martha and Mary story is about the tension that rages within all of us -- the tension between action on the one hand, and contemplation on the other, in order to make sense out of one’s action.

What’s better: a fussed-up life or a simplified one?

There is a less lofty but much more down-to-earth interpretation of this passage than that of St. Gregory the Great. The usual translations from the Greek of this passage are vague. They have Jesus saying, “One thing only is necessary.” But what precisely is that one thing only that’s necessary? Or they have Jesus saying, “Mary has chosen the better part.” But what is that better part Mary has chosen? There is, however, an interpretative translation of the original Greek which fleshes out the vagueness with quaint and folksy language, and it goes like this:

As they went on their way Jesus entered a village, and a woman named Martha welcomed Him into her house. And she had a sister named Mary who sat on the floor listening to Jesus as He spoke. But Martha, who was the jittery type, was worrying about the big dinner she was preparing. She came to Jesus and said, “Lord, doesn’t it bother you that my sister isn’t lifting a finger to help me? Tell her to get out into the kitchen where she belongs and give me a helping hand.” But the Lord said to her, “Martha, dear friend, you are fussing so much in the kitchen preparing so many dishes. Keep it simple! Only one dish is necessary [a good pot of baked beans or a good dish of pasta]. Mary has chosen not to be fussing around, but to sit here and recharge herself, and I’m not going to ask her to give that up.” (Lk 10:38-42) [1]

Such an interpretative translation is not a lofty message about the superiority of the contemplation over action. It is, instead, a simple down-to-earth message which speaks to us saying, “Keep life as simple as life in this complicated world permits. A simplified life is better than a fussed-up one.” That’s a meaningful message for those of us who in these times are becoming more and more exhausted and frazzled. A good part of that frazzle, however, is not of our own choosing; it’s been placed on us by the tempo and technology of the times. But this rendition of the Martha and Mary story encourages us to take responsibility for that part of the frazzle that is ours.

What’s better: woman `knowing her place’ or woman `taking her place’?
Woman `knowing her place’

Luke writing for educated readers of the Roman Empire wants to assure them that the new religion is not a threat to their patriarchal society which is definitely a man’s world. In that world women `knew their place.’ Except for Mary and Elizabeth in the stories surrounding Jesus' birth (Lk 1:25 & 34), women are cast in obedient and passive roles in Luke. In today’s gospel Luke has Jesus chiding active Martha on the one hand, and commending passive Mary on the other.

Some, especially those who strongly oppose the ordination of women, like the passage. For them it portrays Mary as `knowing her place’ and as being content with a passive role of sitting and listening. But Martha, on the other hand, thinks that Mary does not `know her place’: she doesn’t know she’s supposed to be out in the kitchen where she belongs!

Others, however, do not like the passage. They think that Martha is being treated unfairly, not by Jesus but rather by Jesus as seen through the eyes of Luke who wishes to tread carefully in a world where women are expected to know their place.

Males only

Martha and Mary are complementary characters. Martha is a doer; she’s a capable lady who organizes and runs a large household. Mary, on the other hand, is a thinker; she’s interested in ideas. So she sits and listens attentively to Jesus. But it was a man’s world in those days, and disciples were usually only males. That’s an important component of the picture painted by today’s gospel: Mary is sitting out there as a disciple in the living room amidst men, when she should be out in the kitchen (where women belong) helping Martha!

What’s more, in that man’s world of Jesus’ day women were exempt from studying the Torah. Not only were they exempt, many rabbis even actively discouraged women from learning. The Mishnah[2] includes some cynical thoughts about women. Rabbi Eliezer (c. AD 90) said, "It is better for the words of the Torah be burned than to be handed over to women." So Mary sitting, listening and learning with the men (instead of being out in the kitchen with Martha) was definitely out of line.

Woman `taking her place’

Jesus also was out of line when He refuses to relegate Mary to the kitchen. He rejects the expectation that women should not be sitting as disciples with men, but should be serving out in the kitchen with Martha. He approves Mary’s `taking her place’ with the men and sitting openly with them at the feet of Jesus. When Martha comes storming into the room and complains that her sister isn’t helping her, Jesus doesn’t side with Martha. He doesn’t say to Mary, “Your sister Martha has a lot on her hands. Why don't you get up and help her. It would mean a great deal to her.” Instead Jesus sides with Mary. He lets her take her place with the men. And he affirms her saying, “Mary has chosen the better part, and it shall not be taken from her.”

The awful burka

Down through the ages women were always expected to be seen and not heard. That expectation sinks to an abysmal depth when Islamic extremists impose burkas upon their women. (That’s a loose garment totally covering a woman’s face and body, and worn in public.) With the burka, man’s `job on woman’ is complete: not only is woman not to be heard, she now also is not to be seen! The burka a huge symbol!

Islamic extremists are sympathetic only to `invisible women.’ Theologian Sr. Joan Chittister OSB, nemesis of our male driven Catholic Church, makes an unwitting allusion to the burka when she writes, “The Church is riddled with inconsistencies, is closed to a discussion about those inconsistencies and is sympathetic only to invisible women.”

Conclusion
A story for all seasons

At the end of the day, the Martha and Mary story is a story for all seasons. It’s a story for us, when the tension between action and contemplation rages within us. It’s a story for us, when we are on the run too much and need to stop for prayer and silence, in order to make sense out of our running.

The Martha and Mary story is a story for us, when we, exhausted and frazzled by so many things that need to be done, are challenged to keep life simple -- as simple as is possible in a complicated world. It’s a story for us, when our frazzled lives beg us to take responsibility for that part of the frazzle over which we have power.

Finally, the Martha and Mary story is a story for us, whenever church or society keeps women `knowing their place’ instead of helping them to `take their place.’ It’s a story for us, whenever church or society shows itself sympathetic only to invisible women, and seeks to put burkas on the visible ones among us.

[1] This interpretative translation does not do violence to the original Greek which is vague in itself.
[2] Mishnah is the first written account of Jewish oral traditions c. 220 CE. It is sometimes call the "Oral Torah."

The Good Samaritan

“He lifted him onto his donkey”
The Good Samaritan
Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time July 11, 2010

Deuteronomy 30:11-14 Colossians 1:15-20 Luke 10:25-37

First reading from Deuteronomy

Then Moses said to the people: "The command that I am giving you today is not too difficult or beyond your reach. It is not up in the sky. You do not have to ask, `Who will go up and bring it down for us, so that we can hear it and obey it.’ Nor is it on the other side of the ocean. You don’t have to ask, `Who will go across the ocean and bring it to us, so that we may hear it and obey it?’ No, it is here with you. You know it and quote it, so now obey it.”

The word of the Lord
Thanks be to God
Alleluia, alleluia.
A reading from the holy Gospel according to Luke.
Glory to you, Lord.

There was a scholar of the law who stood up to test Jesus and asked, “Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus said to him, “What is written in the law? How do you read it?” He replied: “You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your being, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and you shall love your neighbor as yourself.[1]” Jesus said to the scholar, “You have answered correctly; do this and you will live.” But because he wanted to justify himself, he said to Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

Jesus replied with a parable. A Jew on his way from Jerusalem to Jericho fell into the hands of bandits who stripped him of his clothes, and left him lying half-dead beside the road. A priest who happened to be going down that road saw the poor him, crossed to the other side, and passed him by. Along came a Temple Assistant[2] who also saw the victim, crossed to the other side and passed him by. But then along came a despised Samaritan[3] who saw the poor man and was filled with compassion. He did not pass him by but stopped to pour oil and wine over his wounds and bandaged them. Then he lifted him onto his donkey and took him to the nearest inn, where he provided for his care and cure. The next day he handed the innkeeper two silver coins[4] with the instruction, “Take care of him. And if the bill runs higher than that, I’ll make up the difference on my way back.” Now which of these three, in your opinion, proved himself to be a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of bandits? He answered, “The one who stopped and treated him with mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.” (Luke 10:25-37)

The Gospel of the Lord.
Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

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Introduction
The mother of all parables

The most cherished of Jesus’ parables are found in Luke’s gospel. In Luke only is found the Parable of the Rich Fool, who built bigger and better bins in which to store all his wealth, and when he died couldn’t take any of it with him. (Lk 12:13-21) Only in Luke is found the Parable of the Dives who was splendidly clothed and daily lived in great luxury, while poor Lazarus lay at his gate crying for crumbs. (Lk 16: 19-31) Only Luke relates the Parable of the Prodigal Son who, after squandering his inheritance in a foreign land, is welcomed back home by a father who is prodigal with forgiveness. (Lk 15:11-32) And only Luke relates that mother of all parables: The Good Samaritan. He stopped to pour the oil of compassion upon a poor man who had been waylaid by bandits, and whom “men of the cloth” passed right by. (Lk l0: 25-37) What Jesus says about the first and the greatest of all the commandments, can be said of this parable: “Upon it rest the whole Law and the Prophets.” (Mt 22:40)

This sparkling gem is read at Sunday Mass only once every three years – on the Fifteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time, Cycle C! Read only once in 156 weeks! What a waste!

My story and this parable

For personal reasons the parable of the Good Samaritan is the mother of all parables for me. My Italian immigrant parents seeking a better life came to America at the turn of the twentieth century. They, however, didn’t fare very well in this great land of opportunity. Our mother was taken from us when we were very young. Throughout our tender and formative years, we had no mother, our father had no helpmate, and our house had no soul. We lived in a typical little American town with its neat little houses all lined up on neat city blocks, and in those houses lived “practicing” Protestants and Catholics.

None of them, however, stopped to pour the oil of compassion upon our family waylaid by fate (or divine Providence?) on the road to Jericho. Our neighbors didn’t despise us Italian immigrants, but neither did they really love us. The golden rule to “Mind your own business” was conveniently observed by them, as was the strange warning to “Take care, for no good deed goes unpunished.” Only later on in life, when I was able to sort things out for myself, did it dawn on me that those “neighbors” weren’t really neighbors at all. Like the Jewish priest and the Temple Assistant who walked right by a man waylaid by bandits, our “neighbors” had walked right by our family waylaid by fate on the road to Jericho.

A great mystery

That, I believe, explains, partially at least, my great affection for this parable, and why I call it the “mother of all parables.” It also explains why I never walk by any creature in need, be it animal or human, but always stop to pour the oil of compassion. (The other day, I stopped to pick up a young sparrow which needed help. I took him home and fed him with an eyedropper, until he was strong enough to fly away.) If I cannot stop, either because there’s absolutely no time to stop, or it’s too dangerous to stop because of bandits, I continue on my way, saddened because I could not stop.

Sometimes people who have been “walked by” in life choose to “get even” and walk by others, as others have “walked by” them. Strange to say, sometimes just the very opposite happens: sometimes they who have been “walked by” choose not to do to others what others have done to them. They choose instead to stop and pour the oil of compassion. It is an utter mystery why one will choose to ”get even” by walking by, and another will choose to stop.

A diamond with many facets

A parable, like a diamond, can have many facets. A mystic friend points out a fascinating facet she discovers in this parable:

I am just like the Good Samaritan in Jesus’ parable: all I can do is pick up the half-dead man and dump him off on someone else to care for him. It's the long haul that counts. It’s abiding and costly care that counts. So in my book it’s the innkeeper who’s the Good Samaritan!

She uncovers another fascinating facet in this parable when she writes:

I know that a man is lying out there half-dead. I also know that I can’t cope with it. So I don’t go to Jericho. I stay in Jerusalem within the security of the Temple where I live out bread-breaking symbolically. I substitute liturgical bread-breaking at Sunday Mass for the real thing!

A parable about morality

One facet of the Good Samaritan parable concerns morality. There is an age-old tendency to situate morality quite totally in the area of sex. Such morality is always busy pursuing politicians who have had sex affairs, like South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford or recently former vice-president Al Gore. On the other hand, the New Testament in general and the parable of the Good Samaritan in particular, do not situate the heart of morality in the area of sex but of charity and compassion. Jesus crafts a parable about a Jewish priest and Levite who commit a gross act of immorality right out in the open. On the road to Jericho these two fellows walked right by a man who had been waylaid by bandits and left half-dead. My gosh! How much more immoral than that can you get!

Then along came a Samaritan who, though he had a reputation in Jericho for being a womanizer, stopped to pour the oil of compassion on the poor man. After treating his wounds, the Samaritan hoisted him onto his donkey and hurried him off to the nearest inn. There he dug deep into his pocket to pay for the man’s care and cure. My gosh! How much more moral than that can you get! (Lk 10:25-37).

A parable about prejudice

Another facet of the parable concerns prejudice. Jews had a prejudice regarding Samaritans. They considered them as half-breeds (not pure Jews)and heretics who worshipped on Mount Gerizim instead of in the Temple in Jerusalem. (Jn 4:20) In Jesus’ day, “Samaritan” was a dirty name which one Jew would call another Jew when he was angry. One day during a heated conversation, some fellow Jews blurted out at Jesus: “You’re a dirty Samaritan, and you're possessed by a demon![5]" (Jn 8:48) Jesus chooses to swim against the current; He crafts a parable which portrays two Jews (the priest and Levite) as bad guys and a Samaritan as a good guy. His parable does such an excellent job of rehabilitating the word “Samaritan” that down through ages it has come to mean a compassionate person who stops for someone in need. The only kind of Samaritan there is -- is a good one!

Why did Jesus craft a parable to rehabilitate “Samaritan?” Perhaps it was because He remembered the time when on His way to Jerusalem He cured ten lepers, and only one returned to fall on his knees and give Him heartfelt thanks. And that man was a Samaritan. (Lk 17:11-19) Jesus never forgot that. Neither did He forget the good experience He had with the Samaritan woman at the well of Jacob. (Jn 4:1-42) The grateful leper and the good woman at the well of Jacob melted away whatever Jewish prejudice Jesus had about Samaritans.

A parable about life’s various roles

Another facet of the parable concerns the various roles into which life casts us. I always remember (because I can never forget) traveling to Chicago one New Year’s Day many years ago, while the season’s fiercest snowstorm was raging. Suddenly I came upon a young couple stranded on an exit ramp, pushing their car. I exited the highway to help them. After accomplishing that Good Samaritan deed, I returned to the highway and sped on again (twenty miles an hour) in the blizzard, towards Jericho. Not ten minutes later my car left the highway and landed in a deep ditch. The highway that day was crowded with Jewish priests and Levites also headed for New Year’s celebrations. But none of them stopped! The only one to stop was an Illinois State patrolman, and he was a bandit! He implicitly wanted a fifty dollar bribe, or he was going to throw me in jail for not having a current sticker on my license plate (it was in the glove compartment). He backed off, however, and disappeared into the raging storm.

On the road to Jericho life casts us in various roles. Sometimes we are victims waylaid by a snowstorm or some other adversity of life. Sometimes we are even bandits who victimize others. Sometimes we are Jewish priests and Levites passing right by someone waylaid by one of life’s snowstorms. And sometimes we are Good Samaritans who stop to pour the oil of compassion upon one in need.

Conclusion
A song singing in his heart

The Jewish priest, the Levite and the Samaritan returned home to Jerusalem that night. In Jericho the priest had delivered the main address at the dedication of a new synagogue there. The speech had gone very well, and everyone praised it. But at the end of the day, the priest had a blah feeling in his heart. It was the uneasy feeling of one who had not stopped for someone half-dead, but had hurried off to seek praise.

The Levite, too, had done well in Jericho that day; he got all his important errands accomplished. But he, too, at the end of the day had a blah feeling in his heart. It was the uneasy feeling of one who had not stopped for someone half-dead, but had hurried off to more “important” errands.

Because he had stopped to pour the oil of compassion on someone half-dead and had taken the time and effort to get him to the nearest inn, the Samaritan arrived in Jericho late for an important business meeting which didn’t go well at all. When, however, he got home late that night, though exhausted by the encounter with the man waylaid by bandits and disappointed with the meeting which hadn’t gone well, there was a song singing deep in his heart!

[1] Lv 19:18; Dt 6:5
[2] i.e. a Levite
[3] Samaritans were despised by Jews as half-breeds and heretics, and Samaritans in turn despised Jews.
[4] Reach Out translation: “two twenty dollar bills”
[5] Samaritanus es tu, et daemonum habes! “Thou art a Samaritan, and you have a demon!”

A Pilgrim Church

“No money bag, no beggar’s sack, no extra pair of shoes”
Lk 10:4
A Pilgrim Church

Fourteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time -- July 4, 2010
Isaiah 66:10-14 Galatians 5:13-18 Luke 10:1-9

To the Church gathered in a Temple not built by human hands[1]

Alleluia, alleluia.
A reading from the holy Gospel according to Luke
Glory to you, Lord.

At that time the Lord appointed another 72 disciples whom He sent ahead of Him in pairs to every town and place He intended to visit. He said to them, “The harvest is great but the workers are few. So plead with the master of the harvest to send more workers to help you gather in the harvest.

Go now, and remember that I am sending you like lambs among wolves. Carry no money bag, no beggar’s sack, no extra pair of shoes; and don’t waste time along the way. Into whatever house you enter, first say, `Peace to this household.’ If a peaceful person lives there, your peace will rest on him; but if not, it will return to you. Stay in the same house and eat and drink what is offered to you, for the laborer deserves his payment. Do not move about from one house to another. Whatever town you enter and they welcome you, eat what is set before you, cure the sick in it and say to them, `The kingdom of God is at hand for you.’”

The Gospel of the Lord.
Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

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Introduction
In need of 72 more disciples

In chapter nine of Luke Jesus commissioned 12 disciples, and sent them forth to preach the Kingdom of God and heal the sick. (Lk 9:1--5) This Sunday in chapter ten of Luke, Jesus commissions 72 more disciples. A few years after the first commissioning of the 12, there was still an abundant harvest out there in need of more harvesters. So the early church commissioned a larger group of 72 more disciples to go forth with the same sense of urgency to preach the Kingdom of God and to heal the sick. (Lk 10: 1-9)

Again in need of more disciples

At the present moment we are in the same fix as the early church. “The harvest is great but the workers are few.” We’ve been suffering a priest shortage for a good thirty years now. We’ve tried all different means to address the crisis: We periodically pray for more vocations. We’ve imported priests who speak incomprehensible English. Some have chosen to wash their hands of the crisis by simply blaming the “faithless times” for not being able to generate more vocations to the priesthood. In recent times, the church has bypassed the heart of the problem by concocting teams of priests who have to dash off to various parishes to click off Sunday Masses. Etc. None of these attempts have adequately or courageously addressed the crisis.

A carefully qualified sentence

Almost 20 years ago, in a long pastoral letter to the Church of Milwaukee, Archbishop Rembert Weakland O.S.B. made a courageous attempt to address the shortage of priests. His letter contained a very carefully crafted and courageous sentence:

I would be willing to help the community surface a qualified candidate for the ordained priesthood - even if a married man [italics mine] – and, without raising false expectations or unfounded hopes for him or the community, present such a candidate to the Pastor of the Universal Church [Pope John Paul II -- the master of the harvest] for his light and guidance. (Catholic Herald, January 10, 1991)

Almost 20 years later in his book A Pilgrim in a Pilgrim Church (2009) Weakland writes,

When I went to Rome in March 1993 for the ad limina visit, the shortage of priests was certainly on my mind. Milwaukee had begun to feel the effects of their [priests] diminishing numbers, and I knew that it was only the beginning of many adjustments. The archdiocese had tried one vocational program after another with meager results. Some of the conservative periodicals were convinced that conservative dioceses had many vocations, those with a “liberal” bishop none. Over and over again I heard that refrain. But I knew many very conservative bishops whose dioceses had no vocations at all. The “official” line was that Jesus promised there would be sufficient laborers for the harvest; if these were lacking, the fault must be in us. (I never recalled that Jesus said that there would be sufficient candidates for the priesthood among those willing to accept a celibate commitment.) (P. 337-338)

Referring to his carefully crafted and courageous sentence of 1991, Weakland writes in his book,

In the light of what I had heard from the faithful and believing they too possessed the fullness of the Spirit, I felt an inner compulsion to write that sentence – even though I knew it would fall on deaf ears.” (A Pilgrim in a Pilgrim Church, p. 341)

A hand-delivered letter

On deaf ears it did, indeed, fall! When Rembert went to Rome in 1993 for his ad limina visit, he had a meeting with Cardinal Gantin, Prefect of the Congregation of Bishops. The meeting seemed to have gone OK. Shortly after, however, Weakland, received a hand-delivered letter signed by the Cardinal, which read in part:

I wish to mention the lack of esteem for “the Vatican” that, on more than one occasion, you are perceived to have shown. Your attitude toward the Holy See is
perceived as negative. Among the requirements of Catholic unity there is the need [for you] to accept the tradition of the Church. According to ecclesial practice, reinforced recently by a Synod of Bishops, it is not [italics mine] possible to present married men for ordination to the priesthood.

On the question of the ordination of women, your position is perceived to be in opposition to the teaching of the Church. Moreover, the charge of “intransigency” – a word used by your Excellency – on the part of the Church in this matter, can seriously damage Church authority and Church government. (P.344-345)

A dynamic ecclesiology

During Vatican II’s many and fierce deliberations on the preliminary document on the nature of Church, the Archbishop of Mainz, Germany, rose to say, “In this document we, the People of God[1], are on the march, but we seem to be marching a treadmill! Where in the world are we going?" Out of his intervention was born Chapter VII of the Council’s stellar document on the nature of the Church -- Lumen Gentium.[2] Chapter VII is entitled: The Pilgrim Church. It contains a very refreshing and dynamic ecclesiology.[3]

The ecclesiology of the past was static: The old catechism asked: “What is the Church?” The answer was: “The Church is the body of those who believe in divinely revealed truths as proposed by the magisterium of the Church, participate in its seven sacraments, and is obedient to Church authority, especially to the authority of the Pope.”

The ecclesiology of Chapter VII, on the other hand, is dynamic: We the Church are not marching a treadmill. We are a pilgrim people en route; we have journeyed out of Israel, and we are moving onward toward the Heavenly Jerusalem. We are a pilgrim people en route; we don’t have the last word about many issues, and we are always searching. We are a pilgrim people en route; we travel lightly as wise pilgrims do, carrying no money bag, no beggar’s sack, no extra pair of shoes, and wasting no time along the way.

Of the many chapters in the thirteen documents written by Vatican II this chapter on the pilgrim character of the earthly Church is perhaps the most inspired. It's been called "one of those blessed accidents that happens in every Council." One theologian said it "parachuted down from heaven." Another said, "You don't read this chapter, you pray it." Rarely has that ever been said before about any document written by Church hierarchy. Good Pope John XXIII insisted that the Council include a chapter on the Church’s pilgrim character in Lumen Gentium. No doubt it was this pilgrim ecclesiology which radiated out of Vatican II that inspired Weakland to title his book A Pilgrim in a Pilgrim Church.

“A holy conversation”

Vatican II has `saddled’ the Church institution with a pilgrim ecclesiology. As pilgrim the Church institution is en route; it has not yet arrived and has a long way to go. As pilgrim it is not in firm and final possession of the truth, but is always journeying toward the truth. As pilgrim the Church institution sees her dogmatic assertions not as erroneous but as inevitably impoverished before the ineffable mystery that is God. As pilgrim the Church institution sees its teachings not as the last word but as the opening word of “a holy conversation” with all God’s people.
“A holy conversation” is the expression used by Richard Gailardetz, husband, father and theology professor at the University of St. Thomas in Houston, Texas. He asks Pope Benedict to invite the Church to “a holy conversation” about all the great issues that rattle the Church, like divorce and remarriage, birth control, homosexuality, the ordination of married men, the ordination of women, etc. In a holy conversation Church institution and the faithful teach each other and learn from each other.

In the priest shortage crisis a holy conversation is abruptly ended even before it gets started, when the institution has recourse to “a long unbroken sacred tradition” of ordaining only celibates and only men. Cardinal Gantin has recourse to a “long unbroken tradition” when in his hand-delivered letter to Archbishop Weakland he writes,

According to ecclesial practice, reinforced recently by a Synod of Bishops, it is not possible to present married men for ordination to the priesthood. On the question of the ordination of women, your position is perceived to be in opposition to the teaching of the Church.

That put an end to a holy conversation even before it got started., he says, the Church institution “resists the temptation to control or direct the discussion toward predetermined conclusions.”

Conclusion
Moral authority

A Church institution which holds a holy conversation has the moral authority to ask us to hold the holy conversations that life demands of us. A Church institution which travels lightly as good pilgrims do, carrying no money bag, no beggar’s sack, no extra pair of shoes ( no dogmatic possessions about who can or cannot be ordained, etc.) has the moral authority to call us also to be pilgrims.

[1] The People of God is the title of Chapter II of Lumen Gentium
[2] Lumen Gentium ( The Light of the Nations): the 2 opening words of the Council’s stellar document on the nature of the Church.
[3] Ecclesiology is the theology on the nature of the Church