Relating to Sheep (Homiletics Review - #5 in a series)

 She offended my youthful sensibilities... which, in fact, needed to be offended.  Back when I was fresh out of Theology school, brimming with zeal and ignorance in almost equal parts, my good friend Emma and I were talking about lofty theological concepts.  I suspect we were too-much loving the fact that we had a whole new language, and we could talk like "religious adults" and say important stuff.  Her mother, who singled-handedly supported their family as a housekeeper at the local hotel, and witnessed God's love to, oh, just about everybody she met in one way or another said:  "Words, words, words.  I don't know about all these things.  I just love God and pray."  The two of us, so full of words, were struck to silence.  And rightly so.

I've noticed that there are a lot of words in our culture, not all of them true, but all of them tirelessly persisting.  Miserable young adults singing songs about their feelings and their misery, wallowing in their "lostness" and trying to pretend they are cool and trendy - they make my ears hurt.  Characters on television shows and in the movies justifying their immoral behavior with back-asswards, worldly logic appall me.  People repeating whatever they hear on the news as if it were gospel-truth, and then holding to their views because it's what their "team" stands for make me nervous.  Words, words, and more words.  

When the homilist/preacher steps up to the ambo, or takes up a position on a street corner, he/she needs to have a sense of mission.  As the Blues Brothers said, "We're on a Mission from God."  Yes, it's that important.  So be clear about the words, what the message is, and for crying out loud, relate to the sheep.

What did you hear in "real life" this week that can help someone sort out the word-soup of life?  "Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace unto the hearers."  (Ephesians 4:29) Another translation says:  "Don't let worthless stuff come out of your mouth, but say things people need to hear, things that will really help them."  In order to really help people, you need to know their reality, their real-life needs and struggles.  This means that you need to relate to the sheep, so to speak.  

Years ago one of my student's brains got commandeered by an animal rights group of some sort.  She came up to me, pamphlet in hand, and told me sheep farmers were cruel, that they cut off the tails of sheep and sold them as delicacies (yak!) and the sheep were left maimed ... I asked her one simple question:  "Do YOU know any sheep farmers?"  City girl that she was, she did not.  I proceeded to tell her that I know some monks that raise Scottish blackface sheep ... and when their sheep are in lambing season, they talk to them with the affection one reserves for a girlfriend, very sweetly indeed.  And, to whit, that anyone who was raising his own sheep would know better than to take away their tail which is their defense against flies on the back-end.  Good grief.  

The other point I could make here is the value of One Great Question.  Sometimes the best way to move people forward in their spiritual life is to place a question or concept in their head that tips their world upside down ... or causes them to lose sleep at night.  If conversion begins with change, then I think that change begins with challenge.  Jesus asked One Great Question of His disciples:  "Who do you say that I am?"  His lead-in question was just to start the engine:  "Who do people say that I am?"  And St. Peter piped up with, "Some say you are Elijah come back from the dead; some say John the Baptist; others one of the prophets."  He did not say, "Oh super.  Everybody gets an A+  now, let's go grab a burger!"  His lack of response to their opinions indicates that those answers were insufficient, unacceptable.  He leaves it, and then focuses the laser on:  "But who do YOU say that I am?"  In other words, "Do you get it yet?"  I would propose to you that in all of Scripture, THAT is the most important question.  And, consequently, in all of history, THAT is STILL the most important question ... because the answer to that drives our moral behavior.  And our moral behavior drives the world.

But back to the sheep for a moment.  Is the reality of clerical or ministerial life so far removed from the reality of the common person?  It should not be.  Perhaps that is one thing that married clergy have going for them:  amidst shuttling kids to soccer practice, getting the groceries, and checking in on the in-laws, there is quite a lot of reality.  And you are in the thick of it.  Someone who is celibate, non-parental clergy can, hypothetically, badge-in and badge-out.  In other words, you can have meals with your family of origin, or your close friends, but it is always the option to play the clergy card and get a pass.  It must be stressful and I am sure it puts them amidst difficult choices.  

I stood at the bedside of a man who had a critical injury.  I was performing a notarizing of a legal document at the time.  This man, perhaps close to death or not, was in significant physical pain.  It intrigued me that all he could muster to say was, "Will my brother take my house?  Will my brother take my model planes?"  He was in a world of hurt and, to the end, he was still worried about having his "toys" stolen by a sibling.  Amazing.  

And yet, there it was:  humanity in all of its rawness.  One would think the goal would be to get to the later stages of our lives and care a whole lot less about the "things" of this world.  So I would propose a homily/message should reach into people's reality and address those kind of things.  

Over thirty years ago, I was aware of the Catholic bishop of one major diocese who told his young priests that they should not make it a point of driving their personal luxury or sports cars around town a lot.  (It set an image of clergy that seemed kind of worldly.)  For those of you who are unaware, priests who answer to a diocesan bishop do NOT take a vow of poverty.  Monks and some religious orders, however, do take a vow of poverty, so they are more modest in their purchase of communal property.  On the other hand, a diocesan priest CAN own and drive a sports car but I think that sends an odd message when he stands before a congregation to preach for holiness, and against "worldliness."  The Rolex watch also throws people off.  Just sayin'.  Maybe your dying grandfather gave it to you, but unless you are prepared to take out a newspaper ad to that effect, you are going to have people around you who look at you and think, "I'm barely scraping by on my salary, you want me to contribute to the capital fund to build a bigger church or whatever, and the priest is wearing a Rolex.... what is wrong with this picture?"  

Authentically relate to the sheep.  It will give you credibility and open a lot of doors.  You will be surprised.

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What's the Story? (Homiletics Revisited - #4 in series)

 

I am going to admit this out loud:  when I showed up at Mass that Christmas Eve that year and I saw who the homilist was, I almost uttered a profanity in Church.  This dear priest had a very bad habit of telling the same exact story every single Christmas Eve ... and it is horrible.  Oh, he meant well.  But the result was not what he was striving for ... kind of like biting into a tasty-looking pink watermelon slice only to find out that it had gone south, quite far south, and you now have that taste stuck in your mouth.  Everything that comes after it, no matter how great, still has that hint of spoilage lingering.  Yeah, okay, so I will tell you the story - apparently you, too, really want to be scarred for life.

One Christmas Eve a family prepared for their annual gift exchange.  The year had been lean, the father had been out of work, and the mother tried to manage to keep the household mood up as best as she could despite their financial worries.  The small daughter, perhaps five years old or so, had help from her mother in wrapping the box which held her gift for her father.  In my mind, it was the size of a case of paper reams.  She walked it over proudly to her dad and smiled, presenting it to him.  He was puzzled, and began to open it.  First the ribbon and bow came off, then the wrapping paper was taken back he opened the box and looked inside with a grimace.  Anger moved across his face.  He shouted at her:  "HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?  WHAT KIND OF A PRESENT IS THIS?  THE BOX IS EMPTY!"  Tears filled her sweet eyes, her cherub like lips quivered and she stammered, "No, Daddy, it's not empty..."  He retorted, "IT IS EMPTY!  AND THIS IS VERY BAD FOR YOU TO DO THIS!"  She tucked her chin to her chest and muttered softly, "Oh, Daddy, it is not empty.  It is filled with love … just for you."

See.  I told you it was horrible.  Even though he used it as a springboard to talk about how God's love is often not packaged as we would like it to be - from a baby in a manger cradled by a migrant Israeli couple, to all the other ways God comes to bring love in His strange ways, you still feel the bite of that story.  It makes me feel the way I did when I watched The Waltons' Christmas episode on tv reruns and their Christmas was so poor they were given "charity" gifts from missionaries.  Little Elizabeth Walton received the doll she wanted, albeit it was broken.  What is the good of a broken doll?  The child was heartbroken, as was I.  It made the missionaries look like jerks too, for which I take offense.

So I tell you this because in homilies, sometimes a story can make-or-break the whole homily.  If the story is not great and doesn't make people react positively - if it lacks punch or purpose, do not tell it.  I am a self-proclaimed champion story-teller.  I have sat at the feet of Master Storytellers in my youth.  Even my mother would probably admit that I can wind a good yarn.  A good story is like ...

A good story is like the hug of a friend.  It wraps around your heart and makes you feel warm.  In doing so, it has engaged trust and opened the ears of the person's heart to hear more ... 

A good story can be a shock to your system when you've stopped listening.  My Dad's Uncle Vincent was a story-teller extraordinaire.  When his car pulled into our driveway for a Sunday visit, I knew that the fun was afoot.  One story he loved to tell was about the hitchhiker traveling through Pennsylvania.  It was night and he stopped at a farm for lodging.  The farmer said to him, "Sure you can stay with us but we are poor and have no extra furniture.  You will have to share the bed with my daughter Beulah.  But no funny-business."  And the traveler slid into the bed, making sure to turn his Ashtabula.  - what a riotous laugh from Uncle Vince, and me, at that story.  My mother gave him the look and some sort of an expected motherly admonishment.  Almost 40 years later, I cannot think of Uncle Vince without remembering the Ashtabula, Pennsylvania, story.

A good story can make you take account of your own chickens, so to speak.  In a prior blog I shared about picking up a woman who was hitchhiking.  I was at a point in my life where I was trying to find a job that utilized my education and talents and was feeling frustrated.  She didn't know that.  As I drove her to her location, and asked her if she worked, she said she was a dancer once, (and I don't mean ballet) and they threw a chair at her.  Wow. That's a whole new level of feeling bad about yourself.  I asked  her if she would consider maybe working a cash register at a local drug store.  She said she only had a sixth grade education, and wasn't very good at math.  The long and the short of that encounter was I walked away feeling like I should be a little more grateful for the amazing education I was paying for because it would eventually open some doors for me.  

A good story can make you see from a different perspective.  My friend Br. Tony is a Franciscan missionary in Zambia.  He sent me a video tape tour of the mission so I could see what life is like there.  He mentioned a water monitor at the fish pond.  I was thinking it was some sort of measuring tool for plumbing the depths of the pond.  Um, wrong.  Not until I saw him hold the water monitor around the widest part of it's belly, with it's four legs flailing did I realize it is some sort of African lizard.  Rhetorical question:  why is it when homilists preach on Luke 15, the Prodigal Son story, the immediate move is to make us consider how WE are like the Prodigal Son, or how WE are like the Elder Self-Righteous Son?  Why not cast WE the People in the role of the Generous Father - even though we typically assign the Almighty to that role, we could step in for a moment to see how it transforms the way we do business, no?  A different perspective?

But let us not allow our stories and attention-grabbing jokes to pull us away from what the Homily should ALWAYS be about - The Fantastic Story of the Love of God.  Because, frankly, if you don't know how to tell THAT story, you will never be able to reach people for Christ, change lives, and bring healing and forgiveness.  

The Story Worth Telling cannot be told most effectively in the third-person.  You have to have experienced the goodness of God to be able to make the point, otherwise you are just another encyclopedia salesman selling something old that no one is sure they really need.  Here's what I mean.  I want to tell you the story of one of the happiest days of my life:

It was December 31, over ten years ago, and the approximate one year anniversary of buying my rear-wheel drive Isuzu Rodeo.  The vehicle  had turned out to be great fun, even though it was a stick shift and spun me in a circle one day when I got off the Brighton Avenue exit in snow.  I was told by someone who knew, that I should always park it in gear.  I tended to want to put it in neutral, kind of the way some people live. But I forced myself to park it in gear after being told.  That morning, as I was getting ready to go to work, I had my silver-factored chocolate lab on a leash in my left hand.  With my right hand I opened the driver's side door and put my foot on the clutch and started the ignition.  If the vehicle was in Neutral it would have been better ... yeah, that much I know now, because when I lifted my right foot from the clutch - remember I was only half-in the seat - the vehicle lurched forward.  I let go of the dog, who ran down to the creek.  The vehicle began rolling straight out the driveway to the road - I could not let that happen - if only I could jump in and shut it off!  I reached for the steering wheel to pull myself in.  Only what happened was the wheel turned left; I remained OUTSIDE THE VEHICLE and now it was rolling across the grass toward the fence.  I thought, "IF I just touch the side of it, it should stop rolling."  Nope.  It was in gear.  The rear wheel drive was pushing it across the lawn.  With the slightest touch from my hands on the vehicle, I fell on my back and watched the front driver's side wheel roll by as my left leg was now UNDER the vehicle ... which ran over the calf of my leg (and yes, I still have trouble to this day with that leg).  My right leg had pulled out in time somehow.  The driver's side mirror got snagged on a tree branch that kept the vehicle stuck in one spot, rear wheels spinning a rut into the lawn.  I was dazed.  I went to the right side of the vehicle to open it since the left door was now pinned-shut by the tree.  I forgot that I had locked the right door earlier when I put a lunch for work on the seat.  I turned and walked to the house, wondering if my leg was broken, but still relentlessly going for the spare key.  I picked the phone off the wall in the kitchen just as it rang with a friend who called to wish me Happy New Year - he never called me before then, or since - I asked him to call and send my friend Mary to me to help. I went out, shut off the vehicle, grabbed the flip-phone from the glove compartment and called 9-1-1.  As I talked to the operator I changed my mind and said, "No, I probably don't need help because I walked on it, and I'm talking to you. I think I'm okay."  She told me I was in shock and to stay-put until help arrived.  The town volunteer fire department came.  I remember one of the guys wanted to cut my pant leg to assess my leg for damage.  I stopped him and just rolled the pantleg up... and wished I had listened to the voice in my head that morning that said, "perhaps I should shave my legs today?" Yikes.  A news vehicle parked on the street - I yelled at him - "Nothing to see here!  Go away!"  Unconvinced, he left the scene.  I declined the ambulance ride, "Save it for someone who is really hurt,"  not realizing that, indeed, I was REALLY hurt.  My friend Mary drove me to the ER.  She said, "Does it hurt really bad?"  Nope.  Actually it didn't hurt at all.  Adrenaline is a marvelous thing while you've got it.  

You wonder what I was thinking when I was on my back on the winter grass with my leg under the vehicle?  I do remember.  It was this:  "If I live to tell this, it's going to be a great story.  There had to have been angels involved in some way."  I am grateful I can walk.  I am grateful for my friend Mary who took care of me for a couple of weeks to make sure I didn't wander around the house needlessly shaking blood clots loose and killing myself.  I am grateful because for the weeks I was out of work, I realized that I could never go back to working in a basement office with no windows and completely missing the glory of the world outside during the day.  It was that accident that gave me the impetus to begin searching for a new step in my career path.  And I found it. 

There are a million points in that story that could be used - How we live in a semi-coma until an event shakes us out of our stupor; how so many little details fall into place to create one picture; how our perception of reality is often based in our unwarranted self-sufficiency; how, unless you know better, the advice of someone who thinks they know better can put you in a bad spot.... The list goes on.  But in this story, I like to highlight that gratitude for so many little things - the first responders, my friends,  my new motivation for getting a different job ... the list goes on.  The price I paid, (sometimes my leg aches when the weather changes and sometimes it gets too tired at the end of the day) purchased a new outlook for me.  And that was important... and probably worth it.  All of the little things that get us where we need to go matter ...

If that was my homily, the title would be the same as the sign I have taped on my closet door, "All the little details of our life really do matter to God."    It is upon reflection that we find the meaning of life's puzzling, and sometimes traumatic, events to us. 

Now, go find a good story for yourself!

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Strange Bedfellows: Religion & Politics (Homiletics Revisited #3 in a series)

 

"Don't you know, you're not supposed to talk about Religion or Politics?"  said someone who should have known better.  Think about it.  When a culture STOPS talking about the very things that shape our thoughts, and consequently our behaviors, what happens is CHAOS and ANARCHY.  And both of those concepts come straight from the pit of hell. 

For example, look at the path of television in the last 60 years.  Yes, it has been that long.  I remember when we got our first color television set in the 1970's.  I remember watching "Leave it to Beaver" in black and white mode.  I also remember pleading with my parents to buy cable television so we could watch "Green Acres."  The only way we got any traction with the Decision Makers in the household was highlighting more Sports availability and Religious programming on cable tv.  Little did we know that now more than 50 years later every kind of smut and debauchery would be more regular fare.

It used to be that the advertisements for adult health and personal products would occur after 9pm programming because it was presumed that good little American children would be in bed sleeping by then, especially on school nights.  More than once, my mother called the television station to complain that the commercials were unsuitable for viewing with her husband and children in the room.  That was back in the day when writing your Television Station produced a modicum of results.  The perception was that you are a consumer and they wanted you to "consume" their station and not that of the competition.  It was tied to both longevity and continued stream-of-advertising dollars.  And then somewhere around the era of MTV, producers stopped caring, listening, or being aware that they were pushing limits of decency.  Our culture became a "live and let live" consumer society.  If you don't like the programming, flip the channel because there's someone else out there who will take your place in viewing smut.  Nowadays, do our kids even know what that word means?  Probably not, because they have been poured a steady dose of "don't judge."

Let me address my personal beef with "Don't Judge."  In my mind it is a misnomer.  We don't want people to "feel bad" that we disagree with their ideas or behavior, so we "don't judge."  When in fact, Jesus Himself said, "By their fruits you will know them..." (Matthew 7:16)  In other words, it is up to us to have a Standard by which to measure "right vs. wrong," and at its deeper root, "life giving vs. death dealing" behavior and "culture enhancing vs. degenerative" philosophies.  Don't get me wrong, you have your Rights and you are entitled to whatever whacky ideas you want to embrace ... but so do I.  And there's the rub.  The same people who whine, "Don't Judge," are in fact judging ME and taking away MY right to opinion, thought, and free speech .... not on MY watch, kiddo.  

As far as the other more quoted (and typically utilized in wrong context) injunction of Jesus, "Judge not, lest ye be judged," (Matthew 7:1) He is not talking about behaviors or opinions.  He is talking about Eternal Destiny.  The implication is that because all people are sinners, we are not in a position to condemn anyone.  (Romans 3:23) BUT.  But, we most certainly should be discerning and wise about the things that put anyone - me, you, or the guy down the street - on a bad path.  What one person does, matters.  If someone takes their vehicle and runs down a child in the street, we can say without hesitation that the behavior is Wrong.  We can draw some conclusions about the mental health of the driver only if we know them or the circumstances.  But details matter because if it was someone behind the wheel who was impaired, challenged, or unable to control the vehicle, our thoughts about the underlying source of the tragedy changes.  It can be a crime or it can be a tragedy, based on any of those factors.  And we can still say the behavior was Wrong.  That's how we judge.  Without rules and ascertainments that come from our deepest sense of the dignity of humanity, (and perhaps the influence of the Ten Commandments) our world will swirl into senseless, egotistical chaos.  A society like that cannot survive.  Ancient Rome is proof of that fact.

And this is where we come to -albeit a short cut - the intersection of cultural formation:  Religion & Politics.  When you think of Politics, perhaps immediately your mind goes to the polemics and the outliers, ie.) Republicans vs. Democrats, with the outliers being Green Party or whatever.  I would like to propose that we take a step back for the purpose of philosophical conversation.  

If we ask the question what is the highest possible purpose or intent or function of Politics?  I think we could make a case that the Purpose of Politics "should" be:  to serve the people of its country.  I think the Intent of Politics "should" be:  to assist in the creation of a just and peaceful society.  I think the Function of Politics "should" be:  to adjust the systems of the country so that there is law and order, that we might live in that ever-elusive peace most of us want.  I believe in Respect.  I believe in mind-your-own-business.  I believe there are things about you I don't want or need to know.  And in the spirit of privacy and freedom I think there are things about me that are not your business either.  I want a political system that protects THAT, as opposed to a political system that is pushing a myriad of agendas at us.  Respect.  Privacy.  Freedom.  And again, Respect.  Any political arm that is doing anything more than that, or anything Other Than protecting the most vulnerable members of our society from womb-to-tomb, is not functioning the way it should be.

If we can take that and agree upon it, then there should theoretically be not Red or Blue, but Purple.  But there is not.  And "partisan politics" really has become "Agenda Politics."  Clearly that system is not going anywhere any time soon because some of the agendas have the intent of eroding order in society.  So we need at least to have a sense for who might be wearing a proverbial white hat or black hat, and partisan politics can sometimes provide that.

Now, take one more step with me, if we ask the question what is the highest possible purpose or intent or function of Religion ... is it the same list of answers as those of Politics?   Maybe yes, maybe no.  Yes in that Religion is a body of people choosing to follow an ideal or lifestyle with its end goal in mind.  Things like the Ten Commandments and The Beatitudes have served us well as religious ideals that help preserve culture and society.  And then No if the end goal is not creating a just and peaceful society with Respect, Privacy, and Freedom.   Maybe it's just that simple.  Notice I use the word "Religion" and not "Faith," because I do that intentionally.  Religion as an organized social structure has a function even if someone does not believe in all its tenets. To wit, you can find your way to believe that adultery is bad or wrong because you don't want your spouse cheating on you, while at the same time you can be far from accepting other more spiritual beliefs endorsed by the same people who agree with that one of the Ten Commandments.  

While Faith is not a social structure, it is something that is interior to the individual and  has great power to impact both Religion and Politics.  If how I live flows out of who I am, instead of the lowest common denominator where "Law and Rules" make me live a certain way (out of fear or obligation), then we are on perhaps a better road.  What I mean, spelled-out, is that a person who does not murder or condone murder because it is a Rule or a Law is at one level; while another person does not murder or condone murder because they see Life as having inherent dignity from womb-to-tomb is at a different moral level.  Once the Dignity of Life becomes The Standard, you move from refraining from violence to reverencing Life and preserving it and learning ways to think outside of the box to solve problems in other ways than violence.  THAT is the value of Faith.  Values that flow from the center of a person are different in character and commitment than behavior that is impinged upon a person.  

In taking these thoughts to the pulpit for a common airing, the preacher is probably thinking two things:  1) how do I talk about this and not lose our 501(c)3 tax exempt status; and 2) how do I not split my congregation along political lines?  #One is simple:  don't talk about names and parties.  Talk about values, because everyone sitting in front of you has at least some interest in the values of The Almighty, otherwise they would be home in bed watching cartoons.  #Two the values you speak of do not come from the culture.  They need to come from the Gospel and the Ten Commandments.  So you are not pulling politics INTO religion.  You are attempting to put Values INTO POLITICS.  

While I could stop at this last paragraph I want to add one more pet peeve:  Homilies on Social Justice. Remember what I have written previously, that you should KNOW your audience before you speak? My beef with discussions of Social Justice in Church in the last 40 years is that it is not inclusive.  By that, I mean that the presumption of the preacher has, in my experience, been that those in front of him are privileged and somehow "owe" an undetermined amount of "justice" (do they mean money?  material support?  emotional sympathy?  service hours?  our own jobs?).  Do not make me feel guilty for having a job.  Do not make me feel guilty for whatever privilege you think I was born into.  Do not make me feel like I have to pay forever for the sins of the earliest settlers in America.  You don't know me or my history or my hardships.  The next time I hear a Social Justice Homily, so help me God, I am going to WALK OUT of church.  I sat in the bench one fine morning and listened to a preacher who was waxing pointedly about justice and what we owe... yeah, start at home, buddy - When I worked as a Catholic School Teacher, with a Master's Degree and monthly loan payments for same, and lived in a shanty apartment with no hope of getting out, I was being paid $21,000/year.  It was a hair above the poverty level which I believe was $16-18,000/year at the time.  Unless I STOPPED doing what I did well and loved much, I would have NO home of my own, decent vehicle to drive, and any of the things that the Social Justicer's think that "everybody should have."  At the time, a friend who taught in the public school (making twice what I made) complained to me that the School District cut her classroom budget.  I facetiously asked her, "What's a classroom budget?  In the Catholic school, you are handed a box of chalk, a ream of paper, and a roll of duct tape at the start of the year and told:  Make it work.  I actually got spoken-to for using more paper!  At that time I believe a ream of paper was three dollars.  Come on, now."  Then, when I left teaching, the H.R. lied to me that the money I put into pension could not come back to me since I was leaving teaching.  I had to fight them for four thousand dollars.  Are you kidding me?  So, um, yeah, no, don't talk to me about what I owe.

Perhaps I could round all these ideas up into one word:

Ms. Aretha Franklin said it best:  R-E-S-P-E-C-T.  

If we move back to the values of Respect and Responsibility, we will be on safe ground, but Silence on spiritual and moral values is NOT an option.

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For those of you who got a headache reading all this trying to put it together, I want you to know it took me three weeks and a lot of editing to get it even to This Point.  To approximately quote Martin Luther, "This much I said and can say no other, so help me God."