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Sunday, November 17, 2024

Pay attention--a brief meditation on the readings for 33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time

 

“Learn a lesson from the fig tree…”

--Mark 13:24-32

 

The Lesson of the Fig Tree: thirty-third Sunday in ordinary Times

 

For the past few weeks I have noticed a theme in the readings at mass: the importance of paying attention. It seems to me that regardless of whatever else is going on, Jesus keeps reminding His disciples (and us) to open our eyes—to see!

 

In today’s readings, both the Gospel and the passage from Daniel (12:1-3) speak of fearful signs and earth-shaking events that sound a lot like the end of the world.  The reading from Hebrews (10:11-14, 18) alludes to a final judgement, and the Psalm (16) offers a kind of road map for how to traverse troubling times: Keep your eye on the Lord.

 

But notice that instead of telling His followers to run for cover or to buy generators and stock up on canned goods and self-composting toilets, Jesus offers a very different kind of advice: pay attention. Last week Jesus sat down in the temple area and watched the people, then drew the disciples attention to the action of one particular poor widow. This week’s call to attention takes more of an arboreal approach.

 

“Learn a lesson from the fig tree.

When its branch becomes tender and sprouts leaves,

you know that summer is near. In the same way,

when you see these things happening,

know that he is near, at the gates.”

 

The “He” Jesus speaks of is the Son of Man, a term that would have had messianic and apocalyptic associations for the people of Israel. Daniel uses it to refer to a heavenly figure, perhaps the archangel Michael, who will come and set Israel free from the Babylonian captivity, but when Jesus uses it, He seems to refer to Himself.  But, it is interesting to me that the lesson Jesus gives us here isn’t about how to recognize the actual “Son of Man” (whoever he is), but instead how to recognize that he is near. Already at the gate, even…  The lesson is about noticing things that we might not think matter—like the gift of the poor widow.  As Jesus tells the disciples, her tithe of two or three pennies is worth more than all the money and jewels (or large checks and endowments) the wealthy place in the weekly collection basket.

 

What I hear in this reading is less a warning about bad things that might be coming, and more a reminder to always Pay attention!

 

Watch, listen, learn—God is with you already, nearby, at your side, in fact! Look at the trees, look at the stars, look at the wonder of nature. See it. Feel it. Know it.

 

I am with you always, even unto the end of the earth.

Sunday, November 10, 2024

The widow’s mite and the gift of sitting still—A meditation for the 32nd week of Ordinary Time

 


“[Jesus] sat down opposite the treasury and observed

how the crowd put money into the treasury. Many

rich people put in large sums. A poor widow also came

and put in two small coins worth a few cents.

Calling His disciples to Himself, He said to them…”

--Mark 12:41-44

 

This Sunday at mass, I imagine many of us will hear a homily about the gift of a poor woman.  And clearly that is at the heart of the readings this Sunday. The gospel story of the widow whose almost meaningless gift is in fact the greatest—because she gave all that she had.  The Old Testament reading from 1 Kings 17 is about a poor widow dying of hunger, who gives the prophet Elijah the last of her food.  And then the psalm (146) reminds us of God’s generosity –especially to the poor:the hungry, the widow, the orphan, the captive and the stranger, and the reading from Hebrews (9:24-28) reminds us of the completeness of Christ’s gift, holding nothing back, a gift that costs everything and yet was given freely for our salvation. So, without a doubt, anyone focused on the gift of the widow and her mite will be in good company, in fact –as we can read—that is exactly what Jesus focused on.

 

But, going out on a limb here, this week my attention was caught by a different element. Earlier in the week I wrote about the image of God presented in the psalm—an image of tender care and compassion for the lowly and the oppressed. But now I’d like to focus on another image in the Gospel.  Instead of the widow and her coin,  I’ve been pondering what Jesus is doing. And wondering what lesson we might find in that.

 

And so I turn back to those words and ask: what exactly does He do?

 

Not very much. He just sits, and observes. Not exactly the plot of a Bruce Willis movie, I know; but stick with me.   Jesus takes a seat opposite the treasury, and watches as people walk past dropping their gifts (their tithes) into the box. Some rich people give great amounts of money, others not quite as much—and then He sees this one widow who gives only a couple of small coins—worth only a few cents.  And this catches His eye. 

 

And then, what does He do?  He calls the disciples to come hear what He has seen. He sits and He observes, and then He shares.  Let us think about that image, those two actions, for a moment.

 

The image of Jesus sitting down and observing the activity in the temple area may seem like a pointless detail. But, I was struck by it—in part because it reminds me of reading, of study, even daydreaming.  To sit and watch, feels like a very passive thing for Jesus to do, and passivity is not a posture our world tends to regard very highly.  We are a world that honors the doing, more than the observing. We are a world that much more readily honors Martha over Mary.

 

But, for some reason, this week I find something quite compelling in His action (or lack of action), I see an image of contemplation.  When we sit down, settle ourselves for a moment, we make room for something else, even someone else. When we sit down and observe, we begin to notice things, we may even begin to pay attention. In a sense, we allow ourselves to receive whatever gift the world, the universe, God, wants to reveal to us. To sit and observe may look like wasted time, but… in this Gospel it sure seems like Holy work.

 

Now let us look back at the story again. What does Jesus do next?  He calls his disciples and tells them what He has seen.  He sits and observes and then He shares. Observes and bears witness... 

 

He isn’t making up a story, or telling a parable, Jesus is simply telling the apostles what He actually saw, in the real world, right there in front of all their eyes. The disciples may have seen the very same thing, but Jesus draws their attention to what it means—to Him.  He tells them what He saw: the humble act of a passing stranger, and what it means to Him.  

 

What lesson am I drawing from this? To me, the posture of sitting and observing is a lesson about allowing ourselves to receive.  To receive a gift, we have to allow it to be given.  We have to open our hands, our eyes, our ears, and our hearts and accept it—whatever it is.  To sit and observe the world, the people around us, the neighbor jogging past on the street, the clouds drifting in the sky, a blue jay hopping on a branch, is to contemplate the gift of God’s creation. To receive –in some sense—a revelation. When we sit and observe, we allow God to feed us, to feed our spirit, our soul, even our imagination.  And that is a blessing.

 

But what is the natural reaction to receiving a gift?  We want to tell someone about it. We want to share. In a sense, we want to give it away.

 

This image of Christ reminds us to pay attention. Which may seem like such a small thing, but… as Jesus so often points out, sometimes the smallest gifts (even something worth only a few cents—like a mustard seed…) are worth more the most.

 

One last thought:  one of the problems we keep hearing about in our world today is loneliness, and anonymity.  So many people today feel unseen, unheard, unnoticed. They hunger for someone to notice them, for someone to just take a moment and pay attention.  The tiny gift of stopping whatever we are up to and paying attention to even just one person, is worth more than we can imagine.  To let someone know they are seen, noticed, is to let them know that they matter.  Their gift matters.

 

Sometimes the gift we give, is to simply sit and receive.

 

As Jesus reminds us, that humble gift that seems like “nothing” may be the greatest gift we have to give.

Friday, November 8, 2024

Godly leadership

Regardless of who we voted for... If we want to know whether or not we have Godly leaders, all we have to do is look at the way they treat the vulnerable and the oppressed. 

Some thoughts on Psalm 146...

“The Lord keeps faith forever,
secures justice for the oppressed,
gives food to the hungry.
The Lord sets captives free…
The Lord protects the stranger.
The fatherless and the widow He sustains…”
--Psalm 146


How often do we hear these words and simply let them wash over us like “white noise.” They go in one ear and out the other-- the blah blah blah of ceremonial language, church talk, meaningless words of theoretical praise. Even if we hear them as scripture or as something possed of "the truth," we might pay little attention because of their familiarity. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get on with it... Tell me something new. I’ve heard all this before.

And yes, we have heard time and again about God’s concern for the widow and the orphan, God’s care for the oppressed and the captive… even the stranger. And so, perhaps, we nod in assent but don’t bother to ask ourselves: What does this really mean?

Like Job, and the author of Ecclesiastes, we may even find ourselves looking around and seeing the hungry and thirsty begging on street corners, or read in the news about widows and orphans in Gaza or Ukraine or captives held in an overcrowded prison. If we take these lines seriously, we may (like those ancient authors) wonder: Where is this God?

But, what if we read these words not as something akin to an advertisement for God, but as clues to where and how we might recognize God in the world, God’s presence and God’s love at work. What if we read in them portents and signs for how we can find God in our own daily life? And how we can recognize God’s presence in the actions of others.

Where the hungry are being fed—there is God.
Where the widow and the orphan and the stranger are being protected—there is God.
Where the oppressed are given justice—there is God.

This isn't a Democrat or Republican thing. Liberal or Conservative. No party has a lock on compassion or justice or Godliness.
This is a question to be asked not just of a party, but of each individual who hopes to lead our nation, our world.

Perhaps the psalmist is reminding us, if we really want Godly leaders, we already know what to do. Look at how they treat the vulnerable, the hungry and the oppressed. 

And you will know if God is there.