Far From the Cheering Crowd

And when he entered Jerusalem, all the city was stirred, saying, “Who is this?” And the crowds said, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth of Galilee.”  (Matthew 21:11)

Sitting here one block from a parish where I could be worshipping but feel most unwelcome as an outsider, I am again stridently aware of how atypical it is to be outside the community of faith as we enter this week that is all about community. The church gathers to share the stories of our faith; welcome its newest members into the family of faith, and together in faith experience the empty tomb.

Today we complete a 4-week series of exploration of faith that brings me to the final verse of I am the Bread of Life (S.S. Toolan)

Yes Lord I believe that You are the Christ

The Son of God

Who has come into the World

and the assurance of Jesus

And I will raise you up on the last day. 

(Minute 1:59 on recording)

On each to the 3 preceding Sundays, we have met and been challenged by people of faith: the woman at the well, the man born blind, and the family of Lazarus. We lose the arc of faithful confessions that have preceded this day. Today we are again faced with a confession of faith.

This year, I will again be exploring the essentials of faith with my mom, quietly, far from the “cheering crowds” but close to the heart of my primary faith mentor.

I will be wondering:

• How much faith is enough?
• Am I still standing by the side of the road asking, “Who is the guy?”
• Can I really lay aside my hopes and fears and believe in the promise of the resurrection on the last day?

You are invited to join me. Use either the comments section below or drop me a note. We are very fortunate in our time to be able to bridge the barriers of time and space to be “community” despite the diaspora.

Peace


Note: It is nearly impossible to find a recording that includes this final verse.  This is a clear case of the importance of including the end of the text -- a rant for another day.

Conversion is hard

Recitative Obadiah: Ye people, rend your hearts, and not your garments, for your transgressions, even as Elijah hath sealed the heavens through the word of God. I therefore say to ye, forsake your idols, return to God; for He is slow to anger, and merciful, and kind, and gracious, and repenteth Him of the evil. Joel II: 12–13 

Aria Obadiah: “If with all your hearts ye truly seek me, ye shall ever surely find me.” Thus saith our God. Oh, that I knew where I might find Him, that I might even come before His presence! Deuteronomy IV: 29 / Job XXIII: 3

This is the time of the year when I realize conversion is hard. We are clearly told “rend your hearts and not your garments.” (Joel 2:13) It is so much easier to rend a garment. Right? Give to the poor. Deny yourself watermelon. Attend daily mass. I ask, without judgment or shaming, has my heart changed?

This Sunday we completed the cycle of the three key stories of lent: the woman at the well, the man born blind, the rising of Lazarus. Known among my friends as “the really long gospel Sundays” (with the REALLY long readings yet come), I am sad to realize that it is the length of the gospel readings that most stay with them. I have tried to discuss these most important stories and reached a gap. They really don’t remember the essence of the stories.

It would be easy to point to the length and delivery of the stories in the context of mass. Is being “bored” only a convenient way to describe our defensive posture?

Each of these interactions with Jesus asks for the most difficult yet fundamental postures for conversion: vulnerability, faith, and authentic relationship. We know the outcome of the entire story - Jesus died to open the gates of heaven, rose from the dead, and reigns in glory. This is our reality in baptism. I am part of that great movement of salvation.

All I am asked to do is love God; to continue that, to love my neighbor as myself. So simple. Very straightforward. Near impossible.

I am not so sure that if I was the woman at the well if I would be so happy hearing from the lips of Jesus a retelling of everything I have done and be able to have faith enough to go tell everyone I know. Or, that I would sit there and let a stranger put mud on my eyes. Would I chose to remain blind and live in the comfort I know? Do I believe that I have a relationship strong enough with Jesus he would weep for me at my grave and raise me up to be with him, to be Lazarus?

I think I best refocus on rending my heart. Yup, conversation is hard.