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" The Life Of Jesus"
In a sermon St Bernard once gave on Palm Passion Sunday he said, “How different the cries, ‘Away with him, away with him, crucify him,’ and then, ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, hosanna in the highest!’ How different the cries are that now are calling him ‘King of Israel’ and then in a few days time will be saying, ‘We have no king but Caesar!’ What a contrast between the green branches and the dry, wooden cross, between the flowers and the thorns!” Why this strange juxtaposition of positive and negative stories? Is it meant purely as a historical accounting for why Christ’s crucifixion happened; to explain the threat Christ’s popularity posed the Jewish and Roman authorities, for which the response was to execute him? Or are the two stories simply a clear illustration of the grave fickleness of human-kind? Or perhaps these two stories presented on this one single Sunday celebration of our Saviour are meant to illustrate something much broader, but in brief terms like Reader’s Digest or Condensed Classics on Silverscreen TV. Perhaps today’s readings are a kind of biography, a summary of the ‘Life of Christ’. Like anyone whose death might be imminent, certainly Jesus also saw in his mind’s eye his whole life passing before him: his youthful exploits in the temples, his ministerial travels from town to town, healing and teaching thousands his gospel, his triumphant reception at the gates of Jerusalem, in essence, the culmination of his career – his loving ascent into our lives, all the events crowding into his thoughts. But then his memories take him to his final hour, his bitter descent, his freedom taken from him by the forces of an ignorant, fearful, confused, and jealous world. We may not think of it this way, but in very simple terms, Jesus experienced in his short life what every one of us will and is perhaps already experiencing: our ascent and descent in life which all revolves around freedom. These are the stories of our own acquiring of freedom from dependence on others, the freedom to do what we wish, go where we want, make our own way. But as time moves on, and pain and suffering inevitably become a part of our physical and mental life, our freedom tends to be slowly taken away from us. We grew up, travelled from town to town like Jesus, hopefully doing the work God called us to, but old age and infirmity beckons us at the end of the road, a road where we need someone like Simon to help us carry our crosses, someone like Veronica to dry our tears, people like the women to listen to us. We will be taken where we may not want to go, fed, bathed, groomed, and dressed by people we do not know. In the words of the great, humanitarian playwright, Tennessee Williams, there will come a time when we must all “depend on the kindness of strangers”. Front-line workers live this everyday: bathe, dress and feed the sick and frail; listen to every word; read the fear and alarm in patients’ eyes; hold their hands as they grasp for breath; provide kindness and care to give them hope. As we grow older and begin to suffer, losing our freedom as Christ did, will we compound the work of our caregivers? Or like Christ, will we forgive them and still love them when they may not know what they’re doing? Endure without complaint, pray for them, and especially learn to accept our suffering as just part of the cycle of life which is taking us to our crosses at the top of Golgotha? Christ teaches us today how to navigate that journey. Christ accepted his freedom was taken away, but he freely and willingly accepted it, especially to show to all human-kind that a glorious resurrection awaits us after the hard work of this life. All we need do is believe and live the gospel. At whatever stage of life we may be in, dependence on God is a very good, productive, pleasing, holy, loving, and blessed thing. ** In our Lenten Project many have been deeply examining themselves by asking: Who am I? Where did I come from? Where am I now? Where am I going? Where do I want to go? This week we ask: “Where does God want me to go?” ** – Rev Fr Christopher Tracey, Saint Joseph Parish, Saugeen Shores, Ontario
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“Show Our Children How To Live Fruitful Lives”
The media has been updating us on the civil war in Syria. The intense suffering and senseless loss of life is beyond all comprehension, yet it is still going on today! The BBC reports it all started 10 years ago with a peaceful uprising against the new president of Syria, Bashar al-Assad. However, a subsequent violent response to the protesters, quickly turned it into a full-scale civil war. This brutal response to the protesters is still denied by Bashar. Sadly, the conflict has resulted in more than 380,000 people dead. Their cities are unrecognizable piles of rubble. A third of the country’s people are in exile. In many ways, the saddest victims have been the tens of thousands of infants and children who have been physically and mentally injured or have been executed in the sight of their mothers, fathers and siblings. On the CBC radio program, “As It Happens”, Carol Off interviewed two people who have survived the horrors of Syria: 1) One, a mother, who within minutes of childbirth, had to flee the hospital, carrying her twins, one dead, the other still alive. After burying her newborn boy under a lemon tree next to what remained of their home, she and her husband, desperate to escape, managed to find passage to Canada where they now live in St John, N.B. 2) The other is a lad, Omar Alshogre, still only in his 20s, who managed to escape to Washington DC. “A teenager attending his very first [peaceful] demonstration in Syria would end up in prison, enduring horrific torture for several years. But now he is trying to channel that horror into accountability and justice. He says, ‘I feel like I'm two different people. Omar, who is enjoying his life a lot, a Georgetown student meeting nice friends, new people, being optimistic all the time. And then the Syrian Omar, who is focussing on Syria, who is still going through the pain the Syrian people are going through.’” Like Christ, Omar’s heart was also troubled. He, too, wanted to ask God to save him from his terrible ‘hour’. But his beloved cousin, Bashir, who endured all with a smile, convinced him otherwise. There seemed to be a reason behind the madness only God knew. Bashir died in Omar’s arms, confident, I am sure, his death would bring new life to his home, Syria, like the seed which must die to bear new fruit. Still, why must children suffer and die like this? Although prayer is paramount in bringing about change, what can we, as parents and community, do to stop this? Searching for images of Syria’s urban situation, I discovered a website called Abandoned Urbex Canada. A chap named ‘Brent’ explores houses which also have been abandoned in our country. Most of them are empty, but others intact, fully furnished, even canned goods still in cupboards. In one tour he focused on a poster hanging near a bedroom door. Yellowed and curled, it was still possible to read: If children live with criticism, they learn to condemn. If children live with hostility, they learn to fight. If children live with ridicule, they learn to be shy. If children live with shame, they learn to feel guilty. If children live with tolerance, they learn to be patient. If children live with praise, they learn confidence. If children live with fairness, they learn justice. If children live with security, they learn to have hope and faith. If children live with approval, they learn to appreciate and like themselves. If children live with acceptance and kindness, they learn to find love in the world. – Children Learn What They Live by Dorothy Law Nolte This Sunday afternoon, I will be hearing the First Confessions of our First Holy Communion students. I will be thanking Jesus for answering his Father’s will, dying so his new life would bear fruit in our lives and the lives of these children, remembering how critical it is that we die to ourselves for their sake, demonstrating, more than telling them, how to live and be fruitful in their years to come. Just as Karen Carpenter wrote for their 1972 album, “A Song For You”: “Bless the beasts and the children, For in this world they have no voice, They have no choice. Light their way, When the darkness surrounds them; Give them love, let it shine all around them. Give them shelter from a storm; Keep them safe; Keep them warm.” ** This week our Lenten Project question is: “Where do I want to go?” ** – Rev Fr Christopher Tracey, Saint Joseph Parish, Saugeen Shores, Ontario “Suffering Which Leads To Light”
Today is traditionally known as ‘Laetare’ Sunday, but what exactly does that mean? First of all, ‘laetare’ is a latin word which comes from the verb, ‘laetari’, which means ‘to rejoice’. Some may also be familiar with ‘Gaudete’ Sunday, celebrated during Advent, ‘gaudete’ which is also a latin word and which also means to rejoice, but in a more declamatory, exuberant way: Rejoice! Rejoice! But why would we ‘rejoice’ during Advent or especially Lent? It is because it is also traditional to have a ‘break’ midway through these two seasons of penance and self-reflection to consider the ‘light’ which is coming, the light of Christ, Christ who is getting closer and closer to us, nearer and nearer, pushing the darkness away, while bringing his peace, joy, love and good news to the world. Of course, many of us may find it difficult to ‘rejoice’ during current circumstances. The pandemic has and is still weighing upon us physically, emotionally, and mentally. Many have lost loved ones. Many are isolated and alone. Many anxious, angry and fearful in the face of financial worries and employment concerns. In many ways it has been a year of suffering, a penitential year. But perhaps our response to suffering doesn’t need to be negative. Perhaps it is all in how we view it, understand it, accept it, or even how to embrace it, especially during this time of penance, and self-sacrifice for our good and the good of others. Viktor Frankl, the famous neurologist, psychiatrist and philosopher who survived life in a concentration camp during the Holocaust once said, after reflecting upon what he and many others had so bitterly suffered, that “Everything can be taken from [humankind], but one thing: our freedom – [the freedom] to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances.” Physicians tell us suffering is the body’s way of indicating trouble, and so it calls its many members to invoke healing. Christ has also shown us the meaning and value of suffering, that it, too, leads to healing, but healing of our souls. Indeed, the mother who suffers to give birth to new life will tell us suffering is actually a ‘blessing’! We also suffer on earth to bring new life into our own being, healing and purging our souls, and the souls of each other through the mysterious, but divine exchange of what we call ‘redemptive’ suffering. This suffering teaches us strength in adversity, instils a wisdom into our natures, matures us, helps us learn to put each foot forward in front of the other regardless of physical or mental impairment, just as Christ pushed his limits to reach the cross of our salvation. Our suffering in these past many months is indeed a blessing, because the pains both small and great bring us into Christ’s world, a world which is motivated and energized, not by physical strength and prowess, but by an intense, overwhelming love which sparked our birth into this life, we who are God’s most beloved miracle. Clearly, we can choose the dark, or we can choose the ‘light’. We can dwell on the darkness around us, fear it, even despise it, or we can lift our eyes upward to the top of Calvary, just as Christ did on his painful journey to Golgotha, knowing there is light at the top of the mountain where our suffering in the end redeems us. Suffering is a mystery, but a mystery founded on the love of God. Christ did this for love of us. As 1 Cor 13.7-8 reminds us: “[Love] bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.” Why? Because God is love. So, let us actually be grateful for the suffering we are enduring, because it is bringing us closer to Christ, the ‘Light’, the same ‘Light’ which wiped away the physical and mental darkness from the heart of Nicodemus, the ‘Light’ who hears our cries in the wilderness and answers them with his sacrifice of love and promise of eternal life. This week’s Lenten Project question is: “Where am I going?” – Rev Fr Christopher Tracey, Saint Joseph Parish, Saugeen Shores, Ontario " Let There Be Peace"
This past Friday, the 5th of March, marks an historically important event: the arrival of Pope Francis in Baghdad, the capital city of Iraq. Baghdad was once known in Arabic as Madīnat al-Salām or the “City of Peace”. And peace is the main theme of Father Francis’s visit – to call for ‘peace’ in a country torn by war and insurrection. Clashes of religious and cultural identities continue to dominate Iraq’s people. In the turmoil, the Christian faction has especially been numbered. Is it any surprise they are astonished that their ‘Papa’ has come to support them in this ‘angry’ land? Against all warnings, the 84-year-old, Pope Francis, set aside concerns for his safety and security, even during the pandemic, to make his pilgrimage of peace to ‘all’ the people of Iraq. As he arrived in Baghdad, a young Iraqi Christian boy urged his ‘hero’ to use his ‘popemobile’ for safety. In the end, Pope Francis has travelled in an armoured car accompanied by security and police on motorcycles. Meanwhile, people holding up signs and banners of Pope Francis with the words, “We are all Brothers” have lined the streets, eager to get as close to him as allowed. He has visited the birthplace of Abraham, cherished by Christian, Jew and Muslim. Saturday, he makes his historic visit with Iraq’s head Shiite cleric, Grand Ayatolla Ali al-Sistani, highly esteemed in Iraq and neighbouring countries. So far, good relations with the Muslim community have grown with Francis’ intervention, thanks in part to his friendship with leading Sunni cleric, Sheikh Ahmed el-Tayeb. What does Francis ask? However traumatized Iraq may be by anger and hatred, he is calling for tolerance, peace, and especially equal rights and safety for Christians and all minorities just as the Shiite Muslim majority enjoy: “The religious, cultural and ethnic diversity which has been a hallmark of Iraqi society for millennia is a precious resource on which to draw, not an obstacle to eliminate. Iraq is called to show everyone, especially in the Middle East, that diversity, instead of giving rise to conflict, should lead to harmonious co-operation in the life of her society.” In this unprecedented visit, Pope Francis certainly gives honour to his beloved Saint Francis as an ‘instrument of peace’: “Where there is ‘anger’, let us sow ‘peace’.” Today, we see Jesus express anger, but an anger justified, because it is expressed in the name of love, love for his God, and for the sincere devotions of the people who were coming to the temple for spiritual nourishment, but were being compromised by the distractions of common commerce soiling the steps of their sacred home. This is justified anger which rises up against any indignity, injustice, and malice toward the human condition and truth itself. It is anger, born out of fear and insecurity, which takes us to a bad place. This is the source and foundation of the anger and hatred which Francis hopes to dispel. In his book, Anger, Kingston minister and counsellor, Keith Ashford, says, “anger cannot exactly be managed, often not even denied, avoided, or repressed with any satisfactory result. But it can be transformed into its opposite which is inner peace, resulting in richer relationships, less conflict, and better well-being,” (Synopsis). If we feel angry, stop and first acknowledge the anger itself. It wants you to pay attention to it. Then ask yourself, is it justified anger like Christ’s? Anger is often a catalyst, calling us to change something. But if it involves the harm of someone, it is not justified. So, if not justified, then again, step aside and look at it objectively. Own the anger as just one of your ‘emotions’, nothing else. Whatever details may be catalysts for the anger are what need to be assessed; not the anger itself. Then take 3 deep breaths. Smile, since smiling is known to quickly change temperament. Realize your anger is pointing something out to you, maybe at a deep level, in effect your anger is helping you to help yourself. Keith says, “Learning to help ourselves by accepting and using our anger for change will also teach us how to help others help themselves. This is true Christian charitable work.” Imagine if an entire nation stopped, acknowledged, accepted its anger, observed it, determined what it is trying to tell them – where change is possible, dispelled fear and insecurity re their differences, and rebuilt themselves with acceptance and love. Otherwise, like Apostle Paul tells us (Eph 4.26-27): “Be angry, but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and do not make room for the devil.” This week’s Lenten Project question is: “Where am I now?” – Rev Fr Christopher Tracey, Saint Joseph Parish, Saugeen Shores, Ontario |
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January 2022
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