Church of The Holy Spirit

Parish Bulletin for Sunday, March 7, 2010
Third Sunday in Lent
Exod. 3:1-8, 13-15 1 Cor. 10:1-6, 10-12 Luke 13:1-9

Igniting the Fire Within

Have you ever had a burning bush experience? Have you ever known a moment in which you were so profoundly in touch with the presence of God that your life from then on was totally transformed by that encounter? Moses' experience of God, as shared today by the author of Exodus, was such an encounter.

There, at the bush that burned but was not consumed, Moses knew the awesome presence of God, and from within that ambience of fear and fascination he began to realize his true identity and his purpose in life. Burning bush experiences are fraught with absolute truth.

There is no dissembling in that moment; there is only the sheer terror but also the great thrill of realizing who God is and who I am before God. This realization is followed by a further incredible awareness that despite who I am and who I am not, despite what I have done and what I have neglected to do, God chooses to be present to me, to call me, to grace me, to call and grace others through me.

Paul's burning bush experience happened on the Damascus road, and the passionate faith in Jesus that took root in him that day is palpable in all his writings; today's second reading is no exception.

Samuel and Isaiah discovered their bushes burning in the temple. Each went forth from that experience resolute in his desire to serve God and God's people as best he could despite the personal cost.

Mary's initial burning bush experience, as told by Luke, was mediated by the angel-messenger in whom she recognized the divine presence. She listened as the voice of God changed her future forever.

Joseph's experience came to him in a dream that encouraged him to surrender his own sense of moral rectitude and his logic to a plan he had not made, but in which he was invited to participate in a very important way.

As for their son, Jesus, perhaps his most poignant burning bush encounter took place in a garden after an intimate meal with friends. Agonizingly alone before the reality of what lay ahead for him, Jesus knew the presence of God in the depths of his suffering. Even before his death on the cross, he allowed himself to be consumed by the will of God for him.

Nearer to our time, one of Dorothy Day's burning bush experiences came with the birth of her daughter Tamar. Of that moment, she wrote, "No human creature could receive or contain so vast a flood of love and joy as I often felt after the birth of my child. With this came the need to worship, to adore" (The Long Loneliness, Harper and Row, New York: 1952). Even though that experience and her subsequent devotion to God and the poor cost her the loss of her lover, Day relied on the strength of that experience all her life.

For Thomas Merton, a bush burned and drew him to God at a celebration of the Eucharist he happened upon at Corpus Christi Church on 121st Street in New York. Admitting that he didn't believe or understand or even belong there, Merton said that he left the church that day and wandered leisurely down Broadway looking at what had become for him a new world. He said, "I was not yet used to the clean savor that comes with actual grace." He had a sense of God's presence and realized that "He was there for love of me; He was there in power and might, and what was I in His sight?" (The Seven Storey Mountain, Harcourt Brace, New York: 1948).

With those experiences to ignite our own, each of us is challenged this Lent of 2010 to be willing to discover those burning bushes through which God is revealed to us and we are revealed to God. Perhaps the prayers and penance of this Lent might ignite our own fire.

That all our beloved dead, especially

WEDNESDAY, March 10
Weekday 8:30 a.m. - † Giuseppe Pierri
FRIDAY, March 12
Weekday 8:30 a.m. - † Lucia Mancinelli

may know the refreshment, rest, and peace of God's heavenly kingdom . . . that all those who grieve may know God's comfort and consolation . . .Lord, in your mercy.

For the sick, especially for all those who have asked for our prayers . . . for healing for all those who are sick . . . for courage for those in pain . . . for those who feel forgotten . . . Lord, in your mercy.

For peace and harmony in our world for all peoples . . . Lord, in your mercy.

For the special intentions we hold in our hearts, especially TUESDAY, March 9 for Mr, & Mrs. Machado . . . Lord, in your mercy.

Parish Bulletin for Sunday, March 14, 2010
Fourth Sunday in Lent
Jos. 5:9, 10-12 2 Cor. 5:17-21 Luke 15:1-3, 11-32

The Vision of Lent

So frequently, our focus during this holy season of preparation for Easter gravitates toward the wrong that we have done. We review the laws of God and the church and we realize that there have been infractions both great and small. We evaluate our relationships with God and with one another and admit that we have not been as faithful as we are called to be. We remember the goals we set for ourselves and are painfully aware that we have fallen short. We gauge the quality of our character, the depth of our spirituality and the fervour of our prayer and find that we are in great need of growth.

While it may be tempting to engage in this practice of negative navel-gazing, the mercies of our God call us to a more positive attitude. Admitting guilt and accepting responsibility is a necessary first step, but to remain in the morass of hopelessness created by our own sinfulness is to waste an opportunity to draw ever more closely and fall ever more deeply in love with God.

Each of the sacred texts for this Sunday references this process of turning a negative into a positive by surrendering a sinful past to the past. Upon their arrival in the land of Canaan, the Israelites were instructed by God through Joshua to remember no more the time spent in captivity in Egypt.

Instead of dredging up the memories of suffering and the failures of the desert days, they were to celebrate their Passover to freedom and renewed union with God. A new era was beginning for them, but the same Lord who had called them into being, called them forth from Egypt and guided them through the wilderness would never leave their side.

Paul evokes a similar outlook in today's second reading. Let go of the old ways of sin, urged Paul, and embrace new life in Christ. The great apostle was so convinced of the rebirth that comes with living in Christ that he called baptized believers "a new creation."

Paul was also convinced that those who were reconciled to God had become part of an ongoing process - the experience of reconciliation would be extended to others through them. There is a sense of exhilaration that comes with being forgiven, and Paul was hopeful that this joy would be contagious.

Nowhere is this joy more poignantly expressed than in today's Gospel. The son and brother we have come to call the "prodigal" is never named. Perhaps his anonymity makes it easier for readers to see something of themselves in him. His life, by his own choice, had spiralled down until it seemed that he could fall no further. He could have remained there, at the lowest point, wallowing in self-pity and self-loathing. He may have thought that he deserved his desperate situation, and no one would have disagreed with him. But there in that pigsty he decided to let go of his sinful past and try for a new beginning.

At this turning point in the Lucan parable, the evangelist tells readers, "He came to his senses." Rather than dwelling on himself and the mess he had made of his life, the son began to think of the goodness and love of his father. This thought enabled him to let go of what he had become and entrust himself to his father's mercy.

Here lies the lesson for Lenten believers. Essential to the process of reconciliation and forgiveness is a willingness to let go and leave the past behind. Without such baggage, the one who seeks forgiveness is able to welcome God's mercy with empty, open arms.

To bring this very special moment of homecoming to life, the 17th-century Dutch artist Rembrandt painted a larger-than-life portrait that now hangs in The Hermitage museum in Saint Petersburg, Russia and a copy of that same painting can be found in our own Reconciliation room. When he saw the painting on a trip to the former Soviet Union in 1986, Henri Nouwen shared his experience in The Return of the Prodigal Son (Doubleday, New York: 1992).

"The more I gazed at the painting," wrote Nouwen, "it became, somehow, the heart of the story that God wants to tell me and the heart of the story that I want to tell God and God's people. All of the Gospel is there. All of my life is there. All of the lives of every beloved sinner are there. The painting has become a mysterious window through which I can step into the kingdom of God. It is like an open gate that allows me to enter into the presence of the God who loves me."

This same God beckons to each of us today to let go of the past and, without looking back, to run into the loving and open arms of our Maker.

That all our beloved dead, especially

TUESDAY, March 16
Weekday 8:30 a.m. - † Giles Chaves

WEDNESDAY, March 17
Weekday 8:30 a.m. - † Leonard and Mary Machado

THURSDAY, March 18
Weekday 8:30 a.m. - † Mr. Luigi

FRIDAY, March 19
Weekday 8:30 a.m. - † John Walter

may know the refreshment, rest, and peace of God's heavenly kingdom . . . that all those who grieve may know God's comfort and consolation . . .Lord, in your mercy.

For the special intentions we hold in our hearts . . . Lord, in your mercy.

Parish Bulletin for Sunday, March 21, 2010
Fifth Sunday in Lent
Isa. 43:16-21 Phil. 3:8-14 John 8:1-11

What if. . .?

It is a scene from a nightmare. Yet it turns out well. Pretend you are the woman in Sunday's Gospel. You have been caught in adultery. The officials shove you into a mob of people. They see your hot shame. It burns.

You hear the ancient law of Moses recited by rote. "The sacred law says you must be stoned to death for your crime." Stoned to death! For this cause! In addition to the shame! How could things be worse? Someone called the Teacher had been captivating the crowd just before you were dragged in. Now it is you. All the attention is on you.

The nightmare progresses. Behind all this, the accusers want to trap the Teacher and disgrace him. They are using you for this purpose. Now you see how things could be worse: to be revealed as a mere tool. They question the Teacher.

Doesn't he agree that they should stone you to death? They have him in the snare, this dreamer who always preaches about forgiveness and love? If he defends you for the sake of his so-called love, he will break the law of Moses. If he does not defend you, he must pick up a stone and throw it. The Teacher leans down and scratches absent-minded lines in the dirt. People hold their breath, and the accusers turn nervous.

Why is he silent and what will he finally say? Now they themselves begin to feel some shame. The Teacher is lost in thought. Maybe something like this: My Abba has loved each of them through all ages, no matter whether they were sinners or not. "Be my people," Abba has beseeched them. "Love one another. I love you, and I forgive your sins."

But look at them. Hatred is their motto, not love. Their love is for death. The accusers shout again. "What is your answer? Follow the law and stone this sinful woman?" You are that woman, and you stand in humiliation, cheeks hot and tears falling. The accusers have it right, your heart says in terror.

The Teacher lifts his head. He utters a sentence that sums up the Gospel and all Lent. "Let the one among you who is without sin throw the first stone." It is over. The crowd quietly creeps away, each in their own shame. You stand alone before the quiet Teacher, but your terror has vanished. There is something about him that carries you, brings you out to solid ground.

"Well, where are they?" he asks. "Has no one condemned you?" You say, "No one, sir." Maybe he also asks, "Do you condemn yourself?" You spend a long time on this answer, because it is so very hard. Finally you whisper, "I do not want to condemn myself, Teacher."

This scene could refashion the whole earth. If we would accept our own sins we could have peace. We would not strike out at others. We would drink in forgiveness from God, who has been there all along, tracing in the sand. We stammer at last, "I believe, Lord, help my unbelief." "Neither do I condemn you" says Jesus. "Go and sin no more."

And so - Lent and Easter provide us with the opportunity to go forth weeping so that we can come back rejoicing, so that we can turn to the Lord and live. The challenge is personal conversion. The challenge is also social conversion, the transformation of the world. We are not to retreat from the world into a closet of private spirituality; rather, we ask God in this Lenten season to help us to embrace the world you have given us, that we may transform the darkness of its pain into the life and joy of Easter.

It is easy for the Christian to take a self-righteous attitude toward the world; it is much more difficult to take Jesus' attitude: Neither do I condemn you: go and do not sin again. All of us have contributed to the darkness of the world; none of us can cast the first stone.

Easter is on its way. God is preparing a new world order for us: Remember not the events of the past, the things of long ago consider not; see, I am doing something new! Having done our part to bring the darkness, will we now participate in doing something new?

That all our beloved dead, especially

TUESDAY, March 23
Weekday 8:30 a.m. - † Javanka Marinak

WEDNESDAY, March 24
Weekday 8:30 a.m. - † John Drake

THURSDAY, March 25
Weekday 8:30 a.m. - † James O'Brien

FRIDAY, March 26
Weekday 8:30 a.m. - † Saverio Giusti

may know the refreshment, rest, and peace of God's heavenly kingdom . . . that all those who grieve may know God's comfort and consolation . . .Lord, in your mercy.

For the special intentions we hold in our hearts . . . Lord, in your mercy.

Parish Bulletin for Sunday, March 28, 2010
Palm Sunday of the Lord's Passion
Luke 19:28-40 Isaiah 50:4-7 Philippians 2:6-11 Luke 22:14-23:56

A New Kind of King

Merlin the magician knew there are two kinds of kings. We find this out in T. H. White's story of King Arthur (The Once and Future King). One kind enjoys power, wealth, pride and especially war, leaving little room for the people's welfare. At the other end of the spectrum is a king/queen who has empathetic care for each person, for the well-being of the populace.

Arthur was slated to be the good kind of ruler, not the power monger. As you may know, Merlin kidnapped Arthur as a baby from his father's great castle and began to train him in a far away bedraggled court, train him to know the small and modest beings of the world around him.

The rest of that story remains for another day, but it is interesting to note that nearly the same thing happened to Jesus. He wasn't kidnapped as a child, but he was brought up in quite unpretentious circumstances, and he loved the small and beautiful parts of his dusty childhood.

This Sunday, however, Jesus starts off as anything but modest. He receives the pomp and glory of power! Has he changed into the bad kind of king? The liturgy shows the answer, but we need some history first.

To honour a kingly person in those days, people lined the sides of the roadway. The custom was for the royal one to ride a colt, or, as it is often translated, donkey, which was not supposed to be a sign of humility but of kingly status. People would strew their cloaks on the roadway along with the tall palm fronds they had picked to shield the King from the dirty road.

As we hear in the Processional Reading, Jesus did not shy away from these honours; in fact he caused them to happen. He sent disciples to get the colt. He chose to ride it into Jerusalem. The people honoured him with cloaks and palms as saviour king.

Jesus had always been very wary of this kind of treatment. He had often warned the disciples not to tell anyone about the miracles he was doing so that he would not become a celebrity. So, why the exception in this case?

The liturgy answers that question. Minutes after the special opening procession of Sunday's Mass, we hear not homage, but demonization (Christ's Passion from the Gospel of Luke). Suddenly this honoured, great king is betrayed. Peter the Rock, who promised never to deny him, does so three times. Jesus says out loud that he, Jesus, must be "counted among the wicked" Luke 22:37), quoting (Isaiah 53:8-12).

He sweats blood in the garden and then gives himself over to the devil's hands, saying, "This is your hour, time for your darkness." A mock trial follows, and the alleged king joins simple thieves in bloody death. The palms had been a mistake. There was no king here after all.

But look again. All leadership has service at its root. The reason for kingship is not dominance, riches, honour or power. These give siren calls to entice the leader into their service. Kingship and all leadership exist in order to secure the welfare of the kingdom and especially the welfare of those who are in it. Jesus came to bring this kind of kingdom, one of service and humility, not of pride and competition.

The way of the cross was the greatest fulfilment of his kingship, as opposed to cheering and accolades. A new kind of king!

That all our beloved dead, especially

TUESDAY, March 30
Weekday 8:30 a.m. - † Kevin Murphy


WEDNESDAY, March 31
Weekday 8:30 a.m. - † Mary Waychison

may know the refreshment, rest, and peace of God's heavenly kingdom . . . that all those who grieve may know God's comfort and consolation . . .Lord, in your mercy.

For the special intentions we hold in our hearts . . . Lord, in your mercy.