Homily, March 25, 2021 Annunciation

 As preached by Sister Cecelia
Holy Wisdom Church

Heb.2: 11-18   LK 1:26-38

Today we heard Archangel Gabriel greeting Mary with these words: “Rejoice, O favored one! The Lord is with you!”  Some icons of this event depict Gabriel landing like a blast of strong wind running toward Mary—a very dynamic approach. Other depictions are like a quiet still life. Perhaps we can relate these depictions to our own experiences of God’s visitations to us: Some are an overwhelming sense of God’s presence, at other times a sense is so subtle that it is easily unheeded.

The angel’s next words to Mary were “Do not be afraid.” How often throughout Scripture we are told not to be afraid.  What do these words mean to us now? During the almost 400 days dealing with the effects of the virus on the world and more specifically our own little worlds, how often have we needed the comfort and encouragement of these words: “Do not be afraid.”

Mary was indeed puzzled by the angel’s words, but after initially questioning the angel, she was willing to say “Amen”—So be it done according to the will of God. Was Mary able to put her fears aside, or did she continually renew her Yes to God in spite of still facing her fear? What can we learn from Mary’s response? We have had to say Yes to great efforts to make our actions and surroundings it safe for others as well as ourselves. Much suffering and death, as well as constant inconveniences, have been met with many Yeses in our nation. Also some No’s.

We know from history the heroism that Mary’s Yes called for, over and over. We too, having made an absolute choice of Yes to God, must continue saying Yes when we encounter vexatious situations that we would gladly avoid. Think of life as running a race, a marathon, but not competing with others. Each of us then can be winners, crowned with the laurel of eternal life. Or we can lose the race that day when we say No to God. We must get up and start again.

None of us are utterly stupid or supreme geniuses. None of us are so poor that we could not be poorer. None are so rich that we would not like more. No one loves God so much that we could not love God more. No one is so totally destitute of goodness whose heart could not still long for God.

We are all on a journey, a pilgrimage. We have much work to do to understand what God is asking of us. Are we counting the successes of our Lenten practices? We can derive a personal satisfaction, a comfort, that comes from knowing that we are doing something to make ourselves better. Athletes do the same thing. These things are good, but they are not all that the spiritual life is about. The core values of the spiritual life are as much about the attitudes that underlie the way we go about life as they are about the regularity of our devotions.

We can use our own practices as a benchmark with which to judge—and find wanting—the religious disciplines of others. Abba Poemen, who lived in the third or fourth century, was asked by the other monks if they should pinch a brother who had fallen asleep during the services. Abba Poemen answered that he would gently put the sleeping monk’s head on his own lap to let him sleep more comfortably instead of pinching him awake.

As important as regular religious practices are to awaken spiritual consciousness, they are not the essence of spiritual life. Legalism and false asceticism are pale reflections of great virtue. Mercy, compassion, and forgiveness are the holiness that pious practices are meant to sow in us. Rigidity for its own sake can never substitute for real virtue. We are meant to prod ourselves to regular discipline so that thereby our hearts will be softened to serve those whom Jesus served. Be not afraid, and know that Jesus wants kind hearts from us, not sacrifice: deep basic commitment, our Yeses, not blue ribbons for winning the marathons we’ve run to make ourselves “feel holy.”

 A truly holy person once wrote “Be kind, be kind, be kind!” Let our own Yes be that we act with kindness each day and are open to receive kindness from others as well.

 Christ is in our midst.

 

Homily: Prodigal Son, February 28, 2021

 

Luke 15:11-32

By Sister Rebecca

The story of the Prodigal Son reflects the same theme as that of the Pharisee and the Publican. The difference is that the characters of the long-suffering and compassionate father and the self-righteous hidebound elder son bring out some deeper elements of repentance: change of heart, and forgiveness again. But now it is in the context of exile and coming home. We see the obvious sin of the younger son contrasted with the more subtle sin of the elder brother, along with the long-suffering compassion of the father, who is the uniting figure in a house torn apart for years.

The younger son who leaves his father's house is like the unscrupulous tax collector in last Sunday’s parable of the Pharisee and the Publican. Taking his inheritance early, he wastes it, becoming poor and destitute. His self-inflicted suffering finally cracks open his rebellious heart, and he returns home to ask forgiveness. Jesus points in other places to more obvious sinners, like prostitutes and tax-collectors, and tells us that they will get into heaven before the less obvious sinners, like hypocrites and Pharisees—those who are deluded into believing that they are righteous. He tells us that those who sin much turn out to love much.

The elder son is like the Pharisee who boasted of his faithfulness to the Law. The elder son boasted that he had remained loyal and upright in his father's house. Both men thought themselves righteous, and they judged other human beings.  Did they do the right things but for the wrong reasons? Enjoying wealth and security, knowledge of the Law and a kind of self-serving obedience to it: neither of them was able to recognize his own sin and inner poverty. Pride and arrogance undermined all their so-called righteousness. Like a worm in an apple, it ate away at their hearts until there was little left to draw on when the time for compassion came around.

The Pharisee and the elder brother cared only for themselves. They actually broke the Law, which says, “You shall love your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength and your neighbor as yourself.” So it is with those two and with us when we abandon compassion for legalism.

Legalism, zealotry, and extremism are always signs that indicate spiritual bypassing is taking place. Beneath these behaviors there is always anger, denial, and actually very intense suffering. The word “passion” is often defined as “sin,” but that is not what it means. The word “passion” actually means “suffering.” So, the way to a real change of mind is also the path of the alleviation of our internal suffering. We must not avoid our pain if we want to heal our pain. There is no other way to heal it than to experience it, to go there armed with compassion and courage as God leads, and actually feel what it is we have tried so hard to forget and avoid. There is no other way. That is what the scripture means that says, “Of this be certain: your sin will find you out.” Eventually, we will have to deal honestly with what it is that is eating us up inside.

Here I would like to share a story that happened many decades ago and made a deep impression on me.  A particular family was celebrating the 18th birthday of the oldest of three daughters.  Upon return from Sunday mass, the family gathered together for their usual brunch.  When the gifts were being offered to the birthday girl, the middle sister, scowling as shoved her card over to her older sister, said in a nasty tone, “Here’s a card for you—if you even care!”  The older sister stifled her knee-jerk reaction: to shove it back to her, tit for tat. That would be the usual reaction. This time, however, she kept silent and opened the card.  Reading it, the older girl felt deeply moved, since this was the first time her sister had ever expressed positive, kind sentiments to her.  She got up from the table and hugged her sister, thanking her with all her heart.  Shocked, the younger sister suddenly burst into tears: “Oh! I am so sorry for being so mean to you…”

 

This was a real transformative experience for both of them. They had been always at odds with each other.  The younger sister was quiet and studious. She manifested a religious persona, always doing the “right thing.” She was a stay-at-home kid, cared little about her appearance, saved her allowance, and habitually criticized her older sister, who bore the traits of the young son in the gospel: impulsive, spending money thoughtlessly, fun-loving, with a passion for fashionable clothes, adventurous, and independent, not to mention uninterested in things religious. This sounds like small stuff, but often life presents the likes of such details that spark off a budding transformative experience. The two sisters became close friends. Both began to appreciate their differences and see what was hidden from their eyes about each other’s qualities.  This was an event, a transformative one for both. It reminds me of what Leonard Cohen wrote: “There is a crack in everything; that is how the light gets in.”

 

I would like to believe that the story of the elder son ends with the father’s gentle heart-warming words piercing the elder son’s heart. That he sees his own self-righteousness, his mean critical attitude toward his wander-lusting brother, toward whom he harbored such deep resentment and jealousy. That the father’s love cracked open his heart and ignited compassion to enter in.

Great Lent is only two weeks away. The call is always to a deeper and deeper gut-wrenching change of mind and heart.  Transformation is not an easy process, since it demands our cooperation as the searchlight of the Holy Spirit goes into the dark places where we do not wish to go. But, as the spiritual dictum tells us, “The way in is the way out.”

That is why how we treat others is so important to Jesus. Our ability or inability to love is the only true sign of spiritual health and the only criterion on which we will be judged on the Great and Last Day. It begins when we learn to have compassion on our own suffering. Only those in touch with their own suffering, who have taken the path of repentance, are able to see and experience God’s ever-encompassing unconditional and patient love.

I’d like to end with Lenard Cohen, again: “Ring the bells that still can ring. Forget your perfect offering. It is through the crack that light gets in.”

 

Note: I would like to thank Fr. Antony Hughes of St. Mary of the Angels Church in Boston for his insights, some of which I have included in this homily.