The Power of God (from “Life In Abundance”)

Excerpts from “Life In Abundance” by Father Francis Baur, OFM, late Professor at the Franciscan School of Theology in Berkeley when it was part of the Graduate Theological Union:

Adapted from Chapter 6: The Power of God: Coercive and Suasive Power:

We have stressed beforehand that the only religiously coherent way to understand the reality of the God who is love is to affirm that the only relationships possible for a loving God are the relationships of love. This is not to take away any prerogatives from god or to set limitations on the power of God. But, if as we assert, God is wholly and solely love, then what exactly would be meant by the power of God and in what fashion would this power be exercised?

As has been pointed out, the religious significance of the revelation that God is love is to remove God irrevocably from the status of an idol…..Of all the relationships which we manage to engender within our human enterprise, the relationship of love is that unique one which cannot be utilized for further ends—love is for the sake of loving, and for nothing else. This ineradicable feature of the nature of love entails the non-instrumentality of our relationship to God.

What is difficult to comprehend is how those who stood rooted in the gospel tradition could so comfortably hold in balance the God of unfathomable love and the God of unfathomable power. The God of love seems to have great homiletic power, but the God of Power served as the ultimate explanatory principle which defined the relationships of the universe. [note: some have suggested here that emphasis on a God of Power is the result of our own human experience which tells us that power is the ability to produce effects, to control the world around us, and specifically, to control others. It is why the ancients were so taken with the unique powers their Gods possessed, and rarely held those Gods to a standard of loving behavior. In addition, speaking in the name of those Gods, the leaders could effectively regulate human activity so that it did not become lawless and chaotic.].

Our prayers were addressed to the God of love, but our theology was formulated in terms of a God of power. This very improbability was invoked for religious purposes: on the one hand, God loved us with infinite and infallible love; on the other hand, failure to respond to the love of God would result in God’s damnation of the sinful soul. While our most supreme ideals were set forth in terms of the love of God, the final and coercive motivation was not inspired by the selfless response to love, but rather the selfish fear of punishment or hell. The God of supreme love was also the God of infinite power, and what God’s love failed to accomplish, his power could more than make up for. This is not merely religiously false; it is spiritually destructive. ….perhaps we will be compelled at some point to admit that our deepest motivation or a relationship with God was a manipulation of power….

God was useful…..

God was worth loving because he could do many things for us and to us. This is coercive power. we meet it and celebrate it in everyday life because it gets things done, and keeps the unruly and evil under some sort of control. We have come to believe that a certain amount of coercive power is the price for the social good. Both princes and popes were spoken of as having “power over” their subjects, and in each case it was a power that could be enforced. The freedom of the children of God which was our inalienable Gospel heritage was understood as the freedom to obey rather than the freedom to create our own lives. We find it nearly impossible to eradicate our catechism-level assertion that God is that being who can do anything at all (except a contradiction); everything is within the power of God. God is therefore that being worth respecting, honoring, and obeying, simply because of the awesome and unpredictable power which could on one had create us and on the other hand destroy us. Some questions emerge: Are we committed to the service of God motivated by fear of the power of God? Do we see the inherent worthwhileness of the God-relationship in the fact that God has the power to supply for our weakness, that God can do for us those things which we cannot do for ourselves? Are we interested in God because of what God can do for us or to us?

The major theme of this entire exposition has been that it is at the cost of our very souls that we forsake the one unique biblical claim which stands at the foundation of our identity and which can put us in relationship to the source and end of our very being: God is love. Here we must be intrepid enough to stand unflinchingly with the same conventional faith: God is love and nothing else. We dare not foul our good news with our own inadequacies and insecurities. We cannot afford to claim that God is love and then, as if love were somehow insufficient, add to that claim that God is many lesser things besides. No. God is love—period. God is not supreme coercive power. God is not threat. God is not reward and punishment, God is not the security of the righteous. God is not law and order. God is not on the side of any cause whatsoever. God is not the wreaker of vengeance. God is not the validation of moral opinions. God is love—and nothing else.

While we readily proclaim in homily and prayer that our God is love, in the concrete practicalities of worldly affairs we are both unwilling and fearful to trust the lovely and tender quality of love itself. The proper way to run a world, we cannot help by think, is to have love supported by power. What love cannot do, surely power can accomplish. Thus it is that with possibly the noblest of intentions and yet with the most foolish of motives we could no surrender the all too human notion that God must have coercive power to reinforce his love. Because coercion by power has become such an established part of our lives we unwittingly prostitute the good by submitting it to force. Is the God of love indeed so weak that he must also resort to coercion to achieve what is of supreme good to both God and ourselves? Could a God of coercion possibly remain unsullied by the means of coercion?

The story of the cross is not so much attribute to the forbearance of God who in his infinite patience would not use his power to annihilate such evil. The cross is, rather, a timeless testimony to the absolute faithfulness of God to his very being, which is love. Because love is founded on freedom it can be ridiculed, rejected and betrayed. It is the cross which reveals what kind of a response is possible for God in the face of such betrayal. The only response is love--suasive, kindly and forgiving. Beyond the suasive force of God’s inherent and infinite lovableness there is no other power, nor need there be any.

“How Much Is Enough?”—Action

Action or contemplation: must we choose?

Luke 4:16–19

He came to Nazareth, where he had grown up, and went according to his custom into the synagogue on the sabbath day. He stood up to readand was handed a scroll of the prophet Isaiah. He unrolled the scroll and found the passage where it was written:

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord.”

Music Meditations

• The Summons—Robert Kolchis
• Make Me a Servant—Maranatha Music
• Gracious God—Jesse Manibusan
• Great Is Thy Faithfulness—Fernando Ortega

Opening Prayer

Taken from the opening prayer for 7th Sunday in Ordinary Time:

Almighty God, Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, faith in your word is the way to wisdom, and to ponder your divine plan is to grow in the truth. Open our eyes to your deeds, our ears to the sound of your call, so that our every act may increase our sharing in the life you have offered us.

Companions for the Journey

The Active life is embodied life, everyday life—so ordinary we hardly notice it. We work in offices, farms, and homes. We act creatively on everything from gardening to raising children to writing a poem. We care by visiting a sick neighbor and by marching for peace. One way or another, most of us are involved in the active life day in and day out.

—Parker Palmer, The Active Life

In the gospels, Jesus is not portrayed as a wraith drifting through life; he had a mission to cure, to comfort, to feed, to nurture and to teach about God’s love. Jesus was very active, travelling the dusty roads of Israel, sleeping and eating when he could, followed by crowds and his often clueless disciples, and sometimes desperately seeking a place to be apart and re-connect with the ground of his being—his heavenly Father. (See the gospel passage in which he declares his mission to the world) So let’s start by saying that this commentary is not in any way denigrating human activity. Further, action is not just physical action, like digging ditches or doing dishes; action is thinking, laughing, crying, breathing, sleeping. Action is caring for others and ourselves. We act because that is how we are made. If we are not acting, we are not fully human.

Action can be instrumental or expressive. Instrumental action always is the means to a predetermined end, and is evaluated in terms of success or failure. (Palmer, p.23) It discourages risk-taking. Expressive action is not taken to achieve a goal outside of myself but to express a conviction, a leading, a truth that is within me. (Palmer, p 24). As full human beings, we engage in both types of action, although various cultures have promoted one way of acting over another. For example, our own culture generally favors instrumental action, often to the detriment of expressive action. (How often, in a conversation, are we adults asked what we do? How often do we look for approval or admiration because of the long hours we have put in or for staying up all night to solve a work or medical crisis?)

To be fair, expressive action is not going to put food on the table, so someone has to provide the instrumental action-somebody has to get off the dime and actually do something so that life can be sustained. (See the Martha and Mary story.)

That having been said, if we subscribe to an unwritten rule that tells us that the busier we are, the better we are, we are not doing ourselves or the world around us any good, and we become frenzied and anxious in the process. If we only measure our worth in terms of what visible accomplishments we have made, then we are at risk of ignoring much of what makes someone human and loveable.

An antidote to all of this excessive or misdirected activity (although not a cure—we are the products of our culture, we remember) would be to stop and contemplate the illusions we are operating under that fuel unnecessary, unproductive or harmful activity. What are some of our unconscious attitudes or behaviors which cause us to engage in unhealthy activity?

A persistent belief that our actions are a measure of our worth. A fear that if “you snooze, you lose”. Actions born out of pride in our accomplishments Engaging in busyness/activity as a way to avoid sadness or other negative feelings. Actions that are always reactive to what is going on around us, not self-initiated. Actions that are unconsciously habitual, never subject to re-evaluation. Actions that are retaliatory, or born out of anger, designed to elicit a negative reaction. Actions that are a way of getting attention, pity, approval. Actions that feed my own insecurities Actions that do not leave time for simply being, for feeling, for creating.

Being and doing are not antithetical, but the integration of our expressive and instrumental motivations and that of our spiritual natures requires something which writers as Richard Rohr, OFM, Thomas Merton, OCSO, and Parker Palmer call contemplation, and others call mindfulness. Contemplation/mindfulness is not some exotic form of navel-gazing and allows us to absent ourselves from real life and real relationships, but it enables us to strip off some of the illusions under which we have been operating. We love illusions because we have invested so much in them. Our society has many: violence or war can solve problems; both rich and poor are responsible for their fate; our country is better than others. We are pretty divided in our illusions about racism, misogyny, poverty, “those people”. And those opposing illusions fuel much of the dislocation and anger people are feeling. We love illusions because they bolster our world view, our prejudices, our natural tendencies. This is why disillusionment is so painful—when a friend lets us down, when we fail or the system fails, we are no longer able to go on as we were, and need to invent a new way of being and acting in the world. This is not easy, nor is it quick. So instead of waiting for Armageddon, let’s start small and incrementally, so that our actions are more thought-out. Here are some antidotes to overaction or reflexive action: (Pick one, and start there—be reasonable.)

Mindful walking, being aware of one’s own breathing and aware of the surroundings Asking frequently: “Why am I doing this??” Personal meditations which seek the inner vision of love that we hope motivates our actions how am I loved by God? (Psalm 139) how am I loved by others in my life? How do I want to love ______? Monitoring of my motivations to ensure that my actions are not flowing from a negative energy source Believing the positive messages about myself that I get from God and from those around me Being aware of How I speak to myself/ my inner dialogues Going over the same irritations over and over again Thinking in absolutes The amount of time I use “should” about myself and others Internalizing conflicts “Keeping the lid on” so tightly that I am in danger of exploding (very messy and very ugly) Looking for examples in Jesus’ life where he was confronted with situations I am facing and seeing his response And saving the very best for last: Prayer, speaking to Jesus about an action I am contemplating or one I engaged in that I wish I had not. Resting in Jesus’ love and understanding and that of his Father

Living the Good News

Be sure to read the commentary on the active life in “Companions for the Journey” (above) before considering the reflection questions and/or meditations below.

What action can you take in the next week as a response to today’s reading and discussion?

Keep a private journal of your prayer/actions responses this week. Feel free to use the personal reflection questions or the meditations which follow:

Reflection Questions

• How hard is it to remember that God loves me, not for what I do/accomplish, but simply because I am?
  Do I use my good behavior or good deeds to earn God’s love and approval?
  How often do I try to elicit God’s attention though frantic activity?
• Is there something I love to do that I am ignoring because of pressing tasks or obligations?
• Am I living someone else’s desire of happiness and success?
• Have I ever been aware of being pulled into a story or a drama that is not of my making, but left me feeling compelled to DO something?
• What are the “shoulds” in my life?
• Do I ever stop in the middle of an activity and ask myself:
  Why am I doing this?
  Am I enjoying this?
  What does this activity tell me or others about my priorities?
• How does my culture view activity vs. inactivity?
  Is inactivity laziness, as our culture sometime surmises?
  If not, what is activity?
  Is it useful?
  Does it have to be useful?
• How many of my actions are habitual, born out of the need to keep busy or to look busy?
  How many of my actions are reactive:
  
  responding to my own compulsions, responding to someone else’s behavior, responding to a situation I have encountered?
  Are any of my actions (even speech) defensive or retaliatory?
• How many of my actions are generated by my own self-knowledge and my relationship with Jesus?
  Do I ever ask what Jesus would do if he were here?
• Which fears of mine inhibit my action?
  Which is the most important for me to address?
  Can I address my fear with compassion instead of judgement?
• Is a life without fear my goal?
  If not, what do I do about fear?
• Parker Palmer, in The Active Life, suggests that the function of contemplation is to penetrate illusion and to help us touch reality.
  What, then, is disillusionment, and is it a bad thing?
  Is contemplation only for mystics, anchorites, or cloistered religious?
• Thomas Merton tells us that contemplation is the “sudden gift of awareness, an awakening to the Real within all that is real.”
  It seems to require a sort of apartness, a so that we can ask the right questions and hear the right answers
  When have I ever engaged in contemplation—either intentionally or accidentally?
  Is solitude different from loneliness?
• What are the down sides of contemplation?
  Can we live fully in the world choosing contemplation rather than action?
  How do we balance the two?
  Is the balance exactly even for most people?

Meditations

A Meditation in the Ignatian Style/Imagination:

Read Luke 10:38-42 . Let’s look at this story.

Imagine Martha, the doer, bustling about and trying to make sure that their guest has everything that he needs in the way of hospitality. Do you think she feels ignored by Jesus as simply a household servant? Is she irritated that neither Jesus nor her sister seem to appreciate her efforts? Do you think she expects that her sister would help with the chores, or do you think she likes to be the heroine of this little drama?

Then let’s look at Mary. Why do you think she is so attentive to what Jesus has to say? Is she ignoring her sister in just in this instance, or is this a family pattern? Would ignoring Jesus ‘ words in favor of activity be considered rude? If she does not listen to Jesus’ teachings in this instance, who would? Is this a form of hospitality as well? What could she do differently?

With which character do you most identify?

What specifically, was Martha’s mistake?

What would have happened if Martha had done nothing?

What would have happened if Mary joined in the serving duties?
Do you think Mary could have done something to help?

What, exactly, was Jesus saying to Martha?

What are the pitfalls of a life of action without listening and learning?

What are the pitfalls of a life of listening and learning without action?

A Meditation in the Dominican Style/Asking Questions:

In examining the rewards and risks of action, whether measured and thought out or excessive and impulsive, there might be a tendency to assume that inaction would be the wisest and safest way to live one’s life. The lures of inaction stem from many sources:

1. A constitutional inability to make a decision because it closes out other options. This can create an inadvertent decision because no decision is in itself a decision to do nothing. This can create roadblocks for others and it can leave us feeling left behind as well. Am I too quick or too reluctant to make a decision and to act on that decision?

2. Intimidation when analyzing the scope of the undertaking, which causes a paralysis of sorts. But what is the alternative? Could I possibly break the task into smaller segments? Could I elicit help? Has this solution ever occurred to me?

3. Fear of personal failure, or losing face. We sometimes forget that in scientific investigations, failure s how we learn what does not work and learn what behavior not to repeat. Even successful and powerful people have failures. Have I ever failed at anything? What did I learn about myself or about life?

4. Fear of making waves, of disturbing the status quo, which can cause more problems down the line because issues ignored and tasks left undone only get bigger and more complex and may cause way more dislocation and anger if ignored or deferred too long. Have I ever been slow to act, even though it was the right thing to do, because there might be some unpleasantness? Am I conflict averse?

5. A fear of disappointing others, even God, forgetting that people like Mother Teresa said; “We are not called to be successful, we are called to be faithful”. ( or words to that effect). Have I ever disappointed anyone through an impulsive action? What happened? Do I believe god loves me and other love me even if I make mistakes?

Poetic Reflection:

The philosopher Chuang Tsu , in the fourth century BBCE has this to say about the life of action when taken too far (Translation by Thomas Merton). Do you agree with any of these critiques? Is the poem too cynical?:

“Active Life”

If an expert does not have some problem to vex him, he is unhappy!

If a philosopher’s teaching is never attacked, she pines away!

If critics have noon eon whom to exercise their spite, they are unhappy!

All such people are prisoners of the world of objects.

He who wants followers, seeks political powers.

She who wants reputation, holds an office.

The strong man looks for weights to lift.

The brave woman looks for an emergency in which she can show bravery.

The swordsman wants a battle in which he can swing his sword.

People past their prime prefer a dignified retirement, in which they can seem profound.

People experienced in law seek difficult cases to extend the application of laws.

Liturgists and musicians like festivals in which they can parade their ceremonious talents.

The benevolent, the dutiful, are always looking for chances to display virtue.

Where would the gardener be, if there were no more weeds?

What would become of business if there were not a market of fools?

Where would the masses be if there were no pretext of jamming together and making noise?

What would become of labor if there were no superfluous objects to be made?

Produce! Get results? Make money! Make friends! Make changes!

Or you will die of despair!

Poetic Reflection:

This poem, which is said to have hung in Mother Teresa’s office, looks at action in a more positive sense:

“Do it anyway”

People are often unreasonable and self-centered.

Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives.

Be kind anyway.

If you are honest, people may cheat you.

Be honest anyway.

If you find happiness, people may be jealous.

Be happy anyway.

The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow.

Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough.

Give your best anyway.

For you see, in the end, it is between you and God.

It was never between you and them anyway.

Closing Prayer

Jesus, Did you ever feel the fierce force the push the pull of days and nights that were far too full of people and programs you thought willed by one whose way must be fulfilled? When at the end of a difficult day with barely time to pause and pray before the crowds began to press upon you did you also bless each God-given opportunity? If so, Jesus, remember me.

—“Winter”, Sister Miriam Therese, Womanword 126-127

Further gospel reflections:

Mark, Chapters 1-3 ( talk about busy!)

Matthew 6:25-34 (on anxiety)

Luke 9:28b-36 ( Peter’s response to the transfiguration was to DO something)

Further Reading:

Merton, Thomas, New Seeds of Contemplation

Merton, Thomas, Contemplation in a World of Action

Palmer, Parker, The Active Life

Rohr, Richard, Immortal Diamond

Simsic, Wayne, Ed., Thomas Merton/An Invitation to the Contemplative LIfe

Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, June 26, 2022

Discipleship is a radical call

Luke 9:51–62

When the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem. And he sent messengers ahead of him, who went and entered a village of the Samaritans, to make preparations for him. But the people did not receive him, because his face was set toward Jerusalem. And when his disciples James and John saw it, they said, “Lord, do you want us to tell fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” But he turned and rebuked them. And they went on to another village.

As they were going along the road, someone said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” To another he said, “Follow me.” But he said, “Lord, let me first go and bury my father.” And Jesus said to him, “Leave the dead to bury their own dead. But as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” Yet another said, “I will follow you, Lord, but let me first say farewell to those at my home.” Jesus said to him, “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”

Music Meditations

The Summons-Robert Kochis

Here I am Lord

Unto thee O Lord-Maranatha Singers

Simple Gifts

Opening Prayer

Lord,I want to say “ I will follow you wherever you go.” But left to myself I do not always have the inner strength to keep my promises. Allow me to understand that the journey will not always be easy, and I may have failures and setbacks along the way, but allow me to feel your presence, supporting me and encouraging me, and understanding me when I miss my goals. Keep me true to you and close to you always.

Companions for the Journey

St. Francis of Assisi is a wonderful example of a radical response to Jesus’ command: “Follow me”. He left life of riches and ease and embraced radical poverty and love of all creation. He is the saint of humility, simplicity, serving our neighbors, and joy.

Francis was born in late 1181 or early 1182, one of several children of an Italian father, Pietro di Bernardone dei Moriconi, a prosperous silk merchant, and a French mother, Pica de Bourlemont, about whom little is known except that she was a noblewoman originally from Provence. Pietro was in France on business when Francis was born in Assisi, and Pica had him baptized as Giovanni. Upon his return to Assisi, Pietro took to calling his son Francesco ("Free man", "Frenchman"), possibly in honor of his commercial success and enthusiasm for all things French. Indulged by his parents, Francis lived the high-spirited life typical of a wealthy young man. As a youth, Francesco became a devotee of troubadors and was fascinated with all things European. He was handsome, witty, gallant, and delighted in fine clothes. He spent money lavishly. Although many stories abound about his bright clothing, rich friends, and love of pleasures, his displays of disillusionment toward the world that surrounded him came fairly early in his life, as is shown in the "story of the beggar". In this account, he was selling cloth and velvet in the marketplace on behalf of his father when a beggar came to him and asked for alms. At the conclusion of his business deal, Francis abandoned his wares and ran after the beggar. When he found him, Francis gave the man everything he had in his pockets. His friends mocked him for his charity; his father scolded him in rage. Around 1202, he joined a military expedition against  and was taken as a prisoner, spending a year as a captive. An illness caused him to re-evaluate his life. Upon his return to Assisi in 1203, Francis returned to his carefree life. In 1205, Francis left for Apulia on another military adventure. A strange vision made him return to Assisi and lose interest in the worldly life. According to some sources, thereafter he began to avoid the sports and feasts of his former companions. A friend asked him whether he was thinking of marrying, to which he answered: "Yes, a fairer bride than any of you have ever seen", meaning his "Lady Poverty".

On a spiritual journey to Rome, he joined the poor in begging at St. Peter’s Basilica. The stories tell us that he spent some time in lonely places, asking God for some sort of direction .He said he had a mystical experience in the forsaken country chapel of  San Damiano, just outside Assisi, in which the vision of the crucified Jesus said to him, "Francis, Francis, go and repair My church which, as you can see, is falling into ruins." He took this to mean the ruined church in which he was presently praying, and so he sold some cloth from his father's store to assist the priest there. When the priest refused to accept the ill-gotten gains, an indignant Francis threw the coins on the floor. In order to avoid his father's wrath, Francis hid in a cave near San Damiano for about a month. When he returned to town, hungry and dirty, he was dragged home by his father, beaten, bound, and locked in a small storeroom. Freed by his mother during Bernardone's absence, Francis returned at once to San Damiano, where he found shelter with the officiating priest, but he was soon cited before the city consuls by his father. The latter, not content with having recovered the scattered gold from San Damiano, sought also to force his son to forego his inheritance by way of restitution. In the midst of legal proceedings before the Bishop of Asissi, Francis renounced his father and his inheritance. Some accounts report that he stripped himself naked in token of this renunciation, and the bishop covered him with his own cloak. For the next couple of months, Francis wandered as a beggar in the hills behind Assisi. He spent some time at a neighboring monastery working as a scullion. He then went to Gubbio, where a friend gave him, as an alms, the cloak, girdle, and staff of a pilgrim. Returning to Assisi, he traversed the city begging stones for the restoration of St. Damiano's. These he carried to the old chapel, set in place himself, and so at length rebuilt it. Over the course of two years, he embraced the life of a penitent, during which he restored several ruined chapels in the countryside around Assisi, among them the little chapel of St. Mary of the Angels in the plain just below the town. This later became his favorite place. By degrees he took to nursing lepers near Assisi. One day, he was attending Mass in the chapel of St. Mary of the Angels, near which he had by then built himself a hut. The Gospel of the day was the "Commissioning of the Twelve" from the Book of Matthew. The disciples were to go and proclaim that the Kingdom of God is at hand. Francis was inspired to devote himself to a life of poverty. Having obtained a coarse woolen tunic, the dress then worn by the poorest Umbrian peasants, he tied it around himself with a knotted rope and went about exhorting the people of the countryside to penance, brotherly love, and peace. Francis's preaching to ordinary people was unusual as he had no license to do so.

His example attracted others. Within a year Francis had eleven followers. The brothers lived a simple life in a deserted leper house near Assisi; but they spent much of their time wandering through the mountainous districts of Umbria, making a deep impression upon their hearers by their sincerity. In 1209 he composed a simple rule for his followers ("friars"), the "Primitive Rule", which came from verses in the Bible. The rule was "to follow the teachings of our Lord Jesus Christ and to walk in his footsteps." He then led eleven followers to Rome to seek permission from Pope Innocent III to found a new religious order. After several days, the pope agreed to admit the group informally, adding that when God increased the group in grace and number, they could return for an official audience.. Though a number of the pope's counselors considered the mode of life proposed by Francis to be unsafe and impractical, following a dream in which he saw Francis holding up the Lateran Basilica, he decided to endorse Francis's order. This occurred, according to tradition, on 16 April 1210, and constituted the official founding of the Franciscan Order. The group were centered in the Porziuncola and preached first in Umbria, before expanding throughout Italy. Francis was later ordained a deacon, but not a priest.

Determined to bring the Gospel to all peoples and let God convert them, Francis sought on several occasions to take his message out of Italy. For example, in the late spring of 1212, he set out for Jerusalem, but was shipwrecked by a storm, forcing him to return to Italy. On 8 May 1213, he was given the use of the mountain of  Alverna as a gift from Count Orlando di Chiusi, who described it as “eminently suitable for whoever wishes to do penance in a place remote from mankind”. The mountain would become one of his favorite retreats for prayer. According to some late sources, the Sultan, a nephew of Saladin gave Francis permission to visit the sacred places in the Holy Land and even to preach there. All that can safely be asserted is that Francis and his companions left the Crusader camp for Acre, from where they embarked for Italy in the latter half of 1220. Drawing on a 1267 sermon by Bonaventure, later sources report that the Sultan secretly converted or accepted a death-bed baptism as a result of meeting Francis. Due to these events in Jerusalem, Franciscans have been present in the Holy Land almost uninterruptedly since 1217.

Francis’ actions throughout his life after his “conversion moment” ran counter to the spirit of the age in which he lived. He railed against a church grown rich and complacent, which created problems with many of those in ecclesial high places. His embracing of lepers, the poor, the insane, the outcast, seemed a natural response to a loving God, but unnatural to many of his time. The fact that his friars worked to put bread on their meager tables instead of being subsidized by the rich was a reminder to all of Jesus and his disciples, but annoyed many. Francis could never compromise his requirement of wholehearted acceptance-by his brothers-of the poverty spoken of in the gospels. When church authority was brought to bear on him, he acquiesced to a less stringent rule, but afterward gradually divorced himself from the workings of the order that he had inspired.(1) In all that he did, in all that he lived, Francis’ inspiration was the Jesus of the gospels, calling him to endure suffering as Jesus did, to be a peacemaker as Jesus was, embrace the poor and marginalized, just as Jesus embraced them, and to experience oneness with all of God’s creation. Though the road was hard, and though the setbacks were many, though attempts were made to compromise his vison, Francis never looked back at what he had left behind, never looked at the difficulties, but only at the mission to follow Jesus wherever it took him.

Are we inspired by how Francis totally handed himself over to the call of Jesus? To what degree are we willing to hand ourselves over to the call of Jesus now? Can those practical concerns of family ties and work become a block rather than a path to following the Lord? How close can we get now to being like Francis who followed Jesus?

1. Joseph Stoutzenberger and John Bohrer, Praying with Francis of Assisi, p 19

Further reading:

• Reflection on Luke 9:51–62 from “Interrupting the Silence” >>
• Commentary on Luke 9:51–62 from “Working Preacher” >>

Weekly Memorization

Taken from the gospel for today's session….

No one who sets a hand to the plow and looks to what was left behind is fit for the kingdom of God

Living the Good News

What action can you take in the next week as a response to today's reading and discussion?

Keep a private journal of your prayer/actions responses this week. Feel free to use the personal reflection questions which follow:

Reflection Questions:

The expression “determined to journey to Jerusalem” indicates that the gospel writer thought Jesus knew that there were going to be dark days and bad times ahead, and determination was required to help him follow his mission to the end. Have I ever faced an ordeal or a challenge that required me to rely on sheer will and deminationto weather the events I was facing?

Did I seek out strength and comfort from anyone?

Was it friends or relatives?

Was it Jesus, of the Father,or the Holy Spirit? Was it Mary or another saint?

When Jesus and the disciples were rejected in Samaria, the disciples wanted revenge. Jesus told them no and rebuked them.

Has some rejection or slight caused me to want revenge on someone?

What did I do about that feeling?

Did I talk to Jesus about it--he who knew rejection?

Do I talk to Jesus, who knows me better than I know myelf, about the traits in my own personality that sometimes get in the way of doing what I should to be his follower?

Do I think he understands?

What have I personally done to address the roablocks in my own personality the keep from doing the will of Jesus?

This story contains stylisitc hyperbole which seems impossible or unnatural compared to my understanding of my obligations to others in my life vs. my desire to follow to Jesus. This hyperbolic suggestion that we not even bury our parents or say farewell to those we leave behind is meant to be a warning to people that following Jesus will not be easy, either materially or emotionally.

What are some of the conflicting needs that I am already addressing in my everyday life?

How do I balance my time and my priorities, and, yes, my own needs, so that I am doing what I think Jesus wants me to be doing?

What if I fail? Do I think Jesus understands?

What are some of the present-day costs to following Jesus? Does this scare me?

Someone suggested that we need a certain amount of freedom in our lives to hear the word of God and act on it.

What things or situations in my life keep me bound to un-free pattrns of behavior?

DoI sometimes feel that Jesus is asking to much of us, of me?

Do I feel that his demands are too unrealistic?

Which ones?

Do I sometimes have initial enthusiam for a project or a cause, but lose interest after a while?

What cause this--obstacles, reisistence from others, the demands of daily life, or an emergency situation?

What legitimate priorities of mine might get in the way of completely following Jesus?

How do I resolve this?

Can I say that I am “all in”, or only partially in?

By Jude Siciliano, O.P.:

What daily response am I making to Jesus’ invitation, “Follow me”?

What do I need to put aside to make that a fuller response?

Meditations:

A Meditation in the Dominican Style/Asking Questions:

For the Jews, the Samaritans were a bad and despised people. The feeling was mutual. There were enemies who happened to live next to each other, and so got in each other’s way. A lot. Because each believed that the only way to be a good and religious person was their way, with their rules and customs, they judged the others as inferior, irreligious, and bad people generally. In our own lives, we have had a tendency to judge those whose religious ideas and political ideas are different from ours, and we spend a lot of energy trying to convince them that they are wrong, and spend even more time mentally criticizing them in our heads, or worse, commiserating with others about the stupid and misguided people we have to live with in our families, in the workplace, in our church. If only they were more like us, we would not have this problem. Then there are those who seem to be rather unworthy, not-very-nice people who have been incredibly lucky, successful and happy. When good thinks happen to bad people it bothers us. A lot. And finally, it is especially hurtful when, in turn,others criticize and reject us. Do we get mad? Do we get even?

So we each need to ask ourselves: how much time do I spend, either alone, with others, talking about how awful some other person or group is, and hoping they will get their comeuppance? This is not justice. It is revenge. What are some of the antidotes to revenge?

What did Jesus do about the Samaritans who rejected him? What can I do about people in my life who have rejected me or disappointed me in some way? How can I break the negative and destructive cycle of resentment, quasi-forgiveness, more resentment? What or who has to change in this picture?

A Meditation in the Ignatian Style/The beginnings of discernment:

This Spiritual reflection on following Jesus and becoming a disciple discusses the unhealthy attachments that keep us from fully following Jesus. It can be money, it can be power, it can be people. None of these are bad in themselves; it is when they get in the way of our living the life that Jesus calls us to that they become spiritually unhealthy. Here is a practical approach--read the following excerpt from The Ignatian Adventure by Kevin O’Brien, S.J.:

Only when we are really free can we hear God’s call. This week, we reflect on how God calls us right now in the concrete particulars of our lives. Do not worry about making big decisions or changing the way you live. That may come later. Insead, simply marvel that god calls each of us specially. Listen not only to the call, but to the one who calls.

We encounter God in a variety of ways: in the people around us and in the work we are doing; in something we read or see in the world; and in the inspiration of scripture and the Church’s liturgy. We also find God in the holy desires brewing in our hearts. This is a central insight to Ignatian Spiituality. Because God, our creator, gives us life, and because we are the image of God, God’s desires and our deepenst desires are one and the same. What we truly desire is also what God desires for us. Discerning those desires takes practice….

God is always trying to get our attention in ways both obvious and subtle. We are reminded of the prophet Elijah, who, standing on a mountaintop, found God not in a mighty wind, or in an earthquake or in fire, but in a sound of sheet silence. We can find God in the busyness of our lives, and in the silence of our prayer.

So I ask myself what “things” do I need to be free of the fully enter into the mission of Jesus? What unhealthy attachments to certain people, ideas, or comforts weigh me down as I seek to move in the direction Jesus is calling me to? Like the rich young man, do I give up and go away because I am too comfortable, too lazy? Or am I just afraid? What are some qualities I would like to cultivate to be more like Jesus? What qualities in myself are holding me back? In what ways, large and small, have I encountered the presence of God in my life? Have I paid attention? Is there a larger and more demanding enterprise that Jesus might be calling me to? How do I respond?

Poetic Reflection:

May Oliver seems to capture the sense of obligation to others in our lives that keep us from doing what we are meant to be doing:

THE JOURNEY

One day you finally knew

what you had to do and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice--

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

around your ankles.

"Mend my life!"

each voice cried.

But you didn't stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do--

determined to save

the only life you could save.

Closing Prayer

MY LORD GOD, I have no idea where I am going.

I do not see the road ahead of me.

I cannot know for certain where it will end.

Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.

But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you.

And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.

I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.

And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it.

Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.

I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

Commentary on Luke 9:51–62 from “Working Preacher”

Commentary on Luke 9:51–62. By Michael Rogness, Professor Emeritus of Homiletics Luther Seminary St. Paul, MN. From “Working Preacher”.

In this passage Jesus sets out on his final journey to Jerusalem.

He has warned the disciples of his impending suffering there (9:21–27, 44–45), but even though they confess their faith in him as Messiah (9:18–20) and see him transfigured with Moses and Elijah (9:28–36), they cannot begin to imagine the horror of Jesus’ last days. But Jesus knows. He has “set his face” toward Jerusalem, meaning unwavering determination.

Normally very accepting of the Samaritans, he shocks his disciples by barely noticing the Samaritans as he heads to Jerusalem, so concentrated was he on his up-coming destiny. The Samaritan villagers “did not receive him because his face was set toward Jerusalem.” Did they reject Jesus, or did they not host him overnight since he “his face was set toward Jerusalem”?

The text doesn’t say, but the disciples take it to be rejection and impulsively ask if they should “command fire” to destroy them — as if they could even do that! An unknown copier of Luke’s gospel even adds “as Elijah did,” referring to Elijah calling fire upon the soldiers of the evil king Ahaziah, who had ruled the northern kingdom from Samaria (2 Kings 1:10–12).

Jesus uses the occasion to speak about discipleship and about the implications of following him. As the text makes clear, Jesus is speaking to those who are indeed following him, not to potential followers. As he often does, he speaks in hyperboles and exaggerations for emphasis in making his point. He is saying, “Be willing to let go of the past.” You bury the dead and move on. There comes a time when you leave the comforts of home, let go of the doorpost, and move into uncharted waters.

He knows that his disciples will soon be doing exactly that after he has gone. Their lives will be radically and unexpectedly different than anything they had imagined. They will leave behind what they have known and done and go in totally new directions.

What does Jesus mean by saying, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God”? Anybody who has plowed a field knows you have to watch carefully in front of you to keep the furrows straight. Look backward and you will swerve one way or another.

How ironic it is that the disciples did exactly that in the despair and confusion following the crucifixion and resurrection. They looked back and resumed their previous occupation of fishing (John 21:1–14). It isn’t until Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit empowers them, that they begin their true work of spreading the Gospel of Jesus all around the Mediterranean.

These verses jar us into asking, “How are our lives different as followers of Jesus than what they might have been otherwise?” I remember a bumper sticker asking, “If you were on trial for being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict you?” Discipleship means living in ways we might not otherwise live.

The umbrella truth above this whole topic of discipleship is that being a Christian and a disciple of Jesus gives us a whole new identity. We are no longer simply a biological unit on this earth, but a child of the God of the whole universe. We now live knowing that “our citizenship is in heaven” (Philippians 3:20). Because our lives are now measured by eternal things, we are “exiles and aliens” in this world (1Peter 2:11).

Philip Scharper, editor of Orbis Books, describes the Christian life as pilgrims, but even more accurately as nomads: “A popular church metaphor is that of the people of God on pilgrimage. But a more apt metaphor should be that of the people of God as nomads. Pilgrims know where their journey is headed … Nomads are called to go by uncertain paths to a place that shall be made holy at some indefinite time by something God shall say or do. And there is no guide, no guide except a pillar of fire by night and a wind-driven cloud by day — sounds and symbols of the Holy Spirit.”

Little did the disciples know that day that they would soon become nomads on this earth, travelling all over, with no fixed home, living in often frightening and hostile circumstances, as followers of their Lord. But they — and we — were also pilgrims, because pilgrims do have a final destination, namely in eternity with God.

Leading adult forums in congregations, one of my faculty colleagues is fond of asking people, “What is God doing in your life these days?” It is a thoroughly biblical question, because we believe God’s Spirit is active within us. Yet the question catches Lutherans by surprise, because we don’t usually think in such concrete ways.

I remember visiting an African-American congregation near our home, where the pastor asked the people, “What’s God been doing in your life lately?” Whereas Lutherans would have sat in shocked silence, the people in this church, probably accustomed to the pastor posing that question often, responded one after another by standing and giving their answers, each followed by a vigorous round of applause.

Whether we think of ourselves as aliens, strangers, nomads, or pilgrims on this earth, it is because we follow Jesus, and that often takes us into new ways of living!

Reflection on Luke 9:51–62 from “Interrupting the Silence”

Reflection on Luke 9:51–62. From “Interrupting the Silence”

Jesus is calling us into question and that’s never easy, fun, or comfortable. He is calling into question the direction of our life, the values we claim to hold, and how we are living and embodying those values. He is asking us to look at ourselves rather than the Samaritan on whom we’d like to call down fire from heaven.

By Samaritan I mean those who look, act, and believe differently from us; those who do not hold our particular religious or political beliefs; those who are not from these parts; those to whom we are opposed and in conflict with, for whatever reasons. And if you’re not sure who your Samaritans are look at your social media feed and who posts the articles and comments that push your buttons, turn on the news channel you refuse to watch, picture the face of one you crush and defeat in the arguments that go on in your head.

Today’s gospel won’t let us turn away from the people and situations that are right in front of us or the future that is coming to us. Jesus recognizes and holds before us the tension in which we live. On the one hand we say to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” On the other hand we say to him, “But first let me go and …” You probably know what that’s like. I know I do.

When have you experienced that tension? When has it felt like you were being pulled in two directions, the way of Jesus and some other way? In what ways have you said, “But first let me go and…?”

It’s easy and simple to follow Jesus, in principle. Love your neighbor as yourself, love your enemy, welcome the stranger, visit the sick and imprisoned, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, give the thirsty something to drink, turn the other cheek, forgive not just seven times but seventy times seven. These are values Jesus holds. That’s where Jesus is going. That’s the direction in which he has set his face. That’s the road to Jerusalem and it sounds good. Most of us probably agree with those values. It’s the road we too have chosen to travel, in principle.

But it’s so much harder and messier to follow Jesus in life than in principle. I suspect we are all in favor of love, hospitality, forgiveness, and nonviolence until we meet the unloveable, the stranger who scares us, the unforgivable act, the one who throws the first punch, or the Samaritan in our life. Then it’s a different story and that story usually begins with, “But first….”

Jesus, however, puts no qualifications, limitations, or exceptions on where he is going, who is included, or what he is offering. He doesn’t seem to care who we are, where we are from, or what we have done or left undone. Republican or Democrat, citizen or foreigner, Christian or Muslim, gay or straight, black or white, good or bad, believer or nonbeliever just don’t seem to matter to Jesus. For him there is no why, no conditions, attached to love, hospitality, forgiveness, or giving. He does not allow for a “but first” in his life or the lives of his followers.

“But first” is the way we put conditions on the unconditional.

• Yes, I will love the other but first let me go and see who the other is, whether she or he is deserving of love, whether I like him or her, whether he or she agrees with and is agreeable to me.

• Yes, I will open my door to and welcome the stranger but first let me go and see who’s knocking, how different he or she is from me, what she or he wants, what I am risking.

• Yes, I will forgive another but first let me go and see if she or he has acknowledged her or his wrongdoing, is sorry for what they did, and has promised to change.

• Yes, I will give to and care for another but first let me go and see why I should, what it will cost me, and what’s in it for me.

But first…

It’s as if we are backing our way into the kingdom while keeping an eye on the door. It’s as if we are walking backwards into our future, not wanting to see or deal with what is before us. It’s as if we have put our hand to the plow and looked back. And we already know what Jesus thinks about that.

I don’t want to back my way through this life. I don’t want to live, if you will pardon a bad pun, a butt first life. And I hope you don’t either. I want us to turn and lead with our hearts, that deep heart that loves the unlovable, forgives the unforgivable, welcomes the stranger, and gives without seeking a payback or even a thank you.

I wasn’t kidding when I said that this is a difficult gospel. I wish I could resolve this in some neat and simple way, as much for myself as for you, but I can’t. It’s not about resolving the gospel. It’s about resolving ourselves, resolving our heart. That resolution is not a simple or one time decision. It’s a way of being in this world, a way of relating to others, a direction for our life. It’s a choice we make every day. It’s the road to Jerusalem.

That means looking at the ways in which we are backing through life. It means naming the people and situations to which we have turned our backs, and acknowledging that we do sometimes live a “but first” life.

I wonder what our lives and world would be like if we were to love, give, welcome, and forgive without a “but first?”

I think it would be risky and scary and look pretty crazy. But as I look at the world, read the news, and listen to the lives and stories of others, the world is already risky, scary, and crazy. So what if we took a better risk, faced a better fear, and lived a kinder craziness? And what if we were to let that start with you and me, today, in our lives, in our particular situations, and with whoever or whatever is before us?

What if we were to lead with our hearts and not “but(t) first?”