THE MUSTARD BUSH

Today's gospel passage has got me thinking about Mark's parable of the mustard seed.

Jesus said, ‘With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.’ Mark 4:30-32

The Old Testament contains some metaphors based on the towering cedar tree magnificently reigning over the rest of the forest. Jesus makes a point of avoiding that metaphor in favor of the mustard plant, which grows to a height of three to about ten feet. Using one of his favorite devices, Jesus catches his hearers off guard with this surprising comparison. Its pointed irony would not have been lost on them: the Kingdom is not about being the biggest and the mightiest. But there are other things that people knew about mustard plants that would have given the metaphor even more punch.
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THE KINGDOM AS A WEED

There are two more things we can take from this image: Pliny in his Natural History says that the mustard plant is “hearty and intrusive.”

First, the Kingdom is as hearty as a mustard plant: it’s hard to kill. Some years ago I wrote a post celebrating the hardiness of the faith in Haiti. The Kingdom there is proving amazingly hearty, showing itself in people’s sending their prayers of lament, praise and thanks heavenward from the midst of the rubble and the misery. Is the Kingdom that hearty in my life, I wonder, surviving every challenge and difficulty?

Second, the kingdom, like the mustard plant, intrudes where it’s not necessarily wanted. This first definition of a weed I came across seems to fit well enough. “Weed: a plant considered undesirable, unattractive, or troublesome, especially one growing where it is not wanted, as in a garden.” Think of some of the hearty weeds that keep trying to take over your own garden. The Kingdom, it seems, is supposed to be troublesome like that, popping up in our life in areas where we’d rather not have it. It may show up just as I’m about to say something that would move my plans along but which would be rude or hurtful to someone. Or maybe it will intrude as I’m wondering if I really have any responsibility to help the poor people in Haiti. Some call it the voice of conscience, which is fine, too; we know that it's a sign of the presence of the Kingdom.

The Kingdom is like a mustard plant -- hearty and intrusive. When I pray “Thy Kingdom come” I’d better be ready for something “undesirable, unattractive, or troublesome” to get in the way of my plans and which may prove very hard to get rid of once it takes root in my heart!

KINGDOM SPACES

There was once a rich man ...

Today's gospel parable about the rich man and Lazarus (Lk 16:19-31) got me thinking about the Kingdom of God. I like to imagine the Kingdom of God as “existing in the spaces between us.” We are each responsible for what characterizes those spaces: mutual care? anger? jealousy? empathy?

In the case of the rich man, he was not even aware of the existence of the beggar at his front door. What characterized the space between him and Lazarus, at least from the rich man's perspective? Maybe indifference. In any case, it was not the “Kingdom” Jesus had come to establish on earth.

Interestingly, the parable ends with the image of a space between the two characters: an unbridgeable space separating the two of them. And it is too late for the rich man to bridge that space by filling it with compassion. He is, however, the one responsible for the chasm.

So there are at least a couple of lessons for us in this parable. First, we need always to be aware of the people that God has placed in our lives, especially those whom we may be tempted to pass by without noticing them. (It’s no coincidence that this poor man, Lazarus is the only character in any parable who is given a name), And second, we are responsible for how we treat those people. So we could say that the Kingdom means filling the species between us with love, right?

Yes, I suppose that's true. But we should not forget that the Kingdom is not always filled with "nice" experiences. The experience of the Kingdom also includes sharing in the sufferings of Christ, the King.

So when we are experiencing pain and suffering, we have to try to experience them as a share in the mystery of Christ's pain and suffering. These ended, as promised, in victory over death and suffering. Ultimately, the kingdom is about Easter.

My faith in Christ the Risen King assures me that if today is Good Friday for me, then Easter is coming!

I once heard this saying, attributed to a wise old rabbi: "God is not nice. God is not your uncle. God is an earthquake." 

I don't know about you, but I have certainly met this Earthquake God a few times. But this God is also the God of the Paschal mystery who raised Jesus from the dead. The God of love whose ways are unfathomable to us.

Our faith assures us that in the end, God always wins, and the Kingdom always comes. When we pray "Thy Kingdom come," we are committing ourselves to help to bring it about by filling all the spaces in our lives with Christlike love.  

THE EXPANDING EUCHARIST

 

St. Pius X

Apologies for the late posting this week. I'd been on vacation and it took me a couple of days to catch up with things. I'm offering the following repeat post from a few years ago. I hope it might be a blessing to you as it's been to me.

August 21 was the memorial of Saint Pius X. His pontificate (1903-1914) was marked by lots of important diplomacy and other significant achievements. He tried desperately to keep Europe from descending into war, but his efforts failed. Within a few months after the outbreak of World War I he died of a broken heart. But he is perhaps best remembered for encouraging the frequent reception of holy communion. At the time of his papacy people would attend mass but would seldom receive the Eucharist. His efforts helped to change that custom, and prepared the way for other reforms that made the Blessed Sacrament more and more accessible to the faithful.

Chardin

Coincidentally, I've been slowly reading my way through "Teilhard de Chardin on the Eucharist: Envisioning the Body of Christ," by Louis Savary. Through reading this book, my understanding of and my attitude toward the Eucharist have been tremendously deepened and expanded. If you know a little about Chardin then you won't be surprised that when he was celebrating mass, he would elevate the consecrated host or the cup and see the power radiating from them not just to the faithful attending that mass but to every human being, all members of Christ, and then further into every living thing, and then to the atoms and molecules that compose every speck of matter in the farthest reaches of the universe

Chardin thinks of Christ under three aspects. The past Christ, who was born in Bethlehem, lived for about 30 years, died and rose again  Then there is the Present Christ, the head of the Mystical Body, who lives in our hearts and is present everywhere. The third aspect of Christ is one that we seldom if ever think of: the Future Christ, the Universal Christ whose power and presence extend to the farthest reaches of the universe, who holds everything in being and who will one day bring all of creation into one single point of Divine Love.

When Chardin as a priest gazed on the consecrated host and the cup, he experienced the presence of all three Christs. But I was especially captivated by his image of the bread and wine being transformed into the presence of the universal Christ. This sent me a couple of times to YouTube to type in "Hubble," the telescope that has extended our view of the universe beyond our imagining. (You should try looking at a couple of these videos yourself.)

The second part of Savary's book about Chardin is composed of suggested meditations based on Chardin's view of the Eucharist. Of course most of us encounter the Eucharist only at mass, but I'm privileged to spend 50 minutes each morning in front of the Eucharist displayed in the monstrance on the altar in the abbey church. The meditations are turning out to be very powerful. For example, gazing at the host and imagining a certain person contained inside it (as we're all members of Christ, this isn't heretical). It may be someone who is sick or in some distress. Then praying for that person and ask the Lord to watch over that person or heal them or give them whatever gift it is that they most need right now. Another meditation involves visualizing the power radiating from the host outward to fill all of creation. 

These meditations are certainly inviting me to expand my idea of the Eucharist far beyond a private, personal welcoming of Jesus into my heart to enjoy His presence. Thanks to Chardin's way of seeing the world and the Universal Christ, my sense of the meaning of the Eucharist is deepening every day. 

Saint Pius X must be gratified to see people sharing in Chardin's deep vision of the power of the Sacrament. 

An enhanced image from NASA of galaxy clusters

SPLINTER PATROL

The gospel for Friday this past week was from Luke 6:41-42: 

Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye, but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own? How can you say to your brother, ‘Brother, let me remove that splinter in your eye,’ when you do not even notice the wooden beam in your own eye? You hypocrite! Remove the wooden beam from your eye first; then you will see clearly to remove the splinter in your brother’s eye.” 

 As I reflected on Jesus’s words I became aware of just how many of my brethren in the monastery have splinters in their eyes. Actually, a couple of people have multiple splinters. You know what I mean. This brother never puts the jelly jar back in the refrigerator. This other one never scrapes his dinner plate into the garbage, but leaves it to be washed, even though it’s still full of food scraps. Another one talks to himself half out loud much of the time. 

Yesterday, as an experiment, every time I noticed a brother doing something whose behavior I disapproved of, every time I noticed some sort of imperfection in a brother, I would whisper the word “Splinter” to myself. After just a few minutes I started to realize that everybody around me had at least one splinter and maybe more! 

The exercise was so unsettling that I quickly gave it up. (Maybe I was unconsciously influenced by the thought that all my brother monks have to look at me and see my own splinters every day?) 

In any case, not long afterward Jesus‘s words from the gospel passage began to echo in my head: “Remove the wooden beam from your eye first; then you will see clearly to remove the splinter in your brother’s eye.”  My exercise had suddenly flipped around and was pointing back at me! 

I began trying to see the wooden plank in my own eye. This was a difficult exercise because by definition we don’t see those things easily in ourselves. I came to realize, though, that one “plank” I had just become aware of was that I too often see the splinter in my brother’s eye instead of seeing Jesus in him. Instead of seeing a person whose feet I am supposed to wash, all I see is a big splinter that irritates me. This is definitely part of my “wooden beam!” 

I'm tempted to abandon this exercise the way I abandoned my effort at seeing splinters in other people, but clearly, looking for the wooden beam that keeps me, for example, from seeing my own shortcomings or prevents me from recognizing Christ in other people is an important exercise. I better keep it up! 

 So, I’ve decided to give up the "Splinter Patrol" in favor of paying extra attention to my daily examination of conscience. 

 Welcome, Albert, to the "Wooden Beam Patrol!"

AN UNFREE GOD?

I have been rereading the Franciscan Richard Rohr’s “Immortal Diamond” and would like to share with you some of his thoughts about death. Everything that follows below is directly quoted from his book.

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The crucified one is God‘s standing solidarity with the suffering, the tragedy, and the disaster of all time, and God‘s promise that it will not have the final word. 

The Risen One is God‘s final word about the universe and what God plans to do with all suffering.

ABOUT DYING

In all of nature, one form has to die and decay for another to take over, so this pattern should be obvious and clear, although it is largely not — until you really observe or actually study the patterns of almost everything. Again, we appear to be in gross denial.

Jesus’  own dying has to be made quite clear and forthright in the gospels; in Mark, it is almost half of the text. His. “ necessary death” had to be made visible and compelling, because we all want to deny death and avoid the obvious. Quite unfortunately, we made Jesus‘ necessary dying into a mechanical atonement theory demanded by a “just” God, which had the side effect of keeping the spotlight away from our own necessary dying. Jesus indeed became our scapegoat, but not at all in the way that he intended. Avoiding our own necessary “pattern of  dying” (Phil 3:11), we constructed instead, a kind of metaphysical transaction, called “paying the price“ or "opening the gates,“ that was necessary for Jesus to complete. Then we worshipped him for doing this, which is understandable, but also avoids the point that we all have to pay the price for growing up and for loving.

Is God really unfree?

Jesus never said, “worship me,“ but he often said, “follow me.“ We have wasted a lot of good energy on “vicarious substitutionary atonement theories“ and created a punitive and petty God in the process —  a “Father God“ who was incapable of forgiving “without blood.“ Is God that unfree? Remember, the ego likes contests of win and lose, and cannot even comprehend anything like win-win. Jesus became our substitute in losing, hoping it would let us off the hook, I guess.

Fortunately, we Franciscans never officially believed this common substitutionary atonement theory. We were always a kind of alternative orthodoxy inside Catholicism. In the teaching of John Duns Scotus, Jesus was pure gracious gift, and not necessary at all. God operated out of total and absolute freedom in the gift of Jesus and the Christ to the world. 

Incarnation, the birth in Bethlehem, was already God‘s unconditional choice and gift of himself to us. Incarnation was already redemption. And why would a free gift be less beautiful than a necessity? Why would an act of a violence be necessary to redeem the world? For us, Jesus did not come to change the mind of God about humanity, but to change the mind of humanity about God. It is “simple and beautiful;” as Einstein said great truth would always have to be. (136)

SANDALS AND MOSAICS

A close friend asked me to write a note to her sister, a firm believer who is fighting a losing battle with cancer, and has been wondering how we can be sure that God really is present in the midst of our sufferings. Since I've been praying hard for her for months, I felt that the Lord might offer me a few words of comfort to her. Here is what I wrote to my friend's sister a couple of days ago:.

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Dear_________________,

Here are a couple of thoughts that might be helpful to you right now.

If you look at the Book of Exodus chapter 3, the story of Moses and the burning bush, you will see in verse 5 that Moses is told. “Take off your sandals, for you are on holy ground!“ This is because he is in the presence of the Mystery of the Divine, namely, God. So he has to take his sandals off out of reverence for the mysterious presence that he will never be able to comprehend or understand. God is just too big for our intellects.

So when you or I are standing in the presence of some terrible suffering or some awful evil or some tragedy, the first thing we must do is take off our shoes! We are in the presence of a deep mystery that we cannot comprehend. That means that we cannot really “know” for sure if God is really here in the midst of all this suffering. All we have is the gift of faith.

Today is the feast day of Saint Augustine. He once wrote that our

life is like a beautiful mosaic. But the problem is that we only get to look at the mosaic from very close up. We see only one or two little pieces of the mosaic, and therefore it makes no sense to us. But when the Lord calls us home to heaven, we get to look at the entire mosaic. Then we can finally see that the whole picture is so unbelievably beautiful and full of love that it takes our breath away.

But the way things are in this life, we don’t get to see the whole thing.

Yet if you listen hard, you can hear the Lord apologizing to you. “I’m sorry. I wish you could see the whole picture right now, but in order for you to do that, you would have to be God. So, I’m sorry. I apologize. But for right now, please try to trust me. Look for all those bits of love that I reveal to you every day. That’s the best I can do.”

There. That’s at least my way of looking at things.

I hope this was of some help.

Love and prayers,

Fr. Albert

No Shoes, Please

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PHARISEES' FAULT

The gospel for Saturday, August 23, 2025 shows a confrontation between Jesus and the

Pharisees. By the time the gospel of Matthew was being written down, certain members of the Pharisee party had launched a full-fledged persecution of Christians. So it’s not surprising that the gospel writer portrays them in the worst possible light. While we have to avoid going overboard in our condemnation of the Pharisees, most of whom were sincere and observant Jews, we can nevertheless learn something from the mistakes of some of them.

The great Protestant theologian Paul Tillich defines religion as “the dimension of depth in reality.“ We humans are by nature symbol making creatures. Whatever dimension of depth we experience, we usually try to express it in various symbolic forms in story, poetry, music, ritual and other kinds of metaphorical language.

In my opinion, the Pharisees put such an emphasis on those outward forms (the observance of strict laws and customs, for example) that they lost the whole idea of “the dimension of depth in life”. It’s as if they put down a floor that prevented them from going deep into the transcendent Mystery of the Divine, the sacred mystery of who we are in God’s eyes. All they had left was the externals, without the ultimate Meaning that these were meant to point to and to celebrate. The gospel today lists some of those externals.

This God of the Pharisees was quite knowable and indeed quite under their control. All one had to do was obey all the laws and perform the rituals correctly and you kept God at bay. I once heard a super-religious person described this way: “He had God in his pocket.”

What a terrible loss! To have a God who is so small and weak that he fits in your pocket! 

But before we get too smug, we should notice that  the gospel writer ends this passage with a warning his fellow Christians to beware of falling into the same trap:

As for you, do not be called 'Rabbi.' You have but one teacher, and you are all brothers. Call no one on earth your father; you have but one Father in heaven. Do not be called 'Master'; you have but one master, the Christ. The greatest among you must be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, but whoever humbles himself will be exalted."

We are warned: we may be very observant practicing Christians, but observances and religious practices will not get us into heaven any more than they did for those Pharisees.