A TALE OF TWO SONS

On Sunday, September 27, 2026, we hear the following parable:

"A man had two sons..."

Jesus said to the chief priests and elders of the people: "What is your opinion? A man had two sons. He came to the first and said, 'Son, go out and work in the vineyard today.' He said in reply, 'I will not,' but afterwards changed his mind and went.

The man came to the other son and gave the same order. He said in reply, 'Yes, sir, 'but did not go.

Which of the two did his father's will?" They answered, "The first." 

Here are are some thoughts by a respected French theologian, Yves de Montcheuil:

This parable alludes in the first place to the Jews and the Gentiles; but it also applies to each one of us we said “yes“ when we recognized the legitimacy of God‘s law and promised to submit to it; but very often we go on living as before, without troubling ourselves about the will of God. 

We think we live in the kingdom because our “yes“ was once sincere, and yet the force of daily habit, an alludes, the will of God who is calling us to the kingdom. Often perhaps his will, and our action coincide, but when a discrepancy arises between his will, and hours, it is the latter which carries the day; we obey our own wishes and whims.

Now life in the kingdom does not merely consist in putting one’s name down for it. Entry into the kingdom requires of us a continuing and living desire to accept God‘s will for us at each moment of our life. It is a “yes“ said over and over again.

In practice, though, it is our unfaithfulness which is repeated.

I was intrigued by the idea that I have both sons in myself, and hope that you, too, may find this reflection useful. 

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)

MAKING THE CHOICE

The first reading at mass today, August 16, is from a very important chapter in the Bible,

Joshua 24. Known as the chapter of the “covenant renewal,” it tells of how the Israelites, having conquered most of the tribes in the promised land under the leadership of Joshua, are now challenged by him to renew their covenant with the God who brought their forefathers through the Red Sea, and who has brought them across the Jordan River into the Land of Milk and Honey. The passage used at mass (Joshua 24:14-29) is worth reading in its entirety.  

While I suppose that the idea of "covenant renewal" may provide a good meditation for you and me, there is one verse that really challenged me: “Put away the foreign gods that are among you.” 

The Israelites, like the pagan tribes around them, have been serving a variety of gods. Some of the gods are from back in the days of captivity in Egypt, while others have been picked up along the way.

Joshua now challenges the Israelites to “Put away the foreign gods that are among you and turn your hearts to the Lord, the God of Israel” (v.23).

This verse has proven to be a good challenge for me. When God’s Help is not enough, what are the other helps that I turn to? The substitutes for God are too many to count, but some of the most common are possessions, controlling others, physical, pleasures, and distractions.

Joshua is challenging me today to stop turning to those false gods and to leave myself completely in the hands of the Lord.

This challenge has been coming up repeatedly in my life over the past couple of months. I

have to learn how to leave myself completely vulnerable to the father, Exactly as Jesus did.

As he hung on the cross, I receive your said “father, into your hands, I commend my spirit.“

Am I ready to repeat those words in my own life or do I still hang on to some of those old gods that offer a sense of security?

Let’s pray for one another that we can accept Joshua’s challenge today to put away both foreign gods and turn to the Lord, the Father of Our Lord Jesus Christ.

LESSONS FROM THE BASKET

I never studied Hebrew, so much of the following reflection is borrowed from a footnote on Genesis Chapter 2:3 from the Catholic New American Bible Revised Edition.

You remember the story of the birth of Moses, and how his mother saved him from being killed by pharaoh's soldiers by placing him in a basket and placing him among the reeds at the side of the river. Then pharaoh's  daughter took him out of the river and adopted him as her own son. 

When we hear that story, very few of us pay much attention to that papyrus basket. But it’s actually a very interesting feature if you look into the original Hebrew.

BABY MOSES' BASKET

THE BASKET. The same Hebrew word is used for the ark that Noah built at God’s command in Genesis 6:14. Although the word is used throughout the Flood narrative, it is used nowhere else in the Bible. In the Moses story, the ark or chest was made of papyrus. One scholar suggests that “presumably the illusion to Genesis is intentional.“ Just as Noah and his family were preserved safe from the threatening waters of the flood by means of the ark he built, so now in Exodus Moses is preserved from the threatening waters of the Nile in the basket, the “ark” prepared by his mother. 

AMONG THE REEDS. The Hebrew noun for “reed“ will appear many times as the story of Moses unfolds, because it appears in the name “the Sea of Reeds, “or “the Reed Sea,” (traditionally translated “Red Sea”). Surely the first readers and listeners to the story of the basket made of “reeds” and then hidden in the "reeds" would not have missed the connection between the reeds of the basket and the reeds of the sea through the Lord delivered the Hebrews from slavery in Egypt. 

GOD"S CONSTANT WORK OF DELIVERING

So that little basket should be a nice reminder to each of us about God‘s constant care, the Lord’s actions in history to deliver his people in the Scriptures, culminating in God’s rescuing Jesus from death at Easter. 

But the story of the Basket doesn’t end with the last book of Holy Scripture. No, our faith tells us that God continues to deliver each one of us as well at every moment. 

It should remind us to be watching for those saving helps sent by God to “deliver us from evil” as we pray in the Lord’s prayer.

A HYMN TO PRAY WITH

Here are three verses from an old hymn that I’ve been meditating with this past week. They seem to fit well with the above reflections about God the Deliverer.

How firm a foundation, O saints of the Lord,
Is laid for your faith in his excellent Word!
What more can he say than to you he has said
Who unto the Savior for refuge have fled?

Fear not, I am with you. Oh, be not dismayed,
For I am your God and will still give you aid;
I'll strengthen you, help you, and cause you to stand,
Upheld by my righteous, omnipotent hand.

When through the deep waters I call you to go,
The rivers of sorrow shall not overflow,
For I will be with you your troubles to bless
And sanctify to you your deepest distress.

BEHIND CLOSED DOORS

 

This Sunday's Gospel begins by telling us that on that first Easter day the Apostles were gathered "behind locked doors." The following reflection is taken from my book "Faces of Easter." I hope it will speak to you during this holy season.

Houses on James Street

Walking down James Street, not far from the monastery, past the restored brick rowhouses, I get this closed-in feeling. There’s wrought iron grillwork protecting the windows, and most of the front doors are blank and uninviting, and fitted with tiny peepholes so that the occupants can see who is ringing their bell. 

The iron-grilled windows and the sealed-up doors remind me of the gospel passage we heard on Easter -- the story of the twelve apostles on the first Easter Sunday evening.

They were hiding behind a locked door like one of these, afraid that the authorities were about to come and arrest them. I can imagine them staring anxiously at the door, sneaking glances at one another, expecting at any moment to hear the fateful knock that would signal arrest, torture and death. Then, just as the suspense becomes unbearable, they see the risen Jesus standing in their midst greeting them: “Peace be with you.”

Further along James Street, the wrought iron bars on a window catch my eye. When I slow my pace to study them closely, I suddenly feel uneasy for some reason that I can’t put my finger on. Then, as I keep staring, I realize that sometimes my own heart and soul must look like that. When I’m in a situation where I’m not in control, or where I’m not sure what is going to happen next, or I feel threatened, then up go my defenses -- locked doors, closed shutters, iron bars, the works.  

Too often I even put up defenses against God, afraid that he’ll ask too much of me -- that is, he may challenge me to shift the center of my life from myself to him. So, when the Lord wants to come and meet me or teach me some difficult lesson, he has to contend with my home security system, especially my protective bars.

Luckily for me, however, Jesus doesn’t seem to be put off by the barred windows and locked doors of my heart, any more than he was by that door the disciples had locked on that first Easter evening. He has lots of ways to get past my defenses. For example, I’ll suddenly realize that some person has found their way into my heart despite my carefully guarded doors, I hear Jesus’ loving greeting as he stands beside that person inside my defenses: “Peace be with you!”

I continue down the sidewalk past more sealed-up houses. A

young woman is striding toward me pushing a stroller. When I glance down at the baby’s serene and radiant face, I feel a tug at my heart; my breath catches as I glimpse God’s glory for a moment. As mother and child continue past me, I’m about to thank the Jesus for that surprise splinter of the divine presence, when I hear his voice -- he’s already inside my heart: “Peace be with you!” He’s done it again.

Reflection 

Do you ever find yourself putting up defenses against God? When are the times that this is most likely to happen? What are God’s favorite ways of speaking to you, of getting past your defenses? Think of a time when the Lord helped you to overcome your fear, and give you the gift of peace.

A BLESSED EASTER SEASON!

SECONDARY COVERAGE

Your secondary insurance?

When I go to a doctor‘s office for the first time, they always ask: “what’s your insurance?“ The next question is “what is your secondary insurance?“

When someone asks me “what religion are you of course answer “ Roman Catholic. What if the next question were “What is your secondary religion?“

What is your backup religion? What do you use to fill in the emptiness when God is not enough? The possible answers are a short list that is as old and as widespread as you can imagine: Possessions, power, prestige, and pleasure.

These are the things that we seek after when God does not answer as quickly as we might want, or when God leaves us still hungry and feeling incomplete.

The central insight of Judaism is there there are not many gods, but only one. A very important prayer that all Jews still repeat every day is Shema Israel, (Deuteronomy Chapter 6 verses 4-5): “Hear, O Israel! The Lord is our God, the Lord alone! Therefore, you shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength.“ 

These verses show up again in the gospels. For example Mark chapter 12 verses 29-31.

Look closely at this passage For a moment. It seems logical that if there is only this one God, then we should love this God with all our heart, all our soul, all our mind and all our strength.

I would be much more comfortable with the command to love God with “ most” of my heart or “most¨ of my soul or “most” of my strength. But that is not the deal! Unfortunately. I am to love God with all of myself, without falling back on any kind of secondary insurance policy, trying to fill the aching void inside my with possessions, power, prestige or pleasure. 

A good way to examine my conscience is for me to ask myself “what is my secondary insurance?” And “have I fallen back onto my secondary insurance policy lately?“

Let’s pray for one another that through the gift of faith we will be able to rely only on this God who indeed is “God alone.“

A HINT FROM HEROD

Herod Antipas

Herod the tetrarch heard about all that was happening,

and he was greatly perplexed because some were saying,

“John has been raised from the dead”;

others were saying, “Elijah has appeared”;

still others, “One of the ancient prophets has arisen.”

But Herod said, “John I beheaded.

Who then is this about whom I hear such things?”

And he kept trying to see him. (Luke 9:7-9)

The passage above was the gospel at mass this past Thursday. The celebrant, Fr. Edwin, pointed out in his homily the last sentence: “Herod kept trying to see Jesus.”

That little sentence is really worth reflecting on. This evil, pagan king is trying to see Jesus. The verb “trying” is in the imperfect tense in Greek, implying a repeated or continuous action in the past; this was not just a one time feeling for Herod. The verb has a few different meanings, another possible one is “desiring.”

And what about me? Could I honestly say that I myself keep "trying to see Jesus?” How badly do I “want to see Jesus?”

My faith tells me that God is constantly seeking me, pursuing me, inviting me to a relationship of intimacy with Him. But, do I do the same thing toward the Lord? Do I truly seek a close, intimate relationship with Jesus, or am I satisfied with saying routine prayers, and celebrating sacraments that give me grace? Although I may well be doing these things, but meanwhile the Lord keeps wanting to draw closer and closer to me in quiet meditation, in prayerful meditation on scripture, on self-sacrificing love of my brothers and sisters,

I can manage to keep God at a safe distance by doing lots of good works, and by reciting lots of prayers. But this is not the path that the Lord invites me to travel. He wants something a lot closer, a lot deeper: a relationship of love.

Back to the tetrarch Herod, who keeps trying to see Jesus. It seems a little odd to take this awful character as a model for my Christian life, but in his own way he is on to something. Maybe his example can shame me into seeking a deeper relationship with Jesus, and to keep seeking, to keep wanting to be closer to Him.

EMPTY YOUR POCKETS!

The gospel for today, Saturday, tells of the confrontation between Jesus and some Pharisees who were condemning his disciples for breaking the Sabbath by picking heads of grain and rubbing them in their hands. 

Over the past weeks we have been running into these Pharisees and their scrupulous observance of externals. And we have seen how Jesus condemns their way of observing tiny externals while not practicing love of neighbor, kindness, generosity, forgiveness, and other virtues that are called for in the Law. 

These Pharisees are intent on working the system, on knowing how to manage God, and keep God at bay.

I once heard someone describe a religious fellow by saying, “He thinks he has God in his pocket!” That description seems to fit the Pharisees who keep coming after Jesus for not observing all the external practices of Judaism (including the man-made ones).

These days, when you go through the security check at the airport, the TSA agents make you take everything out of your pockets. 

“Empty your pockets, please! Nothing in your pockets!“ 

It may be helpful to check my spiritual pockets now and then to make sure that I haven’t put God in there anywhere. If I have obeyed all the Commandments and avoided serious sin and gotten to the sacraments, I may start relaxing and becoming self-satisfied. In other words, I may find that I have inadvertently slipped God into my pocket.

Jesus is always inviting his followers into a personal relationship with his Heavenly Father, not just a transactional agreement with some heavenly accountant who is up there somewhere keeping score.

In the first reading of mass this morning (1 Cor. 4:7), Paul asks his readers, “What do you possess that you have not received?” 

In Greek, this last word “received” is defined as “to receive or accept an object or benefit for which the initiative rests with the giver.” This sounds like a much better basis for religion than the idea of keeping score and racking up points with a Score-keeper God in heaven.

“What do you possess that you have not received as a pure gift, a grace from your loving Father?” The image of having something “in my pocket“ conveys the idea that I am in control of whatever that object may be. How silly, then, is the idea of trying to put God in my pocket, when it is God who has given me everything — including my pocket!

Just yesterday I came across this quotation in Richard Rohr’s book, The Divine Dance: “To accept that you are accepted, is ironically, experienced in the first moment as a loss of power.” P. 109 

When I finally accept the truth that God accepts and loves me just as I am, I am letting go of power and becoming vulnerable to God’s love. 

Let’s pray today that each of us will be able to allow God to take over our lives. No more God-in-my-pocket!

Everyone empty your pockets, please!

HUGGING JESUS?

It's 7:10 this past Thursday morning. 

I've finished Morning Prayer and breakfast and am on my way to my third floor room in the monastery. To get to the elevator I have to pass through the lobby of the school (the school building is connected to the monastery on each of the four floors).

Students are already coming through the front door into the lobby. I notice a little seventh grader sitting alone on a bench, so I stop and ask him what’s up. He explains that he's stuck in the lobby because he doesn't have his identification tag. It's up in room 30, his homeroom, but he has no way of getting to it. Without his ID he can't get past the lobby, will be counted as late and may miss his first period class. Being in something of a hurry, I just say to him “Well, you’ll figure something out. Don’t worry!“ 

Then I hustle off and get on the elevator. As I'm riding up to the third floor, my conscience starts to bother me: the elevator is going to let me off on the third floor right by room 30 anyway, and I have a key.

So as I get off the elevator, I decide to go to room 30 and see if I can find this kid‘s ID somehow. I let myself into the room with no real hope of finding the missing tag, but within a few seconds I see it lying on the teacher’s desk!

I scoop it up and head for the lobby, happy that I'll be saving this kid a ton of trouble. 

I walk into the lobby where he is still sitting, and I hold up the ID card so he can see it from across the room. The look of surprise and joy on his face makes my day, and it's only 7:10 in the morning.

When I hand him his card, he seems at a loss for words. He shakes my hand and mumbles “Thank you.” I turn to hurry toward the elevator and my monastery room. 

“Father Al!” I turn around to see him trotting after me. I look down at him (his eyes are at the level of my chest). But before I can ask him what he wants, he says to me, “Can I give you a hug?” 

Mind you, I don’t know this kid at all, and this is the first time that I have ever spoken to him. 

So we trade a quick hug, and go our separate ways.

That little seventh grader's request, “Can I give you a hug?“ has stayed with me. He had been stuck for words, so he solved his problem by asking if he could hug me. How cool is that!

This little encounter has made me think about gratitude. Particularly about being grateful to God for all the things he does for me every day. I often write down in my prayer journal things that I am thankful for, so it’s not as if I'm totally unaware of God's constant gifts.

But then, yesterday I suddenly wondered if I have ever asked God, “Can I give you a hug?”

I’m sure that the Lord would love a hug, but the problem is, how can I hug Jesus?

Actually there are tons of good answers to this question, all of them based on this saying: “Whatsoever you do to one of the least of my brothers, you do to me.” Jesus is very clear about identifying with the poor, the weak, the sick and so on. 

So, when I ask Jesus if I can hug him, he says “Absolutely! Please! You can find me anywhere, and hug me by your kindness, your generosity, your understanding or just by listening to me when I need someone to talk to."

So, this seventh grader's question was itself a gift from God, a reminder that, if God is hugging me all the time, I better be sure to be hugging back!

GOD´S FAMILY

 The first reading for the feast of Saint Thomas the Apostle on July 3 was from the second chapter of Ephesians. Here Paul is addressing himself to Gentile Christians, that is, people who had been converted to Christianity not from Judaism, but from pagan religion. He is assuring them that the divisions between gentile and Jew that were in force under the Old Jewish Law no longer apply: all of us, he says, whether Gentile or Jew, are all one in Christ. We are no longer  strangers or aliens to one another. Here is the passage:

Brothers and sisters:

You are no longer strangers and sojourners, 

but you are fellow citizens with the holy ones

and members of the household of God, 

built upon the foundation of the Apostles and prophets,

with Christ Jesus himself as the capstone.

Through him the whole structure is held together

and grows into a temple sacred in the Lord;

in him you also are being built together

into a dwelling place of God in the Spirit (Eph 2:19-22).

The first time I read this in the original Greek I saw that the writer was playing with a Greek root, but the play on words disappears completely when the passage is translated. I would like to share with you a glimpse of Paul's clever play on the word, oikos, which means ¨house,¨ or in its common figurative meaning, ¨family.¨ For example, you remember that Saint Luke tells us that the virgin Mary ¨was espoused to a man named Joseph of the oikos of David.¨ The ¨house¨ here is the ¨family¨ or lineage of David

With this in mind, let´s go through the passage and lift out each word which involves the root oik- (house,family). I hope that you´ll share some of the satisfaction that I feel as I bring to light the treasures hidden in this passage. 

Brothers and sisters:

You are no longer strangers and sojourners,

but you are fellow citizens with the holy ones

and members of the household of God, (okeioi) 

      [Another translation might be ¨you are members God´s family,¨ or even ¨you are relatives of God.¨ ¨Yes,¨ you might say to a friend, ¨I´m related to God.¨]

built upon (epoikodomethentes) the foundation of the Apostles and prophets.  

  [This rather long Greek word, a straightforward term used in house construction, lifts up the role of the apostles as the ones chosen by God to serve as the firm basis on which the Church will be built. ] 

Christ the capstone of the Church

with Christ Jesus himself as the capstone.

Through him the whole structure (oikodome) is held together

        [The noun (oikodome) is the word for a ¨structure or a building.¨]

and grows into a temple sacred in the Lord;

in him you also are being built together (sunoikodoemsthei) 

        [The prefix sun - or syn- means ¨with.¨ So ¨built together ¨gives me the picture of all of us             being intimately unified by belonging to the great project of ¨building" the Church of                 Christ.]

into a dwelling place of God in the Spirit.

The first time that the root oikos occurs in this passage, it is used in the figurative sense of household or family. The other four times it is used literally, borrowing imagery from architecture or construction.

But the first time that the word is used, with the meaning of ¨family¨seems to me to color the whole rest of the passage with the warm glow of God's love for his family united in him and which includes you and me. For me this passage invites us to reflect on the Church not in terms of a building, but as God´s close family in which each of us is loved with a warm, intimate and infinite love.

Now you may want go back and read the passage as given at the beginning of this post and notice how that first word, okeioi ("members of God´s family") colors the rest of the passage, reminding you that you are a member of God´s vast family and loved by him as his very favorite family member.

UNFINISHED BUSINESS?

 

The original St. Mary's building

This week we "downtown monks" spent four days on retreat with our Benedictine brothers at Saint Mary's Abbey in the beautiful, quiet hills of Morris County, about 24 miles west of Newark. For me, the best part was the opportunity to just sit and reflect and write in my prayer journal.

I reflected a lot on my experience of being unfinished, and of my temptation to fill in the emptiness when it seems that God is not enough for me. I wrote that I dislike being unfinished but want to be complete -- in other words, I want to be God.

Here are two passages to reflect on:

The first is something I wrote many years ago, but which I tend to forget.

We humans are perpetually unfinished. We have all experienced the sense that there is always something more to learn, to accomplish, to become. It is this “incurable unfinished in this,“ as one philosopher, calls it, that sets us apart from other living things, because in trying to “finish“ ourselves, we become creators. Our incurable unfinishedness keeps us childlike, capable of learning, and growing. We may be trying to head toward perfection, but none of us will ever arrive there.

The second is a poem from "Surprised by Light," a book of beautiful photographs and poems

by Ulrich Schaffer:

He creates the yearning in you.

That at times seems too much to bear.

He allows you to think paradise

Even though you cannot enter it yet.

He lets you become restless

So that you will start again 

Through the thousand thoughts of the world.

He shows you the incompleteness of everything.Because only one image and one presence will still your yearning.

He gives out waiting and yearning

Like a gift and a heaviness,

Because he alone

Can satisfy our hunger.

Just about every line in this poem poses a  useful challenge to me.

I hope you will find something in this post to challenge you!