Emmanuel – God Is With Us

Nativity of the Lord: Day – Cycle B

Isaiah 52: 7-10; Hebrews 1: 1-6; 

John 1: 1-18

The author of today's gospel reading tells a different story than we are used to hearing on Christmas. We do not hear about the familiar images that everyone associates with the birth of Jesus. There is no census from Caesar Augustus, no manger scene and no star to lead far-away travelers to Bethlehem. Instead, we get poetry from the evangelist.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came through him, and without him nothing came to be.” (John 1: 1-3)

The world had been locked into an advent that lasted centuries. The Jewish people had been awaiting the birth of the Christ child ever since Isaiah had prophesied it more than seven hundred years earlier. The world must have seemed like a dark place back then. Can you imagine waiting as a people for so long?

With the birth of the Christ child, the first Christmas, the waiting was officially over. But the world still did not know. Other than the Holy Family, a handful of shepherds and a Magi or three, the world remained woefully in the dark. The people of God did not know that what had been foretold had come to be. The Gentiles and the rest of the world for whom Jesus came remained in the dark. The world continued to wait.

Waiting is something we can all understand. Who among us has not longed for something? The youngest of us eagerly await Christmas morning and the wonders that it brings. Parents, do you recall waiting up for the teenager who has missed curfew? We wait for test results and traffic lights. Waiting is a part of life – there is no escaping it.

It was not until the spread of Christianity that the story of the Jesus came to be known near and far. Today the gospel is preached worldwide.

All the ends of the earth have seen the saving power of God. (Psalm 98)

The other day, as I was standing in line to purchase a gift, I noticed the man in front of me bristle when the sales clerk wished him a Merry Christmas. He proceeded to say that he does not celebrate the holiday because what happened two thousand years ago has no bearing on our world or our lives today. The birth of Jesus did not change the world.

The truth of the matter is that the man was essentially correct – the birth of Jesus did not change the world. It was not supposed to! Emmanuel did not come into the world to change it. God had another goal in mind.

What came to be through him was life, and this life was the light of the human race; the light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it. (John 1: 3-5)

Some may look at the world today and see only darkness. They see insurmountable problems and wonder why God has forsaken us. Please remember that the world in Jesus' time had its share of problems also. The holy lands were occupied by a conquering Roman army. Slavery and corruption were commonplace. The poor and afflicted lived as outcasts.

So why do we celebrate the birth of a child that occurred more than two thousand years ago? Why does this feast day hold such significance for us?

And the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among is, and we saw his glory, the glory as of the Father's only Son, full of grace and truth. (John 1: 14)

The word of the Lord endures because God has set it loose and nothing can stop it. Nothing can stop it.

He did not come to change the world. The plan was much more elegant than that.

The Word – Emmanuel – Jesus the Christ. His love and grace still effects us, still influences us, still inspires us. The Word does not change the world, it changes me. The Word does not save the world, it saves me.

In the course of the coming liturgical year we will see that Word blossom in the desert like a rare flower, healing the sick and making whole what was once lost. He will confound and illuminate in parables, and He will preach the Kingdom of God.

This day comes with the promise of new birth. Such is the gift given to us this Christmas day. As we open the many gifts that God and our family and friends have given to us, let us remember that these tokens bring hope and promise and lasting love. We are poised here to give thanks and praise as we lift up our hearts in gratitude to the God who comes yet again into our midst.

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer

Christmas Day

December 25, 2014

Painting: Adoration of the Shepherds, 1646, by a pupil of Rembrandt

 

The World Needs A Savior

Second Sunday of Advent – Cycle B

Isaiah 40: 1-5, 9-11; 2 Peter 3: 8-14; 

Mark 1: 1-8

There is a poem by John Shea written about John the Baptist. At the beginning, John sits in his prison cell awaiting his execution. He knows that it is coming, but he is not bothered by his impending death. As he looks back over his life, he feels as if he is only half a man. Why does he feel this way? Because, as the poem puts it, he is only a half-prophet who can only do a half-job. John's thoughts on the subject are this:

• I can denounce a king, but I cannot enthrone one.
• I can strip an idol of its power, but I cannot reveal the true God.
• I can wash the soul in sand, but I cannot dress it in white.
• I can devour the word of God like wild honey, but I cannot lace his sandal.
• I can condemn sin, but I cannot bear it away.

John the Baptist is aware of both his strength and his impotency. He can point out what is wrong and what should be done, but after that he is helpless. He does not possess the power needed to correct the wrong. This is why John feels like he is only half a man.

John needed more. The world needed more.

The world needed a savior.

The shortcomings of John the Baptist, expressed by John Shea, seem to hit close to home. In essence, that's what we bring to any situation. We can see the world in all of its failings. We can express, often with brilliance and clarity, what is wrong. But like John the Baptist, we need help. We may be inspired – we may be dedicated – but we cannot fix the problems of this world without support from the global community and the grace of God.

We only have to turn on the television or scan the internet briefly to see that the world has gone to hell in a handcart. Viruses such as AIDS or Ebola continue to ravage the poorest of nations while the threat of epidemic plagues us all. Extremists of every kind would rather put a knife to your throat than show tolerance for a differing belief. In this country, relations between law enforcement and the minorities they are sworn to protect and serve seem to have reached an all-time low. Our elected officials are more concerned with party politics than with compromised solutions. Meanwhile, the gulf between the richest and the poorest continues to widen …

The world needs a savior.

With Advent, we are coming closer and closer to the day of the Lord. To paraphrase from the second letter of Peter: “What we await are new heavens and a new earth where, according to his promise, righteousness dwells.” (2 Peter 3:14)

It is the day of God's salvation when kindness and truth shall meet. Justice and peace shall kiss. Truth shall spring out of the earth, and justice shall look down from heaven.

We await the day of the Lord, but it must be an active waiting. Isaiah speaks of leveling the mountains and filling in the valleys. Peter references our looking for the coming of the day of God and our trying to hasten it. John the Baptist says simply, “In the desert prepare the way of the Lord.”

We stand here, as it were, in a desert, an empty wasteland of broken lives and discarded people.

The challenge of Advent is to clear a straight path for God. Our opening prayer said that we must remove the things that hinder us from receiving Christ with joy. But it has to go beyond that. We must put an end to injustices, stop wars and leave discrimination behind us if we are to prepare ourselves for the day of the Lord.

We cannot possibly do it alone. We need the help of the global community and the grace of God to address these issues.

We need a savior.

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer

2nd Sunday of Advent

December 7, 2014

Painting: St John The Baptist by El Greco, ca. 1600

Compassion

30th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

Exodus 22: 20-26; 1 Thessalonians 1: 5c-10; 

Matthew 22: 34-40

In today's first reading from Exodus, we hear these words from God: “If he cries out to me, I will hear him, for I am compassionate.” (Exodus 22:26)

I want to believe these words, but when I watch the news, I wonder how this can be true. Every day we are bombarded with images of terrorism, war, crime, prejudice, disease and suffering. Much of it is our fault, but a lot of it is completely beyond our control. If God is compassionate, why is there so much suffering in the world?

We believe that God is all-knowing and all-powerful. God could end all of this pain and suffering with one thought. So why do we suffer? How can a compassionate God allow this to continue?

Perhaps it would help if we understood what the word “compassion” means.

It's root comes from two Latin words: cum – which means “with” and passio – which means “to suffer.” In other words, to feel compassion for someone means that you suffer with them.

Compassion does not mean that God solves our problems, shows us the way out of confusion, or offers answers to our many questions. A compassionate God feels our hurt and lives it with us. God willingly chooses to enter with us into our problems, confusions and questions.

How do we know that God is compassionate? Jesus came into the world as we did, born to human parents, helpless but loved. Jesus was fully God and completely human. As God, he could have ended disease and suffering easily. Instead, he chose to love us and to suffer with us to the point of death – death on a cross.

Jesus demonstrated compassion in very simple ways. These acts of compassion are usually overlooked in light of his many works and miracles. But by simply speaking with or sharing a meal with people on the margins of society – the sick, the poor, the sinners, and in those days, the woman – Jesus showed us how to love and feel compassion for all of those we encounter.

I have often struggled with this notion of compassion. I consider myself a “fixer” or a “problem-solver.” I see a dilemma and I look for a solution. I don't like suffering and I don't want to see others suffering either. That's the reason that feel so uncomfortable at hospitals and funeral homes. I cannot fix the problems there. There are no words to alleviate the pain and suffering that you find in those places. And so I avoid them whenever possible.

So am I able to feel compassion?

Feeling compassion for a close friend or a family member comes easy enough. Why? Because I love them. Their joy is my joy, their pain is my pain. It's not so tough in those circumstances.

But Jesus wants more from us. “You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. You shall love your neighbor as yourself. (Matthew 22: 37, 39)

Jesus wants us to expand our neighborhood. We are called take these feelings of love and compassion that we feel for those most intimate to us, and extend them to the vastness of humanity.

That's a pretty tall order. Is it possible? In our lifetime we've seen several examples – Mother Teresa and Pope Francis spring to mind immediately – but there are many others – so yes – it is possible.

Can I do it too? I want to try – but where do I start?

It begins by treating everyone I encounter with patience and respect. It begins with being present to the person in front of me. It begins by setting aside prejudices and judgements and dealing with that person on a one-to-one basis.

I can do that. It will take some effort, but I can do that.

There are other ways as well. I can set aside my feelings of inadequacy and visit people in the hospital or a nursing home. I can write to someone in prison, or perhaps a soldier overseas.

Can I extend myself beyond that? Can I demonstrate love and compassion to people I do not know? Yes. I can join CLOUT (Citizens of Louisville Organized and United Together) and work to remove obstacles that cause hardship and suffering in our neighborhoods. I can buy a blanket and donate it to the homeless. I can bring a toy for the Whitley City toy collection, Through these programs, and others, I can feel empathy and ultimately, love and compassion towards others.

It will not be easy for me. These ideas of love and compassion are not something I've practiced regularly, so I'm still learning. Perhaps you find yourself in a similar predicament. If so, come and talk to me. Maybe we can do it together.

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer

30th Sunday in Ordinary Time

October 26, 2014

Painting:  Remnrandt, The Return of the Prodigal Son, 1668-69, detail.

Building A Relationship With God

Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

1 Kings 19: 9a, 11-13a; Romans 9: 1-5; 

Matthew 14: 22-33

In today's Gospel, Jesus has sent the apostles ahead of him on a boat, while he takes some alone time to pray with the Father. A storm blows in and the boat is endangered. Jesus walks across the water to the apostles, who mistake him for a ghost. “Fear not, it is I,” says the Lord.

In our first reading today, we hear of Elijah's expectations about where and how to see God. He looks for him in the wind, in the earthquake, in fire, and finally finds Him in the tiny whispering sound.

We have just heard two completely different accounts about relating to God. What should an encounter with God should look like?

Our faith journey with God is not a linear one. It does not go from A to B to C. The journey more closely resembles a “Family Circus” cartoon. It moves forward. It backs up. It loops around. It stops. It starts. It side-steps. This is normal.

No two faith journeys are the same. They are as individual as we are. There is no right way or wrong way to encounter God.

Our own journey of faith may be in various stages and all of these are OK. We may have a childlike relationship with God in which we call out to Him in desperation like Peter did when he was about to go under – Save me! And Jesus did just that. Jesus didn't say, I'll come rescue you when you have a mature faith. No, Jesus met Peter where he was, - in his fear.

Where do we find God? Where do we look? Where do we expect to find Him?

In the noisy, messy relationships we have with our loved ones? If that is where we are, God will make Himself known to us there. In the chaos of a crisis? God will calm the sea. When life is moving along OK? We may see God in the beauty of nature. In the joy of the birth of a child? God will be there to celebrate with us.

Elijah experienced God in the quiet stillness of a whisper. We know that we are created in the image of God. Perhaps we can take some time to ponder that relationship of the God within us – to settle ourselves and listen.

Wherever we are on our faith journey, God is there. All relationships take time and effort to nurture. We sustain friendships with other people by continually renewing them with conversation. We rekindle old friendships by making a phone call, taking the time from our daily routine. We hear much talk about spending “quality time” together with out families. How do we nurture our relationship with God?

Peter is invited to walk with Jesus. Peter leaves the boat, walking on the water. His journey lasts but a few steps before fear and disbelief set in, and Peter, the rock, begins to sink.

Frightened of his situation, Peter utters a simple prayer to Jesus: “Lord, save me!” It is a universal plea that I am certain we have all uttered at one time or another. “Lord, save me!” This prayer is usually spoken when the situation is dire, and the outcome seems hopeless. “Lord, save me!”

There are times in life when circumstances dictate that we fall back again to that primal prayer - “Lord, help me!” Hopefully though, our interactions with God will become more substantive. In other words, we don't just call on God when we need something. We set aside time for God – not just one hour on Sunday – but other times as well. We tell God what we are feeling. We listen for that tiny whispering voice that says “I am with you.”

Deacon Darryl Diemer
19th Sunday in Ordinary Time
August 10, 2014

Painting:  Lorenzo Venezianco, Christ Rescuing Peter From Drowning, 1370.

An Explanation of the Trinity

The Most Holy Trinity – Cycle A

Exodus 34: 4b-6, 8-9; 

2 Corinthians 13: 11-13; 

John 3: 16-18

When I was In second grade, I was preparing for my first communion. I was not in a catholic school at the time, so my instruction came in the form of CCD classes on Sunday mornings. One day in class, I asked my teacher a question: How can God be three different people at the same time? My teacher, a former nun, gave me what I now know to be the standard nun answer: It is a mystery!

The good sister's answer was correct, but it did little to satisfy the curiosity of an eight year old boy. Later, when I attended catholic schools, I would ask my religion teacher the same question. I received various answers over the years, but never one that spoke to me.

Then, about twenty years ago, I read a small column in a newspaper that explained the concept of the trinity perfectly. I cut that column out and saved it, vowing that when my sons asked me the question, I would be able to answer it for them. It has become known in my house as “the question that was never asked.” From time to time, I've pulled out that column and reread it. Over the years, I've removed some of the original author's thoughts and added some of my own. I wish that I could tell you the original author's name, but it has long been lost in my memory. Thanks to Holy Trinity Sunday, I finally get to explain this concept of the trinity.

The trinity (God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit) is like water. Ice, steam and liquid water all have the same properties, even though they appear completely different. Water can be tangible or intangible. It can be visible or invisible. Ice becomes liquid, liquid becomes steam, steam becomes liquid again, which can turn to ice or back to steam. No matter how often it changes forms, water is always water.

Like God, water is everywhere. It is in the atmosphere, in the environment and within every cell of our bodies – all at the same time. We drink it. We breathe it. We immerse ourselves in it. It is as vast as the ocean. It is so minute that we can't see it at all. No matter how big or how small the portion is, water is water.

Water can be tranquil, soothing our souls. It can also be a powerful and destructive force. The gentle rain that brings new life can become the hurricane that extinguishes it. A drop of water doesn't have much of an impact on the world. Endless drops of water will change it.

Like God, water is limitless. Pour some into a glass and examine it. That very same water that you now hold kept the ark afloat as it covered the earth. It was parted in the Red Sea. Jesus was baptized in it and so were each of us. It may have even flowed from Jesus' side. It has touched billions of lives before coming to you, and it will touch billions more long after you use it, consume it, or pour it out.

Close your eyes for a moment and picture water. What did you see? Was it vast or small? Was it placid or turbulent? Was it in a natural or a man made setting? Was it hot, cold or tepid? What feelings did it evoke? What are the odds that your picture of water is identical to mine? Whose is correct?

Is it necessary to know that water is two atoms of hydrogen bound to one atom of oxygen or is it enough to know that water is water?

Now close your eyes for a moment and picture God.

God is the Creator. God is the Son. God is the Holy Spirit. God is seen and unseen. God can be touched. God can be felt. God has a body. God is a spirit. God is a voice. God is the thunder in a storm and the whisper in a wind. God can be witnessed in the enormity of the cosmos or the intricacy of a single snowflake. God is in heaven. God is on earth. God is right here, with me, right now. God is also with you.

God is not limited by human understanding. Don't be like the scientist, who must explain God – prove God – before you can know Him. Instead, be like the child who accepts Him and loves Him because God is God.

One God in the Trinity; a human attempt to explain that which is unexplainable.

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer
Feast of the Most Holy Trinity
June 15, 2014

Painting:  The Holy Trinity by Henrik van Balen, 1620

And Their Hearts Burned

Third Sunday of Easter - Cycle A

Acts 2: 14, 22-33; 1 Peter 1: 17-21; 

Luke 24: 13-35

The disciples were lost. This Jesus that they had served had been taken from them, convicted, hung on a cross and executed like a common criminal. This Jesus that they hoped was the chosen one – the one who would establish the kingdom of God was now gone. And so they were afraid. They were lost and so two of them left Jerusalem and headed down the road to Emmaus – the “road to nowhere.”

Along the way they encountered a stranger. They recounted all that had happened in Jerusalem. The stranger listened to their story and then he began to interpret the scriptures for them. He began to open it up for them. And their hearts burned. But they did not recognize him. They knew that the words this man was speaking were truth, but they did not recognize him. It was later in the evening, when he broke the bread, that their eyes were opened. At that moment all of their doubts – all of their fears went away. Their path was clear – and it did not lead down that road to nowhere. It led back to Jerusalem and back to Jesus.

I was on the road to Emmaus once. I was in formation to become a deacon. It was a four year program. I had completed my first two years of study and things were not going well. People kept asking me, “Are you called to this ministry?” I would look and them and respond “I don't know, it hasn't been made clear.” One of the other things that people kept telling me was that, to be a good deacon, I had to embrace and believe EVERYTHING that the church teaches. I was having difficulty with that. There are a few things – not many – but a few things that the church says that I struggled with – and continue to struggle with. I was having doubts; I was having fears, and they all came to a head that summer between my second and third year. I was so discouraged that I didn't know if I could remain in the diaconate program. I wasn't even sure if I could remain a Roman Catholic.

Then something amazing happened to me. I attended mass at another parish here in the archdiocese. It's a catholic church – one that is known for having a strong social justice slant. It's also a parish that is known for being a little loose with the rules as far as liturgy goes. Let me give you some examples: When they make the sign of the cross, they say “In the name of the Creator, the Redeemer, and the Sanctifier. When they recite the Lord's Prayer, they say “Our Father / Mother...” It is not uncommon to attend mass there and hear a nun, or other layperson, proclaim the gospel and deliver the homily. Many people would see them and declare, “This is NOT a Catholic church.” But I went there.

On this particular day, there were baptisms. It seems that a family that had moved to Tennessee some years ago, returned in order to have their three children baptized in this parish. The priest stepped forward and asked, “What name do you give this child?” And the parents said the name. Then Father said, “Tell me something about this child.” This perked my ears up – I had never heard a priest ask that before. Then the priest traced a cross on each forehead. Now – normally at this part of the ritual, the parents and godparents are invited to trace the cross as well. But Father surprised me again. He asked the parents to lead the children through the church so that EVERYONE could trace that cross on the kids' foreheads. Every person in that church entered into that covenant with God to raise those children in the catholic faith. It was a beautiful thing to witness.

Then came time for the actual baptism. The priest sprinkled the water over their foreheads and said, “I baptize you in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” All of a sudden, in the midst of the singing and celebrating, everything went quiet for me. It was as if time had stopped. I heard a voice in my ear, and it whispered four words - “See, I'm here too.”

There were tears in my eyes – and I remember looking at my wife and my sons – to see if they had heard it too. But they hadn't. The voice was just for me. It took a long time to be able to talk about this – and even longer to understand its meaning. What I came to realize is this: God can't be put in a box – whether that box be labeled “church” or “religion” or whatever. The box isn't big enough or strong enough to hold God. I now understood that I was called to this ministry and I understood that I could serve it faithfully, even with my doubts – even with my beliefs.

We all find ourselves on the road to Emmaus from time to time. We all find ourselves on the road to nowhere. But Jesus, the Good Shepherd, will seek us out, and lead us home, if only we let him. The road to Emmaus leads in all directions, but the road back home leads to one specific place:

[Lift the book of the Gospels]

It leads here – Jesus – the Word Made Flesh.

[Lift the altar crucifix]

It leads here – Jesus – whose death on the cross redeemed us all.

[touch the Easter candle]

Jesus – the Light of the World.

[touch the altar]

Jesus – the Bread of Life.

Are your hearts burning now?

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer

Third Sunday of Easter

May 4, 2014

Painting:  Rembrandt - Supper At Emmaus, 1648

Divine Jesus, Human Jesus

Fifth Sunday of Lent – Cycle A

Ezekiel 37: 12-14, 3: 1-7; Romans 8: 8-11;

John 11: 1-45

 

A few weeks ago, I attended the Catholic Men's Conference at St. Micheal’s. It was my privilege that day to hear Fr. James Martin, SJ speak. Fr. Martin, in his address, spoke to the fact that Jesus is fully human AND fully God. When we read the gospels, we tend to focus on either the human Jesus OR the divine Jesus – but Father Martin vividly reminded us that Jesus was both God and human. To quote his example: “Jesus was fully God when he was sawing a piece of wood, and Jesus was fully human when he climbed from the boat and walked on the water.

Father Martin's talk on the divinity and humanity of Jesus struck a chord with me. Now, every time I read the Gospel, I'm looking for the human Jesus in the midst of the miracles and searching for the divine Jesus in the everyday conversations that occur within scripture. Jesus was both – God and man – in everything he did. Nowhere are the two sides of Jesus more apparent than in today's gospel reading.

John's account of the raising of Lazarus ranks as one of Jesus' most astonishing and powerful miracles. Jesus had already raised two people, and there were instances of prophets raising the dead in the old testament also – but this time was different. The traditional Jewish belief was that the soul of a dead person remained within the body for three days. After three days, the soul departed never to return, while the body began to decay. No one had ever been raised after three days, so the situation was hopeless.

Jesus receives word from the sisters that Lazarus is sick. “Master, the one you love is ill.” Surprisingly, Jesus does not go immediately to Bethany, but waits two days. Religious scholars point to this as a reminder that God's timetable is different than ours. This is the divine Jesus making the choice. But I now have to wonder how the fully human Jesus felt about this. Was he conflicted? Did he agree with this decision, even when he was making it? As I look back over my life, I can recall times when I've had to choose a course of action, and later wondered if I'd made the right choice. Did Jesus feel this way too?

After two days, Jesus tells his disciples that it is time to go to Bethany. Lazarus has died – it is time for the glory of God to shine for all to see. Some of them remind Jesus that his life was in danger there, but Jesus is not swayed. Then Thomas boldly says, “Let us also go to die with him.”

Upon their arrival, Martha rushes to Jesus:

“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you.” Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise.” Martha said to him, “I know he will rise in the resurrection on the last day.”

Martha believes that Jesus could have saved her brother. Even now, God will listen to Jesus and act. Then Jesus reveals all to her, and to us too:

“I am the resurrection and the life, whoever believes in me, even if he died, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?”

Martha answers as I hope we all would, “Yes, Lord. I have come to believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God ...” Then Martha finds her sister, Mary, and tells her about Jesus. Mary rushes to him, followed by a crowd of mourners. Mary falls at the feet of Jesus weeping. When Jesus sees her, he is genuinely moved. The original Greek text is rendered as a startling image: “He snorted in spirit.” “Where have you laid him?” he asks her. “Come and see.”

And Jesus wept.

This is the human Jesus – a man who is troubled and deeply perturbed by the loss of his friend and the grief of his family. But now I have to wonder how the divine Jesus reacted to this. Was he surprised by the depth of emotion that was washing over him? Was he startled by the wetness on his face, the lump in his throat, the ache in his heart? And I look back on my life, on the times when I felt like this and wonder, does God grieve with me? We say that God is compassionate – and here is the absolute proof – Jesus wept.

His tears make Mary and Martha's question even more poignant. “You love us and you loved him; why did you not come and cure him while there was still time?” I think many of us ask God such a question when a loved one dies. Even Jesus asked it from the cross: “God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” While we cannot begin to fathom the ways of God, it is comforting to know that God feels our pain, understands our frustration, and even cries with us.

As I look back on the trying times of my life, it is easy to see the divine Jesus or the human Jesus in a particular instance. But Jesus was both divine and human. There is the divine Jesus, who with one command could shout, “Lazarus, come out,” and it would be so. There is also the human Jesus, who laughs when we laughs and shares in our joy and our sorrow. Jesus – living water – light of the world – the resurrection and the life – was fully human and fully divine. I am only now beginning to understand what that statement means. In the remaining time of lent, we are all invited to dwell on both the divinity and the humanity of Christ – to hold these images in prayer, and to enter into a deeper, more meaningful relationship with God.

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer
Fifth Sunday of Lent
April 6, 2014

Painting: Rembrandt, "Raising of Lazarus" c. 1630

Fulfilling The Law

Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A

Sirach 15: 15-20; 1 Corinthians 2: 6-10; 

Matthew 5: 17-37

The readings today are all about choices. Sirach makes those choices sound easy and clear-cut: choose fire or water, choose life or death, choose good or evil. Make the choice and it shall be given. (Sirach 15: 16-17) But the reality of life is never that simple. It's hardly ever black and white – there's always plenty of gray area. When God breathed life into the human race, we were given the opportunity to make choices and decisions for ourselves. We call this “free will.” Because we are flawed and imperfect, those choices we make are often not the best choices. We need guidance and wisdom to help us.

Paul's epistle to the Corinthians speaks of a wisdom more mature than our own life experiences. It is God's wisdom, revealed through the Spirit. “Eye has not seen, ear has not heard, what God has prepared for those who love him.” (Isaiah 64: 3, 1 Corinthians 2: 9) We cannot get this wisdom from reading a book, not even this book (hold up the Bible). It is only revealed through the Spirit.

In Matthew, Jesus begins the passage by revealing “I have not come to abolish [the law] but to fulfill [it]... until heaven and earth pass away, not the smallest letter, or the smallest part of a letter will pass from the law, until all things have taken place.” (Matthew 5: 17-18) Perhaps Jesus is saying it is possible for us to live within the laws as written in the Old Testament. However, it is only in following Jesus, and guidance of the Spirit, that the nuances and flesh of the laws – that gray area that I spoke of earlier – can be understood and navigated.

He then gives us three examples of the law, and three choices to make. The first is this: Will we choose to be people of peace, or people of violence? The law says, “You shall not kill.” But Jesus, the fulfillment, says we will be judged if we are angry with one another. This point is so important that Jesus says we must be at peace with each other before we can worship God! “If you recall that your brother [or sister] has anything against you, leave your gift at the altar, and go first and be reconciled...” Perhaps that's why the church places the “sign of peace” just before we receive Eucharist. To be a person of peace is to be a person of forgiveness. The better choice is to be a part of a community of forgiveness – to choose peace.

Then there is the choice to live our relationships in fidelity. The law says, “You shall not commit adultery.” But Jesus, the fulfillment, tells us that we have sinned by simply lusting after another in our hearts. It's not simply a matter of not committing adultery; it's a matter of honoring our own commitments, and those of others. Jesus calls for wholeness in relationship with others, not treating another as an object. It begins in the heart.

Furthermore, for Jesus, marriage was a part of the plan of God, mirroring God's love and fidelity to the chosen people. The marriage relationship should be a place of safety, nurturing and honor, not danger, dishonesty and destructiveness. By forbidding divorce, Jesus was calling for a reconciled relationship between spouses. We should note here that this is NOT about keeping together what is broken beyond repair. It is about reconciliation when it is at all possible.

Now, before I can continue, there is something I need to say. This passage about divorce challenges me. I have one brother and one sister. My wife has five brothers and sisters. Every one of them falls into this category of divorce – so when Jesus talks about this, he's talking about my family – probably yours too. Jesus' statements about divorce and adultery – and the church's position on the subject – have driven most of my family away from the Catholic Church. They still worship in other denominations – they still hear the Word and follow it as best they can – but they are separated from the Eucharist. This wonderful gift of healing and communion is denied them. It makes me angry and it makes me sad. We are all flawed and imperfect. We are all sinners. The church should act as a hospital for sinners. It should welcome sinners – ALL SINNERS – with open arms, and without judgment. If that is truly the goal, the church still has a long way to go. I am encouraged by the compassion and the courage that Pope Francis has shown. I have to trust that Jesus will fulfill and the Spirit will guide us all to the Kingdom. I don't know the answer – but I'll continue to pray for guidance and reconciliation in this matter.

Our final choice has to do with oaths. In Jesus' time, it was the custom to make an oath – to call on God to stand by one's word. But Jesus, the fulfillment, is saying there is no need for this, because we should be speakers of truth all the time. “Let your 'yes' mean 'yes' and your 'no' mean 'no.'” (Matthew 5: 37) If we are a people of truth and honesty, there is no need for oaths.

Anyone can follow the laws as written in the Old Testament. But the heart of the law – the meat of the law – the depth of the law – cannot be reached alone. It is by choosing to follow Jesus and allowing the guidance of the Spirit that the law can be fully understood and attained.

Jesus is calling each of us this day. He is calling us to have a heart that is forgiving, faithful and truthful. This is the wisdom of God, fulfilled through Christ and revealed through the Spirit. Behind these statements is a God who wills that human society be just and merciful, that human life be nourished, and relationships restored. God's will lies at the heart of the law. In bringing the law to completion, Jesus calls us to live in love, a love that completes us and makes us whole, because it is God's love.

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer

Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

February 16, 2014

Painting: Fra Angelico, "Sermon on the Mount", 1442

Behold The Child

Epiphany of the Lord – Cycle A

Isaiah 60: 1-6; Ephesians 3: 2-3a, 5-6; 

Matthew 2: 1-1

There is a word that keeps appearing in the gospels during the Christmas season. We've heard it six times so far – and it appears in today's gospel twice. It's a word that is not used much these days, so it is noticeable when we hear it so frequently. Do you know which word I mean? The word is “behold.”

Webster's dictionary says that behold means to observe or to gaze upon. Today we might say, “look at that” or “check it out.” For me though, the word implies a deeper meaning; an uncommon occurrence – memorable – perhaps even life-changing.

The act of beholding can take many forms. Some people must touch something, hold it in their hands before they can behold it. Others like myself must dwell on the meaning, intellectualize the experience, in order to behold.

I've come to the conclusion that we do not behold enough in our world today. The star that led the Magi to the Christ child continues to shine for us in numerous ways. But do we see it?

If you gazed upon our nativity scene at the back of church today, you will have noticed that the Magi have arrived in Bethlehem. These travelers from the Gentile world came and adored the baby. They prostrated themselves and presented gifts. They dwelt on these things in their hearts and allowed the moment to change them, reshape their lives.

Yet even in the midst of this great joy, the Magi were haunted by the image from their dreams – the child was in danger. The dream hints at the suffering that Jesus will endure, the blood that is to be shed on behalf of the world.

Today we are led to this place of worship, not by a star, but by a faith that has manifested itself within our hearts. We seek to encounter Jesus firsthand. We dwell on these things and, hopefully, allow them to reshape our lives also.

Each time we come to mass, we reenact the journey the the Magi. Father raises the body and blood of Christ and proclaims, “behold the lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world.” and we come forward to receive the the divine into our own hands. We take the child, consume it as intended, and hold it within our hearts. Then we turn to the chalice, the embodiment of the suffering and sacrifice that is necessary to redeem the world. Again we consume and that sacrifice becomes a part of us. We are now one with Jesus, body and spirit.

As for the three wise men, I'm certain that their lives were forever impacted by their visit to Bethlehem. They came, they beheld, and they left as changed men. They went back to their worlds, just as we do at the end of mass. Will our encounters with the Lord change us?

With the Christmas season nearly complete, soon it will be time to return our figures of the Magi to their storage place for another year. But they will have served their purpose only if we leave this season with renewed zeal to care for those we encounter on our journey forth. To quote Archbishop `Romero, “We must not seek the child Jesus in the pretty figurines of our Christmas cribs. We must seek him among the undernourished children who have gone to bed tonight with nothing to eat.” We must continue our search for Christ in every face we see. Like the wise men, our worship and adoration must prompt us to proclaim:

• Behold the Afghan widow who suffers the ravages of war.

• Behold the African baby orphaned by AIDS.

• Behold the face of Christ in the unemployed, the elderly, the ostracized people of our community.

On this day, let us go forth, forever changed by our encounter with Jesus.

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer

Epiphany of the Lord

January 5, 2014