God's Wondrous Word

Nativity of the Lord: Day – Cycle C

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. There is no Mary, no Joseph, no manger, no stable – there are no shepherds, no angels, no bright star leading the magi from far away. Instead, John introduces us to Jesus using poetry – wondrous images about the mystery and the glory of God:

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)

It is fitting that John the evangelist is symbolized as an eagle. His words soar, lifting us up on its wings, taking us back to the beginning of creation, when everything began with a word. God spoke and the world came to be. This all-powerful word of God created it all – galaxies so far and vast that their light takes centuries to reach us – cells so small that they cannot be seen except through a microscope – yet containing all the building blocks for life in our world.

After creation, God continued to speak. God spoke out of the stillness to Abraham, and two elderly people were chosen to parent a promise. God spoke to Moses from a bush aflame, and he led his people out of slavery to freedom. God spoke to others as well – to Isaiah, to Jeremiah, to Ezekiel, Amos and Micah. People listened for awhile … but then they would grow distracted, or bored or tired of the message. But God continued to speak in partial and various ways – until He spoke more explicitly.

God said, “Jesus.”

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

The world had been locked into an advent that lasted for centuries. It must have seemed like a dark and forsaken place. Then one glorious evening an angel appeared to a few shepherds living in the countryside with the announcement or wondrous news. And the world was made new.

The light of Jesus penetrated the darkness of a world that had had been waiting for so long. Darkness was not abolished, it continues to exist.

 

But the darkness cannot smother the Word. The light that is Christ continues to shine and we are witnesses – testifiers to that light. Sometimes our world chooses darkness – but the darkness will never extinguish the light that is Christ. To us, God continues to say, “Jesus.”

In the face of refugees fleeing the horrors of oppression, war and genocide, God says, “Jesus.”

In the face of racism, sexism, hatred and intolerance, God says, “Jesus.”

In the face of unemployment, poverty, hunger and homelessness, God says, “Jesus.”

Again and again and again, God says, “Jesus.”

And the Word becomes flesh. And the world is made new. Here in this place of worship and community, God says, “Jesus,” over the bread and wine that enters into our bodies. And the Word becomes our flesh and dwells within us all.

God's word is truth. God's word is strength. God's word is love. May we hear His word today and in the days ahead. May we make room for it to dwell in our hearts and fill us with grace and truth. 

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer

Nativity of the Lord 

December 25, 2015

Painting:  Detail from "Nativity at Night" bu Guido Reni, 1640

Adopted Family

Second Sunday of Advent – Cycle C

Baruch 5: 1-9; 

Philippians 1: 4-6, 8-11; 

Luke 3: 1-6

I have several hobbies that occupy my time when I'm not working. I have a huge music collection. I love old movies. One of my biggest passions involves genealogy. I love researching my family's past. I became interested in genealogy more than 30 years ago, and it still consumes me. I even wrote a book on the subject in 1996.

My love for family history has taken me to courthouses, libraries and cemeteries all over this great land. I have visited Virginia, West Virginia, Tennessee, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois and Missouri in my quest to unearth more family facts and stories. I have corresponded with family members in Texas, Kansas, Colorado, Montana, Washington and California. Genealogy research today is a lot different now than it was when I first started. Today you can log onto an internet site like Ancestry.com, and in a few minutes time, you can discover details that would take years to find otherwise. (But where's the fun in that?)

My study in this area has broadened my thinking and has given me a deeper appreciation of the lives of those who came before us. One family of distant cousins living in West Virginia, were literally torn apart by the Civil War. The father and one son fought for the Confederacy while two other sons and a son-in-law joined the Union. I've often wondered if this family was able to reconcile their differences in the years following that war.

That is one of the short-comings of genealogy. You can often find names and dates – the bare bones – but the other salient details of their lives – the flesh – are not so easily discovered.

My ancestors came to America from Germany, England, Wales, Ireland, France and Belgium. Some of my ancestors were sold as indentured servants and made to work in the Virginia copper mines until their debts were paid. A few of my ancestors were slave owners. It is not something I am proud of, but it is a part of who I am.

If genealogy has taught me anything it is this: If we are to know where we are going, we must first understand the place from whence we came.

People often ask me if I am a member of the SAR – the Sons of the American Revolution. I do have several ancestors who fought for our nations' independence. However, I am barred from joining this organization. The reason I am not allowed membership is that I am adopted. I am not related to them by blood.

This small fact does not dampen the pride that I feel for my family. I may not be related on a molecular biological level, but in every other way possible, these are my people. I belong to them and they to me. We are one.

Genealogy has also given me a deeper respect and appreciation of my spiritual family. Let's face facts for a moment. Unless we had ancestors living in Jerusalem about twenty centuries ago, we are all adopted daughters and sons of this family of followers known as Christians. Many of us are here because our parents chose to baptize us as infants. Others chose baptism for themselves as adults.

Each Sunday after the homily, members of the new RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults) class are invited study more deeply the word of God that is proclaimed. At Easter, these people will join our family. In the meantime, I ask that you welcome them and pray for them.

Today our nation and the world are facing some tough choices regarding immigration, illegal aliens, and the placement of refugees. These people have come here the same way our own ancestors did. Many are fleeing persecution because of their beliefs or their ethnicity. Others are simply looking for an opportunity to better enrich their lives.

These are not new or unique problems we are facing. The reason I know this comes partly from my genealogy research. There has been persecution and slavery since the beginning of recorded history. Jesus, Mary and Joseph were refugees.

These migrants and refugees are also asking to join our family. They are asking for the same things our own ancestors once desired. Will we give them their chance at freedom or will we allow fear, bigotry and hatred to color our policies?

Today's gospel says to “Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths. Every valley shall be filled and every mountain and hill shall be made low.” (Luke 3: 4-6) What does this mean? It is an analogy on how we are to see one another. We are to strip away irrelevancies such as height, weight, age, skin color, religious and political beliefs. Possessions and social status have no influence here. Past iniquities are forgiven. This is how God sees us. This is how we are told to see each other. It as not a change that begins outside – this change must come from within. Our hearts must change change before our world can change.

My friends, the time has come. This is the time when the winding roads are made straight, and the rough ways made smooth, and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer
Second Sunday of Advent
December 6, 2015

Sculpture:  John the Baptist by Chartres, 1205-1210. 
                A Jamb Figure (a figure carved into the jamb of a doorway or window)

Two Widows

32^nd Sunday Ordinary Time – Cycle B

Kings 17: 10-16; 

Hebrews 9: 24-28; 

Mark 12: 38-44

Have you ever found new meaning in an everyday object? Perhaps a painting that you’ve seen 100 times catches your eye and you notice a new detail. Perhaps you reread a familiar story and pick-up a tidbit that had somehow eluded you before. These types of revelations are eye-opening and wonderful. I had just such an experience a few years back.

I have a friend, Joseph, who has a terrible time managing his money. He came to me once and complained that his paycheck never seemed to stretch far enough. He got paid every Friday, but by the following Tuesday, his pockets would be empty and he was struggling to make it through the rest of the week. He couldn’t understand where all of his money went. So one Friday I met him after work. We made a list of all of his bills, all of his leisure activities and wrote a detailed log of how much everything costs. We worked out a budget and planned for everything. Joseph agreed to give it a try.

The following Thursday, we met downtown. It was holy week, and we were going to the cathedral for Holy Thursday liturgy. We were standing outside the church and he was telling me about his week. He was excited. He had stuck to the budget and it had worked. Here it was Thursday evening and he still had enough money to buy lunch the next day. As we were standing there in front of the church, I spotted another friend nearby and turned to say a few words. When I turned back around, I saw Joseph reach in his pocket, pull out his last $5.00 bill, and hand it to a lady on a bicycle. I was stunned.

After the woman had peddled off, I accosted him. “Why did you do that? It was irresponsible. Now you’re out of money again.” Joseph just shrugged and said that she needed the money more than he did. The woman needed to buy diapers for her baby and didn’t have enough money, so he helped her out.

When mass had ended, I had to lend Joseph $2.00 to pay the parking garage.

Later that evening as I lay awake in bed, I was still angry with Joseph. He had no way of knowing if that woman’s story was genuine. It’s one thing if you have the money to spare, but Joseph had, in one ill-conceived moment, thrown away the budget that we had worked so hard to create. And then it dawned on me – I remembered the Gospel passage that we just read, about the widow who gave her last two coins to the temple treasury and I finally understood. I was thinking like the scribes that Christ condemned. Joseph was doing as Jesus taught. The following day, Good Friday, I called Joseph and told him of my epiphany. He seemed bewildered. “I only gave her $5.00. It’s no big deal, I get another paycheck today anyway.”

Everything about that incident, from Joseph’s selfless act, to his modesty afterwards, taught me the true meaning of today’s readings. In Kings, we hear of a widow who gives Elijah water and makes him a cake using the last of her flour and oil. There had been a seven year drought. The woman understood that she and her son would soon die of starvation, and yet her final act was one of hospitality toward a stranger. In today’s gospel, Jesus proclaims that the widow’s gift to the temple treasury was greater than all of the other contributions. Now, as I hear these readings again, it is with a new appreciation and understanding.

A few weeks ago, we read a similar gospel passage about the man who kept all the commandments. When he asked what must he do to inherit the kingdom, Jesus told him to give his possessions to the poor and “follow me.”

This theme keeps popping up. Does God want all of our money? Does Jesus expect us to give everything we own to the poor? I believe that answer is “no” – but with a condition. God doesn’t want our money. Jesus doesn’t need us to give away our homes, our cars, our 401K’s and follow him. More simply, he wants us to think of others before ourselves. We do this all the time for the people we love. We do it for our spouses, for our children, for our parents. But Jesus expects a little more from us. He wants us to give unselfishly to those who may be lacking. It may not be money at all. Maybe it’s just finding the time to visit someone who is sick or alone. Perhaps it’s finding the patience to deal with someone who infuriates or aggravates us. Maybe it’s inviting the widower down the street to share a meal.

Pope Francis addressed this subject in a homily earlier this week. The Holy Father reminded us that it is the scribes and the pharisees who separate themselves from others. Their acceptance is conditional. The true christian – the follower of Christ – welcomes and accepts everyone without judgement or condemnation. They shouldn't need to flash their credentials first – they are already worthy. They are worthy of our compassion. They are worthy of our support. They are worthy of our love.

My friend Joseph already understands this concept. What part of our lifestyle are we willing to part with in order to draw nearer to Jesus? When you consider what awaits us in the kingdom, what are we really giving up?

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer
32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time
November 8, 2015

Painting:  The Widow and the Mite by James Tissot, c. 1884

Building Up The Kingdom

Twenty-Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle B

Numbers 11: 25-29; 

James 5: 1-6; 

Mark 9: 38-43, 45, 47-48

It's been an exciting week. Pope Francis has been here the past few days and everywhere you look, people are talking about it. It's all over the news and social media sites. Everyone, Catholic and non-catholic, is clamoring to hear what Francis is saying.

Francis speaks of loving God and each other. He talks about the sacredness of all life and the dignity and respect that it deserves. He advocates that everyone – everyone – is entitled a place to call home and the opportunity to provide for themselves and their families in safety and in peace. He wants us to be stewards and caregivers for each other and for the planet.

For those of us familiar with the gospel message and with catholic social teaching, these ideals are nothing new, but coming from Pope Francis, these words sound almost revolutionary. Why is that?

Jesus spoke on these same topics often. We call ourselves Christians – followers of Jesus the Christ – and yet these precepts and teachings have not become a driving force in our daily lives.

Why do we find it so easy to love and covet the material trappings of the world? Why do we find it so difficult to love and respect the people of the world with that same passion?

Pope Francis' time here has helped us to focus on these key themes of loving God and each other, caring for the poor and the aged, welcoming the immigrant and the refugee, and protecting those who are powerless to protect themselves. Francis is doing more than living out the gospel call. He is giving us the blueprint to building up the Kingdom of God.

Jesus often spoke of the Kingdom of God. Most people interpret this to mean Heaven – a place where we may go when this life is finished. But Jesus was adamant – the Kingdom of God is at hand. It is not someplace far away. It can be here! It can be now! We just need to build it up. But how do we do that?

A few years ago, my family was fortunate enough to volunteer and participate in constructing a Habitat For Humanity house. It was a great experience and I will gladly do it again. On Thursday morning when we arrived, there was only a foundation with a sub-floor. By Saturday evening when we left, the house was under roof with doors and windows. It was an amazing thing to witness. At one point during the process, I got a little annoyed with my wife. Everyone was working hard, it seemed, except her. She was chatting with Jewel, the lady whose house we were building. At the time, I felt that Susan wasn’t doing her fair share. Looking back on the event now, I realize how misguided those feelings were. For me and for many others, the Habitat for Humanity experience was an act of charity. For my wife Susan, it became so much more. We weren’t building a Habitat house, we were constructing a home for Jewel Neil and two children. For Susan, the experience was transformed from an act of charity into an action of love. That distinction makes all of the difference in the world. While charity is important – it is the relationship – the interaction with others – that becomes “kingdom building.”

There is one thing about this week and the Pope's visit that we should all keep in mind. Kingdom building is not an event. It should become an integral part of our daily lives. A week from now, when Francis is back at the Vatican and the newscasters have moved onto the next big story, our passion in building up the Kingdom needs to continue. How you ask? There are many ways. Come to the Stewardship dinner and sign up to serve in one of the many parish ministries. Work to solve some of our communal injustices by joining CLOUT. Be present, warm and attentive to all those you encounter.

Any of these options will serve you well in building up the kingdom.

But there is more. Jesus was revolutionary because he acted outside of the box in his time. He ate with sinners and tax collectors. He welcomed the sick and the afflicted. He spoke with women and loved children. He was not afraid to cross the ethnic and gender lines that his society had drawn. From this, we learn that it is OK to color outside of the lines. Be open to the possibility that the Holy Spirit is leading you in a non-traditional direction in building up the kingdom. People like Dorothy Day and Father Gregory Boyle have pioneered new and exciting ways of kingdom building. Perhaps the voice of God is guiding you down a different path. Be open to this possibility.

Kingdom building is hard work, but the rewards will far exceed the efforts.

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer

26th Sunday in Ordinary Time

September 27, 2015

Elijah & the Angel

Nineteenth Sunday In Ordinary Time – Cycle B

1 Kings 19: 4-8; 

Ephesians 4: 30–5 :2; 

John 6: 41-51

I am not what most people would consider a Bible scholar. I'm pretty good with the New Testament writings, but I am somewhat lacking in terms of Old Testament knowledge. It is one of my short-comings.

Our first reading today was from the book of Kings, and the main character in today's story is the prophet Elijah. Now I've heard of Elijah, but I was not too familiar with his story. So I went back and read Kings to understand what was happening in the first reading.

Elijah was a prophet who lived about eight hundred years before the birth of Jesus. The King of Israel at the time was named Ahab and Ahab's wife was Jezebel. Jezebel, the queen, was from a foreign land, and she worshiped a different god named Baal. It was Jezebel's mission to lead the people of Israel away from Yahweh and convince them to worship Baal instead.

When Elijah learned of the queen's intentions, he proposed a “god contest” of sorts. The followers of Baal were to sacrifice a bull, cut up the meat and place it on an altar. It was their god's duty to light the fire and cook the offering.

Baal's followers danced around and implored their god to start the fire, but no fire came. During all of this, Elijah was chiding them, and questioning them saying, “Where is your god? Is he sleeping? Is he meditating? Is he traveling? Why won't he light the fire?” (1 Kings 18: 25-30)

Then Elijah called the people to him and explained that Baal was not god and that his followers were deceiving themselves. Elijah built an altar to the Lord, placed the meat upon the altar and prayed that Yahweh ignite the wood. Even if you haven't read the story, you can guess what happens next. A fire is miraculously lit, and the people of Israel turn away from the false god Baal, and return to the God of their forefathers. Everyone rejoices, everyone that is except Jezebel, who vows to kill Elijah.

So what else can Elijah do? He runs for it, of course. You don't stick around when an evil queen wants to see you die. Elijah flees for his life.

That more or less brings us up to today's reading. Elijah has been running from Jezebel and her army. He should be celebrating. He has brought the people of Israel back to God. Instead, he is depressed and despondent. He is on the run … alone … with nowhere to go. It appears that even God has abandoned him. Elijah takes refuge under a broom tree and now he just wants to die in peace.

I imagine there are many of us today who can relate to what Elijah is feeling. Some of us may be suffering because of illness, loss of a relationship, a painful divorce, the loss of a job, or just tired and weary about being tired and weary. It may even seem as if God has abandoned us.

God has not forsaken us. Just hang on a little longer – help is on the way.

In Elijah's case, he falls asleep. When he awakens, an angel has provided him a hearth cake and a jug of water. Elijah eats and has enough strength to continue. He walks for forty days and forty nights to the mountain of God, Horab.

For us, help can come in any number of ways. Perhaps it's a phone call from an old friend. Maybe it's a kind gesture from someone at work. Sometimes if might be a particular song played on the radio at the right time. But somehow, somewhere, an angel comes along. We are touched by an angel who urges us to eat something for our journey. We are somehow strengthened by this simple act of love. And so we continue with our journey, nourished, and ready to serve once again as humble servants of the Lord.

We come to this table and eat, which lets us keep believing, keep hoping, keep allowing us to serve as angels for one another.

Jesus said, “I am the bread of life … Whoever eats this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world.”

With nourishment like that, how can we possibly fail?

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer

19th Sunday In Ordinary Time

August 9, 2015

Painting: The Prophet Elias by Daniele de Volterra c 1550-1560

Finding Strength In Weakness

Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle B

Ezekiel 2: 2-5; 

2 Corinthians 12: 7-10 

Mark 6: 1-6

 

When I was in formation to become a deacon, our instructors often told us stories about past priests and bishops. Archbishop Floersh was the subject of many of these stories. I have no memory of the archbishop. He retired when I was still a young boy. It was said that Archbishop Floersh believed that every person in Louisville should live within walking distance of a catholic church. Under his leadership, we built many new churches locally.

Another tale that I heard regarding the good archbishop had to do with priestly assignments. It was said that if a priest showed a particular talent or preference, Archbishop Floersh would invariably “do the opposite.” For example, if a priest showed a preference for working with young people, the archbishop might assign him to be the chaplain at a nursing home.

When I first heard this story, I felt confused. Why would a bishop ignore people's strengths and instead put them into a situation where they might be ineffective or perhaps even fail? Wouldn't the archdiocese be better served if everyone's assignments reflected their particular gifts and talents?

I'm betting that the archbishop was familiar with today's epistle from Paul.

St. Paul was a gifted writer and preacher. Some of his best letters were written not sitting in a comfortable chair in his private study, but on the floor of a rat-invested prison cell. We heard his words today to the Corinthians, a people who were besieged by false prophets who boasted of their visions and their miracles. He tells the people of Corinth that whenever he was tempted to become proud like the false prophets, he was always knocked down a peg with what he described as a “thorn of the flesh.”

Now I did some research about Paul and what this thorn of the flesh might be that affected him. There are many theories and diagnoses that have been put forth – everything from epilepsy to an eye disorder to chronic depression. The problem with these diagnoses is that the patient has been dead for more than 1900 years!

It's not the sickness but what Paul does with his thorn that is important. He sees it as a grace from God so that the power of Christ could dwell within him. The thorn of the flesh is a limitation that reminds Paul that although he is God's prophet, he is not God; he is a man in whom God dwells.

There is strength in weakness. There is a certain freedom that comes with acknowledging our short-comings and asking God for support and guidance.

When we are good at something and we achieve success, sometimes our egos allow us to take all of credit. Conversely, when we achieve success from a position of weakness, it is much easier to give God the praise and the credit. This is a point that St. Paul and Archbishop Floersh both understood.

Yesterday was the 4^th of July, our nations birthday, so it seems fitting to acknowledge this event. I'm sure that yesterday, many of you heard the song “America The Beautiful.” There is one line in the second stanza that I would like to highlight. It says, “America, America, God mend thine every flaw...”

I saw a lot of posts on Facebook yesterday that said basically the US is # 1 and the rest of the world should acknowledge it and be envious. It is certainly true that we as a people enjoy many freedoms and rights that the rest of the world doesn't. It is certainly true that we as a nation have military might and political influence in world affairs. There is much to celebrate. 

 

But we are also a nation that has many flaws – flaws that go well beyond the person who might occupy the oval office in any given year. Our national debt is out of control. Hunger and homelessness abounds. We have unemployment and healthcare issues. Prejudice and bigotry are still commonplace. The war on terror has no end in sight. Meanwhile the gulf between our wealthy and our poor grows ever wider.

I do not mention these flaws because I hate our nation. I speak of them because I love this country and I want a better one for my children and my grandchildren. Perhaps Paul's letter to the Corinthians has meaning for us here as well. Maybe in admitting our weaknesses as a nation, God will say, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.”

Rather than puffing ourselves up and bragging about how great we are, the better option might be to embrace our faults – the thorns in our flesh – and allow humility to guide us for awhile. As St. Paul so eloquently states, “I will rather boast more gladly of my weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ might dwell in me.”

It is a paradox in faith: “When I am weak, then I am strong.” Whatever limitations Paul faced, his weakness helped him rely in a deep way not on himself but upon God. He began to see his flaws as a pathway to God's grace. My prayer today is that we as individuals, and as a nation, will actively seek out this path for ourselves.

  

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer

14th Sunday In Ordinary Time

July 5, 2015

Painting: St Paul In Prison by Rembrandt, 1627

Breathing

The Most Holy Body & Blood Of Christ – Cycle B

Exodus 24: 3-8; Hebrews 9: 11-15;

Mark 14: 12-16, 22-26

For show and tell today, I brought in one of my most beloved possessions. This is the deacon's stole that my wife made for me for my ordination. She cross-stitched my whole history into this little piece of cloth. It took her about a year and a half to complete. It depicts my life both with my family and with the church. It's very special to me, and I will treasure it always.

Unfortunately, a deacon usually wears a dalmatic over the top of his stole. The stole is a vital part of the deacon's wardrobe – some might argue that it is the most important part – and yet few people get to see it.

Today is the feast of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ – Corpus Christi. The Eucharist is the source and summit of our catholic faith. It is a very visual sacrament. We bring the bread and wine forward and place it on the altar. The priest raises the elements, and by the power of the Holy Spirit, changes them into the body and blood of Christ. Then we all come forward and receive the Eucharist. We understand that, through the grace of the sacrament, we – you and I – are the body and blood of Christ. Anyone who comes to mass can see this.

But there is a second part of Eucharist that isn't emphasized quite as often. It's a vital part of the sacrament, but – like a deacon's stole – people don't see it and so they tend to forget about it.

C.S. Lewis once wrote: “Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses.”

Jesus instituted the Eucharist at the last supper, on the night before he died. If you recall, there was another thing that happened during that meal. Jesus gets up from the table and washes the apostles' feet. After his does this, he instructs them to wash each others feet. (See John 13: 1-20) The act of serving each other is the second part of the Eucharist.

Both of these actions – the body and blood and the washing of the feet – go together to make up Eucharist. It's like breathing. When we breathe, there are two distinct actions – the inhale and the exhale. You cannot do one without the other – not for very long! Eucharist is the same. We come forward and we receive the body and blood of Christ – the inhale. Then we, as the body of Christ, take Jesus out into the world – the exhale. The two actions go together – like breathing. One action completes the other. Without both components – the sacrament remains incomplete and unfulfilled.

Jesus became mediator of a new covenant by shedding his own blood. We follow Jesus into this new covenant by offering ourselves up totally for the well-being of our brothers and sisters.

When we labor for human rights, when we shelter the poor, when we dismantle the bombs, when we protect the unborn, when we welcome the traveler, when we reach out to the criminal, we do these things not as political activists or social workers. We do these things as the body and blood of Christ. We are his healing hands. We are his compassionate heart. It is through actions such as these that the Eucharist comes to fruition.

The body and blood of Christ is not only our redemption. It is our task.

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer

The Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ

June 7, 2015

Painting:  from the Ottheinrich Bible, c 1425-1430, artist unknown.

My Lord And My God

Second Sunday of Easter – Cycle B

Acts 4: 32-35; 1 John 5: 1-6; 

John 20: 19-31

The disciples were afraid. This man, Jesus, whom they had followed for three years, had been taken from them, arrested, put on trial, sentenced to die, and executed for his crimes. They had hoped that Jesus of Nazareth was the Christ, the anointed one, promised by God. But now He was gone, and the disciples were feeling out of sorts. What were they going to do now? They feared for their lives as they hid in seclusion – all of them – except Thomas.

Thomas was a brave man. He was fearless. How do I know this? Today's gospel illustrates that point: “On the evening of the first day of the week, when the doors were locked, where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in their midst ...” (John 20:19) Thomas, called Didymus, one of the Twelve was not with them. He was not hiding. The gospel does not elaborate on Thomas' whereabouts, but he was not cowering in a locked room with the rest of them. He was out in public somewhere.

History does not, however, remember Thomas as a brave man. Instead, he is forever known as “Doubting Thomas,” the man who did not believe in the Resurrection of Jesus. “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my fingers into the nailmarks and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.” (John 20: 25)

History forever remembers Thomas for his moment of doubt. While some might find this label burdensome, I'm confident that Thomas embraced that image, and used it while spreading the Good News to the world. Tradition tells us that Thomas took the Gospel to Iran and Armenia, perhaps even as far as China, before being martyred in India. I'm certain that Thomas must have been a powerful and engaging speaker. Can you imagine what Thomas would say to us if he were here today?

I was one of the Twelve. Jesus called me and I followed. I witnessed many wondrous deeds from the Master. I saw Jesus walk on water. I was there when He fed five thousand people with five loaves of bread and two fish. I saw Lazarus raised from the dead. When Jesus came to town, the blind could see, the deaf could hear, the lame could walk, and the poor had the Good News proclaimed to them. Jesus embraced lepers. He ate with sinners and tax collectors. He spoke with women freely and openly. He healed many afflictions and drove out many demons. He had no hatred – he loved everyone – even his enemies – even those who sought to silence him.

They arrested him and put him to death by nailing him to a cross. A soldier pierced his side with a lance and immediately blood and water flowed out. An eyewitness has testified and his testimony is true. (John 19: 34-35) Jesus of Nazareth was dead. His lifeless body was taken down from the cross and placed in a tomb. 

Three days later, some of the women from our group went to anoint his body.  When they arrived at the place of burial, they found that the stone had been rolled away from the entrance, and the tomb was empty.  Soon the Resurrected Jesus began appearing to his followers. He visited Mary of Magdala in a garden near the tomb. He walked with two of our number as they were traveling to Emmaus. I heard the stories and was amazed. I wanted so badly to find Jesus that I left the others and searched for him on my own. But I did not see him. That evening, when I returned, I was told by the others that Jesus had appeared to them. I was angry that I had missed the Master, and hurt that He did not come to me. I refused to believe.

A week later, Jesus came again to the disciples, and this time, I was there too. He said to me, “Thomas, put your fingers into the nailmarks and believe.” I fell to my knees at once and proclaimed “My Lord and my God!”

I know that my testimony sounds incredible. I know some of you have doubts or questions about these events. Some of you may have been separated from God for a long time. Perhaps you are feeling anger or hurt toward God. I understand. I too struggled and questioned these happenings. I too felt the anger and the hurt that you feel. I too doubted the Resurrection. I would like each of you to touch my hand. This is the hand that reached into his side. These are the fingers that probed the nailmarks. It's time to stop your unbelieving, and believe. Believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that through this belief you may have life in his name.

I would like to conclude with a blessing that the Master gave to me which I now impart to each of you. I have come to believe all these things because I witnessed them firsthand. Blessed are you who have not seen but believe.

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer

Second Sunday of Easter

April 12, 2015

Painting:  Caravaggio, The Incredulity of Saint Thomas, 1603

Righteous Anger

Third Sunday of Lent – Cycle B

Exodus 20: 1-17; 

1 Corinthians 1: 22-25; 

John 2: 13-25

Scripture can be described at a double-edged sword. It's a sword that cuts both ways. The Gospels that we proclaim each Sunday both confront our sinfulness and comfort us in our in our feelings of doubt and pain. But today's Lenten Gospel neither confronts us nor comforts us. Today's Gospel startles us.

Jesus, our savior, calls for us to love our enemies and to turn the other cheek. Jesus, our model, lived meekly and was humble of heart. But today, this same Jesus lunges through the Temple with a whip in his hand, driving out animals, turning over the money changer's tables, spilling thousands of coins all over the floor and yelling at the top of his lungs: Get out of here! You are turning my Father's house into a shopping mall, not a place of prayer.

This image of Jesus shocks us. Many are uncomfortable with this angry Jesus. One of the biblical commentaries that I read cautioned that we should not concentrate on Jesus' anger, and instead focus on the symbolism of the story. It even went so far as to say that Jesus didn't use the whip. He merely cracked it to make his point.

I'm not so sure about this tame explanation. I believe this interpretation of the events robs Jesus of his humanity. Jesus was like us in all things except sin. Jesus knew what it meant to be angry. I'm not referring to anger that takes the next step toward violence. We all understand that violence is sinful, and Jesus would never tolerate it. When one of his disciples drew his sword and cut off an enemy's ear at the arrest, Jesus strongly rebuked the disciple, and ordered his followers to stop the violence.

But there is another kind of anger. It is that human and natural emotion that flares in our veins whenever we meet injustice and hypocrisy. This kind of anger is a natural and God-given resource that keeps us from despair. This kind of anger is a flicker of hope in the face what might seem to be insurmountable oppression. It was this kind of holy and hopeful anger that Jesus felt in the Temple that day.

The money changers were in the temple because people had to pay the Temple tax for the sacrifices carried out each day. But it was unlawful to use coins emblazoned with Roman images, so the people had no choice but to use the money changers services. What had begun as a religious practice had turned into a lucrative business.

Jesus' anger that day fulfilled the prophecies of people like Zechariah and Jeremiah, who foretold that in the days of the Messiah all would be holy in Jerusalem and no merchant will be found in the temple. That's why the people were so startled by Jesus' holy and hopeful anger and demanded proof that he was indeed the Messiah.

What makes you angry? I know that for me, I feel anger when I've been looking forward to something and it doesn't go as planned. I get angry when I'm doing something I see as important, and am interrupted by something I see as trivial. But mostly, I get angry with myself when I fail to live up to my own expectations.

Jesus gave us so many demands that I continually fail to achieve. Demands like love my enemies and turn the other cheek when attacked. I always seem to fall short with commands like forgive 70 times 7, leave my gift at the altar and first go and seek reconciliation with my brother, place justice on the same level as worship, see mercy as more important than dogma. The bar for being a good Christian is set pretty high, and I know that I'll never reach it. But the anger that I feel for my shortcomings gives me hope that I will continue to try.

Perhaps the struggle is more important than the final results.

Righteous anger has another trait. With one person, righteous anger can bring hope and resolve. When righteous anger is shared and harnessed among many, the results can be much more concrete and satisfying.

Fifty years ago this week, activists attempted to march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama in support of the voting rights for Black Americans in the south. Their peaceful protest was met by state troopers wielding billy clubs and tear gas. Our nation watched in shame and horror as the protesters were beaten and imprisoned on what has become known as “Bloody Sunday.” Later, when Governor Wallace refused to protect the marchers, President Johnson sent in the Army and the National Guard to keep order.

The result of this series of events was the passage of the Voting Rights Act into law later that year. Righteous anger when shared and acted upon can bring about lasting change.

Not all anger is the same. Righteous anger can bring hope. Righteous anger peacefully exercised can bring about change and justice. But we can never allow that righteous anger to disintegrate into violence and hatred. That's the line that Jesus draws in the sand for us. As we continue our Lenten journey, let us be ever-mindful of this distinction.

Deacon Darryl J. Diemer

Third Sunday of Lent

March 8, 2015

Painting: Rembrandt, Christ Driving The Money Changers From The Temple (Detail), 1635