Don't Lift Your Arms, Lift Your Heart

Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
    Well, it’s August.  And you know what that means: school is just around the corner.  By this time, parents are probably looking forward to the start of school, and I’m reminded of that Target commercial, where the kids are standing in the school supplies aisle, looking dejected, while the parent goes up and down the aisle on his cart like a scooter, and the song, “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” plays.  Hopefully, summer break was restful and relaxing, and it is a great time to get away, to experience “Pure Michigan,” and to put behind you the worries of work or school. 
    Vacation is the perfect time to set aside the daily grind.  This is especially true if you can set aside your smart phone, and truly disconnect from the hustle and bustle of the daily routine.  I know that can sometimes be difficult, but I know that when I really get a chance to unplug from work, it’s like a burden being lifted from my shoulder, so that I can come back with renewed energy to shepherd this parish.
    St. Paul tells us today to “seek what is above.”  He reiterates himself: “Think of what is above, not of what is on earth.”  So we know that he really means it.  He does not mean that we can ignore our daily responsibilities indefinitely.  But he does tell us to concentrate on heavenly things, the things that make us open to God’s grace, rather than the things of earth, by which he means the things that are sinful, like “immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and…greed.” 
    Jesus, too, reminds us to not obsess about earthly things, because they can disappear so quickly.  The man in the parable is not condemned for working hard and gaining riches, but for only making plans to make more riches and focusing on his wealth.  As Solomon said in the first reading, “Here is one who has labored with wisdom and knowledge and skill, and yet to another who has not labored over it, he must leave property.”  It’s not a problem if riches are not the focus of life; it’s just another reality of this passing world.  But if, instead, we have made money our main focus, our god, then the thought of losing it would be devastating.  But not as devastating as realizing at the end of our life that the things that last don’t really have to do with money, or any earthly things, but the things that are above.
    Lifting up our hearts is like our weekly vacation from the world, a weekly reminder to set our hearts on the things which are above.  It’s no accident that this invitation comes right before the Eucharistic Prayer, the holiest part of the Mass, where the bread and wine become the Body and Blood of Jesus.  Jesus Himself invites us to come to him, we who labor and are burdened, and have a rest.  That doesn’t mean you can fall asleep right now!  But it does mean that we can be at ease and not concern ourselves with work, with our daily anxieties, with our smart phones, but just be in the presence of God.
    Church buildings are meant to put our minds and hearts at rest, like we were in the Garden of Eden (before the Fall).  Church architecture is meant to put our mind at ease, because our minds understand that this type of building is different than a school, a gym, a bank, or a store.  The music is meant, not to get us riled up or excited, but to help us rest.  We train our readers so that they can read well and not make us wonder, “What was that he or she said?”  We train our servers to assist at the altar and not draw attention to themselves, but let our attention be put on the prayers that we say and hear, and the symbols that we see and hear (and sometimes smell).  The more a church looks like a church, the easier that is.  The more that we keep to what the Church has perfected over our two millennia in our sacred liturgy, the more the symbols and signs speak to us what they mean, rather than muddling the message with our own words and meanings. 
    If our hearts are focused on what is earthly, then rest, the rest that God wants us to have on His day, our Christian Sabbath, will not seem like rest.  It will seem odd, peculiar, and yes, boring.  But if we are practiced at setting our hearts on things that are above, then our earthly liturgy will prepare us for the heavenly liturgy, that rest that is our inheritance as children of God. 
    Especially in our days when life seems to be moving so quickly and our hearts and minds go from one concern to another, we need to reclaim the rest that we deserve, that God wants for us, each Sunday we come to Mass (and at daily Masses, too!).  Every time you hear, “Lift up your hearts,” don’t lift up your arms, but “seek what is above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God.”  In the words of the ancient hymn from the Divine Liturgy of St. James, “Let all mortal flesh keep silence, / And with fear and trembling stand; / Ponder nothing earthly minded, /  For with blessing in His hand. / Christ our God to earth descending, / Our full homage to demand.”
We’re reminded of this every time we come to Mass.  In the preface dialogue, I invite the people to “Lift up your hearts.”  I’m not inviting you to lift up your arms, which is very simple, but misses the point of that invitation.  The invitation is not to lift up our arms, but to lift up our hearts.  That’s much harder, but it’s much more powerful. 

Desserts and Deserts

Second Sunday of Advent

           

I’m a little weird.  Most of you have probably learned that already.  Why do I think I’m weird?  I like formality (in formal situations) and I also love country music.  Those two things don’t usually go together.  In most situations I’m very stoic.  And yet, you get me listening to a sad song like “I Loved Her First,” or get me watching a movie like “Old Yeller,” and water starts streaming down my eyes and my voice starts to waver and crack.  I’m also someone who loves grammar, and loves speaking grammatically correctly.  I think many people consider that weird.  You will rarely hear me end a sentence with a proposition.  I’m not confused by there, they’re, and their, nor when to use who and whom.  The English teacher at St. Thomas Aquinas school in East Lansing gave me, as a parting gift, the New York Times bestselling book, Eats Shoots and Leaves about proper punctuation and its importance.  I also love helping people understand grammar, using funny tricks.  For example, the way you know how to spell dessert versus desert is that you always want more dessert, and so you add a second “s.” 

           

Deserts (not desserts) play an important role in our readings today.  In the first reading we hear Isaiah say, “A voice cries out: In the desert prepare the way of the Lord!”  And in our Gospel passage St. Mark writes about St. John the Baptist as the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy.  “John,” Mark tells us, “appeared in the desert proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.”  Deserts are key in what the Word of God is saying to us today.  And deserts were key for the Chosen People.

            We don’t think of deserts as places of life.  There is such a lack of water, that only the strongest plants that have developed a system to survive can make it.  We’re used to seeing deserts with nothing but sand, like in Death Valley or the Sahara desert.  But Antarctica is also a type of desert.  In any case, deserts are not know for life or being great places to be.  Deserts are places where humans are in a race to beat the elements and find water, the source of life. 

            But, for the Chosen People, the desert was a very important place.  It still wasn’t a very kind place, but it was important.  Desert brought back the memory of the pilgrimage from slavery in Egypt to freedom in the Promised Land.  In between the slavery in Egypt and the land flowing with milk and honey in the Promised Land, there was a desert, in fact 40 years of desert, as the Chosen People did not trust God, and so God did not allow any of those who had rebelled against Him to enter the land He prepared for them.

            Wandering in the desert was not fun, and it didn’t carry with it the best memories for the Jews.  It seems like every other chapter of the pilgrimage to the Promised Land is a complaint of the Jews about how good Egypt (the place of slavery!) was in comparison to wandering in the desert.  There’s no food, no water, and no trust that God will provide them.  At one point, the people complain and God sends little seraph serpents that bite the people to stop their whining.  Even Moses has problems in the desert.  The people were complaining about not having water.  God tells Moses to strike the rock once, and water will flow from it.  But Moses gets so frustrated that he says, “Shall I provide water for you?” and strikes the rock twice.  Because of Moses’ disobedience to God, even he is not allowed to enter the Promised Land.

            And yet, the desert was the place that God continued to draw Israel to Himself, and teach her how much He loved her.  It was where the Israelites learned that no matter what, they could trust God; God will provide.  They always had enough food and drink when they trusted God, and when they trusted God, nothing went wrong.  As much of a trial as the desert was, it was also the sacred space for Israel: the place where they learned how to love and trust God.

            So it makes perfect sense that the desert is the place where preparations are made for the Lord, as Isaiah prophesies.  It makes perfect sense that St. John the Baptist chooses the desert as the place where repentance will take place.  God’s highway is going to go straight through the desert, and God is once more going to teach His Beloved People how to love Him.  In the desert, comfort will be given to Israel as they acknowledge their sins, and their guilt will be expiated, expunged, and a cleansing will take place, a cleansing with water which prepares for a cleansing with the Holy Spirit. 

            Don’t be afraid of the desert!  That is where we learn to love God.  Maybe your desert is an illness or a disease in yourself or a loved one.  Maybe your desert is final exams, or an upcoming test, or just school in general!  In this Year for Marriage in Michigan, maybe your marriage is in a desert.  Do not be afraid!  Illness, difficulties in school, and difficulties in marriage are not good things, but God makes them a means to learn to love Him more.  God makes the desert a sacred place where trials are meant to lead you closer to God and closer to a land flowing with milk and honey.  Do not be afraid, but do not be apathetic, either!  In illness, seek to unite the suffering with Jesus’ on the cross.  In school, see how God teaches you patience in going through things that are difficult or gives you opportunities to rely on others for help (not cheating, mind you!) or just is stretching your mind in a way that will help you become a better person.  In marriage, do not wait until things are really bad and about to fall apart.  Treat yourself to a Marriage Encounter weekend to make a good marriage better.  Or if you do find yourself in a marriage that is falling apart, invest in a Retrouvaille weekend to give your marriage every last chance to be salvaged.  If you are divorced with no hope of reconciliation, go through the process of a Declaration of Invalidity (commonly known as an annulment) to be able to heal those memories and be able to be free to marry again according to God’s plan.  In whatever circumstance you are in, listen to the “voice of one crying out in the desert: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths.’”  Everyone wants more dessert, and so we add a second “s.”  Through this Advent, may we also desire the desert as the place where we come to love God more!