A Spirit That Drives Out Fear

I really love the feast of Pentecost. I think the reason is that celebrating the Church means celebrating all the things that people have done all through the ages in order to build up the kingdom of God, as well as celebrating all those things that people are doing right now. I also love this feast's focus on the Holy Spirit; I love all those things that are associated with the Spirit: wind, fire, passion, enthusiasm, courage and boldness, new life, adventure... it's fun even to think about other words that would go along on that list.

So it was fun thinking about this homily. Of course, though, it's always very intense actually deciding exactly what to say -- that's the stressful part.


Pentecost Sunday, May 27th, 2007

Today is Pentecost Sunday, one of the great feast days of the Church. We Christians borrowed Pentecost from the Jewish celebration of Fifty Days after Passover, and for us today it likewise marks the Church’s celebration of the end of fifty days of Eastertime. We celebrate today as the “birthday of the Church,” brought about by the coming of the Holy Spirit upon a group of frightened disciples, changing them into bold, joy-filled apostles.

Appropriately, our scriptures are filled today with vivid signs of the movement and action of the Spirit. In our first reading we hear the rush of Spirit as a wild, unexplainable wind blowing through the room where the disciples are gathered… we feel the passion of the Spirit as fire parting and emblazoning its touch on every one of those gathered … we witness the Spirit’s effect on the apostles as this Pentecost experience moves and carries them out into the streets to proclaim the gospel with strange sounds that astonish the crowd because all those present hear the message in their native language. It’s a remarkable and dramatic episode, this story of our birth as a Church.

And our gospel recounts a different but closely related episode, where the risen Jesus breathes on his disciples. If the idea of breathing on a group of people sounds a little odd and hard to envision for you, imagine Jesus, risen from the dead, entering a locked room, coming right up to each apostle with an intensely powerful look, almost nose to nose, so that they literally breathed the same breath … “Receive the Holy Spirit”

The events of Pentecost are so dramatic. The apostles emerge from their hiding place as changed people, filled with spirit and enthusiasm so bold and contagious that not only do they fearlessly address all the Jews gathered in Jerusalem for the Jewish feast day, but they convert and baptize two thousand of them that very day! And it is all the more remarkable because they had all been so very afraid. As John put it, “The disciples had locked the doors of the place where they were for fear of the Jews.”

Probably everyone here can relate to that experience. Maybe we have never gone into hiding behind locked doors, but we all know what it is like to be afraid. Fear is a common denominator of the human race. In some form it dogs the heels of every living human being. With a few if becomes a morbid obsession that completely controls their lives. With most of us, it never goes that far – but for all of us, fear is a fact of life, and how we deal with it plays a large part in the quality of our living.

It’s important to recognize that their fear was rooted in solid realities – as is ours. They were living in a dangerous world -- so are we. Probably none of us has ever witnessed a literal crucifixion, but make no mistake, the same prejudice, greed, hatred, and cruelty that nailed Jesus to the cross are still very much a part of our modern scene. Just read the newspaper. Innocent people are bombed, bodies are maimed, prisoners are tortured. There are refugees all over the globe, fleeing violence, persecution, and poverty. Every day it seems you read about a parent who does something unspeakable to a child, or one spouse to another, or one young person to a random sampling of classmates. Danger in our world is not an illusion. Those disciples who sought safety behind closed and bolted doors had good reason to be afraid, and sometimes so do we.

But the story doesn’t end there. Those frightened disciples were visited by the risen Christ, and with his help and the gift of the Holy Spirit they overcame their fears, no longer cowering but instead proclaiming the good news. The transformation is remarkable – the same people in the same world. The dangers were still there and very real. But the fear was gone, or at least it was under control. They were controlling it, instead of it controlling them. What happened to change them?

It seems that there were two factors involved in overcoming those fears. The first was a change in their focus. Jesus said to them, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” That put everything in a totally different light. Up to that point, their chief concern had been survival – and that’s why they were hiding. They were all afraid that the Jews would do to them what they had done to Jesus. And that possibility did exist and continued to exist – in fact, many of them eventually died a martyr’s death. But their focus had shifted.

My friends, if our main business in this life is our own personal survival and comfort, then we have very good reason to be afraid, because we are hooked up with a losing cause -- that purpose is bound to fail! Our fear can be paralyzing; it can rule our lives. We might spend a fortune trying to make ourselves safe, walling out crime and violence, or whatever terrors might trouble us. But if violence or accident or disease doesn’t get us, then old age will. There has got to be a bigger and better reason for living than to simply stay alive, and Jesus offers that. Jesus sends us forth just as he did the first apostles, on a mission worth living for and even dying for.

And secondly, of course, Jesus gave them the resources necessary for carrying out that mission. This is what we celebrate so lavishly today! Jesus breathed on them and said “Receive the Holy Spirit.” The wind and fire and electricity of the Holy Spirit came upon them all. And though the signs of the Spirit’s presence may not be quite so dramatic today, that very same Spirit is given to us, with all its power, with all its many gifts.

We all have fears that are particular and personal to ourselves, but one of the most frightening things about life can be a sense of inadequacy. We have responsibilities to meet and we’re not sure we can meet them. Burdens come that must be borne, and we’re not at all certain that we can bear them. Well, whatever our fear, the good news of Pentecost is that we’re not in this thing alone, by ourselves. God is with us; the Holy Spirit is given to us.

That’s what Pentecost is all about. It celebrates the truth of God’s Life and Spirit with us and within us.

This may be a dangerous world. But we do not have to meet our fears and challenges alone. God is here, and the enabling power of the Holy Spirit is sent upon us.

Deacon Denny Duffell

Transitions at St. Bridget Parish

I've been a full-time minister at St. Bridget Parish for nearly a quarter of a century -- I'm entering my 25th year this July. This "Jubilee year" will be one of change for me and for our parish. As our parishioners know, this coming July we will embark on a year without a pastor. Instead, we'll have a newly retired priest helping us with Mass and the sacraments on weekends, and another retired priest helping with Mass on Wed-Thurs-Fri. The day-to-day leadership of the parish for this year will be in my hands. It's not that there is no priest who would want to come to St. Bridget to be pastor; the Archbishop assured me of that. It's that he has someone in mind, and experienced pastor, who won't be available for another year. In the meantime, St. Bridget is without an everyday priest pastor.

In the late '80's, when this concept first impacted the consciousness of the average parishioner in the Seattle Archdiocese, it was completely new. There was much uncertainty, a lot of anxiety, and a fair amount of anger. In the last 20 years a lot of those feelings have changed for the better, as more lived experiences of this have circulated within the Catholic community in the Northwest. The Archdiocese now initiates processes to help parishes make the change, such has asking the parishes to identify a "Transition Team" to work with an Archdiocesan field staff member. Our "TT" here at St. Bridget has met twice, and is planning a great going away party for our retiring pastor. The following letter to the parish was inspired by the team's most recent meeting. It says a lot about our parish.


Transitions at St. Bridget
May 20, 2007

Dear Parishioner,

In the middle of last month we sent all our parishioners the Archbishop’s announcement of the appointment of Fr. Gary Morelli to St. Bridget to be our sacramental priest for weekend Masses and for other parish celebrations of the sacraments. He also appointed me as Pastoral Coordinator for St. Bridget, entrusted with the day-to-day leadership of the parish. Both of these are to be one-year appointments, and sometime next spring we can expect the appointment of a full-time pastor for the parish, to begin in July of 2008.

A second letter to the parish was included in the parish bulletin at the end April, explaining the canonical meanings of these assignments. Both of these letters are available on our web site, and copies are also available at the parish office. I’ve tried to be clear so that we can know what to expect and what not to expect in the way of a priestly presence for the coming year here at St. Bridget. I will repeat here what has been written before. Fr. Morelli will be with us on weekends and at other liturgical times, such as Ash Wednesday or Holy Week, or for special occasions such as funerals and weddings. As a priestly presence for us during the week, our friend Fr. Dick Basso, who has been with us whenever Fr. Connole has been away on vacation, has agreed to continue to help us with morning Masses on Wed-Th-Fr, and on those times when Fr. Morelli is away on his vacation. Both priests have indicated that they will help with our emergency needs, such as the anointing of the sick.

To assist a parish during time of change, the Archdiocese asks the parish to pull together a “Transition Team,” which helps to serve as a bridge during the time of transition. One of its important functions is to make sure that the parish has a fitting farewell celebration for its outgoing priest, and I’m sure you all know about our parish celebration for Fr. Connole on the afternoon of Sunday, June 3rd! Tyera Enquist, who is both a member of the Transition Team and one of the leaders of our Social Committee, has been actively recruiting volunteers from many of our parish organizations, to help make this event a successful goodbye celebration. Please join us in saying a fitting Thanks! to Marlin, for the seven years of faithful service he has given to us.

At the meeting of the Transition Team a few days ago, I asked them two questions:

●What are some of the characteristic strengths of St. Bridget which we should keep in mind during this time – things we should maintain and which we can rely on?
●What are the things we should be careful about during the coming year?

I’d like to share with you their answers – and if you want to respond to them or add your own answer, please feel free to do so.

Strengths of St. Bridget Parish

St. Bridget
●is a very social parish
●is very committed to charitable outreach
●is strongly supportive of Catholic education
●has a wide variety of opportunities for community
●has lots of places to “plug in”
●has a strong involvement of its parishioners in the life of the parish
●has high standards
●has very capable parishioners
●is a very diverse parish, and is nonetheless very stable
●may be a little too homogenous, racially and economically
●is friendly, informal, and comfortable
●is inclusive as a mode of operating
●likes a challenge
●is very blessed financially – and that enables us to look beyond ourselves
●pays a lot of attention to collaboration and processes
●has an openness to commitment
●is a “high functioning” parish, with the ability to trust the community and its leadership
●is well-sized – its scale is an asset; can be personal fairly easily
●supports its music program; we attract quality singers and musicians, and offer a diverse program of music

As you look over that list, do you see “St. Bridget” in those characteristics? Would you add others?
Now, how about these areas, identified by our Transition Team, that we need to be conscious of, as we move forward this coming year:

●Communication, communication, communication! Essential during times of change.
●Just how are things going to work this coming year, without a full-time priest? People need to have some understanding of this.
●We need ways for parishioners to ask questions and get answers – there should be some kind of feedback system, formally or informally.
●We should try to minimize the amount of change, especially liturgically.
●We’ll need for people to know and see that we are not “rudderless”
●Parishioners should know and be reassured that if they have a spiritual need, we/they will know what to do.

And along with that, there were two items of advice for me:

●Denny has to help the parish to keep its focus; needs to have time to attend to the parish priorities; needs to find things that he can delegate and people to delegate to.
●Denny needs to not seem too busy for people to call on him when they are personally hurting or otherwise need the presence of the Church.

Are there other things we should be conscious of? Is there other “advice” you would have for me?

I had hoped to cover a couple of other items, but there’s no space left. More to come!

Deacon Denny Duffell

There were two other "transition notes" that have been circulated, available on the parish web page, on the right-hand side of the home page under the heading Transitions.

These situations are growing in number as the priest shortage becomes more widely felt. For this year, I'll be pretty involved in the practical side of this reality, and probably won't appreciate the wider implications until a few years after it's over. But I'd enjoy speculating about them...

"What is Peace?"

Last weekend's gospel was a short piece from the Last Supper, when Jesus offered one final gift to his apostles, before he went to his death: the gift of peace.

The summer after my sophomore year in college (1969) was a great time for pondering, and since Vietnam was so prominent in the news and in my thoughts, as a young man eligible for armed service, I thought long and hard about peace. That search led me to reject war -- something I could not participate in and something that I felt no one should participate in.

The events of the years since then have deepened that conviction. Our pre-emptive war with Iraq is easy now to fault, but even the first time our president used the phrase "War against terrorism" the concept was bizarre. There are always alternatives to war, but too often they seem to take too long or cost too much. And true, the peace of Jesus was so very costly. But in reality, war perpetuates itself, and thus costs far more and takes far longer to resolve.

Sixth Sunday of Easter (C), May 2007

This morning once again we hear Jesus speak about the Holy Spirit, the Advocate; and once again we hear him speak about peace, in those words that are so familiar to us because we hear them during the Mass: “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you.” The setting for this gospel is the Last Supper, and Jesus is giving his disciples a gift and a legacy, his gift of peace.

It’s a very precious gift, and I’m sure that every person, every race, every nation would like to have that gift. But the word is so often so badly misused, that I think we would do well today if we could just come to an understanding of what the word means, or at least what it doesn’t mean.

I think the peace many people daydream about is peace as the absence of conflict or stress. As in: “If I could just get out of this rat race I’d be OK,” or “If I made just ten thousand more a year, I’d be all right,” or “If it were not for this one relationship in my life, I’d be happy,” or “If my children would just mature and get settled, I think I could relax.” This is peace as the absence of problems.

I think there are some people try to purchase peace for their lives – as in buying drugs, or sedating themselves in some way; but I hope we can recognize that peace is not a silent stupor. Some people feel that buying things or having things will bring peace, or even that affluence is the way to peace; but so often it is true that having more tends to raise one’s stress level, not lower it. Sometimes people turn to religion to find peace, but that often can be a kind of quick-fix variety of faith, a “peace-of-mind religion,” with sermons and books to entice listeners and readers with promises of freedom from struggle. And it is true that if you can find a convincing way to market and sell inner peace, you can get rich.

I do believe that nearly everyone seeks peace of some kind, and many people probably assume that the peace Jesus promises is the peace they are looking for. This is probably what the disciples thought. But do we know what true peace is? Or what the peace is that Jesus gives us?

I had a little fun with this as I prepared for this homily, and called to mind various famous uses of the word peace.

•1. There is: Peace referred to when exhorting others patriotism and to battle:-- “Is life so dear or peace so sweet as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery?” Those words belonged to Patrick Henry that ended with the famous words, Give me liberty or give me death. And Patrick Henry made an important point: a peace without liberty, a peace without one’s God-given rights, is not really peace.

•2 There is: Peace referred to in shame: “Peace in our time.” Those words belonged to Neville Chamberlain, defending the Munich agreement, when Europe tried to appease Hitler and called it peace. History tells us peace is not built on the lies of good men, and certainly not on the lies of dictators. Peace must be built on the truth.

•3 There is also peace as a chant: “All we are saying is give peace a chance.” Boomers especially remember John Lennon’s song from the Vietnam War era, but even many of us who have sung along with the Beatles know that there is a lot more to peace than singing.

•4 Then there is the saying that I like best: “If you want Peace, work for Justice.” Pope Paul VI said that on the World Day of Peace in 1972. Paul said to the world that this is the right way to the genuine discovery of peace: “If we look for its true source, we find that Peace is rooted in a sincere feeling for others. A peace that is not the result of a true respect for others is not true peace. And what do we call this sincere feeling for others? We call it Justice.”

Paul goes on: “In Isaiah we find the words, ‘Justice will bring about Peace.’ We repeat Isaiah’s words today in a more incisive and dynamic formula: If you want Peace, work for Justice. This invitation does not ignore the difficulties of practicing Justice; perhaps more greatness of soul is needed for living out the ways of Justice and Peace than for fighting for and imposing on an adversary one’s rights, whether true or alleged.”

Ultimately, as we search for the meaning of peace, it may be simplest if we returned to the actual word that Jesus must have used, the Hebrew word “shalom.” Shalom means far more than the absence of conflict; it is a state of having everything right. It is positive well-being. It is harmony and wholeness, right relationships. It means being one with God, one with our neighbors, and one within oneself.

It is important to remember that Jesus had no peace in the conventional sense of the word. He was misunderstood, rejected, abused, humiliated, reviled, betrayed, and killed. So when he calls us to follow him, it is not to an easy way. Let’s face it; the peace people usually want, without reflecting on it, is peace without a cross. But the peace of Jesus is peace through a cross. The peace of Jesus is a deep, costly peace. Jesus shows us that struggle is a pre-requisite to knowing his peace. “Peace I give to you; but I do not give it as the world gives it.” The peace of Jesus was his peace with God, in spite of everything. This is true peace, and the kind of peace that the world can neither give nor take away.

We might ask ourselves what peace Jesus could possibly have known in those last hours of his life, weeping in the garden, watching his disciples run away, carrying an undeserved cross, feeling forsaken even by God? There is only one kind of peace possible in all of this. It was the peace that comes from doing the will of God.

What does it mean for us to follow Jesus? Do we think that we can just follow Jesus in total bliss right to a heavenly reward? What does it mean to follow Jesus if not following him in surrender to God’s will for us? Surrender sounds so… passive, so weak, almost negative. But there is a peace in surrendering to God’s will that is found in no other way; it is the peace that passes understanding.

The peace of Jesus ... not a peace without a cross, but a peace through the cross. Shalom.

Deacon Denny Duffell

Two Pamphlets and a Swirl of Controversy

Over this past weekend, in my weekly column at St. Bridget, I noted a short article that was in the Catholic Northwest Progress, our local Archdiocesan Catholic newspaper. The article noted that theologian Dan Maguire at Marquette University (my alma mater) had written and circulated two pamphlets to the bishops of the United States, one on abortion and birth control, and the other on same-sex marriage, claiming that there were other legitimate Catholic positions on these topics besides those held by the hierarchy. It noted further that the bishops had responded collectively in an open letter to Catholics, renouncing his positions on these matters. Since then, there have been numerous calls for Marquette to fire Maquire.

I think that all of these documents are well-written, and that this is a real opportunity for Catholics to understand these issues a little better. I read Maguires articles first, and was actually very surprised but also a bit dubious. The bishops' letter did not address Maguire's writings point by point, which I would have liked, but was otherwise clear and convincing. To read any of these three writings, click on the underlined words above.

No Future Without Forgiveness

In the ritual that accompanies the baptism of a child, there is a lovely little blessing for the parents of the child. For all of the baptisms I have witnessed that have taken place during Mass here at St. Bridget, I have never seen that blessing being given. But whenever I have celebrated with just the family, or at the hospital, I've offered that blessing. The one I give is different from the one in the book -- and it includes asking for God's many gifts to be in abundance within this family.

One of the gifts I always pray for is the gift of forgiveness. Rare is the person that doesn't have some secret hurt inside that goes unforgiven. The example I gave from my own life is absolutely true.

Second Sunday of Easter, 2007

Today’s gospel is really a remarkable gospel. The whole story of our Doubting Thomas captures our imagination, so much that we usually overlook the first part of the story. But the first part of the gospel is very important. You see, the apostles were gathered in a locked room, after dark, and the reason it was locked is because they were afraid. In the previous 3 days, Jesus had been arrested, beaten, scourged, nailed to a cross, crucified, and finally laid it a tomb. They had all run away in fear. All their hopes, all those wonderful teachings about the Kingdom, all those miracles & healings, everything was torn down. They didn’t know what to do or where to go, but some of the disciples had already left. But then, our passage says, Jesus came, stood among them, and said “Peace be with you.” And after this, he shows them his hands and side, and fear leaves them, they rejoice. And then Jesus says again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” And then Jesus breathes the Holy Spirit into them, and gives them the ability to forgive. Jesus sends them into the world with the peace & presence of the Holy Spirit, with the power to forgive as he did.

Really forgiving is so difficult. I’m sure that a great many of us can relate to that. I have my own story there. You see, before I ever met Joan, I was engaged to someone else. I was so young and foolish – just out of college. And we weren’t engaged long – only about 6 months – but she basically canceled the engagement during the Christmas holidays. Today’s terms, she dumped me!

Well, that’s really easy to talk about now, after being happily married for 32 years. But that wasn’t always the case. Because I was so hurt and angry that for years I couldn’t even think about my former fiance without getting furious. It’s not that I ever saw her or got together with her again – it’s just that things remind you of the past sometimes, and whenever I happened to think of her I was really angry. And I remember vividly the day I actually was able to forgive her: I was forty five years old! And I had been angry with her for over half my life. And I still remember when I let go of anger – it was so powerful a feeling that I broke down in tears.

Anger – fear – hatred – deep wounds, physical or spiritual. All those things can infect our system and make it impossible to forgive. I know you may not agree with me, and you’re probably are in a different place than I am about this, but when 9/ll happened, along with the horror and tragedy that I think we all experienced, I was also so very aware that so many people in our land became hardened with fear and fury; and I personally feel that that internal hardening of spirit collectively hurt us as a people more than those planes did.

But whether you agree with that or not, I think we can all agree that what is going on in Iraq today, with the Sunnis and Shiites bombing and killing one another, hatred returned for hatred, is just … so sorrowful. There is no peace because there is no willingness to forgive.

However, my examples today are not all so awful. One of the best examples of forgiveness comes from Africa, and from a very unlikely place: South Africa. I read a wonderful book last year, in preparation for my visit to Africa last summer. It was called No Future Without Forgiveness, written by Desmond Tutu, the Anglican Archbishop of South Africa. It was the story of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of South Africa.

Now you might remember that for generations, the native people of South Africa suffered under the system of apartheid. It was a strictly separated country, white from black. The native African people in South Africa were viciously oppressed, people were beaten or killed, sometimes in very horrible ways, and especially so if they dared to protest the injustice. And not very long ago, as we know today, the black majority took control of the country. And as that was happening, everyone from outside South Africa was waiting for the explosion, the disintegration and civil war that was sure to occur. South Africa would go up in flames.

But it didn’t. The country held together. It happened because there was inspirational leadership. But it happened also because people somehow learned to forgive. What happened was that the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, chaired by Archbishop Tutu and composed of leaders from both communities, black and white, held hearings all over the country. And if those who caused so much suffering, however heinous their crimes, if they came forward and told the truth, the whole truth, everything they did, then what they confessed to would be forgiven. And what happened, over and over again, was a release of the poison that had built up over years and years of institutionalized evil. People could hear the awful truth, grieve over it, and then move on. The only people who were prosecuted were those who found it impossible to admit what they had done, and who then wound up being brought to legal trial and conviction.

All kinds of people said it was impossible – but it worked.

No future without forgiveness.

In a few moments, we will say that universal Christian prayer, where we ask for God to forgive us, as we forgive others. And then we will share a sign of peace with one another. Forgiveness and Peace. Today these gospel words are for you and me, disciples of Jesus, spiritual descendants of those apostles in the locked upper room. “Peace be with you. Receive the Holy Spirit. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” We have the power to forgive one another, the power of the Holy Spirit, the power of Christ’s Peace.

No Future Without Forgiveness.

Deacon Denny Duffell

The Prodigal Father

I love the gospel story that we usually call the Prodigal Son. We seldom ever use that word, "prodigal," except with this gospel. My dictionary defines the word as "given to extravagant expenditure, lavishly bountiful." Those words obviously apply to the father in the story even more than the son -- in fact, delightfully so.

I can really visualize this father being in anguish, trying to hold his sons together. It is only a small leap from there to the notion that God anguishes over the violent divisions within our human family.

4th Sunday of Lent, 2007

Good morning. This weekend we mark the Fourth Sunday of Lent. We’re halfway home! I know many of you have taken the “Stewardship of Time” idea to heart, and have found an extra 2 or 3 hours for God during your week. If not, if you’ve been too busy or too distracted, and found that Lent has just whizzed by so far -- you still have another three weeks. In fact, this second half of Lent really gets good.

Both this weekend and next weekend feature wonderful gospel stories about Forgiveness. And this week, right in between, we will offer our parish Reconciliation Service on Thursday night at 7:30. We usually have 250 or 300 parishioners who make it to our service, and it’s a very restful and peaceful time, a good opportunity to search our own hearts, take a longer look at our lives, and open ourselves up to God’s love and healing. If you’re someone who doesn’t usually come to this service, I hope that today’s gospel might just give you the inspiration to join us on Thursday night.

Today’s story is so familiar to us that we can probably all tell it. But what we sometimes forget is the context, which makes it all the more emphatic. It begins even before Jesus gets into his story; the scripture notes that Jesus was spending time with sinners and outcasts – people much like that younger son in the gospel. He was even having meals, sitting at table with them, which was a real social intimacy for the Jewish people; you just couldn’t go that far with public sinners! And the Pharisees and scribes were grumbling about it all.

And so when Jesus tells this story, you can just imagine how delighted the sinners and outcasts must have been. It’s no wonder that the gospel got the name “good news.” I’m sure they recognized themselves as the younger son. We might too! Haven’t we ever wanted to be completely freed of any responsibility, and even have a big wad of cash to blow any way we wanted?

I suspect, though, that very few of us think of ourselves as living a loose life – and I’m pretty sure that most of us would not want the rest of us here to think that of us. But there are many ways that we can have a life that’s too loose, without being public sinners. There may be areas of our lives where we’re a little out of control, not balanced. And I think most of us know how that might apply to us, especially if we make the kind of examination of heart and soul that Lent is for, that the Sacrament of Reconciliation is for. In what ways is my life out of balance? Do I work too hard? How am I too wrapped up in myself? Am I too concerned about my bank balance instead of my life balance?

But the story gets better, and more complicated. The Pharisees and scribes surely saw themselves in the person of the older son. Weren’t they faithful with their commitments, responsible to their obligations – just like that older son? Don’t we all here try to be faithful and responsible? Don’t you think that the Parisees and scribes felt that because they fulfilled the law, that they were entitled to the good things they had in life? That whatever the good things they had, they were the rewards of their own efforts, their own faithfulness, their own hard work? That they were going to be rewarded by God for everything they had done. And aren’t we guilty of that too, sometimes? I can just hear them thinking – No! It’s the elder son who deserves the party! And we might feel that way too. But that’s the temptation of complacency, of self-satisfaction, of self-righteousness. That grows into a disastrous belief that life owes us something … that God owes us something. Or worse, it’s the sign of a shriveled and shrunken spirit that cannot rejoice when the poor and broken are welcomed in, when someone “undeserving” is given another chance. In what ways might we have that self-righteous spirit inside of us? In what ways are we too unforgiving? Are there times when we just don’t want to go into the house because our brother or sister is getting something that we don’t think they should be getting?

But the story doesn’t stop even there, because in the end, the story is not about either brother. The reason Jesus tells us this story is to reveal to us what God is like. The story is about that loving Father, who is trying so hard to hold his children together. Just like God does…just like God does. He doesn’t get angry that the elder brother is sulking and spoiling the party. He goes out to him. He bares his soul; he pleads with him: “All that is mine is yours, you are with me always. But we have to celebrate your brother coming back from the dead. You must come in to the house.

This is the kind of God we have, who wants us all to come into the house, who wants us to be together as family, who wants us to rejoice and celebrate together so badly that will he bring a scoundrel of a son back in, and shower him with fine clothes; and at the same time will seek out his other son and open his heart to him.

God does all of this with us, too.

And so this morning, as we turn now from this Gospel to celebrate this Eucharist together, let us remember that we are given this Eucharist as a Sacrament of Unity. Not just a unity that we individually long for, with God. Not even just the unity that we try to build with everyone else in this room, or in this parish. Not even just the unity we long for with Christians everywhere, all over the world. But this sacrament is given for the unity of all of God’s children. And let us pray that we may receive the nourishment here, the grace and strength, so that we might live in the spirit of that Loving Father, who wants all children to come home together, one family, in peace. Amen.

Deacon Denny Duffell

When Times Get Tough

This posting is another homily, from the second Sunday of Lent, with the gospel story of the Transfiguration. I've often pondered that "vision of glory," and I can remember times when I've had glimpses, visions, touches and tastes of glory. They're not only wonderful in themselves, but they have a sustaining power... for when times get tough.

The example I cite is obviously a very true example. In the end this homily is about the ability to be graceful and grace-filled in times of suffering.



2nd Sunday of Lent (C), March 4, 2007

Every year during Lent there’s a very familiar feel to the first two Sundays. The gospel for the first Sunday of Lent is always the story of the Temptation in the Desert, whether it’s from Matthew, Mark, or Luke. For me, it always reminds me of the humanity of Jesus… And because Jesus went through his temptation in the desert, it gives us encouragement for enduring the difficult parts of our humanity – our temptations, our weaknesses, our vulnerabilities.

Now likewise every year, whether it’s from Matthew, Mark, or Luke, the second Sunday in Lent brings us the story of the Transfiguration. For me, it’s a revelation of the divinity of Jesus. Jesus takes us not to the desert, but … to the mountaintop… where he is not tempted, but transformed before our eyes … his face changed, his clothes turned dazzling white. Moses and Elijah appear, and a Cloud envelops them all… and the Voice of God speaks from the cloud.

And what I love most about this passage, is that just as Christ’s Temptation reminds us that Jesus is one with us in our vulnerability and humanity, his Transfiguration reminds us that we are linked to his divinity. I don’t think that we think about that very much. In fact, we’ve probably been taught that to think like that is a sin, we should be more humble, if we think like that we are trying to make ourselves like God or something. Well, I’m not saying that – but I AM saying that we’re children of God, that we’re made in the image and likeness of God.

You know, there’s this great little prayer that used to be written in the missalettes, but I don’t think it’s there anymore; I couldn’t find it. It IS in the Sacramentary, that great big red book that the server holds for the priest, that goes on the altar for the Eucharistic Prayer. And this prayer is said during the Preparation of the Gifts; and it’s a prayer that the deacon says, unless of course he’s not there, and then the priest says it. I bless the water, pour a little wine into the wine, and I say this quiet prayer, “By the mystery of this water and wine may we come to share in the divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ, who humbled himself to share in our humanity.” We’re praying that we’ll share in the divinity of Christ!

This gospel today is a glimpse of the glory of who we are created to be as God’s children. And whatever our vocation, whatever our state of life, whatever our age, it is important for us to remember who we are. That vision will lead us to a rightful and wondrous destiny, and it will carry us through when times get tough.

When times get tough. I used those words on purpose, because … that’s really the key to understanding this gospel: tough times.

I hope you noticed what Moses and Elijah are talking about in this vision today. They are talking about Jesus’ “coming exodus” in Jerusalem. Isn’t that an odd phrase? Sometimes it gets translated as Jesus’ “departure,” or “passing,” or “completion.” It refers to his crucifixion and death. In fact, the whole context of this passage is that it takes place immediately after Jesus has first told his disciples that he is destined to suffer and die. He begins talking about taking up the cross – about letting go of our lives in order to save our lives. This is a key turning point in Luke’s gospel – it marks the end of Jesus ministry and teaching in Galilee, and the beginning of his journey towards Jerusalem: (turn to cross) this destiny. And his disciples? They wouldn’t believe it – none of them. They just couldn’t get their minds around the idea that the Messiah had to suffer and die.

And so Jesus takes them on this journey to the mountaintop. And his transfiguration unfolds even as Moses and Elijah are discussing with him the trials and humiliation and persecution to come. His glory is revealed even as they talk about the suffering and crucifixion and death that await him.

I’d like to share an experience that I had the privilege of sharing in this past week. Two weeks ago, you might remember that three young children in the area died from complications related to the flu. I think all of us who are parents know that something like that is our worst nightmare. I’m sure that you remember that one of the children who died was a second-grader at Laurelhurst Elementary, right down the street. But I’d like to tell the story of that third child, whose circumstances were not like the others. He was a young boy who had had health complications from the time of his birth, and so when he got the flu it was just too much for his body, and he died.

It turns out that that young boy was Luke Deacy, and his mother’s maiden name is Jill Sullivan, who grew up next door to our Rectory. Her family moved away at some point, but we kept in touch. I had the very good fortune to officiate at her wedding here at St. Bridget. And so it was a great sadness to hear that Luke had died.

This past Friday the family held a memorial service. And I can only begin to tell you about it. His parents knew from his time of birth that Luke would only be with them a few precious years. He nearly died as a baby – they gave him three years to live, then five. Well, Luke beat those odds. And Luke’s parents determined that they would not hold him back – they would not diminish for him the wonderful experience of what it means to be a child out of fear that he would be too fragile and vulnerable. And whenever there was a group of kids, gathered somewhere where they might be doing something a little … shall we say, “on the edge” … risky behavior – there you would find Luke. And he would be the ringleader! He lived life with a passion, a zest, a dance. He had beautifully wild curly hair and eyes that revealed a spirit bursting from within. He loved sports, reptiles, heroic Greek mythology, scary movies, anything fast, and Scoobie-doo. At his service his family offered stories and shared a collection of pictures and videos of a young boy whose body, whose eyes displayed a marvelous spirit soaring with the breath of life.

Well, it made us all cry that he was gone. All of our hearts went out to his parents and close friends for their loss. But we were all so inspired and uplifted to share in this celebration of his life, this affirmation of his vibrant spirit -- and we were all so grateful that he had been so loved and encouraged to life his life, so fully and freely. It was so right.

You know, we all face suffering and death. Perhaps not at this very moment, but we all will.

Like Jesus, we might face suffering as a result of a conscious choice we make, or a calling that we will not deny. I am reminded of our Christian heroes like Archbishop Romero who was martyred for standing with the poor of El Salvador, or Fr. Damian who served at the leper colony in Molokai and himself caught leprosy, or even our friend, Fr. Owen O’Donnell, who has caught malaria a number of times during his service in with the people of Namitembo, in Malawi. A great love can bring us into situations of great suffering. In these times, the memory and vision of ourselves as who we really are as glorified luminous beings, can give us the strength and courage, the faith and trust to face our trials.

But what is very certain is that each of us will certainly face sufferings that we do NOT choose. An accident – cancer, or other life-threatening illness – the relentless growing infirmities of advancing age – the death of someone we love. There is no family down at Children’s Hospital that chooses the illness that brings them there. But what they can choose, what we can choose, is how we will live with our sufferings. Even in our sufferings, we are still luminous beings.

The reason Jesus chose to go to Jerusalem, to take up his cross, was in order that we would know beyond any shadow of a doubt that in the end, suffering and even death itself cannot conquer us. Our destiny as children of the light goes beyond the grave – we are a part of God’s glory, now and always. And that vision can give us the grace to bear our hurts and our infirmities with trust in God and with love to those around us.

Deacon Denny Duffell

Using Our Powers For Our Own Purposes

After a while away, I'm finally turning back to this blog. I've been doing a lot of writing, but in other places; and I made a conscious decision to take a break for a while. But with the coming transion here at St. Bridget, my job description is obviously changing, and it makes sense to get back to this forum as a way to communicate.

I thought I first would catch up with a few homilies, starting with Lent. This first one was obviously inspired by the Temptation in the Desert, the gospel for the First Sunday in Lent. I was well aware of the coming changes here at St. Bridget, but there had been no formal announcements. I would probably find no argument in pointing out that our prevailing cultural values glorify individual freedom and choice. This homily doesn't push too hard, but gently raises the place of prayer & discernment in making choices, along with a reminder that all our personal gifts come from God.

Actually the example from The Brothers Karamazov was inspired by another blog writer. It pushed me to research that passage, with its Grand Inquisitor.

1st Sunday of Lent (A), 2007

Good morning. This is the first weekend of Lent. I hope your Lent is off to a wonderful start. I love Lent – it’s like we have this special time when Christians all over the world are setting aside time to be with God, to take a look at our lives. All of us – whether we’re young or old, whether we work 80 hours a week or whether we’re not sure what to do with ourselves, whether we’re someone who goes to Mass every day and has an active prayer life or someone who struggles to make it to Mass once or twice a month, everyone is encouraged to sacrifice a little, to fast and pray, to do things that get us out of our ordinary way of being. As you know, we’re encouraging everyone here at St. Bridget this Lent to give two or three hours a week to our relationship with God beyond what we’re used to doing. If you haven’t yet figured out what that means for you, take some time today to think about that and make some commitment for yourself this Lent. You might pick up one of these Stewardship of Time cards that are there on the table near our Baptismal Font and fill it out. You don’t need to hand it in to anyone. Just fill it out as your commitment to God, and keep it someplace where you’ll see it from time to time, just to remind you.

I love our gospel today. Do you know that the Church has used this gospel for the first Sunday of Lent ever since we’ve had Lent – since the 5th century. Lent started out as time preparation and penance just for the catechumens – those unbaptized adults who were getting themselves ready to enter the Christian community at Easter time. And the wider community saw that at Easter, there was a pure joy and radiance that came from them, a New Life that was so obvious and so wonderful, and they thought “Wow, I’d like to experience that too.” And so Lent became a special time for the whole community. It’s a spiritual journey we’re all called to.

And this gospel is a perfect one for us at the beginning of our Lenten journey. In fact, this gospel event took place at the beginning of Jesus’ journey. Our gospel says that he came from the Jordan – it was right after his baptism by John, when he has heard the voice of the Father over him, and he’s filled with the Spirit. The metaphor is perfect – Lent is like going into the desert. And it should not be a time of dread; the Holy Spirit leads Jesus there, not the devil. We might say the desert is a place of purification, of letting go of what is extraneous, of getting to the heart of things. And there in the desert, Jesus was tempted about what how his power should be used. That’s one reason why, down through the centuries, this gospel has been so very valuable for people to ponder. Why those particular temptations? What did they mean? What are today’s temptations?

One of the classic reflections on this gospel takes place in the book, the Brothers Karamazov, by Dostoyevsky. It’s the passage about the Grand Inquisitor – you might google it for yourself; just type in the words “Grand Inquisitor” and you can find the story. The story is placed during the Spanish Inquisition, and the devil figure in the story says that these three temptations are about miracle, mystery, and authority.

Notice that these temptations are not obviously about good and evil. Sometimes we think about temptation as a matter of moral weakness. And that certainly can be true – an alcoholic is tempted to drink, a compulsive gambler is tempted to wager, a lazy person is tempted by idleness. And all of us have areas of weakness in our lives where we are forced to fight battles with temptation. But we need to go a step further and recognize that temptation can also come in areas of our strength. In fact, I think that we are more frequently and more severely tempted in those places where we are strong. All of the temptations of Jesus were aimed at his power. Now, I don’t think any of us would think of comparing our own power with his – but I am saying that we also do have strong areas, and we shouldn’t deny that. In fact, I’d like us all to focus our minds for these next few minutes on our own powers. We all have some – in fact, here are two symbols of our powers [lift up my “props”] – our calendar and our checkbook. What are we doing with our power, and how are we using it? I don’t have time this morning to take each temptation – I’m going to start with the first, but I invite you to do that with temptations II and III on your own.

That first temptation I’d like to call the temptation to use our own powers for our own purposes. The devil waits until Jesus has been fasting for forty days, and tempts him to use his power to satisfy his personal hunger. There’s no obvious evil that Jesus is being tempted to do! And most of us are faced every day with choices on how to use our abilities, our gifts, our position in life, our wealth… choices about our gifts. And these may be choices between a multitude of things that all seem fine – no obvious evil that we can see. We’re faced every day with temptations to use our power for ourselves – for our own comfort or advantage. Jesus in his temptation comes to an understanding about his mission – that his powers are for pointing the world to a different food that will feed their deepest hungers, a relationship with God. How do we use our powers?

You know, I’ve thought about this so many times, at different stages in my life. When I was young, with far more energy than I have now, I had so many wonderful things I wanted to do. How does one decide, as a young person, what paths to take? What school to go to, what job or profession to follow. How do we make those choices? How do we use those powers? Is there a place for prayer, a place for putting those things before God?

And as a young man I met many very attractive young women. How does one choose the right one? How does one choose to use the power to love? Ooh, that’s a great question! But I admit, so often for me there was the temptation to love someone who loved me. Wanting to be loved is natural, and very human. But I have to tell you, it’s so wonderful to be married for all these years to someone who was good, who wasn’t afraid to push me to grow, someone who had ideals that made me a better person. I know, it also helps that she loves me too.

And now that my children are pretty much on there own – my youngest is ready to graduate from UW this spring – it’s a time of change for me – so I find I’m at another point where I’m pondering -- how to use my God-given powers.

That’s a question for any age in life, but it isn’t always so dramatic. In fact, it’s an everyday question, our routines and habits. Do I exercise my body? What do I eat? Do I take my morning crossword puzzle fix and am I cranky if someone interrupts me during my crossword puzzle fix?

If I’m a student, what are my study habits? If I have a job, what are my work habits? How do I use my everyday powers with the people I meet? Am I fair? Do I lift people up or bring them down? Am I too much in a hurry? Do I fill my time so much that there’s too little time left for the most important things – Gratitude – Love – Prayer?

These aren’t usually questions of obvious good and evil. But if we are always used to looking at our daily life as ways for us to use our own power for our own purposes – then when those big questions come up, we’ll usually look at them the same way. How do we use our powers?

That’s a crucial question for us, whatever powers God has given us. It might not seem to be an obvious question of good and evil, right and wrong. And it wasn’t for Jesus either, was it?

Have a good Lent.

Deacon Denny Duffell