Yesterday morning’s San Francisco Chronicle reported that the mayor of the city had an adulterous relationship with his campaign manager’s wife. The campaign manager, quite justifiably, resigned after finding out about the affair, which took place a couple of years ago. The pastor of our church said that he felt sorry for the mayor. I think the more appropriate reaction is controlled anger.
As in the case of Bill Clinton a decade ago, this adultery will erode both public morality and confidence in government. Marriage at its base is a covenant between two people to be faithful to and supportive of one another. Any adultery is scandalous as it gives tacit encouragement to others to break these marriage promises. But it is more harmful if the people involved are well-known since more people will be nudged toward infidelity. Also, public officials are elected partly because of their character, i.e., the conformity of their actions to their beliefs. When they act contrary to their oaths in private matters, they may be suspected of infringing upon their commitments in public matters. Thus, people will lose trust in government to look judiciously after the common good.
We sometimes use the term “die of shame,” but the words have lost their meaning. Of course, one does not literally die of shame, but in better times when people were caught acting irresponsibly, they might have removed themselves from public view. We can expect an apology from the mayor. He will mean, of course, that he is sorry to have been found out. He will not die of shame and, who knows, might even seek re-election after claiming the affair an indiscretion that won’t happen again. But this stance is hardly sufficient. It would be much more helpful if the mayor resign from office immediately. Such humility would signify to everyone not only the importance of keeping one’s word but also a respect for public service. It would also indicate that the mayor retains at least a modicum of character.
Homilette for thursday, February 1, 2007
(Hebrews 12)
Ken Untener was the bishop of Saginaw, Michigan. His episcopacy was legendary. For a long time he refused to have a permanent residence; rather, he would circulate around the different parishes of his diocese staying in their rectories in order to get to know the people. He not only preached well, but he also memorized the gospel – sometimes giving his homily as a few comments before a dramatic recitation of the gospel by heart. Bishop Untener also gave workshops to priests on preaching around the country. He told them that their homilies should not last longer than four minutes. Why only four minutes? Because, he said, Mass in a Catholic church has much that speaks to the people besides the homily. The readings themselves are often self-evident. The stained glass windows tell their stories. The hymns relate a message. The prayers convey much meaning.
The Letter to the Hebrews today refers to of the Christian liturgical assembly – what we call the Mass. Like Bishop Untener’s description, it speaks of it as a setting of peace and light. It is where, most of all, we meet Christ who comes to save us, not to condemn us. The Christian assembly differs dramatically from the Hebrew assembly in the desert. That was a terrifying experience where God had to soften and shape an unruly lot. We can be grateful that we were not part of it.
I know that I am speaking to the choir, but even we can grow weary of Mass. It is possible – better people than we have done it – that one Sunday we just not come and then allow that irregularity to become the norm. It would be a tragic mistake worse than riding in a car with bad brakes. It is not that everyone in church is a saint, but here we come to remind ourselves that sainthood is our destiny. Even more importantly, here we hear the Word of God and receive His nourishment so that we may become what we are destined to be.
Ken Untener was the bishop of Saginaw, Michigan. His episcopacy was legendary. For a long time he refused to have a permanent residence; rather, he would circulate around the different parishes of his diocese staying in their rectories in order to get to know the people. He not only preached well, but he also memorized the gospel – sometimes giving his homily as a few comments before a dramatic recitation of the gospel by heart. Bishop Untener also gave workshops to priests on preaching around the country. He told them that their homilies should not last longer than four minutes. Why only four minutes? Because, he said, Mass in a Catholic church has much that speaks to the people besides the homily. The readings themselves are often self-evident. The stained glass windows tell their stories. The hymns relate a message. The prayers convey much meaning.
The Letter to the Hebrews today refers to of the Christian liturgical assembly – what we call the Mass. Like Bishop Untener’s description, it speaks of it as a setting of peace and light. It is where, most of all, we meet Christ who comes to save us, not to condemn us. The Christian assembly differs dramatically from the Hebrew assembly in the desert. That was a terrifying experience where God had to soften and shape an unruly lot. We can be grateful that we were not part of it.
I know that I am speaking to the choir, but even we can grow weary of Mass. It is possible – better people than we have done it – that one Sunday we just not come and then allow that irregularity to become the norm. It would be a tragic mistake worse than riding in a car with bad brakes. It is not that everyone in church is a saint, but here we come to remind ourselves that sainthood is our destiny. Even more importantly, here we hear the Word of God and receive His nourishment so that we may become what we are destined to be.
Reflection for Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Making Moral Decisions
Today a typical moral dilemma arose when I was trying to screw on the protective shield under my car. The last screw that I had would not tighten. I did not want to leave it loose because it might fall out and become a minor road hazard. Once I caught a similar screw in my tire which required a repair.
But try as I might, it would not tighten. And it was difficult to maneuver since I was lying down without much room -- no more than a foot. What should I have done? Take the screw out of the hole and search for another? But I had already gone to a car repair and twice to a hardware store to find the screws that I had. Or should I have taken the chance that the screw would not come out? It was snug although I could not get it tight like the others.
The situation approximates many in our moral lives. We are not certain if what we do will cause harm. Perhaps it might, but perhaps we just worry too much! There was no one to check with. And the possible harm was not certain and probably not serious.
Finally, I let the screw stay where it was. I also said a prayer which should accompany any troubling decision. We pray that we do no harm and, as a corollary, that we are not deceiving ourselves. Tomorrow I will check to see if the screw held. I also might try replacing the simple screw with a screw and bolt. I think that my conscinece will allow me to sleep tonight.
Today a typical moral dilemma arose when I was trying to screw on the protective shield under my car. The last screw that I had would not tighten. I did not want to leave it loose because it might fall out and become a minor road hazard. Once I caught a similar screw in my tire which required a repair.
But try as I might, it would not tighten. And it was difficult to maneuver since I was lying down without much room -- no more than a foot. What should I have done? Take the screw out of the hole and search for another? But I had already gone to a car repair and twice to a hardware store to find the screws that I had. Or should I have taken the chance that the screw would not come out? It was snug although I could not get it tight like the others.
The situation approximates many in our moral lives. We are not certain if what we do will cause harm. Perhaps it might, but perhaps we just worry too much! There was no one to check with. And the possible harm was not certain and probably not serious.
Finally, I let the screw stay where it was. I also said a prayer which should accompany any troubling decision. We pray that we do no harm and, as a corollary, that we are not deceiving ourselves. Tomorrow I will check to see if the screw held. I also might try replacing the simple screw with a screw and bolt. I think that my conscinece will allow me to sleep tonight.
Homilette for Tuesday, January 30, 2007
(Mark 5)
The eminent psychologist Carl Rogers purportedly gave this breath-taking yet self-evident statistic, “One out of every one of us is hurting.” It is true. No one escapes suffering. Not only the poor and the sick need assistance. Conquerors of nations are sometimes insecure. And utterly beautiful women can worry if they are attractive.
Because pain pollutes the world like jet fuel the atmosphere around an airport, crowds besiege Jesus in the gospel today. Could he heal a sick child? Could he stop the chronic hemorrhaging of an impoverished woman? No doubt, he had a hundred similar requests as he steps across the sand. What would we add if we were there? Could he cure my cold? Could he lift me from depression?
Jesus generally takes note of our faith and grants our requests. At some point, however, he will have us stretch our faith into eternity. What we seek will not be immediately granted. We will die without experiencing a release from suffering. Then we will await his voice, “Little girl, arise” or “Little boy, arise.” And just like the twelve-year-old in the gospel, we will arise to a new world. We will be finally freed from all hurt and anxiety because Jesus will be fully present.
The eminent psychologist Carl Rogers purportedly gave this breath-taking yet self-evident statistic, “One out of every one of us is hurting.” It is true. No one escapes suffering. Not only the poor and the sick need assistance. Conquerors of nations are sometimes insecure. And utterly beautiful women can worry if they are attractive.
Because pain pollutes the world like jet fuel the atmosphere around an airport, crowds besiege Jesus in the gospel today. Could he heal a sick child? Could he stop the chronic hemorrhaging of an impoverished woman? No doubt, he had a hundred similar requests as he steps across the sand. What would we add if we were there? Could he cure my cold? Could he lift me from depression?
Jesus generally takes note of our faith and grants our requests. At some point, however, he will have us stretch our faith into eternity. What we seek will not be immediately granted. We will die without experiencing a release from suffering. Then we will await his voice, “Little girl, arise” or “Little boy, arise.” And just like the twelve-year-old in the gospel, we will arise to a new world. We will be finally freed from all hurt and anxiety because Jesus will be fully present.
Homilette for Monday, January 29, 2007
(Mark 5)
Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a German Protestant theologian who taught in the United States before World War II. When Bonhoeffer returned to Germany in the early 1930s, he found himself opposing the rule of the Nazis. Eventually, he was executed for taking part in a plot to kill Hitler. Before he died, he wrote a book called The Cost of Discipleship. In it the theologian explains that there is no such thing as cheap grace. Rather, it will cost one to be a Christian.
Some people are unwilling to pay the price. In the gospel today the Geresene townspeople show no interest in Jesus since he already cost them two thousand head of pigs. Too earnest businesspeople, they cannot appreciate Jesus’ restoring to sanity one of their townspeople, but only take note of their losses.
What does it cost us to follow Jesus? A half hour’s sleep in the morning? Maybe we have to eat our words rather than lash out at some perceived unfairness? Whatever it is, it is a bargain. What we expend is not ours to begin with, but a gift from God. What we receive, is eternal life – the joy of Jesus’ eternal companionship.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a German Protestant theologian who taught in the United States before World War II. When Bonhoeffer returned to Germany in the early 1930s, he found himself opposing the rule of the Nazis. Eventually, he was executed for taking part in a plot to kill Hitler. Before he died, he wrote a book called The Cost of Discipleship. In it the theologian explains that there is no such thing as cheap grace. Rather, it will cost one to be a Christian.
Some people are unwilling to pay the price. In the gospel today the Geresene townspeople show no interest in Jesus since he already cost them two thousand head of pigs. Too earnest businesspeople, they cannot appreciate Jesus’ restoring to sanity one of their townspeople, but only take note of their losses.
What does it cost us to follow Jesus? A half hour’s sleep in the morning? Maybe we have to eat our words rather than lash out at some perceived unfairness? Whatever it is, it is a bargain. What we expend is not ours to begin with, but a gift from God. What we receive, is eternal life – the joy of Jesus’ eternal companionship.
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