An Apostolate of Persons with Chronic Illness and/or Disability

- Fr. Lawrence Jagdfeld, O.F.M., Administrator

Sunday’s Gospel relates Jesus’ words as he continues his journey to Jerusalem.  He tells those who accompany him that they must be willing to “hate” father and mother, brother and sister, wife and children if they wish to be his disciples.  These words may come across very harshly as we hear them even though I am sure that we are familiar with these demands, the so-called costs of discipleship.

A better understanding can be gained if we put the words in context.  Immediately before this discourse, Jesus tells the story of a man who gave a great banquet.  The invited guests failed to come and offered various excuses: a new farm, a yoke of oxen, a new wife.  A banquet or meal in Luke’s is always a reference to the heavenly banquet at which we will be sit down to eat with God.  The invited guests are occupied with worldly possessions, concerns, and relationships and are unable to enter the banquet because of these distractions.  Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel, then, speak directly to the guests who are too busy with the concerns of the world.  In other words, Jesus is saying that if we wish to take a place at the heavenly banquet, we must pay the price of admission; namely, making our relationship to Jesus our highest priority. 

Our problem with these words may also be attributed to the use of the word “hate.”  Citizens of the Western World equate the words hate and love with emotions or emotional attachments.  In the Eastern World, the world in which Jesus lived, the words “love” and “hate” speak about action rather than emotion.  For these people loving someone means remaining loyal and united in a bond of mutual and reciprocal works and deeds that benefit them.  So we need to think of “prefer” rather than “love” and “defer” rather than “hate” in reading this passage.  In other words, we are to prefer our relationship to Jesus and make it our priority.

- Fr. Lawrence Jagdfeld, O.F.M., Administrator

The first two Scripture texts for this Sunday’s Mass give us an opportunity to listen to the prayers of two of the important figures of the Old Testament. 

The first reading comes to us from the Book of Wisdom, a text that was written by a man who lived in Alexandria, Egypt.  Being separated from his Jewish brethren, he was concerned about the effects of living in a culture and a society that worshipped many gods and goddesses rather than the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.  So he wrote his book as a way to bolster the faith of other Jews who, like him, lived far from the center of their religious life.  Much of his writing is characterized as the words and wisdom of Solomon. 

You will recall that in the First Book of Kings, chapter three, Solomon asks God for the gift of wisdom.  God grants his request and rewards him with wealth, long life, and victory over his enemies as well.  The writer of the Book of Wisdom writes the actual prayer of Solomon in chapter nine, verses one through eighteen.  Part of that prayer forms the first reading for Sunday’s Mass. 

You will notice that Solomon reflects on the limitations of the human person and his dependence upon God.  This is the real wisdom of Solomon.  He is in a “right relationship” with God because he realizes that without God, he, the King of Israel, is helpless. 

The response to the first reading comes from Psalm 90.  The Bible records that this is a prayer of Moses.  It echoes the very same thoughts that Solomon prays.  Without God, human life is like the grass that withers and fades. 

The world was set a buzz recently by the writings of Stephen Hawkings who recently published his contention that the physical laws of the universal were enough to create the universe, that the universe did not need God, that it would have come into existence without God.  Of course, Mr. Hawkings is entitled to his own opinion.  Indeed, Mr. Hawkings is not the only person in this world who has been able to dismiss God from his or her life as unnecessary.  Science has advanced the theory that the Biblical notion of creation is without merit.  However, for people of faith, the question is already answered.  Even if the universe would have come about through the natural function of the laws of physics, God was and is the Supreme Being who put those laws in place in the beginning.

The issue, however, is not about who created what.  The issue is and always has been one of admitting that we are the creatures, not the Creator.  Try as we might, we cannot make ourselves divine.  Adam ate the fruit of the tree of good and evil because he was tempted to be like God.  Ever since Adam sinned, the human family has been trying to eliminate God from the equation.  Our response: In every age, O God, you have been our refuge.

- Fr. Lawrence Jagdfeld, O.F.M., Administrator

St. Paul continues with his discussion of ministers of the Gospels as servants.  The argument within the community of Corinth seems to revolved around personalities.  The disciples were split depending upon who had baptized them, Paul or Cephas or Apollos.  Paul is making the assertion that it is not the minister of the sacrament that matters but the object and purpose of the sacrament itself.

Paul calls himself a steward of the mysteries, a servant.  His perspective leads us to the figure of servant leadership, the person who leads by example, an example given by service to the community.  Consequently, he feels secure in his role because he does not fear the ramifications of human judgement.

Decisions are a necessary part of life, and well made decisions come from making sound judgements.  However, when judgements are made about other persons, we pass into a realm that is reserved for God and God alone.  We can make judgements about outward behavior and turn away from such behaviors, but it is God’s prerogative to judge the individual.

The difference between human judgement and divine judgement is clear.  The pattern of God’s justice (based upon God’s judgement) is mercy and compassion.  All too frequently, the pattern of human judgement is about control and exacting satisfaction.  Control and satisfaction have no place in the life of the Christian who has religuished control of one’s life to God.  Our satisfaction comes in knowing that God loves us and we love God. 

When we read today’s Gospel, we see human judgement at work.  The scribes and the Pharisees are judgemental of the behavior of Jesus’ disciples.  They are losing control of the multitude which is turning to Jesus.  So they criticize the behavior of the disciples; in this case, the lack of fasting.  Jesus counters their criticism by putting it in the perspective of the heaven bridegroom and the banquet that we shall enjoy together. 

Simply said, there simply is no place for judgements, rash or otherwise, in the mentality of the Christian.

- Fr. Lawrence Jagdfeld, O.F.M., Administrator

One of the most persistent human questions is “Why?”  The question betrays our human response to the vagaries of the world and nature.  Why were some of the poorest people in the world, the citizens of Haiti, the victims of a terrible earthquake?  Why did a man enter the offices of the Discovery Channel, hold three people hostage, only to be shot by a SWAT sniper?  Why does cancer strike little children?  We seek the answer to the question “Why?” because we need a reason, a rationale, an explanation.

Being reasonable is a character trait that we esteem.  We value and respect people who act reasonably.  We approve of actions that are in keeping with a reasonable approach, that provide us with a rational foundation for behavior.  However, when it comes to God and our quest for holiness, human reason takes a back seat to divine foolishness.

Peter was a fisherman.  He knew that the best time to catch fish was during the night.  The daylight hours were the reasonable time for washing nets and preparing for the next foray out into the waves.  Jesus asks him to cast his nets over the side during the day.  He acquiesces despite the fact that it is not really a reasonable request.  He reaps a rich reward when his nets are filled with fish.

God asked Jesus to suffer and die on a cross in reparation for the sins of the human family, hardly a reasonable request.  Yet because Jesus looked beyond the normal human rationale and accepted God’s will, we have inherited eternal life and access to God.

The cross is unreasonable.  Chronic illness and disability are unreasonable.  Pain and suffering are unreasonable.  However, although they appear to be the height of unreasonable expectations, our faith teaches us that bearing these unreasonable crosses qualify, in the words of St. Paul, as divine foolishness which is greater than human wisdom.  When it comes to God, the question “Why” should always be replaced with “Why not?”

- Fr. Lawrence Jagdfeld, O.F.M., Administrator

St. Paul spent more time in Corinth than in any of the many other places he visited in the course of his missionary journeys.  Some speculate that he spent as much as a year there as he brought the Gospel to them and organized the Christian community.  When he moved on to the next place of his endeavors, he did so hoping that the Corinthians would be able to withstand the assaults on their faith that would come from the environment of Corinth, a large and multicultural city.

Sadly, Corinth encounted many difficulties, many of which are chronicled in St. Paul’s first letter to the Church of Corinth.  Factions had grown within the community and were tearing it apart.  As is often the case when such factions develop, they identified themselves with a particular person.  Today’s reading from the letter reveals that some of the people identified themselves as belonging to Paul, others to Apollos.  Apparently Apollos was the leader or pastor of the community.  St. Paul had left him there to foster the growth of the community.

Of course, St. Paul’s argument is that neither he nor Apollos are responsible for the growth of the community.  Rather he points the attention of the Corinthians toward the One in whom they believe, Jesus. 

Before we say that this kind of bickering and infighting is rather silly, it might behoove us to look at our own situation.  Many is the pastor who has found himself challenged by the memory of his predecessor.  Some bishops have made it a part of diocesan policy that a priest may not return to a former parish for at least six months to a year after they have been transferred.  Some parishioners tend to attach themselves to the personality of the priest rather than to the faith which he teaches.  Others tend to “collect” them like so many trophies on the mantlepiece.  These people fail to remember that the priest is simply the minister, the servant of God’s word.

In a distantly related instance, I have often heard people bragging that they never receive the Eucharist except from an ordained priest, eschewing the sacrament rather than receiving it from an extraordinary minister.  These people are similar to those mentioned above in that they have confused the minister with the sacrament.  The Eucharist is effective in and of itself and is not dependent upon the minister for the graces which it bestows.

Our focus and that of our faith communities must be Jesus Christ.  Jesus is the first and the last, the alpha and the omega, the one who died that we might live.

- Fr. Lawrence Jagdfeld, O.F.M., Administrator

As we continue to read from chapter four of St. Luke’s Gospel, we hear of the people of Capernaum and their reaction to Jesus.  As we read this episode, it is important to remember the reaction of the people of Nazareth.  (One of the unfortunate things about reading the Gospels in tiny pieces is that we sometimes miss the continuing development of the story.)  Whereas Jesus caused resentment in the hearts of the people of Nazareth, the people of Capernaum seem to react in a different manner.  Their amazement prompts them to spread the news about Jesus.

What is the difference here?  It is not in Jesus.  Jesus did not alter his mission because of the negative reaction he received in Nazareth.  No, the difference was in the “eyes of the beholder.”  The people of Capernaum were able to see Jesus in a different perspective.  He was not the carpenter’s son to these men and women.  In Capernaum, they were able to see Jesus with the eyes of faith.

St. Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians speaks to this different perspective when he distinguishes between the person of the worldly spirit and the person of the Godly spirit.  It is a matter of perception.  We look at the world, one might say, through a different lens when we possess the Spirit of Jesus. 

It would be good for us to practice this kind of perception in our own lives.  If we were totally honest, most of us would admit that our lives are rather routine and “hum-drum.”  Perhaps we even go through the motions of our daily routine without much thought.  However, what can seem routine and ordinary to the eyes of the world could be an opportunity for spiritual growth in the practice of Gospel virtue with the eyes of faith.  Any event in our day, no matter how pedestrian it might be, can become an opportunity for spiritual growth if we simply ask ourselves how a person of the Spirit would react to this situation. 

With practice, this can become a rather routine way for us to view life.  It is, in fact, what separates the saints from the crowd.  An example that is close to the heart of every Franciscan is the experience of Francis and the leper.  For most of his early life, Francis avoided lepers out of fear and loathing.  However, once he looked at the leper through the perspective of the Holy Spirit, they became a source of sweetness for him.  No longer did he fear the stench and the sight of open sores.  He saw rather what the balm of his charity could do for the leper.

CUSA offers us the same opportunity.  While the world may look at chronic illness and disability as a “handicap,” CUSANS are urged to look at them as an opportunity for sacrifice, sacrifice which will continue to improve the world in which we live.

- Fr. Lawrence Jagdfeld, O.F.M., Administrator

We have reached the point in our liturgical year when we begin to read from the last of the Gospels as they appear in the weekday Lectionary for Mass, the Gospel of St. Luke.  Once again we will traverse St. Luke’s landscape and retelling of the story of Jesus, looking at Jesus through the eyes of a Gentile, an outsider. 

That perspective begins in the synagogue of Nazareth.  St. Luke places the scroll of the prophet Isaiah in the hands of Jesus and identifies him as the Messiah.  From the very beginning Jesus experiences rejection as the people of Nazareth take offense at the idea of a carpenter’s son being the one sent by God, the one written of by Moses, the one whose coming was foretold by the prophets.  St. Luke begins with this rejection to open our eyes to the plight of the outsider, those shunned because they were not “chosen.”  Jesus comes to preach good news to the poor, to lift up the blind, the captives, the oppressed, all of those who have been left out.  In Biblical terms they are called the “remnant.” 

It goes without saying that in many ways, this is the Gospel which best describes the experience of people with chronic illness and/or disability.  It is through this Gospel that we come to know Jesus, the compassion of God.  It is through this Gospel that we come to know the God who embraces the people that society would rather forget.  St. Luke portrays Jesus as the proverbial “man for all seasons.”  Jesus eats with sinners and Pharisees, with Gentiles and Jews, the high and the low.  In sitting down to table with them, he welcomes them into his inner circle.  Those who had been on the outside are now allowed access.

This Gospel is also sometimes called the Gospel of prayer as it presents us with Jesus at prayer more than the others.  It is therefore important that we approach the Gospel prayerfully so that we will be open to the message that it conveys lest we, like the people of Nazareth, take offense at this Jesus.

- Fr. Lawrence Jagdfeld, O.F.M., Administrator

For most of us the situation in today’s Gospel passage is somewhat difficult to envision.  When we go to banquets or receptions, we usually locate our place by searching the place cards on the table.  Sometimes all of the place cards are found at the door with a number printed on them to direct us to the table where we are supposed to sit.  Obviously, this was not the case in the society and culture of the Middle East during Jesus’ time.

Table fellowship and table behavior was a serious business in Jesus’ time.  There were several rules that one followed.  First of all, one did not eat with people unless they were of the same cultural or societal level.  Eating with someone was a statement about respect, honor, and about relationship.  If people of different walks of life were invited to a banquet, they were served in separate rooms and served food appropriate to their station in life.  The host ate only with those whom he considered equals. 

Secondly, people did not sit at table.  They reclined on their sides with their feet as far away from the food as possible.  Tables were almost always “U” shaped, with the banqueters lying on the outside of the “U” and the waiters serving within the space created by the three abutting tables.  Other servants would stand on the outside where they would wash the feet of the banqueters.  (We have heard other stories and sayings about foot washing in the Gospels.)

The host would lie in the middle of the group and the guests would be positioned on either side of him, the most important being as close to the host as possible.  Jesus uses a line straight out of the Book of Proverbs when he tells the people to take a seat at the lower end of the table.  Any good Jew would have already heard this proverb, so he was telling them nothing new.  However, he goes on from there with a completely revolutionary concept.

After telling the group to take the lower part of the table, Jesus turns his attention to the host and tells the host to invite beggars, cripples, and people who were unable to repay the invitation.  This also reflects a fact of daily life in the Middle East.  If you were invited to eat with someone, it was expected that you would return the invitation.  Saying “thank you” to your host was done by inviting him to your table.  Words of gratitude were not enough.  One had every expectation of being invited to the home of one’s guests as a repayment.  So Jesus is offering some advice here that would have been considered social suicide.  First of all, the host would not get his repayment.  Secondly, if he invited such people, others would refuse his invitation in the future.  (We have also heard Gospel stories of people who did not attend the banquet even though they had been invited.)

This story is peculiar to St. Luke’s Gospel.  It does not appear in the other three Gospels.  It is another example of a prevalent theme that continually appears in the writing of St. Luke; namely, the theme of the great reversal.  The first shall be last and the last shall be first.  Whenever a banquet scene appears in the Gospel, as it does frequently in the Gospel of St.  Luke, it is a story that looks forward to the heavenly banquet.  Jesus is teaching us what things will be like when he returns.  St. Luke almost “hammers” this theme into our heads at every opportunity.  It is obvious that for him, it is a most important theme.  Of course it would be for him since he was a Gentile, not one of the “chosen people.”  He pulls no punches in letting us know that God’s “choices” usually run counter to our expectations.

- Fr. Lawrence Jagdfeld, O.F.M., Administrator

Late  have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved you!  You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you.  (From the Confessions of St. Augustine)

Today the Church remembers one of its great theologians, St. Augustine of Hippo.  His “Confessions” is still considered one of the seminal works of Christian literature even though it was written thousands of years ago.  His life story reveals one of the great Biblical truths of our faith; namely, God’s mercy knows no boundaries or time limits.  It also bears witness to the fact that God chooses the least likely person to be great so that we understand that it is only through God’s gracious gift that we are saved. 

The quotation with which I started tells us yet another truth.  God dwells within the sinner as well as within the just person.  St. Augustine found God within himself after years of searching for him outside of himself.  We usually think of the sinner, especially the abject sinner, as being far away from the grace of God.  Yet the truth is that God’s love knows no such boundaries.  God loves us because we are God’s children, not because we deserve to be loved.  A story that I once heard illustrates this like no other. 

As the Israelites were coming ashore after having crossed through the Red Sea and after seeing the Egyptian army destroyed, they found God sitting on a rock near the seashore.  God was weeping.  The Israelites could not understand why God was so sad as they had just been saved by God’s power.  “Why do you weep, Mighty One.  We are safe; we are free from slavery.”  God answered through his sobs: “Do you not understand that the Egyptians were also my children?” 

“Late have I loved you, ever ancient, ever new.”  As I have reminded many a penitent, all good gifts come from God, even the gift of repentance.  We are able to express sorrow for our sins and to come to the knowledge of God’s mercy not through our own efforts but because God’s love for us makes it possible. 

- Fr. Lawrence Jagdfeld, O.F.M., Administrator

Both readings for today’s liturgy, a memorial for St. Monica, mother of St. Augustine, talk about being foolish.  In the first letter to the Corinthians, St. Paul speaks of the foolishness of God surpassing the wisdom of the world.  The Gospel brings us the story of the ten virgins, five of whom are called foolish.

The Gospel story is unique in that not one of the ten maidens is accused of having done anything wrong.  The five who ran out of oil did not sin.  Jesus does not condemn them for their actions.  Yet they are excluded from the wedding feast because they were not wise enough to plan for the possibility of the lateness of the bridegroom.  By the time St. Luke wrote his Gospel, many had begun to lose hope in the imminent return of Jesus.  Originally, the early Christian community believed that Jesus would return on the first anniversary of his resurrection.  As that year became two, and as two became ten, and as ten became forty, many in the community began to wane in their watchfulness.  St. Luke’s parable warns them not to become too complacent; in other words, too foolish.

St. Paul approaches the notion of foolishness from a different perspective.  He writes about the community at large who has come to look upon those who preach the Gospel as foolish.  They reasoned that an all powerful God would not allow human beings to execute him.  God would certainly not be so foolish as to place himself in the hands of those less powerful than he.  Yet St. Paul preaches the Gospel of Christ crucified, a Gospel which may seem to the world to be foolish, but which is wiser than all the human wisdom in the world.  God affirms the weakness of Jesus by raising him up from the dead. 

Both readings ask us to look at our own wisdom.  Are we still clinging to the notion that our disability is a punishment from God?  Are we allowing ourselves to be pulled into the world’s view that productivity is the measure of a person?  Are we still looking for the answer to the question “Why?”  If we are, then we are like the foolish maidens of the Gospel.  However, if we cling to our weaknesses as signs of God’s love and care for us, then we are like the fool who gave his life for others, the God who loves so deeply and faithfully that he did not deem the cross a sign of weakness but rather as an opportunity to show just how powerful God is.  This kind of foolishness will find us being called to the place of honor at the wedding feast to come.