DAZZLING WHITE 

OR TERRIFYING DARKNESS?

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily for this 2nd Sunday in Lent, Year C, is, “Dazzling White or Terrifying Darkness?”

Today’s first reading and today’s gospel mention two realities: “Dazzling White or Terrifying Darkness?”

TWO SCENES, TWO SENTENCES

In today’s first reading - Genesis 15: 5-12, 17-18,  we have a very mysterious scene. 

We also have a mysterious sentence, “As the sun was about to set, a trance fell upon Abram, and a deep, terrifying darkness enveloped him.”

What was that like?

In today’s gospel - Luke 9: 28b-36 -  we have another mysterious moment.

We have these two sentences:  “Jesus took Peter, John and James and went up the mountain to pray. While he was praying his face changed in appearance and his clothing became dazzling white.”

What would that be like?

SOME QUESTIONS

Looking at our life, when have we had similar moments: moments of dazzling white and moments of terrifying darkness?

The birth of a child – a beautiful baby –   the death of a child?

The wedding - the divorce?

The getting of a job - the being fired or let go?

The game winning shot - the strike out or missing the extra point?

The walking the beach in a bathing suit at 18 and the walking the beach in a bathrobe at 78?

The honeymoon - the funeral of a spouse?

TRANSFIGURATION AND DISFIGURATION

The gospel scene is a transfiguration moment and the disciples say the obvious, “Master, it is good that we are here.” They want to pitch tents and stay there.

Of course, highs are nice. It sells fine wines, lottery tickets and café mocha or café latte. It’s nice when our team wins it all. It’s nice when all is going right – when all is dazzling bright. New cars have that smell and that dazzle – for a few weeks at least – and I imagine in a Hummer or a Mercedes or a Lexus, the high lasts much longer - at least to those of us on the sidewalk watching.

The Abram scene is a disfiguration moment – where Abram sees birds of prey swooping down and eating the animals of sacrifice.

Wow! Woo! An ugly scary scene.

Lows can disfigure our face. We walk into a room and people seeing us just know something is wrong. Somebody died. Someone got hurt. Something went wrong. Lows can devour our spirit like birds of prey swooping down and biting us.

Paradoxically, the first reading also gives a vision of great hope: God asks Abram to step out of his tent and “Look at the sky and count the stars, if you can.” Then God adds, “Just so shall your descendents be.”

And paradoxically, the gospel, after the moment of great light, there comes a great shadow.

So life is like that line we want to see on the monitor when we’re in the hospital. If it’s flat, we’re dead. Life is the ups and downs – mountains and valleys – highs and lows. Roller coasters are exciting because of their ups and downs – the morning train ride is flat and just another way to get to work.

Both readings, both scenes, leave those who experience them – in silence. The highs and lows of life have an aftertaste of silence.

I’ve noticed that literary people love George Eliot’s words from her novel, Middlemarch, “If we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel’s heartbeat, and we should die of that roar that lies on the other side of silence.” 

Isn’t that a great quote?

When we become silent, reflective, we get that. 

It's morning - early morning. We're on vacation with the kids and we get up ahead of everyone. We can hear that roar on the other side of silence when we are walking or simply sitting at the beach.

Or we’ve heard that roar on the other side of silence when we saw a dead squirrel on the street. Life ended horribly for the little furry creature. 

We’ll be hearing that roar again this spring – or anytime, if we garden or walk or look at the night sky or morning sunrise or fish or kayak or rollerblade or listen to classical music or read a good novel or paint or sit in the mall or airports or downtown Annapolis and watch the world in progress.

LENT AND SILENCE

Obviously, one of the things to do in Lent is to fast from talking and fasten the mouth shut – and listen. 

Be quiet and hear God. Be quiet and hear each other. Be quiet and hear one’s own heart. Hear what’s on the other side of silence.

I am an advocate of walking prayer – no iPods – no music – just quiet walking. Watch. See. Listen. God is a mighty roar on the other side of silence.

Quiet Waters Park – the Naval Academy – your neighborhood – the mall – a treadmill – where do you walk?

Lent is a time to listen – to life’s great mysteries.

Last week Jesus took us into the desert.

This week Jesus takes us up into a mountain.

Next week we’re going to hear about a garden where there was a fig tree that wasn’t producing figs.

The fourth week in Lent, we’re going to go to a house where there were two sons and an extraordinary father – and the younger son leaves home and everyday the father looks down the road for his return – while the oldest son is furious - because his dad isn't noticing him and all that he's doing.

The fifth week in Lent, we’re going to go to the Mount of Olives and we’re going to be there for a fascinating scene where a woman is dragged before Jesus by men holding stones to kill her – because she was caught in adultery. Were they scared she might talk? Or were they using her in hopes they could kill the silent roar called Jesus?

Then the following Sunday we’re going to reach Palm Sunday and Holy Week, which begins with Jesus having a great high – the crowd screaming, “Hosanna in the highest!” but by the end of that week he’s in deep darkness – especially on Good Friday afternoon when all the lights went out.

Dazzling light and terrifying darkness is the stuff of Lent and life.

CONCLUSION

There’s an interesting word in today’s first reading that gives an image that can pull this all together. Maybe. Or maybe it’s too far fetched. You be the judge.

The word is, “enveloped”. It’s in that sentence I quoted at the beginning of this homily. “As the sun was about to set, a trance fell upon Abram, and a deep, terrifying darkness enveloped him.”

I accidentally pronounced “enveloped” “nvelope”.

Maybe much of our life feels like we’re in a sealed envelope – that’s dark inside – being sent all over the place. We’re inside. We’re in the dark about what’s really happening in life.  And every once and a while, it’s good to step aside – to slit open the envelope and see what’s inside – to read the contents of the letter called me.

Lent is one of those moments – to hear – “you’ve got mail” and to find a quiet place to open up and read our letter, our story to ourselves – where we’ve been and to check the address on the front of the envelope – to see where we’re headed. Amen. Is it the right address?

TWO  MINUTE  HOMILY: 

LAST WEEK, THE DESERT,  

THIS WEEK THE MOUNTAIN  

Last week we went through the First Week of Lent.

The Sunday gospel brought us into the desert with Jesus and with Jesus we dealt with or at least looked at the devil and our demons - especially our 3 top demons and destructive temptations and tendencies. They differ with different people. But if we put the Lord our God - first - as our first choice - then we can deal with desert moments in our life - moments when we feel alone or deserted or burnt out.

This Sunday - as we enter into the Second Week of Lent - we find ourselves on a mountain - which is much different than a desert.

We need both types of moments. 

This week let’s look at big picture moments - mountain moments in our lives - family celebrations - anniversaries - Thanksgivings - Christmases - vacations - weekends - when we say what Peter said, “Lord it is good we are here!”

This week let’s look at not just our struggles, our temptations, but also our highlights - but like last week - to see Jesus in these moments.

This week let’s picture ourselves - with a big picture - with mountain top view - and hear God our Father say to us about Jesus in our life, “This is my chosen Son; listen to him.”

February 21, 2016

QUIRKS

Ask a friend, someone you trust,

if they see any quirks in you.

What?

Yeah, ask someone - someone you trust -

if they see any interesting quirks in you?

Why would anyone ever want to do that?

Well, maybe it might open up a few doors

or windows to what’s going on in you.

As to asking yourself about your own quirks,

I’m not so sure about that. Quirks are all

about traits, peculiarities, others see in us.

Like tap, tap, tap with our teeth when nervous.

Like pulling an ear lobe when so and so speaks.

Like yawning every other time when I speak.

Like going "hummm?" when turning door knobs.

Like adjusting the rear view mirror every time

your beloved is about to start the car. Every time.

Quirks?  Some are funny. Some obnoxious.

Some unique. Some strange - very strange.

Quirks? Be kind to me. This is the real me inside

me; sometimes I get nervous about what’s next.

    

© Andy Costello, Reflections 2016

February 20, 2016

BUZZ

A fly just buzzed me -

coming out of nowhere.

What’s he doing around

here in February?

Why didn’t he fly south

like everyone else and

avoid this cold winter?

I don’t read horoscopes,

but is there any other

buzz  I’m in for?

February needs all

the surprises it can give.

© Andy Costello, Reflections 2016

February 19, 2016

DRAINED

I see people that drain me as

I cross the threshold of a room.

Inwardly comes an, “Oh no!”

Obviously, I don’t like all this.
Obviously, I don’t voice this.

Obviously, I move to a wall.

Questions: Why? Why? Why?

Does anyone else feel this way? 

Maybe I'm a pain and drain others?

© Andy Costello, Reflections 2016

February 18, 2016

“GOTCHA”

I hope I catch myself if I start to play

the game called, “Gotcha”. Why would

anyone do that to another? Why can’t

we simply say, “I don’t know!” or “I rather

not answer that.” I suppose if someone

said either of those comments, then the

other would smile and think, “Gotcha!” 

What I like about Jesus and his Father 

and their Spirit is that our God is not 

a “Gotcha God”, but a “Hold me God.”

© Andy Costello, Reflections 2016

HARD WIRED 

FOR TRANSCENDENCE

The title of my thoughts on this occasion of St. Mary’s Junior’s Ring Ceremony is, “Hard Wired for Transcendence.”[1]

I have heard that phrase before - but I never took the time to spell it  out for myself.

If St. Mary’s doesn’t spell this out - we’re in trouble.

Maybe - but then again - maybe not ….

Not if it’s true that we’re hardwired for transcendence.

I’m assuming everyone is hardwired to get what’s going on when it comes to rings.

Hardwired….

It comes from the world of electronics - where circuit boards - or computer chips are hardwired to do certain things - and do them every time with that particular circuit board or chip. That’s what we’re buying - when we buy that circuit board or chip or hard drive.

Applications can be added on to the basic hard drive and machine.

“Hardwired” is spelled as one word, or one two words hyphenated - having that little dash between the hard and the wired, or simply two words.

Then it’s metaphorically transferred to humans. Are all humans hardwired to speak, to laugh, to love, to grow, to want to learn, to explore, and to unravel the universe?

Bees are hard wired to fly, to buzz, to gather honey, Different birds are hard wired to make a certain pattern of chirps.

The title of my reflection here is: “Hard Wired for Transcendence.”

Transcendence - looking up - seeing the invisible in the visible - seeing the divine in the vine. Surprise water is changed into wine every day.

Seeing surprise. Seeing God in the birds of the air - 1000 swallows over a winter field on the road to Ocean City.  Blue Angell pilots can only envy what they can do.  Did you ever see through your front windshield three flocks merge into one and come out the other side three flocks again. How do they know.

Transcendence - trans across - ascent - up - climbing up - needed, celebrated, appreciated - especially when we’re down.

The plane takes off from BWI - runs like an athlete down the runway and then leaps and jumps into the sky - carrying the crowd with it.

Today we’re thinking about rings.

There is a world of difference between a ring in a jewelry store window and a ring on a finger.

There is a world of difference between a ring on a finger and it’s lost and it’s looked for and it’s found a month later. There is a world of difference between a newlyweds wedding ring and a grandparents wedding ring.

Have you ever seen a widow wearing her husband’s wedding ring on a gold chain around her neck?  If she’s your mom or aunt or grandmother look at it and say, “Tell me the story!”

Transcendence, takes us beyond the visible.

Transcendence leads us to story.

Transcendence leads us to awe, oooh, wow. woo moments.

We’re hard wired for transcendence.

So simply savor today - the simplicity and the sacredness of the moment.

Twist your ring around and around and around - and let it take you through the years ahead. Amen.

NOTE

[1] I noticed this phrase "hard wired for transcedence in a letter by Moira T Carley in the British magazine, The Tablet, page 17, August 8, 2015. Here's the Letter in its entirety, 

Heaney's instinct for grace

I am grateful for Eamon Duffy’s words on the Catholic imagination of Seamus Heaney. (“All God and no religion”, 27 June).  A friend introduced me to Heaney’s poetry in the 1980’s when he was teaching at Harvard and I was a student there. My doctoral work was to apply Canadian philosopher theologian Bernard Lonergan’s thought on learning to the practice of teaching. It was a tough slog but I did it - thanks to the poetry of Heaney which often became my ballast reading, nourishing my imagination after a tough day with Lonergan. I understood that both men were coming from the same conviction that all humans are hard wired for transcendence. I also understood that the inevitability of form needs both creative expressions. Later, I was able to pass on this insight to many of my university students.

I finally met Heaney in person in 2002 in Montreal. When I thanked him for writing: “whatever is given can be re-imagined”, he twinkled this reply: “I kinda like that one myself.” Reading Duffy’s words crediting Heaney's poetic expression of events “that catch the heart off guard and blow it open” as “as eloquent an utterance as we are likely to have about the meaning of what a Christian might call the work of grace” reminded me of something Lonergan wrote. “The experience of grace … is the experienced of a transformation one did not bring about but rather underwent … as it lets one’s circumstances shift, one dispositions change, new encounters occur, and - so gently and quietly - one’s heart be touched.”