A solitary tree atop a mountain rises
straight against a cloudless sky, and I remember
what the medieval painters would have seen:
a cross devoid of depth, flat from head to foot,
from nail to bloody nail, all lines of vision ending
in the innocent agony of a dying man.
We can’t say what they saw was mere distortion
(any serf knew well the depth of hill and sky);
nor can we say they saw no beauty in the world
(like us they loved lush color, reds and blues and yellows
split by smoke twisting up through icy air).
We can only say they knew too well the limits
of the flesh and caught on stark flat surfaces the truth
that haunts me now in the cold fields of November.
The title of my homily for this feast of the Apostles –
Simon and Jude – is, “Welcome! Does Anyone Here Know Me and My Name?”
That’s the theme that hit me from today’s readings.
The Gospel has Jesus calling 12 people by name.
They were nobodies till somebody named Jesus – called
them by name.
This unknown God – this unknown person named Jesus - went
up on a mountain in the night and prayed with his Father – all night - and when day came he called his disciples
around him and from them he chose 12 by name.
What was that like – to hear one’s name called – by Jesus?
What’s it like to hear Jesus call me by name? “Esther,
Edith, Eileen, Evelyn, Eddie, Edgerton” or whatever our name is.
The First Reading from Ephesians says
we are no longer strangers and sojourners – but we’re fellow citizens with the
holy ones and members of the household of God.
We’re part of the structure – the temple built upon the Apostles and
prophets – with Christ Jesus himself as the capstone.
And this temple – this church – is still being built. We’re
still in process.
Not bad – we Christians are connected – well connected
with each other – with Christ to cap us all off.
LONELY AND
ALL ALONE
Yet, in spite of all that, sometimes we feel all alone – not at home – out of
sorts - not connected with anyone –
anyone at all. Honestly, that’s how we feel at times.
Loneliness is not being alone – but feeling all alone.
Sometimes a person can be all by herself or himself – and
not feel lonely.
And as someone said, “Sometimes loneliness is being in a room full of people
and not knowing or being know by any one of them.”
To some the most important part of Mass is communion.
To some that means it’s just me – myself – and I – and
the bread – and the wine – and I don’t notice or know those in the benches – or
on the line – or with me in community.
To some communion means being in community – to be in
eyesight – [Spell:]EYESIGHT – as well as in I-sight –[Spell:] I-SIGHT – as well as
we-sight [Spell:]WE-SIGHT - with
the people right here with me in this church or in a room or house or work
space. They know me by name and some even know me – and when I come to worship
God – I come to be in communion with Jesus in the bread and in the body of the
bodies with me here in church.
I’m not just – just another me – I’m a we.
I’m connected.
We are the Body of Christ – member with member – Amen!
A COUPLE
A couple told me once, “I’ve been in the parish 8 years
now and no priest” – and then they added “Nobody ever really welcomed us.”
After that I try to say welcome from the pulpit and the
parking lot – in the back of church and in the corridor.
Once I said “Welcome!” to one lady. “Uh oh!” It seemed
she got ticked at me – as she said, “I’m been in this parish all my life.”
Sorry to say I hadn’t really seen her ever before.
That’s a lonely feeling when one thinks one just put
one’s foot in one’s mouth – or one feels the other doesn’t know where one is
coming from.
It’s nice to be known by name and by face – voice and
wrinkles – eye or eye brows – smile or scowl - and even more by glimpses of
one’s personality.
There’s an advantage to sitting in the same bench in
church when one comes to pray – and comes for communion. There’s also an
advantage in moving around and shaking hands in peace with those we don’t know.
Communion – community – connecting - connections –
feeling at home is the greatest of one’s richnesses.
And the opposite can be true. As Mother Teresa once put it, “Loneliness
is the most terrible poverty.”
CONCLUSION
Today is the feast of Saints Simon and Jude – two disciples
of Jesus – called by him by name.
I don’t know about you – but I fail regularly in not knowing
another’s name – as well as being welcoming.
I guess the challenge is to keep working on it and maybe
someone who feels like a hopeless case – will finally feel at home with others
– starting with us. Amen.
SEARCHING FOR _____?
Poem for Tuesday - October 28, 2014
YOU HAVE NO NAME
you have no name, no form
when satisfied, you’re like nothingness
when unhappy, you’re perceived as pain
in a breeze, a landscape
in memories snatches of melody, certain phrases
brief flowering and fading
blood and tears
the simple ocean, useless stars
and warm-bodied mammals
you are the beloved
you made and you shattered my soul
caused me to be born by chance in this world
to seek you out
and to die at last a willing death
