Happy Father’s Day and God bless you fathers and grandfathers in your care of family life. Of all the many blessings in my life-the title I am most humbled by is “Father.” It is also a bit intimidating since there are so many levels of meaning and responsibility. I may not always merit such trust as being called father as sometimes I let people down, or people may not agree with my theology, spirituality, or decisions I make—can’t imagine that!
But, I thank you for spiritual trust you place in me and the sacrifices you have made for your faith: your love of the Lord and time you give to participate in parish ministries and activities that bring hope and comfort. Thank you for your many acts of kindness and care that I am blessed to witness you offer to others with compassion and love.
I am humbled to be a spiritual father and deeply aware that any good I do or have done is not mine – but from the Lord. He alone helps us as a faith family. Last Sunday I met with a mother whose son had committed suicide the week before. I had not seen her since her sister’s-in-law death some years ago; she had moved to Fairfield. We met to plan her son’s service and like so many who struggle with “where is God…or how God could let this happen…” she sought guidance, and most importantly comfort from her Church and priest. Suicide, in my experience, is the worst form of death in that the entire family goes through guilt, shame, blame and really can’t reach the “normal” process for grief and bereavement as with other forms of death. At the end of our time together, the mother said “I don’t know how anyone could get through life without faith—especially during such intense suffering, but my faith is shaken and rocked to the core!”
It is during such experiences of being overcome with pain we crash up against the terrifying challenge of ‘where is God in all this suffering?’ Often such feelings come with an absolute sense of having no control. We can quickly deflate and become paralyzed, or enraged, or take drastic steps against our religion/God, and even close family members. Surrendering to God during such times can take quite a while, and some never reach such a spiritual place of surrender.
What helped the mother reach the humility of surrender was the spiritual confirmation that she had done her best to provide her son with love, a life of faith witness, and did her best to reflect Christ in her life. It was the core of family love. Accepting and believing that God sees her as a loving mother doing the best she could also brought her answer to an earlier question she asked. It was her biggest fear “will my other 3 children lose their faith… I must witness even more to them now than before their brother’s death.”
There are a many ways we can witness living our faith daily, and build a foundation in Christ that can help us endure tragedies. Faith with love is the “glue” that holds one another together. For we know we cannot survive storms in life alone–we need God.
That need is expressed in all our readings today—to have faith that God will calm our trials and storms. Like Mark’s Gospel story for this weekend that can be an analogy of much of life. The boat represents the Church and the storm represents the trials the Church faces; still undergoing persecution, exile of peoples of faith who become refugees, or suffering from the tumultuous times of the sex scandals. The boat can represent a family and the storm represents the horrific experiences that can toss about, separate and even “drown” one or more members. Jesus knows what is terrifying us, and when we turn to Him, he rebukes the wind, and says “Quiet. Be Still”. Calm sets in once again as he helps us weather the storms.
Mark wrote this passage and his entire Gospel toward the end of first century. The Church was already undergoing great persecution. Emperors were gathering members of the new religion/Church and torturing/murdering them in numerous sports arenas as forms of entertainment for the masses. The opening expression in the words of Jesus to the disciples can also hold up as a metaphor.
“Let us cross to the other side.”
The other side could mean entering the kingdom of heaven after enduring trials and tribulations. In our contemporary Church, “the other side” could mean paying attention to those not presently feeling welcomed in our community. At the very least, is a good question for us to examine how we live the welcome of Christ in our Church our church? Who are on “the other side”? Could the answer be in some way those separated by political views; or those who are not heterosexual; those who are divorced with good reasons; those who are suffering in loneliness? On the other side—and outside is the undocumented immigrant who contributes much to our church and community—but lives in fear, there is a number of our elderly who feel alone and isolated without family in the area; and many other people who may feel left on the other side. We need to continue the good work of hope and calming storms that Jesus calls us to witness as his Church—in this church.
God is God of all and loves all of us and sends us the reminder of that love in Christ Jesus—to calm, to hold, to walk with us and bring renewed hope. “Be still and know that I am with you.” We extend his hope and calmness to others around us who may be experiencing rejection and pain by our welcome and in so many other simple ways.
“I will pray for you…I will offer my Communion today for you…let’s pray together now…” Such admissions give people the comfort of knowing that they are not alone and that others have similar experiences. It is the opening of renewed hope through the connection of others in the boat—holding one another in the calm of Christ. Blessings, Fr. Gordon