Sundays’ Highs for Weekdays’ Lows
To the church in the diaspora[1]
& to the church of the unchurched
Genesis 15:5-12, 17-18 Philippian3: 17-4:1 Luke 9: 28-36
Introduction
The mountain experiences of Jesus
There are
different mountain experiences in the life of Jesus. The first Sunday of Lent
always recounts how Satan takes Jesus up a very high mountain, shows him all
the glorious kingdoms of the world and then tempts him saying, “Fall down and
adore me, and all this glory shall be yours” (Lk 4: 5-6). Jesus doesn’t
belittle himself by falling for such a cheap and gaudy offer. Toward the end of
his life, there is the
On
Mount Tabor Peter, James and John behold the transformed face of Jesus and his dazzling white
clothes, and they hear a heavenly voice
proclaiming, “This is my beloved son. Listen to him.” On that lofty height something spectacular is
taking place. Christians call it a transfiguration. Catholics assign a special
feast day for it--August 6, Feast of
the Lord’s Transfiguration. Psychologists call it a religious experience.
Ecstasy
follows quickly upon that religious experience. Peter starts emoting and
crying out, “Oh how good it is for us to be here, Lord!" That
ecstatic experience is so delightful he wants to dig in and hunker down for
good upon that lofty height. “Let’s build three shelters up here,” Peter says
to Jesus, “one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah” (Lk
A
religious experience can happen not just upon a lofty and breezy mountaintop
like Tabor but also down in the sweaty and sinful valley of human existence. It
can happen even when someone is on his way to do some mischief. One day Saul of
Tarsus was hurrying to
One
day, before his conversion, as he was in the garden of his villa, he heard a
voice coming from the other side of the wall saying in a sing-song sort of way,
like kids playing a game, “Tolle et lege, tolle et lege”--“Take and read. Take
and read.” (In a religious experience you see visions and hear voices.) At
first Augustine wondered whether it was some sort of a game kids were playing
on the other side of the wall. Then, seized with a strange impulse, he picked
up the Scriptures which lay near at hand.
They fell open to Romans 13: 13:
“Let us behave decently as in the daytime, not in orgies and
drunkenness, not in sexual immorality and debauchery, not in dissension and
jealousy. Rather, let us put on the Lord
Jesus Christ, and let us stop concentrating on the flesh and gratifying its
desires” (Rm
It
was a powerful religious experience for Augustine, and it marked the moment of
his conversion. He became the bishop of Hippo in
Sometimes a religious
experience can happen even in a church. (“Even in a church!” Where in the whole
wide world should we expect to have a religious experience if not in a
church!) Shortly after his conversion, Francis of Assisi (born in 1182) was
praying before a very old crucifix in a dilapidated little
At first the simple man
took the voice literally. He thought it was calling him to repair the rickety
little chapel of San Damiano. It was, in fact, calling Francis to become, like
Abraham, the father of a great nation--the father of a great Franciscan family
of brothers and sisters as numerous as the sands of the sea, who
would go forth down through the centuries to restore the vineyard of the Lord
with far more inspiration and effectiveness than any angry reformer or church
council.[3] Francis’ religious experience took place in a
church.
Where, if anywhere on
God’s earth, should we expect a religious experience with its coin of ecstasy
if not in church? Where, if anywhere on God’s earth, should we expect to see
visions and hear voices if not in church? Where, if anywhere on God’s earth,
should we be exclaiming “Oh how good it is for us to be here” if not in church?
After all, we humans build and consecrate our church edifices precisely for
religious experience and its coin of ecstasy.
Unfortunately that
doesn’t always happen. Karl Jung, the father of modern psychology, writes an account of the day of his first
Holy Communion. Because of what he had been told, he greatly expected to see
visions and hear voices on that very special occasion. The day finally dawned
and all peeled into church. In familiar robes his father, who was the minister
of the celebration, stood behind the altar and read the prayers. On the white
altar cloth lay large trays filled with small pieces of bread which came from
the local baker. He watched his father eat a piece of the bread and then sip
the wine which came from the local tavern. He then passed the cup to one of the
old men. All were stiff, solemn, and it
seemed to the young Karl, disinterested. Though he kept looking on in suspense,
Jung could neither see nor guess that anything unusual was happening inside any
of them. He saw no joy on their faces. None of them seemed to be seeing visions
or hearing voices.
Finally his
turn came to eat the bread which tasted flat and to sip the wine which tasted sour.
After the final prayer, no one was heard to cry out, "Oh how good it is
for us to be here!" No one was seen to tarry or linger on in the glow of
ecstasy. No one was heard saying, “Let’s
build tents here and hunker down.” Instead, Jung writes, "All peeled out
of the church with faces that were neither depressed nor illumined with
joy—just faces which seemed to say, `Well, that's that.'"
Only gradually
in the course of the following days did it dawn on him that nothing had
happened. What he had seen (nothing) was all there was! That total absence of
any religious experience with its ecstasy on the day of his very first Holy
Communion proved to be disastrous; it proved to be his very last Communion![4] (Memories,
Dreams, Reflections). When the sun set on that long anticipated day of his
first Holy Communion, Jung found himself saying, "Oh, how bad it was for
me to be there!"
Amy
on top of Mt Tabor
Listen to a lady who recently was heard crying out
not like Jung but like Peter, James and John, “Oh, how good it was for us to be
here!” She writes,
I am writing this e-mail
in hopes of receiving a copy of the priest’s homily from this past Sunday.
My husband and I were in
I so enjoyed the
service. Father was absolutely fabulous, his sermon was out of this
world, the choir was phenomenal, the lector was dynamic and the beauty of your
church was just so stunning. It was a pivotal moment for us, especially for
me. I lit a candle after mass for our lost baby and I am looking forward with
hope to our family’s future. I know that God has bigger plans for our
family than we even realize, and I know we are blessed. With all that
being said, I would love to have a copy of the sermon, if Father accepts
requests of that nature. I will always remember my experience regardless,
but I would love a copy for my keepsake box. Sincerely, Amy….
Conclusion
Sunday’s highs for weekdays’ lows
Sunday
Mass should be the
Sunday
Mass should be the
Likewise the highs of the Sunday assembly aren’t
forever. We eventually have to leave Sunday Mass and descend into the valley of
weekday reality, just as Amy and her family had to leave Old St. Mary’s and get back on
the road to
[1] Diaspora
is a Greek word meaning dispersion. Originally it referred to the settling of scattered colonies of
Jews outside
[2] A world religion founded on the teachings of the great prophets Zoroaster, Buddha, Jesus, and the chief one, Mani. Duality is its fundamental concept. There are two uncreated principles: Light (Goodness) and Darkness (Evil). The Father of Light and the Prince of Darkness are at war with each other, and the created world is the battleground. Its moral practices include abstinence from meat, wine, all sexual contacts and work (Confessions, Bk. VIIII, ch. 10).
[3] Those
sons and daughters arrived here in
[4] When
their religion provides them with no religious experience at all and no
ecstasy (because of what it preaches or
how it prays and breaks bread), some go in search of a form of religion that
does lead them into religious experience and does exhilarate them. The middle
of the Twentieth Century witnessed a strong surge in the charismatic and
Pentecostal movement. It sprang up in all the various Christian religions, even
in the staid