2nd Sunday of Lent B February 25, 2024

2 nd Sunday of Lent B

February 25, 2024

 

When this old world starts a getting me down

And people are just too much for me to face

I climb right up to the top of the stairs

And all my cares just drift into space.

On the roof, its peaceful and can be

And there the world below can’t bother me

The Drifters

 

Going up to high places is an old method to get away from life’s concerns.

Many like to climb to the top of the stairs, or on top of mountain peaks.

The problem is that we need to come down again and face what we left in the lower places.

 

In today’s scriptures, we find Abraham, Isaac, Jesus, Peter, James, and John climbing onto mountain tops.  These are places where they receive messages from God.

In our first reading, we hear how Abraham and his son Isaac go to the mountain top to make an offering to God.  One can only imagine what the trip down the mountain and the days to follow will be like.

Benjamin Brittan puts words in the mouth of Abraham and Isaac in his Canticle II.

Isaac: Father, I am full sore afeared
To see you bear that drawn sword.

Abraham: Isaac, son, peace, I pray thee,
Thou breakest my heart even in three.

Isaac: I pray you, father, layn† nothing from me,
But tell me what you think.

Abraham: Ah! Isaac, Isaac, I must thee kill!

Isaac: Alas! Father, is that your will,
Your owne child for to spill
Upon this hilles brink?
If I have trespassed in any degree
With a yard you may beat me;
Put up your sword, if your will be,
For I am but a child.
Would God my mother were here with me!
She would kneel down upon her knee,
Praying you, father, if it may be,
For to save my life.

I would like to ask the same question Isaac asks, “Where is the mother? Where is Sarah?”  Did Abraham not consult the mother of his son?  Did Abraham decide on his own, to sacrifice his son?  Both Abraham and Isaac will be very quiet coming down off the mountain. Isaac will withdraw from his father and Sarah will comfort her son. Abraham will be left to wonder what this challenge from his God meant.   We are left with some of the same questions. Why would a God ask for the sacrifice of one’s own son?  This is the son who lived out the promise of descendants as numerous as the stars.  Many have tried to explain this riddle, Many greater than I.  This could be a homily for another time and place.

The second mountain is the Mt of Transfiguration.  Jesus takes his closest companions up the mountain to pray, and they have a vision of him in glory with Moses and Elijah.   Both companions speak of the promises of God to the people.  Jesus tells the companions to tell no one of the vision.  This vision will feed them as they face the challenges awaiting them in Jerusalem.

For Abraham, Isaac, Sarah, Jesus, Peter, James, and John the problem with mountain tops and roofs is that one needs to come down.  Abraham, Isaac, and Sarah are left with feelings of sorrow over the possible loss of a son and a God who demands such a sacrifice. Jesus and the apostles come off the mountain to go to Jerusalem, a place that offers passion and death. (The transfiguration may point to the resurrection, but they do not know about that yet.)

The same is true for us we can go to the roof or the mountain, and for a time we find release from life’s troubles and woes, but we come back down to face the slings and arrows of our life.

In these days of Lent, we face our struggles and invite God to speak with us on our mountain and provide a vision of hope as we come down the mountain.

Many will gather on Easter morning on a mount to watch the sun rise. As they climb the mount the night is dark, cold, and damp. In time the horizon reveals a patch of red and soon the sky is full of light. The night is ended and as they return to meet the day, they take with them the vision of the morning sun to reassure them that all will be well.  The time on the mount changes the time spent in the valley.

Or in the words of the Drifters:

Right smack dab in the middle of town
I've found a paradise that's trouble proof (up on the roof)
And if this world starts getting you down
There's room enough for two

Up on the roof (up on the roof)
Up on the roof (up on the roof)
Oh, come on, baby (up on the roof)
Oh, come on, honey (up on the roof)
Everything is all right (up on the roof)

Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

By Fr. Christopher Welch • February 15, 2026
The last line of our gospel speaks of saying yes and saying no:  Let your ‘Yes’ mean ‘Yes’ and your ‘No’ mean ‘No’. (Matthew 5:37) When we say ‘yes’ to one thing, we may be saying ‘no’ to another. Sometimes our choices are among goods. We may need to prayerfully consider what to say ‘yes’ to. The words of Jesus imply that once we have made a choice, we need to stick with it. Too often we say ‘yes’ and later regret what we said ‘yes’ to. It may take time to grow into the choice we have made. We may need to stick with it for a time, and in time, our choice may feel right. When I took on my first assignment as a pastor, Bishop Hubbard advised me, “Make no large decisions the first year.” I found this to be sage advice. I found it takes time to get to know others and to find my way. Those who are in recovery are advised not to enter into any new relationships in their first year of recovery. This is also sage advice; the first year is about focusing on a new life of recovery, it is not the time to begin a new relationship. In time things make sense. I recall the words of Tevye and Golde in Fiddler on the Roof : (Tevye) "Golde I'm asking you a question..." Do you love me? (Golde) You're a fool (Tevye) "I know..." But do you love me? (Golde) Do I love you? For twenty-five years I've washed your clothes Cooked your meals, cleaned your house Given you children, milked the cow After twenty-five years, why talk about love right now? (Tevye) Golde, The first time I met you Was on our wedding day I was scared (Golde) I was shy (Tevye) I was nervous (Golde) So was I (Tevye) But my father and my mother Said we'd learn to love each other And now I'm asking, Golde Do you love me? (Golde) I'm your wife (Tevye) "I know..." But do you love me? (Golde) Do I love him? For twenty-five years I've lived with him Fought him, starved with him Twenty-five years my bed is his If that's not love, what is? (Tevye) Then you love me? (Golde) I suppose I do (Tevye) And I suppose I love you too (Both) It doesn't change a thing But even so After twenty-five years It's nice to know. The most important ‘yes’ we make is a ‘yes’ to the Lord. It may take time to figure out what this may entail. This was true for Mary when she said ‘yes’ to the angel. Jospeh also had to say ‘yes’. Neither knew where that ‘yes’ would take them, and so it is for us. I am reminded of the words of Michel Quoist in his book Prayers of Life : Help Me to Say ‘Yes’ I am afraid of saying ‘Yes,’ Lord. Where will you take me? I am afraid of drawing the longer straw, I am afraid of signing my name to an unread agreement, I am afraid of the ‘yes’ that entails other ‘yeses.’ And yet I am not at peace. You pursue me, Lord, you besiege me. I seek out the din for fear of hearing you, but in a moment of silence you slip through. I turn from the road, for I have caught sight of you, but at the end of the path you are there awaiting me. Where shall I hide? I meet you everywhere. Is it then impossible to escape you? But I am afraid to say ‘Yes,’ Lord. I am afraid of putting my hand in yours, for you hold on to it. I am afraid of meeting your eyes, for you can win me. I am afraid of your demands, for you are a jealous God. I am hemmed in, yet I hide. I am captured, yet I struggle, and I fight knowing that I am defeated. For you are the stronger, Lord, you own the world and you take it from me. When I stretch out my hand to catch hold of people and things, they vanish before my eyes. It's no fun, Lord, I can't keep anything for myself. The flower I pick fades in my hands. My laugh freezes on my lips. The waltz I dance leaves me restless and uneasy. Everything seems empty, Everything seems hollow, You have made a desert around me. I am hungry and thirsty, And the whole world cannot satisfy me. And yet I loved you, Lord; what have I done to you? I worked for you; I gave myself for you. O great and terrible God, What more do you want? * * * Son, I want more for you and for the world. Until now you have planned your actions, but I have no need of them. You have asked for my approval, you have asked for my support, you have wanted to interest me in your work. But don't you see, son, that you were reversing the roles? I have watched you, I have seen your good will, And I want more than you, now. You will no longer do your own works, but the will of your Father in heaven. Say ‘Yes,’ son. I need your ‘yes’ as I needed Mary's ‘yes’ to come to earth, For it is I who must do your work, It is I who must live in your family, It is I who must be in your neighborhood, and not you. For it is my look that penetrates, and not yours, My words that carry weight, and not yours, My life that transforms, and not yours. Give all to me, abandon all to me. I need your ‘yes’ to be united with you and to come down to earth, I need your ‘yes’ to continue saving the world! * * * O Lord, I am afraid of your demands, but who can resist you? That your Kingdom may come and not mine, That your will may be done and not mine, Help me to say ‘Yes.’

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

By Fr. Christopher Welch • February 8, 2026
Deacon Greg Kandra tells the story of meeting a person who chose to convert to the Catholic faith. He asked why this person chose to convert and was told, "because of my boss.” Deacon Kandra asked why and was told, “He seemed to glow with the light of God and I decided I wanted what he had.” I am reminded of the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson, “What you do speaks so loudly I cannot hear what you are saying.” It is not the words that attract people to the Lord; often it is how we live our lives that makes the difference. Jesus reminds us not to hide our light under a basket. The prophet Isaiah gives us a list of how we shine our light in the world: Share your bread with the hungry, shelter the oppressed and the homeless; clothe the naked when you see them, and do not turn your back on your own. Then your light shall break forth like the dawn... (Isaiah 58:7-8) Many will stand on soap boxes and proclaim how good they are. It is not their words that speak to us but their actions. This is what Emerson is speaking about and what that person’s boss proclaimed. They did not hide their lamp but let their good works speak for them. St. Mother Teresa of Calcutta spoke about this in her poem Anyway : People are often unreasonable, illogical and self-centered; Forgive them anyway. If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives; Be kind anyway. If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies; Succeed anyway. If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you; Be honest and frank anyway. What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight; Build anyway. If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous; Be happy anyway. The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow; Do good anyway. Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough; Give the world the best you've got anyway. You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and your God; It was never between you and them anyway.  (Inscribed on the wall of Mother Teresa's children's home in Calcutta) In these cold dark days, we are invited to share the warmth and light of the spirit of our God with those who we meet.

Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

By Fr. Christopher Welch • February 1, 2026
THE SEARCH by Shel Silverstein I went to find a pot of gold That's waiting where the rainbow ends. I searched and searched and searched and searched And searched and searched, and then— There it was, deep in the grass, Under an old and twisty bough. It's mine, it's mine, it's mine at last.... What do I search for now? So often we look at life as a destination. How often as children did we bug the driver of the car with the endless question, “Are we there yet?” The spiritual masters remind us that life is not about the destination, but the journey. How much we would miss if we didn’t take the journey. The Prophet Zephaniah encourages us to “seek the Lord”. One way we seek the Lord is by our poverty of spirit. We are blessed as we begin to recognize that I am not in charge, God is the one in charge. I let God set the agenda. One aspect of wisdom is knowing I am not wise. St. Paul, in his letter to the community at Corinth, speaks about true wisdom: God chose the foolish of the world to shame the wise, and God chose the weak of the world to shame the strong. Sometimes it is the foolish who get it: the foolish see that the journey is the goal, not the pot of gold under the rainbow. The challenge is learning to live day by day and let God be the one in charge. Sometimes God acts to remind us of who is in charge. The storm this week reminded us that we are not in charge. Our plans needed to be changed to address the issues of the storm. We had a choice; we could have cursed the storm or adjusted our expectations. We are on a new journey. The pot of God may have hidden in the people and projects we addressed this week. In a few short weeks we will begin the season of Lent, a journey we take toward the most important days of the year. Holy Week lays out for us the mysteries of our faith: the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of our Lord. How will we take this journey? How will we seek the Lord? Lent is a search, not for pots of gold, but for a deeper relationship with the Lord. I went to find a pot of gold That's waiting where the rainbow ends. I searched and searched and searched and searched And searched and searched, and then— There it was, deep in the grass, Under an old and twisty bough. It's mine, it's mine, it's mine at last.... What do I search for now?