Second Sunday in October

I Samuel 28:7-10


My wife and I saw, a few weeks ago, a preview for a vampire movie. The film itself appears to be about a boy who befriends a young girl who just happens to be one of the undead and, I'm supposing, eventually deals with the fact that his playmate is a murderous animal. This kind of plotline, according to my love, seems to match my own philosophy of relationships—don't get too close to people because you never know about them. At least, that's how she thought of it.


A little fear and trepidation about another person isn't always a bad thing. The necromancer or medium (despite tradition, the Bible never calls her a witch) in our reading above is wise to be a bit fearful of this stranger who comes cloaked in darkness. I doubt she ever imagines that this man before her is Saul, but she knows enough to think that there are some people in her world—just like in our own—who will gladly befriend you in order to betray you for their own gain.


But, I'll admit, I take this caution to an extreme. Like a medieval hold, I've taken great care in building my walls and fortifications to ensure that no one makes it through to the innermost places without first passing many well-guarded gates. As such, I can, when necessary, provide the appearance of opening up to another while still protecting myself if they turn from friend to foe.


Let's face it, relationships are scary. To allow a complete stranger into your life and your heart involves great risk. There's no word about what happens to this necromancer after she does Saul's bidding. Her reward for her trust in this stranger, for allowing him into her home and to see who she truly is, could have been exile…or worse. Something similar can happen with the people we meet in our lives. Someone who comes as a friend may deliver us to a certain kind of exile—from a group, or a job for instance—and may strike deep in our most vulnerable places and hurt us.


And that's exactly the way it worked out—and continues to play out—for God. Incarnate among us, the One-who-is-love wanted to become part of our story. In Christ, God put away all defenses and barriers between us and the Divine. That vulnerability was met with pain, and death.


But the story didn't end there, nor does the relationship. In my daily life, I know that God is continuously putting the Divine Heart on the line, and I am continuously breaking it and wounding the One who loves me more than any other. And, yet, God never builds a wall. Never does fear separate us.


Despite this, I still set guards upon my wall and bar the gates whenever a stranger approaches. And I can rest in comfort when the Saul's of the world are out walking about by night.


Of course, I suppose, with so many doors between me and the world, I can miss the one who stands at the door and knocks.


Give me courage, Christ, to be as vulnerable as you were, are, and will be.

Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost

I've had house to myself this week since my wife had to travel because of work And while there's a bit of pleasure in being at home alone, mostly I spent the time counting the hours until her plane landed.


Like many married people, we've had our fair share of time apart. Between work trips and the in-between times moving between states, there have been quite a few nights when we each dined alone and spoke only through emails and phone calls.


I'm not a big fan of the phone as my beloved will tell you. I miss something, particularly with my wife, when I can't see the person with whom I'm talking. And I tend not to talk as much or for as long. So what would usually be an evening spent catching up on our lives and our day becomes a half-hour or so of hitting the high points before we say goodnight.


It's difficult to really tend a relationship when you can't see the other person. At least, it is for me. My feelings don't change. The moments spent talking with the one I love are no less precious on the phone than in person. But it's much less rare that I feel that connection that I often feel when the two of us are together. In fact, in all honesty, I sometimes find my mind wandering much easier when I don't have someone upon which to focus my attention.


This is perhaps the problem I've had with God for years. As much as I want to sit and talk with Christ, as much as I want to share my thoughts, my day, my fears, and my dreams I far too often find my mind wandering. Too easily I drift from my focus to thinking about the leaky sink or simply becoming absorbed in my own thoughts. And when I do talk, those conversations are often far too brief in comparison with the rest of my day. Especially considering this is someone I dearly love and that for whom my heart longs.


My wife observed, a week or two ago, that God is the only person she is in relationship with whom she's never seen. There is good spirituality in the reminder that we see the Presence all around us—in nature, in the animals who share our lives, and in one another. However, this thinking does not make for great relationships. While I may look about the house and see many reminders and perhaps even catch glimpses of my love, it's nowhere near the same as actually seeing her.


So each night, as I hung up the phone, I looked forward to the day when our time apart was over and I was again truly with the one I love. Each night drew me closer to the moment I could see her again. And until the time apart ended, I was filled with longing.


Perhaps it is a feeling similar to that described by the Psalmist: "like a deer longs for streams of water." Yes, I long to see the One I love.


My dear One whom I long for, help me to see glimpses and reminders of you and draw closer to you until we are together.

Ninth Sunday after Pentecost

Luke 11:1-13


The "friend" in today's Gospel finally gets out of bed because of the impudence, the ignoring of convention, the shamelessness of the man at the door. This bit about impudence or shamelessness strikes me; perhaps because I'm engaged in a bit of it myself. Like a lot of people these days, I'm in the midst of looking for a job. This means that I'm contacting a lot of people I've known over the years and shamelessly asking if they know of any openings where they work. It's not my strong suit. Asking people via conversation and email, looking through my list of contacts over the years, and, of course, knocking and knocking on any door I can find feels as though I'm making a nuisance of myself. But that's the way to find a job. Sort of the same way that Jesus seems to be saying this is a means of prayer.


But sometimes, in both cases, it doesn't work, does it? Sometimes it feels like we ask and look and knock over and over again and no one ever comes to the door. No matter how many people mention your name to another, you still find yourself sitting at home waiting for the phone to ring. And no matter how persistent I may be in certain prayers, there are things to which God has yet to respond.


I have no idea why God sometimes seems to act like the friend who will not get out of bed. But I do know that Jesus was never trying to say that God responds only to repeated requests or formulaic prayers. This is, after all, what the disciples (and I) want—prayer that is effective and causes the Heavens to open up and rain down our heart's desire.


That isn't, however, what Jesus provides. In fact, he is less concerned with the how of prayer than the why behind it. We can see this evidenced in the images Jesus uses throughout this week's passage—friends, fathers and sons. Both point to relationships. And this, for me, is what today's reading is all about.


The people I've emailed and called over the past several weeks haven't been strangers, they were people I knew who, because of their relationship with me, are willing to help me, just as I would them. And over the years, I've maintained contact with them not because of what they can do for me but because I cared for them and wanted their life to remain in close contact with mine.


Prayer is not about saying the right things or keeping in touch with God in case you need something, it's a means of maintaining and growing our relationship with the Divine. It doesn't mean that we can't ask for things that we need, but we always must remember that this isn't the reason we have entered into conversation with the one who loves us more than any other.


My friend, I do not understand why no matter how long I ask, seek, and knock no answer seems to come. Help me to remember that prayer is more than request and receipt and give to all the desires of their heart.