Thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time

November 15, 2009

It was about 15 billion years ago, give or take a few, that scientists determine there was an explosion of light and energy that is ever-expanding, bursting with life from the center outward in creative, chaotic, unique patterns. Another way to put it is, "In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth…"(Gensis 1:1) Or, "In the beginning was the Word and the Word was in God’s presence, and the Word was God." (John 1:1)

And we sing. "when we’ve been there ten thousand years, bright shinning as the sun.

We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise Than when we’d first begun."

15 billion years before and 10,000 ahead, and we are in the midst of it all.

Scientists say that our bodies really are stardust, made of particles that were part of the primeval fireball at the beginning of the universe.

So when it says in the first reading (Book of Daniel, the last book of the Septuagint) that we shall be like the stars forever, it is inviting us to become what we truly are. We are made of stars.

Listen to the first letter of John 3:1-2: "See what love the Father has bestowed on us that we may be called the children of God. Yet so we are.... beloved, we are God’s children now; what we shall be has not yet been revealed. We do know that when it is revealed we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is."

As we come close to the end of the year, as winter begins to settles in, we think of the end of times and the end of our days. What will become of us? There are ominous things around us. Jobs are cut or downsized, 401k’s have disappeared, some have lost health insurance and homes in our parishes have been foreclosed. Some have cancer or stroke and we have war.

Out of this darkness and cold comes a new light. The power of God prevails. Jesus is born among us. Jesus describes it in today’s Gospel as a fig tree. Stripped of its leaves and giving every appearance of having died, its life tenaciously sprouts forth anew. There is no keeping it down.

This Appalachian folk song says it well

God bless the grass that grows through the crack

They role the concrete over it and try to keep it back

But the concrete gets tired of what it has to do

It breaks and it buckles and the grass grows through

And God bless the grass

God bless the truth that fights toward the sun

They role the lies over it and thinks that it is done

It moves through the ground and reaches for the air

And after a while it is growing everywhere

And God bless the grass.

God bless the grass that grows through cement

Its green and its tender and its easily bent

But after awhile it lifts up its head

For the grass is living and the stone is dead

And God bless the grass.

God bless the grass that’s gentle and low

Its roots they are deep and its will is to grow

And God bless the truth, the friend of the poor

And the wild grass growing at the poor man’s door

And God bless the grass.

(Song by Moms Maysbe. (Appalachian grandma) or some say Pete Seeger or Malvina Reynolds)

How many more centuries of pain

Before the full daylight, Lord?

You are patiently molding us, we are going toward the end

But your body of humanity is slow to complete

Not enough nights to welcome you

Not enough heads to bow before you

We announce you in the sufferings of the world

We speak before being born

How many more centuries before it may dazzle us

How many more Christmas’s until there is truly peace.