You Can’t Serve Both

God and Mammon

You can’t sere both God and Mammon. Why not? And more importantly what is Mammon? Or is mammon a who? And most importantly, if Jesus is saying we should not worry about economic insecurity, and have faith in the Hand of Providence, how can faith ease the pain of an empty belly? How can God who is real, but immaterial, provide for our material needs?

The word Mammon comes from Latin mammona, which itself comes from Greek mamon, which itself was actually borrowed from Aramaic, specifically a Syrian dialect, we think. It’s meaning is an emphatic form of the word for wealth or profit. Some linguistic scholars hold that the word may have still older origins in Early Rabbinic Hebrew, the same language of the Dead Sea Scrolls, and may have meant, “riches, wealth,” or “that in which one trusts.” How interesting. I wonder whether this word was ever etched into the currency of First Century Judea. Imagine the phrase “In Mammon We Trust” with Caesar’s head on it.

It would be important not to confuse our English word mammon and the Spanish slang word mamón, which is often used as an insult. Let’s just say if you choose to Google it later, wait until after your kids go to bed. Well, okay, since it’s only us here, I’ll give you a etymological hint. In Spanish, mamón is related to the word mamá, which actually has two meanings: “mother,” as well as “one who nurses.” So when someone hurls an insult in Spanish and pejoratively calls someone else a “sucker,” it implies that person, well, sucks. Okay, enough of that.

In the Middle Ages, many writers personified mammon into a demon ruling over wealth and greed. One of the best-known versions of this could be from Paradise Lost where Milton describes Mammon (with a Capital M) as “a fallen angel who values earthly treasure over all other things.” Mammon is often depicted as a wolf or wolf-human hybrid. Thomas Aquinas metaphorically described the sin of Avarice as "Mammon being carried up from Hell by a wolf, coming to inflame the human heart with Greed.”

So why does Jesus say to his disciples, "No one can serve two masters/They will either hate one and love the other/or be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and mammon.”?

The most straightforward interpretation would be not to idolize money. Some scholars use a literal translation of the Greek word douleuein, which in our translation was “to serve” two masters, but the literal meaning is more like “be a slave to.” And that makes more sense, because a servant who is a hired employee, has options, right? Someone with free will could choose to work for one employer part time and a different employer at other times. But a slave would not have this option. Slaves are dependent on the master, and can only change masters if sold in a transaction to a new master.

So Jesus is inviting us to consider, to metaphorically step into the shoes of a slave, so to speak. Jesus asks us to imagine being completely dependent on a higher power. Of course this is incredibly difficult to do. We are human beings who have material needs. We have hungry bellies that ache. We have bodies that get cold at night. We are needy. So how can we depend on God?

Can God fill up our bellies? Can God keep us warm when it’s cold outside? Well, no, I guess. Not directly anyway. But, as Jesus points out, neither does worrying. Worrying doesn’t lengthen our lives. And then Jesus says, “Learn from the way the wild flowers grow/They do not work or spin/But I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor/was clothed like one of them.” Even if we had gourmet food to fill us up, and a heated mattress to sleep on at night, we would still be dependent on God.

Life does not get any easier for the wealthy. Imagine someone who got all the wealth and power he ever dreamed of. Is his life worry-free? It may be “Yuge! Such a great life! Nobody ever had a bigger life, believe me.” But what good is such a life if it is God-less?

 “Seek first the kingdom of God and all righteousness, and all these things will be given unto you. Alleluia.” Instead “Rest alone in God” our souls.

But how? How can God who is real, but immaterial, provide for our material needs? The answer is… I don’t know. And neither do you. And neither does anyone else except for God. But even if I cannot say “how.” How is a mystery. But I can say something even better than how. I can say why.

In the second reading today, Jesus says we should think of ourselves as “servants of Christ and stewards of the mysteries of God.” What a beautiful and awesome responsibility. As servants, we should be worthy of trust. Notice the word here for servants is diakonia, It is a word with many meanings, but one meaning signifies what one might do at a table. To feed another. This implies a relationship based on trust, does it not? So let us, each of us, each one of us, “serve” Christ by feeding one another. By striving to do for one another as Christ demonstrated in the gift of Eucharist.

Just as it takes faith in God to manage our anxieties about getting our physical needs like food, drink, and clothing met. We must keep in mind all we do in service to Christ and to one another is ultimately a process that will be judged by God alone, not any human tribunal. If we work at serving and caring for the needs of one another we will made worthy of God.

And guess what. We already are. I’ll conclude with today’s first reading which reminds us that God loves us, each and every one of us, even more than the love a mother has for a child. And for any of us who ever had a less than perfect mother, God says, “even is she forgets you, I will not forget you.”

Luke 11:1-13 - Jesus Teach Us To Pray

As a child, I was taught to pray by sisters at Saturday morning catechism. I went to public school, so my parents enrolled me in CCD - the Confraternity of Catholic Doctrine - at our local parish, which was run these charming older ladies in habits and veils. I don't recall which community they were from, but I remember they seemed happy to be working with me and the other kids in our small town in rural Nebraska where I’m from. They smiled at me, complimented me, they were patient with me in a manner my own parents were not.  There was something very loving about being in their presence I have never forgotten even after all these years.

So, it was the Sisters’ job to prepare us kids for the sacraments by getting us to memorize the words of the Our Father, the Hail Mary, and the Act of Contrition, among others. Talk about herding cats, I don’t know where they got the patience to do this work. It was hard enough to get up on a Saturday and show up to church, much less painstakingly memorizing prayers word for word. But eventually with repetition and perhaps the right amount of carrot ("Holy Cards, brown scapulars, plastic rosaries!") and stick ("You'll die a sinner and go to H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks" if you don’t pray), I was eventually able to master my prayers like an auctioneer. So the sisters taught me well. In order to pray, you have to know the right words and say them really fast. Praying is like swimming laps in a pool. Take a big breath before you start and avoid stopping for air; if you get lost, don't stop, just keep moving toward the end. God knows what you mean even if you make a mistake. Just try your best.

Unfortunately, these sisters didn't have time to teach me the actual meaning of the words. Anyway I loved these sisters because they were so patient and so kind to us and seemed indescribably wise. And, somehow, I believed they loved me too, I guess, because we were all at Church on a Saturday morning when everyone else in their right mind was in pajamas watching Saturday morning cartoons eating pancakes.

But now here I am. I find myself reading this periscope in Luke and thinking this is not at all how I pray now. And I don’t find the memorized prayers particularly useful in my adult prayer life; at least I haven’t for a long time. Oh don’t get me wrong, I think they have great liturgical benefit. When people gather together in community and pray - or better yet, sing - in unison, I can feel the Spirit of God, sometimes I even get goose bumps. But alone? by myself? I don’t feel any connection to the divine that way.

I’m kind of like the disciple in today’s Gospel who approaches Jesus, presumably on behalf of the others, obviously marveling at the remarkable bond between Jesus and the Heavenly Parent, and expressing “Teach us to pray, just as John Taught his disciples.” I don’t it’s too unreasonable to say the disciple was essentially saying “I want to have that kind of amazing relationship with God.”

So Jesus gives first a practical answer in the form of the words and formula. “Father, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come. Give us each day our daily bread and forgive us our sins for we ourselves forgive everyone in debt to us, and do not subject us to the final test.” He is saying 1. Relate to God in a respectful yet lovingly intimate way, as one might with your parents. 2. Ask for what you need, your daily bread. 3. Please love us despite or wrongs and we will do likewise with our neighbor. 4. Finally, never abandon us. As a mental health counselor, I recognize in here basic human longings, essential needs for the kind of human connection we are all longing for.

So this is the practical part. And even though I may put other words to it, when I am praying on my own, my mind will zero in in these same essentials. And of course I pray in times when my need for connection seems particularly threatened. When I’m troubled by one of the daily mass shootings or terrorist attacks I hear about on the news, or when my partner and I have to navigate a strain in our relationship, or when I contemplate my anxiety about my ability to earn a living in an expensive city.

But then Jesus goes on to comment on what I think the disciples must have really been marveling at: Jesus’s relationship with God. Respectful, yet lovingly intimate, as one might relate to a parent. And Jesus accomplishes this, as he so often does, by sharing a “Suppose you have a friend” story.

"Suppose one of you has a friend to whom he goes at midnight and says, 'Friend, lend me three loaves of bread, for a friend of mine has arrived at my house from a journey and I have nothing to offer him.” This is ancient Palestine. It’s a desert. Traveling is extremely dangerous. And so the expectation is that hospitality in the form of bread and a place to sleep is a basic human right. And the neighbor well aware this, just doesn’t seem to want to get out of bed.

And then Jesus closes his parable with: “I tell you, if he does not get up to give the visitor the loaves because of their friendship, he will get up to give him whatever he needs because of his persistence.” And I had to look this up. The word translated as “persistence” is anaideian. Some Biblical scholars prefer an alternate translation that makes more sense in the context of the story “Shamelessness.” He [the neighbor] will get up and get the bread because of his shamelessness. Because of his desire to be without shame. Certainly it would be a shameful act to refuse hospitality to a traveler, especially when the reason for doing so is personal comfort or selfishness. We know, and Jesus confirms in the story, the desire to avoid shame is a powerful motivator that can bring us to set aside our own comforts so that our neighbor’s basic human rights will be respected. We must do this in order to be right with our neighbor and in order to be right with our relationship with God. 

Jesus says, "And I tell you, ask and you will receive; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.  For everyone who asks, receives; and the one who seeks, finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.” He wants us to develop a relationship with God without shame. We set aside pride by asking for what we want, and admitting that we need help. We encounter very real doors, barriers, in developing a respectful intimate relationship with God, as one might relate to a parent. But we must we willing to come to God and ask for our needs to be addressed.

And Jesus leaves us with this final image. Even bad parents, such as each and every one of us here in this room, would still not feed snakes or scorpions to our beloved children when they come to us hungry and in need. Imagine the delight of our Heavenly Father/Mother, who is all loving and all good, will be ready to send out the Holy Spirit to us when we ask.

I think the sisters who taught me catechism by virtue of their wisdom and experience knew this. They modeled it for me. Even if what they taught me was rote memorization, I still learned about respectful familiar relationships from their unconditional love of me.

Quick! If you have five imaginary lives you could lead, any given time or place or circumstance, what would you do? What would you accomplish? And why would it be interesting for you?

1. I would be a 16th century hospitaller monk living in a remote mountain monastery on a trade route somewhere between Rome and Constantinople. Pilgrims would journey to our beautiful refuge above the clouds for safety and the occasional exchange of arts and ideas. My job would be to train and care for all of the dogs used for finding and rescuing stranded travelers. My special devotion would be to healing those with broken hearts, and I would be earn a good reputation for my kindness, wisdom, and piety. This is interesting to be because I need greater discipline and spirituality in my current life, but it builds on my strengths of hospitality, healing, and service to others. 
2. I would be a woman colonist sometime in humanity's future when Earth's people have learned to work together to develop the technology to travel across the galaxy. I might be a humble exobiologist with a rather boring day job. I would study and catalog the exotic flora and fauna of our new world, and my research would be to help protect these fragile life forms from negative interactions with humans. In addition to a fascinating career in this life, my true passion would be as a wife and mom with an amazing family. I would teach my children to respect the divinity in all life and be mindful of the consequences of their actions. This is interesting to me because of my spirit of innovation and novelty, but also because I love building a life that centers on family. 
3. I would be a Lakota warrior in late 19th century Nebraska. As a friend and confidante of great leaders like Sitting Bull, I would bear witness to the rapid and heartbreaking problem of white settlement and encroachment. I would use strategic thinking to promote peace and equitable trade. Eventually, I would stand with the people, including my wife and children, to resist the soldiers and help them find safety. This is special to me because I grew up in Nebraska, a place where one can still hear the drum beats of Native people on a cool crisp night. 
4. I would be a successful and prolific playwright for the Broadway stage in the 20th Century, contemporary with Eugene O'Neil, Arthur Miller, Lorraine Hansberry, Tony Kushner, Sam Shepard and Tennessee Williams. My work would begin as sweet innocent "slice of life" pieces  during World War II, that were sentimental, but boring. At first I am called patriotic, because my work embodies the "American Spirit." But then my work takes on increasingly daring and controversial themes in response to needs for social justice and reform that I see during the Eisenhower Years. I find an audience of like minds that emerges in the 1960s. I help launch the careers of some of the greatest actors and directors in our time I start a dialogue in academic circles about the purpose of theatre in democratic discourse. Somehow I manage to survive the hedonism of the 70s and the egoism of the 80s to make a comeback in the 90s with new projects that help launch Queer Theatre as an American institution. This is a former dream of mine that I let go of because I couldn't tolerate the risks artists take putting themselves out there. 
5. I am a licensed counselor with a small private practice that I operate out of my home. I supplement my income by teaching coursework at a small private college, supervising interns, leading workshops, and consulting with nonprofit organizations.  I am adoptive father of two, and I live with a handsome and intelligent husband who loves me deeply. This is the life I'm currently working on.

Chion

Today from the office next door

Through thin chalky walls

I could hear a boy crying

Like for an hour

Or rather a therapeutic hour

So for 52 minutes straight

But still a long time

This little boy cried and cried

Muffled at first

Then graduating to full scale wail

No words, no reason, just sobbing

Unabated

Breathless

It was the cry only a mother could console

Deep solemn rhythmic

He cried with all is little might

And I realized that must be why he was crying

He must have no mother to soothe him

I thought to myself as I put my headphones on

But they weren't enough

To kill the sound

That punishing noise

He must not have a mom

And neither do I

Not anymore

So I cried too 

Right along with him

From the other side of the thin chalky wall

Only I did my crying 

In silence

Photo: Masseu. http://masseu.blogspot.com/2014/01/crying-boy-sketch.html

Fun With Haiku: Starter Lines That Kill It

I have been encouraging my teen clients to try poetry for therapeutic self-expression. As a former high school English teacher, I find teaching young minds the basic mechanics of haiku to be both easy and fun. Essentially write down: 3 lines that go 5 syllables, 7 syllables, 5 syllables and involve a reference to nature or two disparate concepts that have an interesting relationship.

The last time I made a haiku, I was playing Cards Against Humanity. The "Happy Ending Rule" requires players to "draw two, pick three, make a haiku" to determine the winner. Trust me when I say this rule has led to some epic poet-making.

To help my teen clients out, I gave them some haiku starter lines. Basically just some free-flowing inspiration to help get them going or keep them moving. What they came up with is so fun and enlightening, I decided to share the starter lines here. Try making your own haiku out using some of these:

Five Syllables

My favorite ice cream	My mother’s right eye	A funnier thing	This stupid poem	Old Spice shower gel
Everywhere I look	I still feel that way	I’m flying away	Now I feel guilty	Some people are trees

Seven Syllables
 

Taking slow the long way home	Filling up my car with gas	My heart is sick with worry	Native born sons and daughters	Little Japanese poems
Shut up your face you old hag	Olive branches remind me	Like sand drifting on the beach	As much as I care to say	And no one will ever know

Five Syllables
 

How much I love you	My worst memory	Yeah, Thanks, Obama	And I ran away	Because I don’t care
Everything I am	Spirit of friendship	I’m losing my mind	Today I begin	I am a poet

Machine

We are machine
Our interchangeable moving parts
doing their routine
Rhythm rattle and steam
I gasp
You scream

Interdependence is efficient
Cog and wheel
Tongue in Groove
Together we work
We move

We make grinding machine noise
Therein we find purpose
and joys

Somebody Has Keys To My House

Somebody has keys to my house.
It wasn't me and it wasn't my spouse.
I don't know who it is, but I can tell he was here.
Because he left clues, but the clues are unclear.
And I don't appreciate it; not one little bit.
It's been going on all week and I sick of this shit.
On Monday, while I was at work, somebody raided the 'fridge.
Eating pork chops with ketchup, that son of a bitch.
When I saw the leftover macaroni and cheese
I checked the back lock and re-hid my spare keys.
That's when I discovered what was left behind.
Dirty plates on the table left for me to find.
And then, on Tuesday, I went to the gym,
(I go twice a week to stay fit and trim)
Somebody came in an put on my clothes.
Dunno why, just weird, I suppose.
Then the somebody left my clothes wrinkled and stained
In a pile in my hallway. Mysterious, unexplained.
Then, on Wednesday, I got home from the store,
My mail had been opened, but wait there is more.
I'm beginning to suspect an identity thief
I talked to the cops, but they just gave me grief.
And today, Thursday, I came home in suspense.
Wondering if I might find more evidence.
And there it was on the bowl of potty.
Brown spatters, disgusting, all hardened and spotty.
"That's it! I'm done!" I shouted and cursed.
Dishes and clothes, but this is the worst.
So Friday I'll stay home and call in to work.
That way I'll be sure to catch the jerk.
I'll surprise and trap him and bind him with rope.
And force him to get out my bucket and soap.
And then, by God, he will confess.
As finally, at last, he cleans his own mess.