July 9, 2000

I never met the man, in fact I only know his first name: Joe. Joe died in his home while his daughter was gone to the store for just a short time. But his story has a hold on me that is unshakable. He sort of grew up with Jesus, though not like the men named in today's gospel.

James and Joses and Judas and Simon, called brothers in the text, watched Jesus grow up from child to man. Perhaps they shared in the little play time afforded children of the working class. Maybe they learned the carpenter's trade at the same time Jesus did. Maybe they worked side by side with Jesus, certainly they shared meals with him, maybe even attended worship in the synagogue with him. They could talk with him just like you can talk with me and I with you. Perhaps, like most artisans of the day they could not read and they knew that he could not read either. Perhaps they knew that he had never sat at the feet of a rabbi to learn the subtleties of the law and the prophets.

For sure they were not pleased when he left them to gather a group of disciples as if he were a rabbi. He left them a man short for the family business. He was pretending to be something he was not. He was an embarrassment to them. They tried, at least once, to go get him to come home (Mk 3:31ff). They knew him all right, and would not hear anything about the great wisdom and powerful signs Jesus was supposed to have done. To them he would never be anything more than a carpenter, Mary's son.

The man who lay dying—long after the events of that day in Nazareth—first heard about Jesus in church. He heard that he should pray to Jesus, but he confessed to the young priest sitting in the chair next to his bed "At the Sunday Mass I used to hear the pastor talk about prayer, but it always went right over my head. I couldn't figure out how to pray, finally I abandoned any attempt at prayer."

Content with that he lived his life as best he could. All the while, however, something within him kept looking for a way to pray, kept yearning to engage Jesus in conversation, but he did not know how. He wanted to meet and be with Jesus, but wasn't sure how to get there. What a contrast to the men in today's Gospel story who had complete access to Jesus but couldn't stand him.

The old man asked the young pastor visiting him to close the door to the room because he had more to say about prayer and Jesus. When the door was closed and the young pastor was seated in the chair next to the bed the old man continued his story. "One day about four years ago my best friend said to me, `Joe, prayer is just a simple matter of having a conversation with Jesus. Here's what I suggest. Sit down on a chair, place an empty chair in front of you, and in faith see Jesus on the chair. It's not spooky remember he promised, "I'll be with you always." Then just speak to him and listen in the same way you're doing with me right now.'"

"So, Father, I tried it and I've liked it so much that I do it a couple of hours every day. I'm careful, though. If my daughter saw me talking to an empty chair, she'd either have a nervous breakdown or send me off to the funny farm." The young priest managed to take in this wisdom and this practice of prayer with the deepest respect and reverence. He anointed the old man and said the prayers and returned to his office.

Two nights later the daughter called to tell the priest that her daddy had died that afternoon.

"Did he seem to die in peace?" he asked.

"Yes, when I left the house around two o'clock, he called me over to his bedside, told me one of his corny jokes, and kissed me on the cheek. When I got back from the store an hour later, I found him dead. But there was something strange, Father. In fact, beyond strange- kinda weird. Apparently, just before Daddy died, he leaned over and rested his head on a chair beside the bed." (1)

Do you remember Thomas, one of the Twelve? He would not believe that Jesus was risen until he touched the wounds made by the nails and placed his hand in the wound caused by the spear. Presented with the chance to do just that he confessed, "My Lord and my God." And as Jesus responded to him we heard "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet beleive." And we can understand that Joe was well and truly blessed in his life and death.

Before his return to Nazareth Jesus had expelled demons, healed many, raised a young girl to life and calmed a storm at sea. No doubt this had all become know to James and the others before Jesus even stepped foot in Nazareth. Hearing him teach in the synagogue that day like one with authority, and knowing full well the works of power said to be unleashed by Jesus, they could not stand to look at him, never mind resting in his company. Perhaps their unbelief—which amazed Jesus—was more like disdain and disgust along the lines of a familiar sneer shared in today's workplace: "Who died and made you God?"

No doubt we consider ourselves more like the old man (dying in the lap of a trusted and loved friend) than James and his brothers. We approach Jesus with a tenderness and respect not evident in the approach the villagers of Nazareth. And that is good.

Lest we become smug about our faith and our relationship with Jesus, however, let me bring in another voice. In a short dialogue between a Master and his disciples the Master was heard to say "Sincerity is not enough. What you need is honesty."

"What's the difference?" someone asked.

"Honesty is a never-ending openness to the facts," said the Master. "Sincerity is believing one's own propaganda." (2)

In his quest, the old man was honest. Though he thought it strange, though he needed to carefully reveal his method of prayer, he was open to following the advice of his friend and he died peacefully in the lap of Jesus, Son of Man, Son of God. In their sincerity, James and Joses and Judas and Simon and all the others of Nazareth believed that Jesus, a carpenter, Jesus, the son of Mary, was no more than their eyes could see and their experiences inform, no matter what others were saying.

In a few moments we will baptize Danielle Gaylor and we will pray that God bless her with an inquiring and discerning heart. The same prayer was made for us at our baptism. Today may God renew his blessing in us so that we can walk with Danielle in honesty to encounter the Risen Lord. May God bless her and bless us with hearts which yearn to rest in God alone. May God bless her and bless us with eyes to behold the wonder and power of love set loose in our world through Jesus of Nazareth, our Lord and our God. Amen.

(1) From an internet email. Author unknown.

(2) Anthony de Mello, More One Minute Nonsense, Loyola Universtiy Press, 1993, p. 109

The Rev. Daniel Rondeau
drondeau@stmargarets.org
9 July 2000