Richard Bollman, S.J.

HOMILY. 12^th SUNDAY C, 2010

Luke 9:18-24 "Praying as Disciples of Jesus"

So what is this moment when Jesus prays in "solitude,"

and his "disciples are with him."

Luke’s Gospel, remember, frequently shows Jesus as a man of prayer.

It it frequently noted that he would seek a place away to be in solitude.

And here for the first time it is mentioned explicitly

that as he prays his disciples are with him. Paying attention to him.

And this will happen again, on the mount of Transfiguration, in the Garden.

There is a kind of exchange of presence that is assumed here,

by which we disciples are drawn in to something more powerful

than just our own prayer.

Jesus present in himself, present to God of course,

present vividly to the disciples, to us even as we pray.

Let’s count on this.

We sit or kneel, maybe in front of the tabernacle or a favorite icon,

and you can sometimes get caught in effort to reach someone or somewhere,

but already as we sit Christ is praying in solitude.

That’s the point of the icon or the exposed sacrament,

not that Christ is waiting to be contacted, but that we are taken up

with Christ praying in his own soul and mind and strength,

and he draws us toward himself. That’s the point:

his presence as a human being of faith (he was certainly that)

and as the Christ surrendering to God.

And we in our faith, present, willing, open to the moment.

We are the baptized, anointed to be one with him in his Body on earth,

priestly, prophetic, royal. Present as we are.

And human: often frightened or struggline or in pain. There it is.

You remember how Jesus says in Matthew’s sermon on the mount,

"when you pray, go into your secret room."

Christ is our secret room. And his solitude, as you see here,

his solitude is his choice to be praying with us, in us.

We get a feel for this by noticing our own presence to ourselves,

our body, our breathing, allowing for some silence.

Solitude, or even in the midst of the noise of a doctor’s waiting room

a kitchen table by the window, our porch on a neighborhood street,

it takes some little patience, some attention to being present.

And discovering then the heart of it, like picking up a child,

or remembering someone who has sought you out for help.

Or your own unmistakable "heart concerns," showing up.

Presence, connected to the presence of Christ with you, in you.

I’ve been reading lately about the open hearts

of our soldiers in Afghanistan, squadron leaders, drivers, foot soldiers,

what happens when they come back not able to save a buddy from a bomb,

or having held a child innocently killed, however,

even through their own accidental firings.

The continual anguish of bad luck and good luck,

how soldiers of integrity walk in the darkness, and what the carry

not only of psychological struggle but moral struggle too,

and though I don’t know their faith,

I know that when I remember them and their stories

I come close to the struggle of Christ

suffering in our human family these days.

Perhaps your time of prayer as fathers, or mothers,

lifts up your children, in joy or wonder or apprehension,

and Christ is praying there in your solitude.

Opening your own heart you are close to the heart of Jesus.

I say this from the story we hear today.

When Peter, or any of us, recognize him as the Christ of God,

this is a movement of grace, gift, for Peter and for Jesus too.

We are together in something.

And right away Jesus declares that his calling as the Christ

is not to be off alone somewhere, or up above,

but to enter in to the struggle of our people and our time.

Our open hearts will meet with resistance, rejection,

but it is the way to a truthful life,

not to back away from the suffering of one another.

Will you share this with me? That’s what he asks.

Not to back away.

One of the best questions any spiritual director asked me

was this one: "Have you suffered in your life?"

It was so startling I didn’t have time to imagine how intimate it was as well.

And it forever helped me to see my life as a whole.

I answered then as I would answer now, because this so helped me

to see my life as a whole.

And it helped to realize that this man was interested in listening.

What a profound way to learn about the mutual presence of

Christ with his disciples.

Indeed, the daily cross is nothing Jesus imposes,

but it is rather something he discovers with us.

It’s nothing new to rush out and claim.

It’s yours that you have: obvious once you begin to feel your life,

once you begin to sense your heart of flesh.

And he is already walking with us in it.