Thursday of the Thirtieth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 482

"Jerusalem, Jerusalem,

you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you,

how many times I yearned to gather your children together

as a hen gathers her brood under her wings,

but you were unwilling!

Every year hundreds of people arrive at Ben Gurion Airport and take a taxi to the Holy City with expectations of ecstasy. Within a few days many of them are carried to the psychiatric ward of the hospital, suffering Jerusalem Syndrome. Reading the Old and New Testaments, they have pondered the importance of this hilltop fortress with its sacred temple. They have seen how God favors the city with extraordinary blessings. They want to live in a holy place and know the Lord with revelatory intimacy. Arriving there, they are crushed by its ordinariness. It is a city like every other, with a few saints and many disreputable characters.

The Old and New Testaments recognize a dreadful irony about Jerusalem: this holiest city beloved of God is also sinful. The Hebrew prophets railed against its civil, religious, and business leaders for their neglect of the sacred duties. Not only did the priest perform their religious rituals without reverence, the civil leaders took bribes and the business leaders neglected the poor. When the city was overrun by heathen armies the prophets saw the punishing hand of an angry, disappointed God.

The New Testament presses the irony further as the Holy City searches Bethlehem to kill the Messiah; and, several years later, its angry denizens cry out, "His blood upon us and our children!"

In today's gospel we hear Jesus's lament, ""Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you kill the prophets and stone those sent to you...."

In the VA hospital, chaplains often encounter this conundrum and its bitter consequences. "Why does a God who is supposed to be All-Good, All-Powerful, All-Knowing, and All-Beautiful permit so many terrible things to exist?" Unlike many questions, this one does not answer itself.

Jesus, as he appeared (and disappeared) to the disciples on the road to Emmaus, sharply reminded them,

"Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and enter into his glory?" 

(Luke 24:27)

Our fallible human wisdom supposes that the Holy should know nothing of pain, sorrow, grief, rage, hatred or tragedy. These are merely human experiences, we think, and shameful. If we were in control of our lives they would not happen. "If I were God, there would be nothing like that in my world."

But the Risen Lord declares, this was necessary. We cannot know the Lord, we cannot be saved, unless he is crucified for us. 

Again, in the hospital, some patients will argue with the doctor about their diagnosis and prognosis, "That can't be right! Is this really necessary?" Some people have fantasy notions of their body's strengths and virtues. They can smoke and not destroy their lungs; drink excessive alcohol and not get pancreatitis;, habitually eat too much and suffer no ill effects.

The same fantasies about how life should be would argue about the Messiah's suffering, "It should not have been necessary! Nor should I have to make sacrifices for the Love of God!" 

Embracing the cross of Christ we accept the Sacrifice he has made for us. And then follow in his steps. 

Wednesday of the Thirtieth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 481

The Spirit comes to the aid of our weakness;

for we do not know how to pray as we ought,

but the Spirit himself intercedes with inexpressible groanings.

And the one who searches hearts

knows what is the intention of the Spirit,

because he intercedes for the holy ones

according to God's will.

We recently heard Jesus's parable of two men praying in the temple, the publican and the pharisee. The latter prayed "to himself" and, leaving the temple, was not "justified." Despite the volume that might have echoed throughout the chamber, God could not hear the prayer of the Pharisee. He did not know how to pray as he ought; and the Spirit did not come to his aid.

Meanwhile, the publican, with inexpressible groanings, "beat his breast and prayed, ‘O God, be merciful to me a sinner." Jesus concludes the story, he "went home justified, but the other did not."

Would it be fair to ask of Jesus, "Which one felt like he'd been heard?"

The Pharisee, I suppose, must have felt good about his prayer. He had certainly touched all the bases of self-assurance. But the publican only groaned in silence. He could not hear the echo of his prayer, especially over the noise of the pharisee.

There is much to be said for confidence in prayer, and the feeling of a job well done. Each morning I read the Office of Readings, Morning Prayer, and Midday Prayer. I throw in some other prayers for good measure. Plus a little spiritual reading. Then I go to my office, boot up the VA computer and check on the status of my Catholic patients.

But I don't usually ask myself if I feel good about my prayer, nor do I wonder if I was heard by the Lord. I hope that I have kept faith by this regular observance; by maintaining this routine which some might call a rut.There are days when I feel more attentive to the prayers, but I don't suppose my alertness -- on a scale of one to ten -- equals their worth.

Rather, I take God at his Word and suppose, "the one who searches hearts knows what is the intention of the Spirit, because he intercedes for the holy ones according to God's will."

I don't pray each day because i want to. At least I don't suppose this was my idea, or that I am impelled by my own ambition. I hope that I pray in response to the Spirit which prodded me to get up at the alarm, take my breakfast, drive to the VA, and settle in the chapel. If I don't do so with the same energy as when, sixty years ago, Dad would wake me with, "You want to go fishing?" I am nonetheless where I should be when I should be.

I am quite sure that, without the Spirit which renders me willing, I would not get up early. That has never been my way. You remember the song, "Lazybones?" That's me.

But "we know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose."

Tuesday of the Thirtieth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 480

For in hope we were saved.

Now hope that sees for itself is not hope.

For who hopes for what one sees?

But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait with endurance.

Hope addresses the future. Love lives in the present moment and faith concerns the past. A healthy human being practices all three.
We do not forget our past, neither my own personal experience nor our history as a family, religion, or nation. Knowing where we have come from and the courage that has brought us to this point, we keep faith with that trajectory. When we gather -- whoever "we" might be -- we remember our past as we invoke that spirit. Traditional songs, gestures, foods, and other customs remind us of who we are and where we have been. We tell stories, we laugh at old jokes, we might recall the hardships. "Spirit" gives us the willingness to practice that faith. That spirit may be the spirit of a church, a people, or a nation.
Love celebrates and cherishes our bonds, strengthening them with new sacrifices, healing them where apologies are required or misunderstandings have damaged our relationships. Love recognizes and honors the moment, with its pleasures, privileges and privations. Love says, "Here I am," and "Here we are." It receives the presence of others in the present moment.
Hope addresses the future even as it recalls ancient promises. Without hope there is little incentive to gather in the present moment. Without hope, the past with its memory of sacrifices and challenges overcome is futile. It came to nothing. Hope remembers the promises that inspired our courage and anticipates more heroic sacrifices.

Saint Paul, writing his letter to the Romans, reminded them that "that the sufferings of this present time are as nothing compared with the glory to be revealed for us." He spoke of a Spirit which not only gave him courage but animated all creation. He saw living creatures of every kind waiting "with eager expectation the revelation of the children of God." He knew that "creation itself (will) be set free from slavery to corruption and share in the glorious freedom of the children of God."
He was sure of this future because he felt it within himself and within his Christian companions. "as we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, also groan within ourselves as we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies."
Saint Paul had experienced much that would discourage an uninspired person, and he didn't mind reminding his readers about that when the occasion called for it. He gives a detailed list of his travails in 2 Corinthians: 11​. But the point was not "Look how I have suffered!" It was look how my Spirit and your Spirit has never been discouraged by these daunting challenges.
Despite it all he had such joy in the present and such confidence for the future.

His vision for the future is none too clear. No one can say exactly what will happen. No prophet can read the future as if it had passed. But he was sure his joy was the joy of the Resurrected Christ; and you will know it, as will all creation. Because we cannot see it clearly we wait with endurance.

Those who had seen the Risen Lord spoke not so much of his appearances as of his disappearances. He came to them but he went away again. They could not hold or cling to him. Ever obedient, he could not stay. That would not be for their benefit. Only with his intensely felt absence could they know the presence of the Spirit within them.
The apparitions were promises of things to come, of their own resurrected bodies, of the "glorious freedom of the children of God."

Many centuries later, as each morning brings new unexpectedness, we wonder where this is all going. Is our only hope a return to past greatness, MAGA? It sounds desperate to many, and pointless to others. The past was never that great.
Our faith recalls the promises of God: "And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.”
So long as our God is with us, so long as God's Spirit stirs us to sacrificial acts of generosity, we do not fear the future.

Feast of Saints Simon and Jude, Apostles

Lectionary: 666

You are no longer strangers and sojourners, but you are fellow citizens with the holy ones and members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the Apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the capstone.

A recent essay in the New York Times -- I've lost the title and the author -- describes the Russian strategy for dealing with America. Russian propaganda does not try to persuade their own people that they are telling the truth. Rather, they argue that no one speaks the truth. Everyone is lying to you. Trump's methods and the constitutional crisis in the United States play perfectly into the Russian game. Their propaganda machinery -- newspapers, television, social media -- can say, "You see? The Americans are also deceiving you."

Putin's goal is power -- naked, pure, amoral power. I heard a newscaster ask a reporter, "How does Putin plan to perpetuate his power beyond his death?" 

The reporter replied, "He doesn't plan to die." 

There is no future in the game of power, for Trump or Putin. If we jury rig the voting system so that our party wins, we don't care what the consequences might be. We'll have the power to control whatever happens. 

In the meanwhile, "Nobody tells the truth." Did American put men on the moon in 1969? There are people who believe it never happened. How do they prove it didn't happen? You can't prove something never happened, so you don't answer that question. You only insist you won't believe it because everybody lies and you choose to believe whatever you want to believe. 

There is no truth. 

Is Trump a liar? Of course he is. But so is Hillary. And Bill, as everybody knows. And Obama. and Michelle! And the fake news of CNN and Fox. And Pope Francis. And Pope Benedict was forced to retire. And Saint John Paul II knew all about priest pedophilia and did nothing to stop it. 

Once you believe that, Putin has won. 

Many people do believe that. I meet them in my own family, among Knights of Columbus, and among the chaplains at the VA. 

If a civil society can be restored we should begin with the simple fact, It's not easy to tell the truth. When I am asked a hard question, I have to stop and think about it. I consider what I know, what I am sure of versus what I am not sure of. I consider those who asked the question and their understandings. Are they ready to hear what I might say? Are they hostile or friendly, suspicious or open-minded? How much time do I have to frame my response? If they only want a quick, yes-or-no answer there's no point in further conversation. 

My response to a peer will not be the same as I would speak to a small child. How well does this person understand anything? Do we share a similar educational background and philosophical beliefs? How do I answer someone with a very different worldview? How do I respond on social media, where every word can be misconstrued? 

I consider whether I trust this person and how far am I willing to extend my trust. There are limits. If I will speak the truth I will choose my words carefully. Sloppy, rushed, or unconsidered half-truths only make matters worse. Likewise, insulting and demeaning words will only antagonize them. If I don't respect my interlocutor, I should realize that and act accordingly, perhaps by retreating from the conversation.  

To speak the truth, we must love the truth. Both those who answer hard questions and those who ask them. Without that bond of love for the truth, there is no foundation for civility. A house built on sand must collapse. 

A democratic society is also built on a rock-solid love of Truth. The authors of the American Constitution recognized our endless struggle for power and they tried to create a government of balanced authorities. Power would be distributed among three branches of government. If any one branch gains too much power, the other two should take it down a notch to rebalance the system. But if the people -- that is, the electorate -- tire of the endless balancing, the system must collapse into tyranny. Because democracy is an experiment, it can never succeed; it can always fail.

Choosing to believe that no one tells the truth, and that authorities of every discipline are compromised by greed, avarice, or stupidity is at least as dishonest and irresponsible. Cynicism requires neither courage nor industry. Those who refuse to vote must still face the consequences of their choice, and of the choices they would not make. Their attitude is subject to God's Final Judgement.

As President Kennedy said, "The Only Thing Necessary for the Triumph of Evil is that Good Men Do Nothing."

Christians and Catholics have been sent to represent God, whose name is Truth. Our credential must be our obedience to the commands of the Truth-made-flesh, "You shall love the truth with all your heart, all your soul, and all your strength; and your neighbor as yourself." We begin each day in prayer with that resolution and ask God to reveal what we must do and how to do it. 

Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 150​

I tell you, the latter went home justified, not the former;

for whoever exalts himself will be humbled,

and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.

We're all familiar with braggarts. They take up all the oxygen in the room; they want and demand attention; they insist upon their superiority, even when they have nothing to show for it.

A psychologist might say they need to cover their sense of inadequacy, or they feel neglected and must overcompensate. The rest of us just think they're tiresome.

The Gospels expose the pharisee as, among other things, a braggart. Failing to believe in a merciful God, persuaded of the need to prove their worth in God's sight as well as that of an indifferent world, they shore up their anxieties with tales of their superiority. If others notice them at all, they laugh at the braggart. 

I often recall the old priest who said, "When I was a young man I worried about what people thought of me. Then, as I grew into adulthood, I said, "I don't care what people think about me!" Now that I am an old man, I realize people don't think about me at all."

Our gospel today concerns a fellow who thinks excessively about himself. The eleventh verse of Luke 18 is variously translated: did the Pharisee pray "to himself" as our NABRE renders it? Or "by himself" as the King James Version renders it? Or, " thus with himself" according to the Douay-Rheims Bible? In any case, his prayer failed to reach God's ear. As Thomas Merton said, "God cannot hear the prayers of those who do not exist."

The man is fake; he has no real existence for he has never experienced the presence of another person, divine or human. In Jesus's parable he is placed up front where he cannot notice the company of a publican who is also in prayer. He sees the man only as a competitor for the prize of God's attention.

With this parable Jesus recalls the ancient feud of Cain and Abel. Like the Pharisee's, Cain's prayer is not accepted. Genesis does not tell us why God preferred Abel's prayer to Cain's, but he also showed the older boy an infinite mercy, he spoke to him. A pleasure Abel never knew. And so the jealous brother kills his younger brother. In the temple, the story is reenacted as the Pharisee dismisses the publican. The violence has a continuous history to this day; it has never stopped.

The Pharisee tells God all about himself, as if God doesn't know him. Why? Because God doesn't know the lies this man tells. Nor does the man know himself. He cannot face the essential emptiness in the core of his soul. 

I met a young woman who complained about what other's said of her. I assured her, "They do not know you. They can neither see nor hear you. They're thinking only of themselves and when they speak cruel words to you they're only talking to themselves about themselves. They do not see themselves in you because they're afraid to. What you must do is discover your own emptiness and remain in that sacred place until you're ready to meet someone else; but don't come out too soon." 

"What a person is before God." Saint Francis said, "That is what we are, and nothing more." 

Saturday of the Twenty-ninth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 478

Now there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. 

For the law of the spirit of life in Christ Jesus has freed you from the law of sin and death.

Saint Paul wrote from personal experience about condemnation to people -- Jews first but also gentiles -- who also lived under a cloud of condemnation. 

The Jews of Rome felt far from their homeland, like a people in exile, and knew they would never return to Jerusalem. The diaspora was centuries old by the time of Christ, and Jews were settled from India to Spain, from North Africa to habitable regions of northern Europe. They were an alien people living among alien peoples, and their memory of Jerusalem was enshrined in the Law of Moses; that is, their rituals, customs, and dietary restrictions. 

But they also suffered an uncomfortable sense of not getting it right. Their religion may have been good enough but it wasn't good. 

Gentiles, attracted to the Jewish religion by its moral teachings and belief in One, Sovereign, Merciful and Compassionate God, inherited that sense of dissatisfaction. And condemnation. For there were also Jewish travelers, Pharisee missionaries, who compared the life style of Jews in exile to the Jerusalem base, and found it inadequate. 

And so they were ready to hear of a new movement among Jews that dismissed a strict reading of the Law in favor of the law of the spirit of life in Christ Jesus. Saint Paul and his party taught that circumcision and strict dietary practices were not only unnecessary; they make matters worse for they create a false assurance. 

If they accepted as historical fact the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus, and recognized him as LORD; if they caught the Spirit of Jesus as they worshiped with his disciples; if they lived by generous and hospitable customs of this new community -- which shares and shares alike -- they would escape condemnation and enjoy a penetrating, delightful freedom. 

No more fearful toeing the line. No more trying to satisfy an implacable God and his ever-watchful, ever-suspicious community. No more need to hide one's devious impulses from the pious and self-righteous. 

In place of such fear was a willingness to receive guidance, reassurance and gentle rebuke as they learned this new way of life. With continual prayer, the Holy Spirit would show them how to live in a pagan world with its bizarre values and barbaric rituals. If they were challenged by hostile forces, they would find a new kind of joy in their hearts like that of Daniel and his companions in the fiery furnace. 

Because they worshiped a God who had died and been raised up, their natural fear of death was tempered by an assurance of resurrection. To their astonishment, they found a fearlessness among their companions, even among teenage girls, that defied the worse cruelties of Roman soldiers. The Jews had long commemorated the martyrs of the Maccabean era; Christians discovered new martyrs among their own. The hostility of the world and their courage were the surest signs of God's blessing on the Church. 

We are all condemned to death. That is certain. But "there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus."

Friday of the Twenty-ninth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 477

So, then, I discover the principle
that when I want to do right, evil is at hand.
For I take delight in the law of God, in my inner self,
but I see in my members another principle
at war with the law of my mind,
taking me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members.
Miserable one that I am!
Who will deliver me from this mortal body?
Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord.


Many people refer to this passage from Romans 7, when Saint Paul speaks of his disappointment with himself. His words strike a chord in anyone who has been inspired by the Lord and set out to carry the cross and announce the Gospel. We have been touched by the Spirit of God and felt a thrill of glad hope within us. We know with utter confidence and sincere simplicity, we can live as Jesus lived. It's just not that difficult!
Why do our good intentions so often come to naught?
Trying again and again, we might decide to avoid every "occasion of evil." Appealing pleasures, bad companions, and stress: we won't go there. We know we should be careful about hunger, anger, lonely, and tired. Whenever we feel HALT, we'll be aware and take appropriate steps. We know that idleness is the devil's workshop so we'll plan our days and keep busy. We'll seek inspiration daily in prayer and sacred reading, good company, and useful activity.
But the mortal body, inevitably subject to relentless gravity, drags us down. As Jesus sadly observed of his sleeping companions, "The spirit is willing, the flesh is weak."
If you look to me for an escape formula, I'll assure you I don't have one.
If you think you have one, bottle and sell it. You'll get rich! (Though many others have tried and failed already, there's still room on that list.)
Relief comes for Saint Paul in the last line of this chapter, 

"Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord."

Paul's life is not about Paul. His gospel is not the Gospel of Paul the Apostle; it's the Gospel of Jesus Christ, Son of God.
This life is not about me. Salvation is not for me but for the One who saves me.
The Apostle will announce with great satisfaction in Romans 8, "Now there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.
Condemn yourself, if you like. It won't matter for the Lord is your judge and the Lord's justice is mercy. Only when I judge myself does the Lord turn a deaf ear to me.

The saints take peculiar delight in knowing and confessing their sins. Grateful that God reveals their sins to them, they love to hear that Voice of Rebuke for it is sweet beyond honey, more precious than a hope diamond. To know the Lord is to know you have been gazed upon, known, cherished, forgiven, and laughed at. And you laughed with him. 

"It is good that we are here." Saint Peter said. But we cannot stay in that place of pleasure either for we're on the top of a mountain and gravity never quits. (If you sleep on a mountain you may end up in the creek at the bottom!)

So we go back to the level ground and look at the offensive neighbor once again and try to notice they are made like us, in God's image. 

Thursday of the Twenty-ninth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 476



For just as you presented the parts of your bodies as slaves to impurity and to lawlessness for lawlessness, so now present them as slaves to righteousness for sanctification. For when you were slaves of sin, you were free from righteousness. But what profit did you get then from the things of which you are now ashamed? For the end of those things is death.

The majority of those who lived under the rule of the Roman Empire were slaves. Americans are horrified by the thought, remembering as we do, "American slavery was profoundly different from, and in its lasting effects on individuals and their children, indescribably worse than, any recorded servitude, ancient or modern."

Under the Roman Empire, slavery was certainly unjust and occasionally cruel, as is capitalism in the United States; but it also served as a useful model for the Christian's relationship to Jesus. Paul's use of the analogy is no more shocking than one of today's orator's references to a smoking gun or a nuclear option. 

Slavery was an economic way of organizing work; without some organization human life descends into chaotic, violent anarchy. As I understand, slavery nearly disappeared in Europe after the fall of the empire; it was revived by the world-wide sugar industry in the sixteenth century. Sugar was a luxury for rich and poor, everybody wanted it and no one saw any harm in it. Slaves grew cane and processed sugar in Caribbean islands and South America. It was transported to consumers in Europe; and the profits were used to purchase more Africans for transport to the Americas. 

South Americans, still engaged in the sugar, banana and coffee trade, still suffer the short side of that exploitative triangle. And, when the climate changes and those crops fail, millions of people migrate north, toward the source of today's cash crop, which is cash. (Understandably, nations who control the generation and flow of cash, fear them.) 

But, I was reflecting on our slavery to righteousness for sanctification. If I were less a slave to consumer products (e.g. sugar, bananas and coffee), I would be more sanctified; I might be more free to serve the Lord! 

Our historical reflection on slavery, ancient and modern, has evolved into a consideration of consumerism. Which must direct our attention to how we, denizens of the 21st century and participants in international trade, (albeit minor partners), are controlled by those dynamic forces rather than by the Spirit of Jesus. 

Our Catholic tradition recommends fast and abstinence as a practice of freedom. I've often heard the legend that Catholics abstained from meat because the papacy wanted to support Rome's fishing industry. I suspect that's not true but it does point to the macroeconomic impact of a spiritual discipline. The consumer who must eat meat seven days a week has been indoctrinated in a falsehood and needs to be set free. These unfortunate persons may be called a slaves of their stomachs. Saint Paul speaks of this slavery to one's appetites again in 1 Corinthians 6.   

The mystery of the Incarnation -- God's taking on human flesh and wrapping himself in the mesh of human relationships -- which includes everything from family and clan to economics and politics, and viruses and microbes -- insists that Grace disciplines the body as well as one's mind. They are inextricably entangled in one another. 

Even the shame we feel about our bodies and their demands teaches us to rely on the Mercy of God. 

Wednesday of the Twenty-ninth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 475

Sin must not reign over your mortal bodies

so that you obey their desires.

And do not present the parts of your bodies to sin

as weapons for wickedness, but present yourselves to God as raised from the dead to life

and the parts of your bodies to God as weapons for righteousness.

For sin is not to have any power over you, since you are not under the law but under grace.

The Greeks were familiar with antinomianism, the idea that we should have no moral restraints, boundaries, or laws; and it still appears frequently amid discussions about freedom. As the philosopher John Macmurray wrote,

"When we profess our faith in freedom we often mean only that we want to be free. What honor is there in such a miserable faith? Which of us would not like to do as he pleases – if only he could escape the consequences?"

Saint Paul apparently discovered this free-spirited philosophy when he announced the Gospel, especially when he opposed Christian grace and freedom against Pharisaic righteousness. To some his doctrine sounded like untrammeled licence to do anything they felt like doing. "If it feels good, do it!" Of that group, some would have delighted in the message; others would violently oppose it. Neither would understand Life in the Spirit as the Apostle announced it.

As often happened, the misunderstanding led him to explore deeper dimensions of the gospel,and to elucidate a better understanding of the Christian's relation to the body.

Your body has been raised from the dead to life! Beginning with your baptism and renewed continually by the Eucharist, your body is the Body of Christ. He explains this remarkable doctrine more clearly in Galatians 2:20-23:

For through the law I died to the law, that I might live for God. I have been crucified with Christ; yet I live, no longer I, but Christ lives in me; insofar as I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God who has loved me and given himself up for me. 

His explanation seems to fall on both sides of a paradox. As a Christian I am possessed by the spirit of Jesus, a slave to whatever God would have me do. In some ways his explanation sounds like slavery or diabolical possession.

But I am also free!

From his day until our own there have been people who insist their hunger, lust, avarice, or greed were "God's will for me." They justify their readiness to abandon parents, spouse, and children as God's will because, "I live no longer but Christ lives in me." Doesn't Saint Augustine say, "Love God and do what you want?" I met one fellow who was determined to be a minister despite his wife's opposition. So he divorced her. Perhaps because his denomination does not regard marriage as a sacrament, he could not suppose that his wife's commitment, love, fears and sensibilities should direct his life.

Saint Paul urged his readers to regard their bodies, and even "parts of" their bodies, as "weapons for righteousness." The body, like the soul and the spirit, is saved by the death and resurrection of Jesus. Therefore it belongs to Christ and cannot be exempt from obedience to him. With our bodies we bring glory to the Body of Christ; or shame if we sin in the body.  

Saint Paul would not be compelled by bodily desires for pleasure. Rather, he was impelled by the cross of Christ. He knew the exquisite pleasure and rare privilege of suffering with Jesus. Like James and John, he rejoiced that he was found worthy to suffer for the sake of the name. If he felt like boasting, as his Greek culture was given to bombast, he boasted of his frequent humiliations. (But he also tempered his boasting in 1 Corinthians 13: "...if I hand my body over so that I may boast but do not have love, I gain nothing.")

This vocation is nothing like antinomianism. It bears no resemblance to Do Your Own Thing.

But neither does it invite a stoic determination to control one's appetites and desires with shame, contempt, guilt or fear. Many alcoholics, facing certain death if they continue their drinking, having tried and failed and tried again, time after time, see no hope. They suffer an affliction of the will, and seem to have no "will power." The twelve step program of Alcoholics Anonymous urges the afflicted to abandon their life and will to the care of God, a practice that requires moment-by-moment awareness. They must "seek a knowledge of God's will and the power to carry it out." Possessed by neither alcohol nor willfulness, they willingly live with grateful sobriety.

Saint Paul would have been delighted to see his teaching reinterpreted in these last two centuries by the "Program." Where he spoke within the Jewish-Christian tradition of the guiding Spirit of God, AA announces the same mystery with a less religious expression, "the will of God." 

In any case, sin can have no power over those who take up their allotted crosses and follow Jesus to Calvary.

Memorial of Pope Saint John Paul II

Lectionary: 474

For if, by the transgression of the one,

death came to reign through that one,

how much more will those who receive the abundance of grace

and the gift of justification come to reign in life through the one Jesus Christ.

Somewhere in the middle of the last century, I learned about Original Sin. It was the rank disobedience of Adam and Eve when they ate the forbidden fruit, which was often described as an apple since second graders might be familiar with forbidden apples on a neighbor's tree. By an undefined biological process -- apparently -- the guilt of said sin passed from generation to generation these many thousand years to me and all my classmates, the unfortunate descendants of Adam and Eve.

We learned to blame that foolish couple for the havoc they caused, even as we were forced to admit -- had they not sinned -- we might have done it instead.

I fear that many Catholics have never learned an adult approach to this deep mystery.

Before the Lord appeared among us, we might have understood there was something seriously wrong with human life. Despite the beauty of the healthy human body, a great many are sick, some are born with disabilities, and some are never born. What's wrong with this picture? Despite the generosity that flows naturally to a child from a devoted parent, many children are sorely mistreated. How can that be? Human beings depend upon one another for survival but we often mistreat and sometimes murder one another. What is going on? Is that the way it's supposed to be?

Much of the world's great literature reflects this deep disappointment. Our western literature and arts were born of the Greek tragedies which ponder this sorry situation. The equally brilliant comedies offer humor as a way to cope with our pathetic helplessness. The Greek gods, eternally engaged in their  petty squabbles, sometimes pity but offer no help to the heroically suffering human race.

However, we really cannot fathom the horror of it all until we have seen the Lord Jesus crucified and raised up. In that brilliant light our sins appall us and God's mercy astonishes us.

Saint Augustine was the first to coin the phrase "Original Sin" but the teaching is clear enough in Saint Paul's letter to the Romans. Understood only in the light of the Good News, Original Sin is the shadow that appears when the Sun rises. Until the light appears no one can see a shadow. Nor can they imagine how brilliantly the light will shine.

Saint Paul, preoccupied with his complaint about the Pharisaic "law," recalled the law that Adam and Eve had carelessly violated. In the light of the passion, death and resurrection of Jesus he experienced both the horror of sin and the promise of mercy. Where evil hangs like a suffocating darkness over the entire human race, the Lord of Glory shines below the cloud -- in our world -- like a ray of sunshine. He and his fellow Christians are sent from Jerusalem to bring the light of mercy to every nation on earth, to announce that there is a God who loves us.

This God spares no expense to save us: the Father will sentence his only begotten Son to the death he would not impose on Abraham's son -- for our salvation. The Son of God will descend through "death on a cross" to utter annihilation in Hell; the Spirit will go with us into the most shameful and guilty passages of our hearts to lead us into light.

To this day we have a hard time imagining a merciful God, and many people misinterpret "Original Sin" only as a merciless, unfair condemnation by an all-powerful, arbitrary deity. It is certainly an ominous expression, reflecting as it does the apparently infinite dimensions of human depravity, shame, and guilt. Saint John, on the very first page of his Gospel, tells us what it means:

...this life was the light of the human race;

the light shines in the darkness,

and the darkness has not overcome it.

Monday of the Twenty-ninth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 473

Abraham did not doubt God's promise in unbelief;

rather, he was empowered by faith and gave glory to God

and was fully convinced that what God had promised

he was also able to do.

That is why it was credited to him as righteousness.

But it was not for him alone that it was written

that it was credited to him;

it was also for us, to whom it will be credited,

who believe in the one who raised Jesus our Lord from the dead,

who was handed over for our transgressions

and was raised for our justification.

If we should credit Saint Paul with a revolutionary insight, one that decisively set Christians apart from Jews for all time, it is his appeal to the story of Abraham. Where Pharisaic Judaism relied on Moses and the Law, Paul evoked the older story of Abraham. In his mind, Jesus is the new Moses, the new Abraham, and the new Adam. Paul knew that everything in his life, in his religion, and in human history must be reconsidered in the light of Jesus's death and resurrection. His reading of the Hebrew Scriptures completely flummoxes a Pharisaic conformity. Where the Pharisee delights in observing the law, finding freedom within its restrictions, prohibitions, taboos and boundaries, Paul retains only an ethical code of "natural law."

Anyone who believes in Jesus; that is, anyone who feels the presence of the Living Lord Jesus and the enthusiasm of the Holy Spirit belongs to Christ. This was regardless of their nationality, language, gender, or way of life. Circumcision means nothing to Christians because they have shed not a piece of flesh but the whole person! This was the new circumcision of the spirit, represented by Baptism.

With his willingness to sacrifice Isaac, the Patriarch demonstrated his complete reliance on the God who had not given him a code of conduct. That would come later, under Moses' leadership. The faithful in Abraham's tradition are guided by the Spirit of Jesus.

If there was tension between Saint Paul's brilliant insight and the older, more conservative apostles -- especially Peter and James in Jerusalem -- it was resolved by their meeting in Jerusalem. Saint Luke shows us how Peter came around to Paul's way of thinking when he witnessed gentiles praying in the Holy Spirit even before they were baptized.

When Abraham saw the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah he realized he had been adopted and befriended by a Deity more powerful than anything he could imagine. The apostolic church also realized that the Spirit of Jesus was more powerful and more mysterious than anything the old Mosaic Law could contain. Their proclamation of the Gospel could not be confined to Jewish people; it must go out to the ends of the earth.

In our time, these many centuries later, the challenge of the Gospel is just as intense and mysterious as it ever was. How does one practice faith in Jesus? How confident can I be that I am living in the Spirit?

In my experience, I am more apt to discover I am neither walking in the narrow path nor carrying my assigned cross. There have been innumerable moments in my life when I realized my attitudes are not generous and my behavior is not helpful. It's like driving blind on a dark night; I might not feel the road but I can hear the warning track. Hopefully. in those moments, I realize I am pursuing my own aims, feathering my own nest, and pleasing myself. And then I return to the Lord, especially by way of the Sacrament of Penance.

If I have any confidence it's in the Lord who will warn me when I am in trouble. They might come by way of my own uneasy conscience; my upset stomach, sleeplessness, or depression; the insistent remarks of friends; or the harsh rebukes of enemies. 

Pharisees would prove their good standing in God's presence by their observance of the Law. But their confidence often shielded inner corruption like whitewash on a tomb. They could not see it nor would they listen to others who did. Jesus railed against that false reliance and Saint Paul showed how faith purifies the soul, removing the ego and replacing it with Christ. As he said, "I live no longer my own life but Christ lives in me."

There is no assurance in such faith. No one can say, "I am saved!" for the faithful no longer care about the "I" who would make such a statement. John of the Cross, a Spaniard, insisted the Christian would know, "Nada!" for knowledge is the opposite of faith. 

In not knowing, then, we meet the Friend of Abraham. 

Twenty-ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 147


The Lord said, "Pay attention to what the dishonest judge says. Will not God then secure the rights of his chosen ones who call out to him day and night? Will he be slow to answer them?I tell you, he will see to it that justice is done for them speedily.



Recently we celebrated the Feast of the Archangels Gabriel, Michael and Raphael; a few days later we celebrated the Guardian Angels. It occurred to me that many bright people have worked industriously over the past several hundred years to persuade us that there are no angels in the universe. And, they say, there is no God either.
No sooner have they persuaded themselves of these two "scientific facts(!)" than they want to persuade us there has to be intelligent life in some distant place of the vast universe.
That's what we've been saying all along! God's universe is chock full of intelligent angels and wise saints and Mary, the Queen of Wisdom, and the All-Wise and All-Knowing Lord of Heaven and Earth. The starriest night can hardly represent their number or the beauty, variety and wonder of Dominions, Cherubim, Seraphim, Angels, Principalities, Thrones, Archangels, Virtues, and Powers.
While they're investing millions in their SETI project -- trying to detect a communication from a distant intelligence, in the unlikely event that there might be Somebody Out There, who for some inexplicable reason might not want to exploit us as we have ruthlessly exploited one another -- we commune with our Good Lord who hears our prayers and cares intensely about us.
And, while the SETIs wait and wait, knowing full well that if there is someone out there the odds of our contacting them or their contacting us are more astronomical than the universe, our patron saints and guardian angels speak to us through visions, auditions, and brilliant insights -- often!
But those fascinating incidents are not nearly as important as our daily sacramental communion with the Lord and the Church, which is comprised of saints long dead, living presently, and yet to be born. In that fellowship we find both reassurance and guidance. Nor do we fear a hostile invasion of these astral beings, as the SETI faithful fear a Wellsian War of the Worlds.
Today's first and third readings encourage us to present ourselves with our needs, hopes, and dreams in the Presence of God, confident of a favorable hearing. Jesus uses an unforgettable parable about a wicked judge and a widow to make his point. The scriptures often remind us that there's nothing new under the sun​, and we're very familiar with stories of crooked judges, lawyers, police, and politicians. However, this parable has an ironic twist as a bad man does good when a widow relentlessly demands his attention and her satisfaction. (We're assured her cause is "just" only by her saying it is.) Now, lawyers are notoriously indifferent to matters of justice and injustice; their only concern is the game of law and how it's played. So when the wicked judge does the right thing we know it's nothing less than a miracle.
Jesus' point: expect a miracle as you persist in prayer.
Remember that we're praying in the Name of Jesus, who is the Beloved Son and Icon of the Father. We are impelled to prayer by the Holy Spirit, who is also the Third Person of the Holy Trinity. Our impulse is not greed, avarice, envy, or fear but divine generosity. We have been sent and commissioned to pray for ourselves, our loved ones, our neighbors and enemies. Ever since Abraham pleaded for mercy for the cities of the plain, we have represented Earthlings to God and God to Earthlings. If they wallow in the Slough of Despond and cannot stand upright we stand with Jesus in the Heavenly Temple​ pleading for them.
Where credulous SETI enthusiasts think human life can be more efficient (cheaper) if it is digitized, depersonalized and robotic, we look for a human touch, face and eyes. At the heart of our reality is the Lord whom Saint Francis called,

the fullness of good, all good, every good, the true and supreme good, Who alone is good, merciful, gentle, delightful, and sweet, Who alone is holy, just, true, holy, and upright, Who alone is kind, innocent, clean, from Whom, through Whom and in Whom is all pardon, all grace, all glory of all penitents and just ones, of all the blessed rejoicing together in heaven.

Even if we don't get what we think we need or should have, we will have honored the Lord and there can be no harm in that.

Memorial of Saints John de Brébeuf and Isaac Jogues, Priests, and Companions, Martyrs

Lectionary: 472

It was not through the law that the promise was made to Abraham and his descendants that he would inherit the world, but through the righteousness that comes from faith. For this reason, it depends on faith, so that it may be a gift, and the promise may be guaranteed to all his descendants, not to those who only adhere to the law but to those who follow the faith of Abraham....



As we reflect on Saint Paul's Letter to the Romans we try to appreciate the precise nature of his teaching about faith.
Christians believe our religion has its roots in Judaism. If Protestant Christians see Jesus' movement as a "reformation," Catholics see it as less revolutionary and, given what we know of Jesus, more "evolutionary." Jesus appeared among the Jews like the natural fruit of a tree. If he was unexpected it was because they could not have imagined what the future would bear. But when he appeared, the faithful could only say, "Of course! As the prophets foretold!"
Historically, we know the two religions separated several years after the death of Jesus, but apparently within the New Testament age. This separation may have occurred in 90 AD, at a meeting of Jewish rabbis in Egypt. Or, perhaps the cleaver fell much sooner, at the Council of Jerusalem, when the Peter, James, and Paul agreed that gentile Christians need not be circumcised and that they could eat pork. The precise details of the split are disputed but that it happened is certain.

Some Jews today blame Saint Paul and his teaching about faith for the split. The Jewish religion, as I understand it, (and if I am permitted to attempt such a statement), concerns observance of the Law of Moses. Anyone who reads Psalm 119 must appreciate how intensely grateful and happy Jews are for the gift of the Law. Every single verse of the longest psalm has a word for law: statute, ordinance, command, word, decree, etc. Observing the Law of Moses with gratitude is the sure and certain sign of God's covenant, which was first made with Abraham; and reconfirmed with Moses and the Hebrews, and to every generation since then by Jewish liturgical rites.

That "gratitude" is more than a feeling, of course. It describes an entire way of life. Jesus and the Apostles insisted that the Covenant is fulfilled by belief in Jesus as the Son of God. The ancient covenant has certainly not been scrapped or discarded. Not one letter nor any part of a letter of the Law is cancelled by Jesus! Rather, one satisfies the Covenant's demands by faith in Jesus and by obedience to his Holy Spirit.

Faith is far more than a matter of opinion. (God save us from opinions!) Faith is lived by attentive obedience to the Spirit of Jesus, which we call the Holy Spirit; aka, the Third Person of the Holy Trinity. One of the more obvious duties of the Christian is to announce the good news to other people. We do so by our holy way of life and by telling anyone who will listen the story of Jesus. Failing that is miserable failure; we call it sin.

The Christian faith as Saint Paul described it proved to be more mobile and adaptable than the Jewish religion. It didn't require a painful surgery; it did allow people to retain many of their non-Jewish customs; and it was propelled by a manifest joy in the Lord's victory over sin and death. Not to mention the healing, cures, and exorcisms that accompanied the disciples wherever they went. And the spirited courage of the martyrs who would not renounce the Lord even in the face of death.

Twenty centuries later we still struggle to grasp Saint Paul's doctrine of faith. The temptation of Pharisaism is still with us. That is the eagerness to do something rather than believe something. It is a dark belief that I can prove my worth by trying hard, doing good and avoiding evil.

When Jesus invites us as sinners to approach the Eucharistic table and share his flesh and blood, our fears are allayed and our faith reconfirmed. We come again to the Lord, just as I am without one plea but that thy blood was shed for me.