Feast of Saint Andrew, Apostle

Lectionary: 684

He said to them, "Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men."

At once they left their nets and followed him.


It may be hard to imagine sensible persons abandoning their families, work and careers to follow a stranger who has only said, "Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men." We can be forgiven if we fill out the story, supposing they had heard Jesus speak in the synagogue; had met with him on occasion; admired him greatly; and, when the moment came, dropped their nets to follow him.
But that retelling, I think, misses the point. Jesus' coming is abrupt. Although it fulfills the scriptures, it is nonetheless unexpected and unconventional.
This is how the Christian's life must be, somewhat unexpected, not entirely predictable:

The wind blows where it wills, and you can hear the sound it makes, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes; so it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

The life of the Christian is always immediate. As Saint Paul said,

Behold, now is a very acceptable time; behold, now is the day of salvation.

Recent spirituality, with its exotic flavor of Buddhism, would have us be aware and mindful of the present moment. Recent Christian spirituality echoes that urgent message with its "life in the spirit;" while "nones" appeal to their "spirituality." In every case, it's a disciplined attention to the moment and its opportunity. The Christian has the added assurance of doing as Jesus would do, were he in this present moment and this present situation.
I once took a principled stand against the proliferation of weapons in a civilized society and wrote a letter to the editor of the small town newspaper where I lived. There were only three priests in that community so I was pretty well known. Some time later, as I was preparing to leave the town and walking its streets on a pleasant Sunday afternoon, I wondered if I had many difference during my seven years there. I was feeling sad as I walked, I remembered many regrets. 

Suddenly I heard a honk and looked up to see a fellow flipping the bird at me! Was it a friend just kidding me? No, it was someone who didn't like me! Wow. I thought, I have made a difference!
It was the Spirit that spoke in that moment, prompting a hateful response from an unfortunate soul, and laughter in mine. I might have been frightened or upset that someone didn't like me. I could have been angry that anyone disagrees with me. But I just found it funny that, at that particular moment of regret and sadness, I should receive a message of reassurance. Yes, Ken, you made a difference.
As they said in that southern city, the difference between a Yankee and a Damned Yankee is the Yankees go home.
Tomorrow begins another liturgical year as we celebrate the First Sunday of Advent. Let us pray that the Spirit will make us ready to laugh or cry; stand up, sit down, or lie down; listen or disregard; and that we will be ready at every moment to obey.

Friday of the Thirty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 507​

Thrones were set up
and the Ancient One took his throne.
His clothing was snow bright,
and the hair on his head as white as wool;
His throne was flames of fire,

Perhaps the notion of God the Father as an old ("ancient") man with a white beard, often seen in older churches, began with these verses in the Book of Daniel. The prophet's vision fits the description of ancient near-east rulers. Few of Daniel's impoverished contemporaries would have seen the throne room of a king or emperor. They could only imagine the scene of cringing courtiers, fawning pages, and sycophant messengers. There should be some beautiful women in gorgeous gowns with an orchestra of musicians quietly filling out the scene.

But every once in a while these persons might appear in public, accompanied by ominous bodyguards and threatening soldiers. They would march through the villages, towns, and cities to remind everyone of who is in charge, and of the consequences of discontent.

Americans recoil against these oppressive images. Our rulers eschew the fabulous clothing of royalty, preferring the subtler appearance -- nonetheless expensive -- of well-cut suits and ties.

But that religious image of God persists. Many people imagine God as an old man on a throne with a white beard and stern, judicious manner. Only reluctantly has the Roman Catholic Church let it slip into the past. The solemnity of Christ the King was instituted by Pope Pius XI to shore up sagging support for the independent Vatican state, and the lost cause of European dynasties. Even after the Vatican was reduced to a few acres the Pope would be carried around the piazza on his royal litter into the 1960's.

In the first centuries of its history, the Church kept the Book of Daniel in our Bible not for its image of the Ancient One but for the prophecy of:

One like a son of man coming,

on the clouds of heaven;

When he reached the Ancient One

and was presented before him,

He received dominion, glory, and kingship;

nations and peoples of every language serve him.

The only reliable "image" of God the Father is the one Jesus gives us. He is never visible to the naked eye but, as we watch the "Son of Man" we see that his God is trustworthy, generous, and profoundly good. As Saint Francis would say a thousand years later, "You are good, all good, supreme Good!" We cannot see this Goodness but we know that Jesus is no fool. We can love, trust, and believe in God because Jesus does. He is the ambassador of God. More than that, he is the image of the invisible God.

The only throne for this God is the cross; his only crown is made of thorns. Our God reigns by suffering with us the frailty of our human bodies and the contempt we heap on each other, He leads us through his suffering, which is our suffering, to life.

We begin on Sunday the season of Advent. We shall again ponder this God who is the Son of Man, the son of Mary. Come let us worship. 

Thanksgiving Day 2019

Lectionary: 943-947

I give thanks to my God always on your account

for the grace of God bestowed on you in Christ Jesus,

that in him you were enriched in every way,

with all discourse and all knowledge,

as the testimony to Christ was confirmed among you,

so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gift

as you wait for the revelation of our Lord Jesus Christ.

In today's second reading from First Corinthians, we hear Saint Paul thanking God for the "grace of God" which we enjoy as Church and in Christ Jesus. That grace is the very essence of God; it is God's life, courage, generosity, confidence, and joy drawing us to prayer and community. It animates our work with one another, and assures us of meaning and purpose when the work is frustrating, difficult or disappointing. 

Which of us would not like to have more information as we approach every major decision, and more assurance as we decide and act? Always there is the threat of failure, the possibility of being wrong, of being shown as a fool. We live continually with the anxiety that accompanies freedom. 

But Saint Paul assures us, "...in him you are enriched in every way, with all discourse and all knowledge..." 

If I cannot see the future, and all the consequences of all my decisions, the Holy Spirit can. The Lord sends that Spirit to guide us in all our decisions. We can move with confidence through every trial with our Father's support. Even those decisions and policies that have been revealed as badly conceived missteps are forgiven by the endless mercy of God. For that we may be grateful.

How this will all end, how my efforts might contribute to God's overall plan of salvation, I can not imagine very well. I am especially blind to see how some of my awful behaviors and actions might be atoned in God's plan. Can the damage be repaired? Can the "damaged goods" of my life be rendered beautiful? 

But then, who could suppose that a crucifixion of a Galilean could lead to universal salvation? Only a God of the Unexpected can work such a miracle. If there is a logic to that story, it is a plot line too complex for comprehension. 

As we celebrate Thanksgiving, counting our blessings and considering the bountiful harvest which we enjoy at the end of autumn, the Christian puts ahead of this world's satisfactions the grace of God bestowed in Christ Jesus. 

We thank God for thanksgiving, for without that grace the we might gain the whole world and despair of any happiness. 

Wednesday of the Thirty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 505

Remember, you are not to prepare your defense beforehand, for I myself shall give you a wisdom in speaking that all your adversaries will be powerless to resist or refute.

Woody Allen: "I don't mind dying. I just don't want to be there when it happens."

Sister told us in our sixth grade classroom, as we studied the lives of the martyrs, "No one knows what they'll do if they face death for the sake of Christ." Will I defy the court's order to renounce my faith? Will I cling to the Lord? Or will I try to save my miserable skin?

Jesus tells us not to prepare your defense beforehand. The Holy Spirit will give you words. You will know what to say in that hour --- if you have been living  in the Spirit until that hour.

One thing about dying: you can't fake it. You can't send a substitute; you can't hold on until it's over. Dying is not holding on. Dying is losing; it's failure; it's sleep without waking; a "Goodbye!" which is not a "So long."

Dying is very real. It challenges all our pretenses, our shoulds, woulds, coulds, might haves, and if onlys. Death doesn't care about your rights, entitlements, or privileges. It disregards your beliefs and opinions. It doesn't care -- period.

We use death at our peril, as the Catholic Church has warned us. Neither the individual nor the state should use death to manage their way out of predicaments. Abortion solves no problems; the evils it attempts to manage are aroused, not mollified, by killing. A society which uses capital punishment will suffer increased gun violence, suicide, terrorism and war, Killing one's enemies devalues life itself.

Nor should Christians be surprised if they are called to martyrdom by a culture of death. Their love of life and faith in God defy a violent society. We live in a society that plays at justice, pretends to mercy, fakes concern, and studies the bottom line. It's only value is power; it's deity never died on a cross.

Jesus urges us to breathe the Breath of God, to invoke the Holy Spirit daily, that we may know what to do each day, that we may know what to say when that hour comes.

Tuesday of the Thirty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 504

While you looked at the statue, a stone which was hewn from a mountain without a hand being put to it, struck its iron and tile feet, breaking them in pieces. 

The iron, tile, bronze, silver, and gold all crumbled at once, fine as the chaff on the threshing floor in summer, and the wind blew them away without leaving a trace.

But the stone that struck the statue became a great mountain and filled the whole earth.

Christians, reading this passage from the Book of Daniel, immediately recognize in the stone -- "hewn from a mountain without a hand being put it it" -- the Lord Jesus Christ. He is the Rock of Ages;​​ the tested stone rejected which became the cornerstone; a stumbling stone​ for the unwary; and the watering rock which followed the Hebrews through the Sinai Desert. 

We also recognize the statue which disintegrated into powder when the rock struck its feet. The powers of this world are shattered by the rock which was rolled away from the tomb. 

That the rock struck the statue's feet, and not its head. reminds us of the unexpected nature of the cross. Where we looked for an overwhelming demonstration of might to shatter an impregnable earthly power, it was destroyed from beneath by a dead man who is not dead.

The winds of time blew away the dust without leaving a trace. Psalm 37 tells us the fate of the wicked, 

I have seen a ruthless scoundrel,

spreading out like a green cedar.

When I passed by again, he was gone;

though I searched, he could not be found.

Jesus prediction about the temple echoes Daniel's prophecy. No stone upon a stone describes the complete disappearance of the temple's grandeur and glitter. 

Finally, Daniel's stone becomes a great mountain and fills the earth. Or, as the psalmist says: 

A report goes forth through all the earth; their messages, to the ends of the world. (Psalm 19)

The Church sings that psalm whenever we celebrate an apostle's feast day. 

Between the Solemnity of Christ the King of the Universe and the First Sunday of Baptism, the Church offers us Daniel, the last of the prophets, with his visions of an unhewn stone and "One like a son of man coming on the clouds of heaven." 

Behold, now is a very acceptable time; behold, now is the day of salvation.

Memorial of Saint Catherine of Alexandria, virgin and martyr

Lectionary: 503

"Please test your servants for ten days. Give us vegetables to eat and water to drink. Then see how we look in comparison with the other young men who eat from the royal table, and treat your servants according to what you see."

He acceded to this request, and tested them for ten days; after ten days they looked healthier and better fed than any of the young men who ate from the royal table. So the steward continued to take away the food and wine they were to receive, and gave them vegetables.

Vegetarians can point to this and other passages of the Bible for confirmation of their beliefs. Personally, I never bought into vegan; but as a Catholic, I am happy to worship with people of different lifestyles, philosophies, and opinions.

Genesis suggests that Adam and Eve and their descendants, until the time of Noah, were vegetarians. In verse 29 of the first chapter, after telling them to "be fertile and multiply," God says to the man and woman, "See, I give you every seed-bearing plant on all the earth and every tree that has seed-bearing fruit on it to be your food." In the next verse he gives the "wild animals, all the birds of the air, and all the living creatures that crawl on the earth" the same permission. To neither man nor beast does he say anything about eating flesh.

In Genesis 9, after the catastrophe, a new law appears, "Any living creature that moves about shall be yours to eat; I give them all to you as I did the green plants."

With that permission, the Lord recognizes an altered relationship of God's image and likeness with the animals. They are afraid of the human species, but they also might prey upon them, as they prey upon each other. 

However, the animal that kills a human must pay the cost, for the human enjoys God's favor:

"Indeed for your own lifeblood I will demand an accounting: from every animal I will demand it, and from a human being, each one for the blood of another, I will demand an accounting for human life.

Anyone who sheds the blood of a human being, by a human being shall that one’s blood be shed; For in the image of God have human beings been made.

Permission to eat any kind of meat reappears in the Acts of the Apostles, when the missionaries meet in Jerusalem to discuss the influx of gentiles into their Jewish community. Despite the Jewish repugnance to unclean foods, they assured the people of Antioch:

"‘It is the decision of the Holy Spirit and of us not to place on you any burden beyond these necessities, namely, to abstain from meat sacrificed to idols, from blood, from meats of strangled animals, and from unlawful marriage. If you keep free of these, you will be doing what is right. Farewell.’”

The discussion would continue about meat sacrificed to idols -- like those that die in the bullfight -- since nearly every slaughtered animal had gone through some pagan ritual. In Romans 14, Saint Paul addressed the divisive matter of scruples and urged his people to show special consideration to one another, "For the kingdom of God is not a matter of food and drink, but of righteousness, peace, and joy in the holy Spirit...."

The freedom we enjoy as Christians is never an excuse for rudeness.

Reformation England would re-engage the discussion, as evidenced to this day by Jehovah's Witnesses.

In our Catholic tradition, the Holy Spirit offers several alternate lifestyles; vegetarianism being one of them. Pacifism, celibacy, and natural family planning also have solid scriptural foundations. In his memoir, Rome Sweet Home​, Scott Hawn relates how his wife Kimberly was initially drawn to Roman Catholicism by her discovery of the Bible's abhorrence to artificial means of birth control. Who would have thought?

As we approach Advent, we should consider what small sacrifices we shall make to show our devotion to the Lord. We need not throw logs onto a kindling fire, but we should do something that is at least a minor inconvenience. If our lifestyle and eating habits are precisely those of the millions who profess no religion -- the "nones" -- our salt has become insipid​.

Because our Catholic religions includes alternate lifestyles we begin our penance with an open-minded, unreserved hospitality to people of every sort and many differing opinions.

The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

Lectionary: 162

Let us thanks to the Father,
who has made you fit to share
in the inheritance of the holy ones in light.
He delivered us from the power of darkness
and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son,
in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.


Priests, religious, military people, and Veterans know the word transfer, as in "the Father... transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son...." 
We have been trained for our mission -- physically, mentally, and spiritually -- but we have much to learn about our new assignments. We have to learn the lay of the land; meet those with whom we'll work, live, and worship; discover the precise nature of our duties; and discern the many unspoken assumptions that everyone else seems to know in this unfamiliar place. We'll learn to eat the local food and adjust to the climate. We might even cheer for the home team whoever they are and whatever they play. 
In the meanwhile, privately, we'll grieve for all the familiar things we have lost. We'll often tell ourselves, "If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with." Transfers are exciting, tiring, fascinating, and life changing. Settling into the new environment, we become denizens of the place, fully adjusted to the place and its peculiar people. If we stay long enough and apply a bit of effort, we might know as much and more about our new home as those native to the place. 
Transferring into the kingdom of his beloved Son can also be difficult. Earthlings adjust to life as they know it, speaking the language, learning the skills and trades of survival. The ethos of the area is ours. If they're considerate, generous, trusting, and confident, we act the same. But if those around us are violent, abusive, manipulative and insensitive we do the same. 
The Kingdom of God is a different kind of "place." It is anywhere and nowhere. No family, neighborhood, or religious community is ever completely conformed to it. The Kingdom of the Beloved Son always invites and challenges us to venture more deeply into its ethos. Often, to our intense embarrassment, we realize our attitudes and behavior are not even close and we realize the enormity of our sins. The revelation may come  when we see someone -- perhaps an alien like the Good Samaritan; or a rogue like the Good Thief -- acting gracefully as we should act. 
"Wow!" we think. "I thought only Christians could be so generous!" 
If we don't get it completely, we're nonetheless being made fit to share the inheritance.  Next Sunday we will begin preparation for the Lord's coming with prayer, penance and gentle sacrifices in the True Spirit of Advent.

Optional Memorial of Saint Columban, abbot

Lectionary: 502


"But I now recall the evils I did in Jerusalem, when I carried away all the vessels of gold and silver that were in it, and for no cause gave orders that the inhabitants of Judah be destroyed. I know that this is why these evils have overtaken me; and now I am dying, in bitter grief, in a foreign land."

The deathbed remorse of King Antiochus is probably apocryphal, but it serves the Divine Author's purpose. After all his worldly success against God's holy people, after his sacrilegious vandalism of God's sacred temple, the wicked king had met disaster. His power and vanity and the acclaim of his supporters came to nothing. Facing death, he realized that God had destroyed him. He found no sympathy with our Maccabean author.

Tomorrow we will celebrate the Solemn Feast of "Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe." The word king means little to American Christians. We split the several responsibilities of kingship into separate branches of government over two centuries ago. Ancient kings were called to govern, legislate, enforce their own laws, and try those who might have broken them. And to punish the wicked. They might be imprisoned, tortured, banished, or executed according to the king's policies or mood.  

Psalm 101 celebrate King David's intent with its last verse: Morning after morning I clear all the wicked from the land, to rid the city of the LORD of all doers of evil. 

Hopefully, that was not a daily purge of the city but the king's duty to judge the cases that came before him every morning. 

We often hear that we should not judge others. With that we should also be reminded the Lord will judge. Some of us might feel offended by that doctrine. Am I not my own judge? Can I not decide for myself what is right and wrong? Won't God just ignore my human failings? 

That fantasy collapses before the fact that we do judge one another and, to survive in this world, we have to. Our governors, be they kings, dictators or elected officials, have authority to judge and execute judgement. Even self-described good people go to jail, despite their prized self-esteem. Created in God's image and likeness, our tendency to judge one another reflects a divine authority which is entrusted to us. It is very real. 

 

In today's gospel we hear the "trial" of the Good Thief who was crucified with Jesus. As he was dying he appealed to the Judge who was crucified with him, "Remember me when you come into your kingdom." Unlike King Antiochus, he found mercy in his agony.

As I pray with Veterans at the VA hospital I often remind them, "If God is not merciful, we're all in a heap of trouble." 

And then, like the Good Thief, we pray. 

Memorial of Saint Cecilia, Virgin and Martyr

Lectionary: 501

Early in the morning on the twenty-fifth day of the ninth month, that is, the month of Chislev, in the year one hundred and forty-eight, they arose and offered sacrifice according to the law on the new altar of burnt offerings that they had made.

On the anniversary of the day on which the Gentiles had defiled it, on that very day it was reconsecrated with songs, harps, flutes, and cymbals.

All the people prostrated themselves and adored and praised Heaven, who had given them success.

The Divine Author of the Books of Maccabees took particular pleasure in noting that the temple was reconsecrated "on the anniversary of the day on which the Gentiles had defiled it." Who laughs last laughs best!  After all they had suffered at the hands of Greeks with their foreign customs, the Jews enjoyed the work of restoring the temple and its priesthood, ceremonies, sacred vessels and adornments. God had taught them to pray in this house in these ways many centuries before, and they would not surrender their history and customs to hostile strangers with new ideas.

The human being is a historical creature, unlike any other. Some animals are said to have long memories, but only the human remembers the building of the pyramids, the civilizations of China, and the arrival of the dingo with the first humans in Australia. No other animal wonders if the hobbits of Indonesia were of the same species and had souls. We remember -- and reenact -- operas of the eighteenth century and the plays of Sophocles. I have heard that whales develop and create new songs as they swim the oceans, but do any discover lost concertos in sunken chests to reintroduce them to the world?

Language itself is living history as we use words that have developed through many centuries and continue to evolve. I studied Latin in high school and college, and though I never got to first base with it, I recognise the Latin roots of words we use every day. People who stay abreast of culture pay attention to words and phrases and how language is developing. Speakers who use words without an awareness of both their historical roots and contemporary usage can appear very foolish, like the priest who encouraged his congregation to pray with the Our Father, the Hail Mary, and many ejaculations. (He meant brief exclamations like, "Saint Michael, pray for us.")

Historians labor to remember the past but religion maintains a more vital link with ancient times. With every religious celebration we experience the treasured presence of many our ancestors. They heard the same scriptures and offered the same prayers. The psalms, known as the "prayer book of the church," were written thousands of years ago; Jesus, Mary and the Apostles sang them as we do today. Receiving them in the Spirit of the Lord we recognize the same stresses, grief, and hope for salvation as those who created the songs. Their Spirit is ours, and we are the same people.

Many of our Catholic customs, ceremonies and sanctuaries were overhauled in the 1960's and 70's; and much was apparently discarded. The intent was to scrape off the barnacles which had attached themselves to our ceremonies so that the Eucharist might be recognized as a heavenly banquet. I believe the reforms were necessary. If many people could not accept "the changes," more would have walked away in any case. The cultural, technological, medical, and entertainment revolutions in America following World War II overwhelmed every religion. Only the most rigid communities have kept to the old ways, often with much internal violence. 

I remember my mother, a young woman at the time, reading about the Vatican Council in the newspaper, remarking that we would have to pray to accept whatever came. The future is always coming at us, and it is often turbulent. She liked some of the reforms and blamed me for the ones she didn't! But she kept the faith of her ancestors, both Catholic and Protestant.

It is the Spirit that gives life, the same Spirit who cheered and comforted the saints of one and two and three thousand years ago. We have kept the faith because God is faithful. 

Memorial of the Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary

Lectionary: 680

Sing and rejoice, O daughter Zion!

See, I am coming to dwell among you, says the LORD.

Many nations shall join themselves to the LORD on that day,

and they shall be his people,

and he will dwell among you,

and you shall know that the LORD of hosts has sent me to you.

The Memorial of the Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary gives us fresh opportunity to celebrate the Virgin Mother of God, even if the Jewish people never presented baby girls in the temple as they did their first born sons. Some Catholics cannot celebrate Jesus unless they complement it with a similar honor to Mary. Somehow this memorial got passed the liturgists who suppressed the commemorations of Saint Christopher and Saint Philomena.

As we prepare for Advent, it is good to notice the many ways in which Mary is honored. She is the nation, the city, and the temple that receives the Lord. She is the dwelling to satisfy the promise we hear in today's first reading, "I am coming to dwell with you." Can the Lord dwell among us without a dwelling?

If we accept a literal translation of John 1:14, she is the Lord's tent, when the Lord pitched his tent among us. And that verse evokes the memory of the Ark of the Covenant which Moses built to house the Stone Tablets. Whenever the Hebrews paused in the Sinai Desert they pitched the sacred tent and sheltered the Ark within it.

Speaking of which, she is the Ark of the Covenant, as you know from the Litany of the Blessed Virgin Mary. She appears in Revelations 11 ​and 12 as the Ark of the Covenant within the heavenly temple, and as a woman about to give birth.

Mary is the Daughter of Zion who fulfills the prophet Zechariah's prophecy. In the Gospel of John, the Lord speaks of her, "Whoever loves me will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our dwelling with him." 

The daughter and handmaid of God the Father, Mother of Jesus, and Spouse of the Holy Spirit receives the indwelling of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

Honored throughout the world, many nations join themselves to the Lord to call her blessed. Living in our world, she makes our world worthy to receive the Most High God. Who would not be grateful for that?

To contemplate Mary is to take a break from considerations of our seemingly hopeless situations that close on us from every direction. "With God all things are possible!" the Angel Gabriel assured the young virgin. Not only could an old woman become pregnant, so could a young virgin. Mountains are moved by her faith in God's word.

Wednesday of the Thirty-third Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 499

And to those standing by he said,

'Take the gold coin from him and give it to the servant who has ten.' 

But they said to him, 'Sir, he has ten gold coins.' 

He replied, 'I tell you, to everyone who has, more will be given, but from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away.

Now as for those enemies of mine who did not want me as their king, bring them here and slay them before me.'"

After he had said this, he proceeded on his journey up to Jerusalem.

I did not serve in the military and, in my adult life, I have rarely had to deal with direct commands. My authorities, bishops and ministers provincial, usually frame their directives as a request. They might insist and there's little doubt about what they want, but they smile and say "Please," The iron fist wears a silk glove. I can deal with that.

Today's gospel describes a different kind of ruler, one who commands and expects no hesitation, "...bring them here and slay them before me."

The story finishes with. "...(Jesus) proceeded on his journey up to Jerusalem. " There is a very clear implication: Jesus of Nazareth has authority and knows how to use it. Entering Jerusalem, after a frenetic greeting with palm branches, he will storm into the temple and drive out the merchants. The king has arrived! Judgement is here!

Today's parable alludes to stories both ancient and modern. Seizing the reigns of power, a new ruler must quickly consolidate his power before the resistance can reorganize. If he is supported by the military he has to eliminate his political enemies and put his own people in place. In North Korea the young Kim ordered his uncle placed before an anti-aircraft gun. With the entire government watching he pulled the trigger. The crown prince of Saudi Arabia engineered similar executions, including the murder and dismemberment of a journalist in Turkey. His enemies get the message. They don't have to like him but they will obey him.

Jesus' entry into Jerusalem -- the palm procession and the invasion of the temple -- signify his ultimate authority; but his arrest, trial, torture, and execution announce a different kind of ruler. There is a very deep paradox here. 

On the one hand we must accept the Lordship of Christ or face the dreadful consequences. The laws of nature are merciless and inexorable. How many of our fellow citizens are dying because they disdain the wisdom of God and perish by stupid lifestyle choices? Ordinary human wisdom, without God's intervention, cannot save us from the death spiral of sin. Our best efforts, uninspired, only rearrange the Titanic's proverbial deckchairs.

On the other, Jesus will personally suffer the judgement of wrath in our place.

And so Saint Luke's ominous remark -- "he proceeded on his journey up to Jerusalem" -- signifies "good news of great joy that will be for all the people!"

We must ponder God's superabundant generosity daily. It must be the staple of every meal. Out of pure Goodness God created the universe. In simple generosity he created human creatures when the Earth was already billions of years old and had got along fine without us. No necessity drove him to send his Son to redeem us. No law required his death on a cross. When we did everything we could to destroy the innocent Son of God; when we had crucified him, buried him, and posted a guard to make sure he stayed dead; the Father raised him up again despite our best efforts.

Everything that God does is grace -- gratuitous, free. Necessary only after it is done, and never impelled by our need. God owes us nothing and give us everything.

Tuesday of the Thirty-third Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 498

"Therefore, by manfully giving up my life now,

I will prove myself worthy of my old age,

and I will leave to the young a noble example

of how to die willingly and generously

for the revered and holy laws."

I sometimes invoke the story of Eleazar when I talk to older Veterans about suicide. There's irony because Eleazar seems to invite death as he refuses to eat pork, and yet my point is the opposite.

Suicide is one of those strange epidemics, like alcoholism and drug abuse. It is not spread by viruses or microbes but by free choice. Sociologists who study the phenomenon say that the impulse can be sudden and unexpected. The individual makes a fatal decision on the spur of the moment. Had someone been aware of the impulse, they might have been able to help them through it. The fatal attraction of death loses its charm quickly in conversation with others. It's really a bad idea. It solves no problems, relieves no pain, and only causes mayhem in the lives of loved ones.

Potential suicides -- those who consider it an option and are looking directly at it -- may not realize how their choices have led them to this moment. It may be a taboo subject for them, never considered, until it suddenly seems like the only option. If they survive the impulse, reflection will recall missed opportunities, poor choices, and bad investments that generated shame, remorse, and a sense of futility. They chose to isolate when others were close by; they refused help when it was freely offered. 

In some cases, they believed what many suppose, that they have a right to destroy themselves. An uncaring, competitive society rejoices when competitors drop out, regardless of the circumstance.

Suicide is a great scandal to others first because it is such a merciless, savage, unexpected and undeserved assault. The sudden, irrational and often bloody death of a loved one is deeply disturbing. Family, friends, acquaintances and strangers suffer. The fatal consequences may create havoc for children not yet born. 

No mother, father, spouse or child deserves such a vicious attack. Inevitably they will ask, "How did I fail them? Was it something I said or did? Did I not see the obvious? Why did they do this to me?" A suicide note alleviates no one's suffering.

They often blame anyone but the suicide. It was the fault of the lax or over-strict parents, the unfeeling spouse, or the oblivious children. Suicide becomes a social stigma on defenseless parties; when, in fact, it was the deceased who made the irrevocable decision. And they are regarded as victims. 

As Eleazar faces death he thinks of the youth in his community. He will make any sacrifice to avoid scandalizing them, realizing that the impact will persist for generations. If a respected elder man or woman betrays faith in God, young people will believe that God is unfaithful. That is a price too heavy to bear.

Suicide has a similar consequence. Every time someone takes their own life the rest of us wonder, "Perhaps they did the right thing. Perhaps life is meaningless and pointless. Why should I make any more sacrifices when there is another, easier way?"

Young people, facing catastrophes their elders regard as nothing serious, may kill themselves over the breakup of a relationship, a disappointing grade, or a lost game. If old people, with all their wisdom and experience, think that life with pain, disappointment and frustration  is unacceptable, why shouldn't the young just end it now?

The Spirit of God moved Eleazar to accept a painful, tortured death rather than give scandal to young. Many centuries later, life is still painful. Suffering is universal. Suicide is not an option.

Monday of the Thirty-third Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 497

Jesus asked him,

"What do you want me to do for you?"

He replied, "Lord, please let me see."

This story of the blind beggar, told in all three gospels, reinforces the Lord's urging us to pray persistently; and it reminds us of the forces arrayed against prayer. No sooner does the beggar -- in Matthew's story, two beggars -- cry out for mercy than those who are traveling with the Lord tell him to pipe down. The obvious inference: that discouraging word comes from the Church!

Something there is that doesn't want to ask for help, that feels ashamed of the urge and would squelch it whenever possible.

I suppose we could search for its historical, psychological origins. We could blame our parents for ignoring us and telling us to quit bothering them with our constant needs. We could remember the rebukes of teachers and classmates who shamed us for asking questions. That personal research can be helpful as we come to terms with the past.

In any case, we have to ask. Before the infant can think a thought it has feelings and needs, and both are often despised. A Cartesian society prizes opinions -- "I think therefore I am!" -- but wants to hear nothing of feelings and needs.

Jesus wants to hear our needs. He wants us.

"What do you want me to do for you?" he asks.

Wouldn't it be lovely to wake up to that question each morning? No sooner do we turn our minds to prayer than we hear him ask, "What do you want me to do for you?"

Today's first reading reminds us of the deplorable condition in which many of us live, "Terrible affliction was upon Israel." If the grand scheme of the Enlightenment was a religion-free world that ran on the Cartesian principles of rationality, it fell apart in Sarajevo in 1914​. As horrible as the situation in Syria is today, that religious strife cannot compare to the European debacles of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, which were inspired by no religion. The grand experiment of ignoring God fails repeatedly and usually catastrophically. We need help, we are born to be saved.

Religion teaches us to feel and express our feelings. We may sing and dance and celebrate our hopes and dreams and grief. Religion also teaches us to want and to ask for what we want. Maslow's pyramid shows there is no end of human need. We're no sooner content than we want more! Jesus assures us our Father hears us and cares deeply.

Saint Luke tells us that Jesus brushed aside the resistance of his own disciples to hear the blind man's plea. And, hearing him, the Lord immediately answered, "Have sight; your faith has saved you."

On this Monday morning, launching into a new week, we hear the Lord ask, "What do you want me to do for you?"

It might take a moment of reflection -- unexpected as the question is -- but we need a lot of help. And we can ask.

Thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 159

See that you not be deceived, for many will come in my name, saying, 'I am he,' and 'The time has come.'

Do not follow them! When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for such things must happen first, but it will not immediately be the end."

Many Catholic scripture scholars believe that Saint Luke wrote his gospel after the fall of Jerusalem in 70 A.D; and the prediction we hear in today's gospel described what had already occurred. An efficient Roman army razed Herod's temple, leaving hardly a stone upon another. If some Jews believed the temple must last until the end of the world, they had seen the end of the world.

Few of us want to see history actually happen; we'd rather read about it in books; but sometimes it marches right through our lives, effectively destroying the world we knew so well. The fall of Jerusalem marked a turning point in Jewish history and altered the religion forever. Their world would never be the same, and their worship of God would create an indestructible "palace in time;" -- the Sabbath​ -- rather than a stone building.

Jerusalem's fall meant little to the burgeoning Church; it is not directly mentioned in the New Testament although it happened within that era. Even formerly-Jewish Christians, hearing of the tragedy, turned their attention to their faith in Jesus. Learning from the experience they could appreciate today's warning. They would not follow every charlatan who claimed to be the messiah, nor would they overreact to rumors of war and insurrection. The practice of faith is not maintaining an edgy expectation of apocalypse.

The missionary apostle Saint Paul offered himself as an example of how to live in the new reality, as we hear in today's reading. The Lord had sent him to the nations to announce freedom in the face of oppression. No one should live in fear, for the Lord has conquered sin and death. There is no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus, nor should there be a fear of death.

The Roman empire operated on the same principles as every other government: power, punishment, and fear. Those willing to go along to get along could enjoy relative freedom, provided they weren't associated with certain troublesome parties. 

Religions that reinforced government threats were approved; those that defied them were crushed. The Jews were suspect because they showed no interest in the Roman gods and their superstitious practices. They were willing to live in the empire and to enjoy its political and economic stability, but they worshiped a different God and followed a different calendar of prayer. The first persecutions that Christians suffered in Rome were actually directed at Jews.

However, Christians practiced even more freedom than the Jews, because they dismissed the pharisaic reading of the Law of Moses. The Pharisees, unfortunately, sought to ease the threat of Roman violence by maintaining a non-political, domestic version of religion. They kept the customs but quietly, without ostentation. They paid their Roman taxes, they curried favor with the powerful, and they directed their zeal toward a scrupulously irrelevant attention to religious minutiae, i.e. the tithing of mint and rue and every garden herb. The Christian who believed that Jesus had fulfilled the law and the prophets, invited both Roman suspicion and Jewish hostility.

In November, when Christians ponder Death and Judgement, Heaven and Hell, and Americans judge their government, we should hear the warnings of Jesus, "Do not be deceived...; Do not be terrified...; By perseverance you will secure your lives." 

Those who act out of fear are not free. They are controlled by their enemies.

"For freedom Christ set us free; so stand firm and do not submit again to the yoke of slavery.

Saturday of the Thirty-second Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 496

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.
But when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?"


This story of the wicked judge and the importunate widow calls for continual, urgent prayer, "day and night." Enthusiastic preachers who push that on their congregations might enjoy a spirited response for a week or two, but the fervor will fade soon enough. The history of Christianity in the United States must include the Great Awakenings and the Burned-over districts. There are strains of Christianity that regard enthusiasm as a spiritual plague, and ardor as abhorrent.
So how do we practice that faithful prayer that continually cries to heaven for mercy without wearing out too soon, or going bananas? Saint Theresa of Avila taught her disciples to build the fire of prayer slowly. You don't throw a log onto burning kindling and expect it to catch. A fire is built with kindling, then twigs, then sticks, and finally logs. Built well, its embers will last throughout the night. 

The novice might be eager to spend many hours in the chapel, but she will soon tire of it. Teach her to channel her energies into work and study, prayer and rest. Let her learn the routines of the convent with its drudgeries, boredom and monotony. Let her be profoundly disappointed with herself as she suffers resentment against deceptive leaders and crotchety women. And then help her to build a fire from kindling.

On All Souls Day I came across this sentence in the Office of Readings:

Without the assistance of grace, immortality is more of a burden than a blessing. (Saint Ambrose, died 397 a.d.)

We are preparing for life in eternity; and we should plan to burn in love. We're often told "You can't take it with you;" meaning, this world's goods. But some of us are preparing to take other baggage. Resentments, suspicions, opinions: they are too dear to surrender in this world. 

Do we expect to leave these treasures at the mouth of the grave? As if I will not be the same person in eternity as I am here? As if the Lord will take from me what I have never let him touch before. As if I will be purged of certain undesirable traits and I will readily consent to that painful, humiliating procedure -- then! But not now, not today.  

I don't think so.
Saint Ambrose urges us to allow grace to cleanse, purify, and purge us of these pernicious possessions while we have time. 

Those prepared for the purgation of death by continually dying to themselves will find the transition fairly easy. Jesus was only three days in the tomb! The rest of us may need more time. 

The importunate widow teaches us to persist in this humiliating, blessed journey toward worthiness. It's not easy; it's not supposed to be easy. Now, or in eternity. With the assistance of grace, the challenge of immortality will be delightful.