Memorial of Saint Ignatius of Loyola, Priest

Lectionary: 405

Jesus came to his native place and taught the people in their synagogue. They were astonished and said, “Where did this man get such wisdom and mighty deeds? Is he not the carpenter’s son? Is not his mother named Mary and his brothers James, Joseph, Simon, and Judas? Are not his sisters all with us? Where did this man get all this?” 

And they took offense at him.

The bewildered amazement of Jesus' former neighbors and friends reflects the general astonishment of the world in the presence of God. Invariably the enemies of God, like the Egyptian pharaoh, cannot fathom what is happening while God's beloved are merely dumbfounded. 

The Gospel of John especially develops that theme; the "world" is confused not only by Jesus but also by his disciples. You'll recall Pontius Pilate's question of Jesus. This particularly shallow politician understands nothing of the Jewish faith or messianic expectation. Put on the spot by Jesus's accusers, he seems to want a momentary break from the tension. He might be stalling for time when he asks, "Where do you come from?" 

He cannot imagine that Jesus is an ambassador from Truth. That mystical place might as well be Peter Pan's "never-never land" or a hobbit's "middle earth." 

To this day, truth is not a real place for many people. Avaricious for power and disciplined only by dread of punishment and rebuke, truth is the last thing they might think about. They're more concerned about what they want, what they want you to believe, or what others want to hear. Confronted by disagreeable facts they find ways to spin them to fit their bizarre understandings. If they sometimes swear by the truth, it only means less to them. They would not know the truth, as Dad used to say, if it bit them on the leg. 

So Jesus's familiar people are astounded by the revelation of this young man who went down to the Jordan River, was baptized, and then spent forty days alone in the desert. He seems to come back an altogether different person. "Where did this man get such wisdom and mighty deeds?" they asked one another. 

They liked him on their terms; they don't much care for him on his own terms. 

"And he did not work many mighty deeds there because of their lack of faith."

This is the challenge of faith, no more familiar to Jesus's contemporaries than it is to us. As we wait for a post-Covid 19 world to open out before us, with blessings we might anticipate but cannot expect, we pray that we will be ready to receive the Lord on his terms. None other will do. 

Thursday of the Seventeenth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 404

Indeed, like clay in the hand of the potter,
so are you in my hand, house of Israel.

I have toyed with clay, molding it into small human figures. Although it is wet and cool to the touch, it has the suppleness of human flesh; and arouses a seductive, erotic sensation. I seemed to be creating living persons; they were putty in my hand. 

I recall that exercise when I read Isaiah's prophecy and realize that Christians are, or should be, like clay in the Potter's hands. 

If we've ever needed that pliability, it's today. The old rigidities, reliable if unconscious, no longer serve us very well. In their place we inject the putty of faith like caulking. Without it the window panes rattle and zephyrs of icy air penetrate the spaces of our hearts. 

I no longer understand a lot of things that I see; I cannot categorize or condemn or condone. 

In today's polarized world, many people believe they are their opinions. They believe that we're their enemies if we don't enthusiastically endorse their strange ideas. Saint Augustine (354 – 430 AD), in his controversy with the Donatist, assured them, "Although you will not pray with us, we will pray with you." 

More than a half-century ago, Monsignor (later "Bishop") Sheen urged his television congregation to, "Love the sinner; hate the sin." 

If we would be putty in the Lord's hands we learn to see the image of God in every person regardless of their opinions, attitudes, or behavior. If we're saddened by sin, we're more troubled by our own than theirs. If we're elated by blessings, we're more delighted when they are given to those we might (privately) consider undeserving. 

Saint Paul demonstrated that blessed apatheia, in his Letter to the Philippians, as he reflected on his enemies -- who may have been fellow Christians -- who had conspired to have him arrested and jailed: 

Of course, some preach Christ from envy and rivalry, others from good will. The latter act out of love, aware that I am here for the defense of the gospel; the former proclaim Christ out of selfish ambition, not from pure motives, thinking that they will cause me trouble in my imprisonment. 

What difference does it make, as long as in every way, whether in pretense or in truth, Christ is being proclaimed? 

And in that I rejoice. Indeed I shall continue to rejoice, for I know that this will result in deliverance for me through your prayers and support from the Spirit of Jesus Christ. My eager expectation and hope is that I shall not be put to shame in any way, but that with all boldness, now as always, Christ will be magnified in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me life is Christ, and death is gain.

Memorial of Saint Martha

Lectionary: 403/607

Because I bore your name,
O LORD, God of hosts.
I did not sit celebrating
in the circle of merrymakers;
Under the weight of your hand I sat alone because you filled me with indignation.
Why is my pain continuous, my wound incurable, refusing to be healed?

The Prophet Jeremiah has been described as the most Christlike of the prophets. A young man, he heard his calling before he was born. Largely despised by other prophets, who were organized, salaried, and integrated into the religious systems of the temple, Jeremiah had to trust the Spirit that moved him rather than the resistance and criticism he got from others. Unlike the guild prophets, he so often predicted gloom and doom his name has become identified with angry rants, which are called jeremiads. 

His moods, as we find in today's reading, might be called depressed. He did not socialize easily with others; he could not ignore approaching enemies. The Spirit of God affirmed to him what anyone could see if they opened their eyes: there was no escape. 

The story is told of British aristocrats who sat and sipped cocktails on their shaded verandas in Singapore as the Japanese armies penetrated the "impassable" jungle behind them. They would certainly not enter such a forbidden forest; they assumed the despised Japanese would not do it either. Jeremiah would not have sat among them. 

Where modern historians see the sweep of history, logistics and strategy, the Hebrew prophets saw God's spirit. If the Lord condemned the sins of his people, they would not have the spirit to defend themselves. Their best efforts of preparation and prayer would fail. And Jeremiah's worst predictions were right; he lived to see the siege of Jerusalem and the razing of Solomon's temple. When the royal dignitaries of the city were slaughtered or imprisoned, he was taken by refugees to Egypt, apparently against his will. 

Despite his unpopularity, Jeremiah had the Lord's favor. He had been called and blessed; he was obedient; and so the Lord continued to use him as his spokesman: 

Then it shall be they who turn to you,

and you shall not turn to them;

And I will make you toward this people

a solid wall of brass.

Though they fight against you,

they shall not prevail,

For I am with you,

to deliver and rescue you, says the LORD.

 

In this way also, he resembles Jesus Christ, who retained God's favor despite his violent end. He heard at the outset of his ministry, “You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.”

Christians, called to be prophets, cannot expect our life, work, and mission to be comfortable, easy, or successful. Our presence, prayer, and critique of the cultures in which we live might not be welcome. Even civility toward aliens and minorities, adherence to law, and efforts to build community, reach consensus, and strike compromise  might be despised. Those Christians who are members of despised minorities will find their religious credentials win them no friends, not even among their coreligionists. 

We are not often directed by the Spirit to level jeremiads at our fellow citizens. Rather, Saint Peter instructs us: 

Do not return evil for evil, or insult for insult; but, on the contrary, a blessing, because to this you were called, that you might inherit a blessing.

 

Tuesday of the Seventeenth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 402

Have you cast Judah off completely?
Is Zion loathsome to you?
Why have you struck us a blow
that cannot be healed?
We wait for peace, to no avail;
for a time of healing, but terror comes instead.
We recognize, O LORD, our wickedness,
the guilt of our fathers;
that we have sinned against you.
For your name’s sake spurn us not,
disgrace not the throne of your glory;
remember your covenant with us, and break it not.

Some people, when confronted with their own bad behavior, will admit they have done wrong. The evidence is clear; the verdict is certain. “Okay, I’m sorry.” they say, “Can we get on with it?” They suppose a moment of contrition should deal with the problem and “Now we can forget about it.” If they're Catholic they might even say, "So I'll go to confession, say three Hail Marys and be done with it! 

I am hearing remarks like that following the Me Too and Black Lives Matter movements. One fellow said to me on Facebook, “This bs needs to stop now!” 

The Prophet Jeremiah, speaking for his people, wrote with better style, “Have you cast Judah off completely? Is Zion loathsome to you? Why have you struck us a blow that cannot be healed?”

Chaplains keep a ready supply of donated Bibles on hand and patients often ask for them. Do you suppose these Veterans are eager to read about how we continually disappoint our God, fail our missions, and eviscerate our potential? 

You want a proof of God's existence? How about the persistent popularity of the Bible? When the word sin nearly disappears from our conversation, communications, and lexicon, the Bible remains to accuse us. By its persistent presence in our lives, the Word of God reminds us that every human act is historical. It is intractible and irreversible. When the authors, editors, redacters, and copiers lauded God's Mighty Works, of necessity they also recorded the sins of God's people, both Jewish and Christian. 

That authentic record shows that our misdeeds do not go away because we're ready to think about something else. God's mercy is God's justice. The crooked way will be made straight despite our best efforts to keep things as they are. If we cannot imagine how America, for instance, might atone for our history of slavery, the extermination of indigenous peoples, the exploitation of newer immigrants, and wasting our natural resources, that only demonstrates our lack of imagination. It does not say it cannot be done. 

A fellow recently said to me, "God's gonna have a lot to answer for when I get to heaven!" A few days later, thanking God for his healing, he had forgotten his complaint. The miracle had occurred again. As the gentle Gerard Manley Hopkins wrote, 

...And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs —
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

And, as another great poet wrote to his Roman friends: 

We know that all creation is groaning in labor pains even until now; and not only that, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, we also groan within ourselves as we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. 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.

Monday of the Seventeenth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 401

He  spoke to them another parable.
“The Kingdom of heaven is like yeast
that a woman took and mixed with three measures of wheat flour
until the whole batch was leavened.”

Jesus, that most transparent and inscrutable of men, persistently announced the kingdom of heaven. I wonder if it was like a standing joke with his disciples, something they understood among themselves but could explain to no one else. And they couldn't explain it because they didn't get it either. When they asked the Lord about this "kingdom of God" or "kingdom of  heaven," they got another parable. 

The last time we hear of it is in the passion narrative of Saint John's gospel when Pilate asked his prisoner, "Are you the king of the Jews?' We recognize our king by his crown of thorns, his place on the Seat of Judgement, the solders' salute, his enthronement on the cross, and the inscription in Hebrew, Latin, and Greek, "The King of the Jews." 

With his resurrection we see that Jesus is the Kingdom of God, and everyone who believes in him is his subject. 

Today's parables about the mustard seed and yeast describe the kingdom as small to the point of insignificant and yet mysteriously influential. Ignore it at your own risk. 

It is subtle like yeast. How many people knew about yeast? Certainly no one knew it in Jesus's day as "eukaryotic, single-celled microorganisms classified as members of the fungus kingdom." 

Bakers kept a "stock" of dough from the last batch; a small lump of wet dough which was kneaded into the next batch of dough, to be baked as bread. During Passover, their religion insisted they should throw out the old yeast and not knead it into fresh bread. The Passover bread was unleavened with yeast; it recalled the rushed exodus from Egypt when the Hebrews dared not wait for the dough to rise. The hard lump had to be baked and eaten on the run. 

After the Passover, they would knead the dough all the more and then wait for it to rise. They could not have known that "single-celled microorganisms" were floating in the air like so many viruses, ready to be folded into the fresh dough and germinate. 

So the kingdom of heaven is like yeast that causes the dough to swell and the bread to be light and chewy. It is subtle, invisible, and somewhat unpredictable. How exactly that works Jesus could no more explain than the baker. It's like faith, we trust that God knows what he's doing. As Psalm 131 says, 

LORD, my heart is not proud;

nor are my eyes haughty.

I do not busy myself with great matters,

with things too sublime for me. 

Rather, I have stilled my soul,

Like a weaned child to its mother,

weaned is my soul. 

Israel, hope in the LORD,

now and forever.

2020 will be long remembered as a transitional year when we wondered if the Lord knows what he's doing. Covid-19 is changing us more drastically than the AIDS epidemic of the 1980's, perhaps as much as World War II, Vietnam, and the 9/11 attacks. The pandemic has forced us again to look at the racism which uses disease, poverty, and social violence to kill a disproportionate number of African-Americans. Few "white folks" saw the terrorist methods of America's police forces. Also, the paycheck-to-paycheck desperation of millions of Americans has appeared in plain sight. We're shocked to discover the wretched conditions of our nursing homes, the extreme stresses on our health care systems, and inadequate funding of our schools. Maintenance of our infrastructures has once again been put off while our federal government can only wring its hands and blame the other party. 

When we turn to the Lord this morning for guidance we hear parables about mustard seeds and yeast. He does not offer money, armies, weapons, higher or lower taxes. His presence is quiet like mustard seeds and yeast. He offers the Holy Spirit of wisdom to guide our public and private policies. He announces what has lain hidden from the foundation of the world: our guilt, responsibility, and opportunity. 

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 109

We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose. For those he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, so that he might be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters. And those he predestined he also called; and those he called he also justified; and those he justified he also glorified.


The summer, even a Covid-19 summer, is a good time to pause and reflect and thank God for our blessings. The scriptures today remind us of the treasure we have found. It was something like a cache of gold buried in a field. Perhaps, more like Easter baskets which parents hide where their children must find them. If we think we found them, we should remember they were hid in plain sight.  
Blessed is the word for it. I am blessed. There are many "places" where one's spiritual life might begin. They might be the awareness of sin and guilt, or sorrow and grief, or amazed wonder, or grateful relief. In all of these circumstances, we know that God has blessed us. 
I didn't earn it, or deserve it. I certainly need it. I could not expect it, and yet I found it when it came to me. "Thank you, Lord." 
We're sometimes tempted to take on the troubles of other people. They might be suffering and very unhappy. They feel persecuted and unloved. They suspect some broad conspiracy to render them permanently miserable. It's unfair, and they persuade us of life's unfairness. 
We feel "survivor's guilt." Why does God bless me and not others? Maybe it's dumb luck, fate, or karma, and not the generosity of our good God. Hearing their stories might even arouse old memories of resentment and throw us back into the muck. 
We can take such an attitude but it does no good for the neighbor. They won't feel better for our buying into their resentment and suspicion. Nor can we argue them out of that state by telling them how God has blessed us. 
Sometimes it's best to let them be. 
If they are suffering real injustices we can join the protest. Incidents of racism in the United States have inspired protests around the world, and every Christian should support that just action in some way. If we are angry, the anger is fortified and directed by hope, that Christian virtue which expects the Kingdom of God. We participate with joy and confidence, without surrendering the peace in our hearts. 
Our presence and support might awaken the memory of gospel salvation and inspire the same gratitude in others. Justified by the mercy of  God, we are bound for glory. 
A Covid-19 summer is a good time to remember that. 

Feast of Saint James, Apostle

Lectionary: 605

You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and the great ones make their authority over them felt. But it shall not be so among you. Rather, whoever wishes to be great among you shall be your servant; whoever wishes to be first among you shall be your slave. Just so, the Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many.


This teaching of Jesus is hardly original. The kings of Israel and Judah had always called themselves "shepherds," meaning they would care for God's people. A ruler's duty is to care for their subjects, and to facilitate their life together in whatever form it takes.
The last judge, Samuel, had warned the people against anointing a king; he knew the experience of other nations and that the king would abuse his authority. The Jewish kings, for the most part, did as he expected. As have Christian kings and democratically elected congresspersons, senators, and presidents. "If you can't abuse your authority, what's the point of having it?"
But the word of the Lord stands forever as a challenge and invitation. A democracy can only blame itself for its corrupt leaders. A racist, greedy, and dishonest electorate can only select its own to represent them. You get the leadership you deserve. If many people believe that all politicians are corrupt, they only betray their own corrupt souls. 
My Catholic tradition tells me politics is an honorable and necessary profession. The politician's service is to gather people with differing needs, attitudes, and beliefs into a body politic. Politicians help them make decisions that express the common will and, hopefully, the common good. They should have a special concern for minorities although they are selected by a majority. Pitting one's "base" against others may serve one's ambition but it must lead to violence. That leader's legacy will be contempt.
Democratic self-governance begins with courage and self-discipline. That's why the the founding fathers supported religion in their new country. They didn't care which God is worshipped or how; they believed that any religion would support a civilized nation. 

But those who do not examine their attitudes, words, and deeds in the light of their religious beliefs; who do not clearly discern their own sinful tendencies: must suffer the consequence of corrupt leadership. As will those who lack the courage to confront sinful words and deeds among their fellow citizens.
Democracy is not for cowards; it is not supposed to be simple, easy, secure, or predictable. Those who support demagogues have become frightened of change, their neighbors, and life in general. They would isolate and insulate themselves from the world. They might even lay up weapons as they dread encounters with neighbors and strangers. And when challenged they resort to terror. The United States has a history of terror in the Ku Klux Klan, and it threatens to resurge. 

"With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work" of governing ourselves.

Friday of the Sixteenth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 399

Return, rebellious children, says the LORD, for I am your Master;

I will take you, one from a city, two from a clan, and bring you to Zion.

I will appoint over you shepherds after my own heart, who will shepherd you wisely and prudently.

The many tribes of Israel, separated roughly into northern and southern districts, were united by the charismatic leadership of King David. Unfortunately, Solomon lacked his father's charm; he was given to personal excess, expensive government projects, and poor management. Consequently, the northern tribes rebelled after he died and created the Kingdom of Israel; the southern tribes of Judah remained faithful to the temple in Jerusalem. 

The split was never resolved. Eventually Israel was overrun by Assyria; a century and a half later, Judah fell to the Babylonian army. 

Many of the Hebrew prophets, from Amos and Hosea to Jeremiah, spoke for the Lord to Israel and Judah. They always hoped for a reunion; they continually warned of God's wrath if they did not reform their ways. 

In today's first reading we hear Jeremiah describe how a reunion might be effected: one soul and two souls at a time. 

I will take you, one from a city, two from a clan,

and bring you to Zion.

Jeremiah has been called history's first individual. He lacked the support of other prophets; and the guild of prophets in Jerusalem often opposed him. He was nonetheless convinced of his calling as a prophet and spoke for the Lord. The crowds, with their sensus fidei, recognized him and the authorities had to deal with him. Sometimes roughly. 

Perhaps that excruciating, blessed loneliness inspired him to imagine a movement of individuals back to God. 

When the friars in Minnesota built and dedicated a new retreat house in Prior Lake in 1965, they could count on parish leaders to bring large groups of men and women with them. Knights of Columbus, Holy Name Societies, and Altar/Rosary Sodalities showed up in groups of fifty. The leaders could call their nearest and dearest friends and say, "We're going on retreat and you're coming with!" The groups were sometimes loud and raucous -- you might hear the shuffle of cards and the clink of ice as you passed outside the bedrooms -- but they supported us. 

By the time I arrived as director in 1997, times had changed. People were afraid to go out in public, shy of meeting strangers, and anxious about controversial religious subjects. The best leaders rallied their four or five friends, and then telephoned strangers to invite them also. Individual seekers came by ones and twos. The groups were quieter, more sincere, and smaller. 

I have belonged to support groups that were composed entirely of individuals. They come together because they suffer a common affliction. If their loved ones suffer the same affliction they should attend a different group. Husbands and wives, children and parents needed anonymity as they sought healing. What is said in the meeting stays in the meeting; a couple attending the same meeting might violate that confidence on the way home. 

The Church is not a support group though we do support one another in the faith. We cannot be comprised of dissociated persons; we practice our faith as couples, families, friends, neighbors, and citizens. In a parish, relationships may span generations as "my grandparents knew your grandparents." 

And yet our commonality is our personal experience of guilt and our assurance of the Lord's particular mercy. We pray together "I confess..." and "I believe...." We stand together with these affirmations. We realize the two-edged sword of God's word has authority in our private secrets, and over our life together. 

The Lord also speaks through Jeremiah of a renewed leadership, 

I will appoint over you shepherds after my own heart,

who will shepherd you wisely and prudently.

We pray for our leaders. They call an atomized, individualistic society to community, to mutual support as we confess our sins and learn to trust and admire one another. 

Thursday of the Sixteenth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 398

The disciples approached Jesus and said, “Why do you speak to the crowd in parables?”

He said to them in reply, “Because knowledge of the mysteries of the Kingdom of heaven has been granted to you, but to them it has not been granted. To anyone who has, more will be given and he will grow rich; from anyone who has not, even what he has will be taken away.

The twelfth verse of Matthew 13 -- "to anyone who has, more will be given..." -- might pertain to wealth, power, friends, influence, skills, or experience. The saying is universally applicable and not limited to spiritual matters. It might express cynicism or despair, a resigned observation concerning wealth and poverty. The Bible has much to say about that.  

In the context of today's gospel, it is specifically about "knowledge of the mysteries of the Kingdom of heaven." The word knowledge concerns more than a grasp of the facts. A person may accumulate many facts -- they can be piled up like wealth -- and still lack knowledge or wisdom. 

Christians understand this distinction if they recall Mary's question of the angel, "How shall this be, seeing I know not a man?" 

Knowledge in that sense is a personal relationship. "Knowledge of the mysteries of the Kingdom of heaven," then, means knowing and being known by the Lord. Those who know the Lord grow in that knowledge while those who do not must disappear like shadows before the sunrise. 

In today's gospel, Jesus recalls Isaiah's mission: 

Go and say to this people:  Listen carefully, but do not understand!  Look intently, but do not perceive!   Make the heart of this people sluggish, dull their ears and close their eyes; lest they see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and their heart understand, and they turn and be healed.

 

“How long, O Lord?” I asked. And he replied:  Until the cities are desolate, without inhabitants, houses, without people, and the land is a desolate waste.  Until the LORD sends the people far away, and great is the desolation in the midst of the land.  If there remain a tenth part in it, then this in turn shall be laid waste; as with a terebinth or an oak whose trunk remains when its leaves have fallen.

Jesus does not, in this instance, say his mission is different than Isaiah's. We like to think the Gospel unites people, reconciling their differences and instilling peace in their troubled hearts. But sometimes the gospels direct our reflection toward different thoughts. Sometimes opponents "reconcile their differences and instill peace" in preparation for war against a common enemy. Their accord is not the Kingdom of God. Today's reading recalls the two-edged sword which separates those who know the Lord from those who do not. It divides parents and children, churches, peoples and nations. 

In the VA hospital, my assignment is to visit the Catholic patients. The Irish have a saying about Catholics, "Here Comes Everybody." The designation Catholic tells me little about the Veteran. But over many years I have got to know my people. Some Catholics are happy to see me; others are indifferent or disinterested. Some practice their faith; many do not. 

Do  you blame me if I gravitate toward the practicing Catholics who are happy to see me? I try to make time for all but some take more time than others. Those who welcome my visit will receive another; those who do not might never get another chance. 

This proverb which obviously applies to nonspiritual matters, speaks also of the spiritual life. Opportunities are lost, windows are closed, and people lose what little faith they had. If there were such a thing as ideal in the spiritual life, those who welcome me and those who don't would be treated alike! But the Gospels say nothing about ideals. 

Jesus urges his shepherds to go in search of the lost sheep. I do that often in the VA; that's my job. But I can do nothing for the goats who prefer their bewilderment. Perhaps, when the cities are desolate, without inhabitants, houses, without people, they will receive a priest, if there are any priests still in the desolate waste. 

Feast of Saint Mary Magdalene

Lectionary: 603

On my bed at night I sought him
whom my heart loves–
I sought him but I did not find him.
I will rise then and go about the city;
in the streets and crossings I will seek
Him whom my heart loves.

Today marks the fourth annual celebration of the feast of Saint Mary Magdalene. Pope Francis raised this day from a memorial to a feast in 2016. (It would be the fifth but July 22, 2018 fell on a Sunday.) 

The feast accompanies next Wednesday’s memorial of Saint Martha, the sister of Saint Mary of Bethany. The two women’s stories were conflated by scripture scholars until recently; they now believe Mary Magdalene and Mary of Bethany were not the same woman.

The Magdalene, unlike Martha and Mary of Bethany, ranks a feast rather than a memorial because she strongly resembles an apostle! Need I say some people have issues with that? Pope Francis stuck his neck out when he made this decision.

Feminist scripture scholars see her as the head and spokesperson for Jesus’s female disciples. The evidence is slim but interesting.

On the first day of the week, Mary of Magdala came to the tomb early in the morning, while it was still dark, and saw the stone removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and to the other disciple whom Jesus loved, and told them, “They have taken the Lord from the tomb, and we don’t know where they put him.”

Although she seems to be alone in John 20:1, she speaks for a group, “…we don’t know where they put him.”

But, historically, Mary has fascinated story tellers and artists and theologians for her sexuality. What was going on between her and Jesus? Was there something “The Church” doesn’t want “The Faithful” to know about?

On this feast day, the lectionary offers a choice of two readings; we may choose a passage from the Song of Songs, the most erotic book in the Bible, or the safer 2 Corinthians.

Several years ago I took it upon myself to do an amateur exploration of erotic poetry. It’s somewhat out of my usual field of study but there are entire sections of erotic literature in bookstores. I am prejudiced, no doubt, but I found the literature varied from too spiritual to too physical. The spiritual was insipid and the physical was either comical or disgusting. Of all the poems, only the Song of Songs gets it right. There is something radiant here which I do not find in secular literature.

“On my bed at night I sought him whom my heart loves; I sought him but did not find him.”

Which of us does not know that physical, emotional, intellectual, and spiritual longing? Which of us ever finds such a companion?

Few, if any, and only briefly.

There’s a lot of lonely people out there. And in here.

Mary Magdalene represents the erotic characteristics of love while the Blessed Mother represents the maternal. (Since children never want to suppose their mothers have a sexual life, the duty falls to another woman.) 

But several other women in the scripture have also been called “Mary Magdalene” including the woman caught in adultery and the notorious sinner who wiped Jesus’ feet with her hair. Conflate these three and eroticism takes on the baggage of sin, guilt, and shame. The only woman in the gospel who might be allowed virtuous sexual pleasure is the bride of John 2. Of her, like the male adulterer of John 8, nothing is said. 

If I learned anything from my brief survey of erotic literature, it’s that it's hard to encompass the physical, emotional, intellectual, and spiritual dimensions of intimacy in a work of art. Not to mention the social, familial, and financial although those realities inevitably and forcefully invade the erotic.

I wept my way through La Boheme recently. The opera recognized, too late for poor Mimi, the medical dimensions of love. While the courtesan denied that her cough meant anything, her true lover Rudolfo tried to push the sick woman out of his life. They faced it together, as eros demands of lovers, only at the end.

The Gospel of John – to return to our feastday – offers a better resolution to erotic love, sublimation. That is making sublime.  

When the Lord tells the ecstatic woman, “Do not cling to me,” he teaches her that her love-energy must be directed elsewhere.  

"Stop holding on to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and tell them..."

Both have work to do which is more important than their brief embrace. He must go to the Father; and she, to the brothers, to tell them, "I am going to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God."

Rather than the immediate gratification of sex which is doomed to operatic disappointment, the gospel directs our energy to lifelong, relational commitment. The Risen Lord and Mary Magdelene will find their union, communion, and satisfaction in the sacramental life of the Church, (which is a dominant theme of Saint John's Gospel.) That is where we hear, touch, taste, smell, and feel the physical presence of Jesus.
It is, I'll grant you, a hard sell in today's market. But we must always speak the Truth to a skeptical world. 

Tuesday of the Sixteenth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 396

Who is there like you, the God who removes guilt and pardons sin for the remnant of his inheritance; who does not persist in anger forever, but delights rather in clemency, and will again have compassion on us, treading underfoot our guilt? You will cast into the depths of the sea all our sins; You will show faithfulness to Jacob, and grace to Abraham, as you have sworn to our fathers from days of old.

I well remember my long-suffering spiritual director trying to persuade me that the Lord delights in clemency. Try as she would, I could not believe it. 

It made sense, of course. Why would a Creator-God create something he despises? Why would he sustain its existence? God's benevolence is as clear as the morning light, and as dependable. 

But something in me clung to fear and avoidance. Old habits and old attitudes, perhaps formed before I knew I had a choice in what attitude to assume and what habits to practice -- they persist. We cannot see anything but what they show us; we cannot believe anyone else's perception. 

She taught me about meditation. It's like washing a window. You take your prayer and you repeat it over and over and over. You focus your attention on each word of the prayer and whenever you notice you're not paying attention to that prayer and those words you refocus and begin again. 

After a while, you realize that getting frustrated doesn't help; scolding yourself is wasted energy; feeling disappointed by your lack of success is counterproductive. You're not looking for success; you're not trying to prove anything. You're just praying.

It's like wiping a window. You keep circling the pane and sweeping your cloth back and forth, paying attention only to the glass. Sometimes you may notice something outside, on the other side of the window, and your motions slow to a stop. You're distracted but you don't notice you're distracted. You might even get excited or upset about what you see through the window. 

And then you remember you're not here to watch something outside; you're cleaning a window. And you turn your attention to your chore once again. 

When you have finished either exercise -- meditation or wiping the window -- you see more clearly. Through the window of your mind you can see the intensity, purity, and generosity of God's mercy. You will look at a crucifix and wonder at the incomprehensible dimensions of God's love. "Who is there like you," you will say, "who removes guilt and pardons sin?" 

Indeed, while you were paying attention to that word of prayer, the Lord cast into the depths of the sea all your sins. 

Monday of the Sixteenth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 395

With what shall I come before the LORD,
and bow before God most high? Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves a year old? Will the LORD be pleased with thousands of rams, with myriad streams of oil? Shall I give my first-born for my crime, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?
You have been told, O man, what is good, and what the LORD requires of you: Only to do the right and to love goodness, and to walk humbly with your God.

The human being is a restless, insatiable spirit, always wanting more and better, and never satisfied. And, it seems, so is our God. It sometimes feels like an unhappy marriage, an insoluble dilemma. 

Speaking of human relations, the Irish poet John O'Donohue has written: 

Each individual carries a totally separate world in his or her heart. When you reflect on how differently you think and feel about life, it is a wonder that we can talk to each other at all. Even between the closest people, there are long bridges. (Eternal Echoes, Exploring our Yearning to Belong, 1999, page 29)

We struggle as human beings to develop words, phrases, gestures, signs, and symbols that will make us transparent to one another. We want to be understood and we want to understand but we're often worlds apart. 

In the introduction to their classic Elements of Style, Strunk and White spoke of the reader as lost and adrift in the sea of the writer's mind. They need a lifeline of clear, concise prose to bring them aboard where both minds can think the same thoughts. 

If the differences between one human mind and another are so intractable, how can we hope to understand God's mind, or satisfy the eternal longing of God's heart? 

And yet, O'Donohue adds, "This makes us attractive and fascinating to each other." 

God is drawn to us as we are to God; it is an attraction like gravity which is finally irresistible. "I'm still here!" God says despite the crucifixion, and we reply, "Here I am."

Today's reading from the Book of Micah reflects that longing as the prophet describes the Lord's frustration. We know this passage from the "reproaches" of our Good Friday liturgy, which are sung while the congregation reverences the cross: 

My people, what have I done to you? How have I wearied you? Answer me. 

We approach the Lord in our sorrow as well as our joy, with guilt, shame, and remorse for our sins and a silent, humble confidence that the Lord will -- again -- forgive us. We have that confidence in God because we cannot resist our desire for God. If I long for peace and reconciliation and joy in God's presence so much, then surely the Lord my Creator must want it also. 

The signs and sacraments of our faith assure us. This is the way, walk in it.  

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 106

There is no god besides you who have the care of all, that you need show you have not unjustly condemned. For your might is the source of justice; your mastery over all things makes you lenient to all.

Today's first reading from the Book of Wisdom offers philosophical reflections on the nature of God. God can afford to be just because he is all-powerful; there are no rival gods to contest God's apparent weakness when he forgives sin or assists the lowly. A recent poster affirms the same principle, to the effect: "True strength is gentle; gentleness is strong."  

Being a Franciscan with our tradition of preferring minoritas, I have sometimes hesitated to speak of God as all-powerful. I fear the "spirituality of power" which worships such a god. If we aspire to be the god we worship, an all-powerful god encourages avarice. I see this aspiration in ads for vehicles, guns, pain killers, and computers; and in American celebrations, especially football. How many wars has our nation lost against poverty, drugs, illiteracy, and disease because we intended to overpower them? A warlike nation worships power and would wage war on any one and anything it despises. 

When I go to Bethlehem or Calvary I don't gaze upon an all-powerful god. Rather, I see a God who embraces our weakness and frailty in the face of an increasingly complex, mechanized, domineering society. Jesus died because he was not most fit, most powerful, or most adaptable. He died on Calvary as any mortal would. 

So I've had my reservations about the "All-Powerful God," but recently I recognized another dimension of power; and I see the Lord's rightful claim to all-power. It's there in the expression, "He conquered death." 

Even though we killed him, he is still here! He remains with us. His terrible death, accepted with such grace that a centurion would declare, "Truly this man was the Son of God!" -- made him fully and entirely present to every human being of the past, present, and future. The cross closed the distances between him and different genders, races, tribes, classes, and religions. He is one of us and one of them. He greets us on Easter Sunday as if he never left. 

Despite our desperate efforts to rid ourselves of God once and for all, he says, "Here I am with you!" Jeanne Murray Walker has a wonderful poem entitled appropriately, Staying Power, published in Poetry Magazine, May 2004. 

God's persistent presence with us may be saddened but is never discouraged. Like Ms. Walker, George Herbert, the seventeenth century English priest/poet found God's consoling, immediate presence in his most desperate moments: 

Affliction III

 

MY heart did heave, and there came forth, O God!

By that I knew that thou wast in the grief,

To guide and govern it to my relief,

       Making a scepter of the rod:

          Hadst thou not had thy part,

Sure the unruly sigh had broke my heart.

But since thy breath gave me both life and shape,

Thou knowst my tallies; and when there’s assign’d

So much breath to a sigh, what’s then behinde?

       Or if some yeares with it escape,

          The sigh then onely is

A gale to bring me sooner to my blisse.

Thy life on earth was grief, and thou art still

Constant unto it, making it to be

A point of honour, now to grieve in me,

       And in thy members suffer ill.

          They who lament one crosse,

Thou dying dayly, praise thee to thy losse.

If we cannot find God it's often because we're not willing to go to that dark place of grief, shame, or guilt where God waits for us. He is closer to me than I am to myself. 

In that frightful distress we encounter the All-Powerful God who forgives, heals, comforts, and guides. He walks with us in the darkness of our fears. Powerful motorcycles, locomotive engines, nuclear bombs and other "man-made" devices are impotent before the One whom death could not destroy. If we're astonished by the strength of hurricanes and the dimensions of supernovas, we're silenced by the power of God to abide with us in painful loneliness. 

Saint Paul, in today's second reading, also describes the reassuring presence of God whose power is shown in weakness: 

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.

As the Father accompanied Moses and the Hebrews in the desert, the Son of the Father assures us, "I am with you always, even to the end of the age." 

 

Saturday of the Fifteenth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 394

Woe to those who plan iniquity, and work out evil on their couches; in the morning light they accomplish it when it lies within their power. They covet fields, and seize them; houses, and they take them....

With the election of another minority president in 2016, many in the United States have begun to look more seriously at the dark side of our nation's ethos. The twin victories of the Second World War over Germany and Japan are far behind us. We have seen a nation's ascent to dominance over the world, and the beginnings of its descent as the unifying spirit of that terrible war ebbs away. 

We have felt the challenge of civil rights for minorities, especially for African-Americans and women; and, at first, many thought the most powerful nation in the world could readily make these concessions. Didn't we free the slaves in 1865 and give the vote to women in 1920? After those major hurdles, it should be easy to grant "full equality." Surely the best way to maintain our dominance is to cultivate the best talent from the largest possible pool. A good surgeon doesn't have to be "white;" a competent scientist might be a woman or transgender; an airline pilot could be Muslim. 

But we're learning that "we" didn't free slaves or grant votes; slaves freed themselves and women took the right to vote. Women and African-Americans attained these freedoms despite much opposition and foot-dragging many years after Thomas Jefferson penned his famous dictum, "All men are created equal." Neither he nor his founding brothers meant it literally. They stumbled into those words in the same manner that Communist Russia agreed to the Helsinki Accord, not realizing that they were agreeing to freedom of the press. 

Black Lives Matter and Me Too are the current manifestations of these movements for civil rights, and they challenge our darker natures once again. 

(I was struck recently by a reference to Donald Trump Jr's "girlfriend" in the New York Times. This "girl" is fifty-one years old! I know of no man who would want to be called a boy at that age, and yet our liberal media still describes some women as girls. Hello?)

Perhaps the mood is changing and we're realizing America never was great for many, perhaps most, of its people. Some of us are ready to ponder our sins against freedom. We might yet try to atone and make reparation. 

I have been reading the poetry of George Herbert lately, a young Anglican priest of the seventeenth century. The gentle prelate had finally surrendered to his priestly vocation, ceding his aspirations to public office, to lead a quiet country congregation far removed from London. 

The poet's Catholic religion did not hesitate to recognize personal sin: 

Church-Lock And Key

I know it is my sinne, which locks thine eares,

                    And bindes thy hands!

Out-crying my requests, drowning my tears;

Or else the chilnesse of my faint demands.

But as cold hands are angrie with the fire,

                And mend it still;

So I do lay the want of my desire,

Not on my sinnes, or coldnesse, but thy will.

Yet heare, O God, onely for his bloud's sake,

                Which pleads for me;

For though sinnes plead too, yet like stones they make

His bloud's sweet current much more loud to be.

I hear in his poetry a humble estimation of himself; he sees himself as God sees him, both blessed and sinful. 

Can a nation recognize its blessedness, it's aspiration to freedom; and, at the same time, address its innumerable sins against freedom? Many phrases come to mind as we struggle with this; none of them adequate: 

• We didn't realize...;
• Look how far we've come;
• We meant well;
• You've got it better than most;
• God knows we've tried;
• and so forth....

Penance begins with a readiness to hear the worst of our sins, and even to be accused unfairly as we have used unfairly. I can do this only if I am sure of 

"his bloud's sake / Which pleads for me...." 

When we feel sure of God's love for a nation which is just as beautiful and just as cruel as every other nation in history, we will be ready to atone and repair the damage we have caused.