Memorial of the First Holy Martyrs of the Holy Roman Church

Lectionary: 380

Abraham was greatly distressed,
especially on account of his son Ishmael. 

But God said to Abraham: “Do not be distressed about the boy or about your slave woman. Heed the demands of Sarah, no matter what she is asking of you; for it is through Isaac that descendants shall bear your name. As for the son of the slave woman, I will make a great nation of him also, since he too is your offspring.”

Abraham had two sons. Bible readers should be familiar with stories of two sons. There are Cain and Abel, Esau and Jacob, and the prodigal son with his older brother. Even Saint Luke’s narrative of John the Baptist and Jesus, although the boys are not brothers, resembles the birth stories of Ishmael and Isaac. In these stories, invariably the second son is favored over the older. If many parents and most legal traditions prefer the firstborn son, God often upends our human customs.

In this story, Abraham was “greatly distressed” that his first son should be expelled from the family. A footnote in the NABRE translation explains there is some confusion about Ishmael’s age. He may be as old as fourteen, or he might be a toddler. In either case, it’s clear to Sarah that Ishmael is taking charge of his little brother; and she is not pleased. She will not allow a slave child to lead her child with the implication that she should play second fiddle to the concubine. That’s not going to happen.

To Abraham’s astonishment, the LORD agrees with Sarah. The scriptures remind us often, God’s ways are not our ways. We are not tall enough to see beyond the horizon. We can neither imagine what will happen in the future nor predict how God’s plans will be executed.

Sometimes, when our systems of reliable infrastructure and daily routines begin to disintegrate we think there is something dreadfully wrong. We say, “This cannot be right; this is not God’s plan!”  We make every effort to shore up our systems and yet they continue to fall apart.

But we have Abraham to remind us. His expectations were often frustrated. The LORD called him and directed him and promised him much, but God also tested him with several disappointments.

I often think of that doleful word in the second book of the Bible, “A new king came to Egypt who knew not Joseph.” Suddenly the comfortable life of the Hebrew residents was reduced to abject slavery; their very existence was threatened as the Pharaoh commanded that all their baby boys be drowned. “Can that be right? Where is God in this story?” they surely asked.

These were questions asked by a people who had nearly forgotten the God of their ancestors. Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob were distant memories and the Hebrew children no longer knew them. The incident of Moses’ killing an Egyptian slave driver shows they were ready to defend their oppressors and to betray one another. Moses had to flee from Egypt until the LORD would empower him and send him back.

In our time many people, ignorant of scripture, are terrified as changes rush at them. They see unexpected demographic, technological, and social developments in a militarized world. They see millions of desperate refugees ignoring national boundaries. They fear for their own and their children’s future. They wonder if God is still in charge.

The Book of Revelation was written specifically to help first and second century Christians keep the faith as the Roman Empire became hostile. The Church would survive four centuries of heresy and martyrdom until the entire known world embraced Christianity. Our traditions, martyrs, and saints remind us we have seen worse times than this and the Spirit of God will not fail us.

 

Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul

Mass during the Day

Lectionary: 591

Simon Peter said in reply,
“You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”
Jesus said to him in reply, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah. For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father.
And so I say to you, you are Peter,
and upon this rock I will build my Church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it.
I will give you the keys to the Kingdom of heaven. Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.” 

 

Jesus’s words to Saint Peter were not so much a pronouncement as a prophecy. Roman Catholics see their fulfillment in the ascendance of the Bishop of Rome to the singular role of pope, after a process of several centuries. The Chair of Peter was recognized as first among equals after Pope Leo’s intervention at the Council of Chalcedon, by way of emissaries. He settled the question of monophysitism as much by his decisive voice as by his “Tome.” The assembled patriarchs and bishops at the Council welcomed the intervention and the Roman bishop’s authority. And he wasn’t even there!

Interestingly, the denunciation of monophysitism, cleared the way for the earthly institution of the Church to claim ultimate religious authority in both matters of dogma and governance. The Pope can speak ex cathedra on theological issues, and on who gets to be bishop and where. He governs in persona Christi. We trust the magisterial authority of the Roman Catholic Church to set us straight on disputed interpretations of morals and doctrine, including how the Bible should be read. 

As Saint John Henry Newman saw so clearly, without the singular authority of the pope, we are left in confusion on spiritual matters of life and death. In that vacuum God’s voice is smothered by competing voices, each one claiming to speak the truth. In most cases they find a truth to suit their own tastes and reassure them of their righteousness. But a religion that does not make one uncomfortable from time to time cannot be from God.

The Church’s teaching authority will always be challenged. The world with its fads, ideologies, mercurial moods, partisan opinions, and innumerable crises will demand that the Church change its (what they call) “man-made policies.” They suppose the Church's scriptures, traditions and doctrines can be dismissed as readily as their policies, and should suit the current consumers' market. Every time a new pope is elected the adoring press expects him to make changes he cannot make. 

I often assure faltering Catholics in the VA, "Our religion is not contained by definitions in a catechism. So if you don't like this or that teaching, don't let it block you from praying with us. Our first duty is always to pray together, not to agree with each other." 

On this Solemn Day, Catholics throughout the world thank God for the headship of the Pope in the City which was sanctified by the blood of Saints Peter and Paul. 

Memorial of Saint Irenaeus, Bishop and Martyr

 Lectionary: 377

A scribe approached and said to him,
“Teacher, I will follow you wherever you go.”

 

Priests and religious men and women often linger over the dinner table one-upping one another with stories of the strange characters they have met in the seminary, rectory, friary, and convent. 

Christian leaders who have made life commitments to service in the Church have a wary skepticism of enthusiasts. “We’ve seen them come; and we’ve seen them go.” Eager volunteers often bring an unconscious agenda with them. Along with their willingness to serve and gratitude for the opportunity, they want to make a difference. They want to say at some point, “I contributed to that!”

In today’s gospel Jesus instantly recognizes the bright-eyed fellow who declares, “I will follow you wherever you go?”

Will you now? To Jerusalem to be pilloried, mocked, and scourged? To Calvary, to be crucified?

Treating this applicant differently than his chosen disciples, he doesn’t ask this fellow, “Can you drink the cup that I am going to drink?”  He simply dismisses him with a remark about foxes and birds.

No one comes to the Lord who is not invited. If your initial experience of approaching a religious commitment -- or even a particular project -- feels like your own decision, you should pause, ponder, and look more deeply at this impulse. Where is it coming from?

Many people remember resisting the impulse to a divine call. They did not want to enter the seminary or convent; they did not feel like they were being sent; they had no dreams of mission. But the idea just kept coming at them and each time it seemed more appealing. When they decided to explore it by seeking advice from experienced professionals, they remained skeptical and undecided.

Wary of too eager volunteers, the early church often took the initiative in the selection of its leaders. Some individuals were reluctant; at least one bishop had to be dragged from his closet before he was ordained. Liturgically we remember that principle as the candidates for ordination, who are often seated with their parents in the congregation, are formally called to the sanctuary.

The call to mission is given to every Christian. It begins with Baptism and the gift of the Holy Spirit. It is manifest in the Easter appearance in the gospels. In every instance Jesus does not appear to prove that he is not dead; rather, he breaks into their assumptions about life and death  to send them on mission. The first witnesses were the women told to tell the community; later, the Church should tell all nations.

Our mission as disciples is first accomplished by our gatherings when we hear and celebrate the good news. By continual prayer the healing message sinks deeper into our hearts and we become willing and eager to share it with others. Within the Church, every Christian discovers their own calling. Their precise roles usually come as no surprise as the tasks fit their aptitudes and skill sets. They support the Church in her mission to the nations. 

And they always know that no one makes a difference; only the LORD.  

 

Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 98

 

God did not make death,
    nor does he rejoice in the destruction of the living.
For he fashioned all things that they might have being;
    and the creatures of the world are wholesome...

 

The great Philosopher Spinoza observed that every being endeavors to persist in itself, and this endeavor is its actual essence, and implies indefinite time. Nothing wants to stop being. Even wounded animals try to escape those who would put them out of their misery.

Nonetheless, Jesus ben Sirach’s remark -- “God did not make death.” -- sounds strange to our ears. Surely, the Sage had observed the aging of people, animals, and trees and knew that all creatures die.

I believe it was the same Spinoza who noted that no one imagines himself dead. We might accept the demonstrable fact that all creatures die but, nonetheless, “I don’t expect to die.” Someone asked a journalist in Russia whether Putin is grooming his successor. They replied, “He doesn’t plan to die.”

Sirach’s teaching, then, comes as a spiritual truth rather than a biological theory, “God did not make death, nor does he rejoice in the destruction of the living.”

Unfortunately, we see people dying by their own choices. Many are swept away by a culture of Darwinian competition which generates loneliness, loss of spirit, addictions, poor self-care, suicide, and death. Often we grieve friends and acquaintances and say, "It didn’t have to end this way."

For he fashioned all things that they might have being;
    and the creatures of the world are wholesome,

In today’s gospel we encounter Jesus’s passionate love for women. He willingly risks the contempt of strangers, who laughed at him when he declared the child is not dead; and of his disciples, who questioned his judgement (“You see how the crowd is pressing upon you, and yet you ask, ‘Who touched me?’)

Doing the Father’s will, he must restore these women to full and wholesome life, both the elderly woman and the little girl. In so doing he returns them to family, community, and synagogue. For without the affectionate support of others, human life atrophies.

Jesus explains the mystery of his life and death to us in John 15: 10-11 --

"If you keep my commandments, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and remain in his love. I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and your joy may be complete."

We know his joy as we eat his body and drink his blood. That is, as we go with him to Calvary, and follow him through death to life. 

Biblical scholars tell us that every story in the Gospel of Saint Mark displays the mysteries of his life, death, and resurrection. In today's stories we see that his life is one of willingness, generosity, and profound joy. When Jairus and the ailing woman approach him he immediately drops whatever plans he had to address their need. His only agenda is to do the Father's will and the Spirit says, "Go!" he goes, and when the Spirit says, "Do this!" he does it. 

His death is represented by the skepticism of the disciples and the mockery of the crowd. His resurrection appears in the healing of the woman and the resuscitation of the child, along with the restoration of Jairus's family. His resurrection, in other words, is our joyful communion.  

If our endeavor to persist is our essence, we need the Lord to give his all for us. We face an existential crisis without him. Seeing that he has done just that, we must reply in kind. 

Saturday of the Twelfth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 376

When Jesus entered Capernaum, a centurion approached him and appealed to him, saying, “Lord, my servant is lying at home paralyzed, suffering dreadfully.” 

Again today we have not one but two stories about asking God for help. 

The story of the centurion is fascinating because the man's ability to ask is so severely limited. He seems to have the spirit and desire but he cannot bring himself to use the words. It might be called a spiritual disability. 

When he comes to Jesus, you'll notice he explains the situation to Jesus but he does not say what he wants. The Lord has to figure it out after hearing that a man is "paralyzed and suffering dreadfully."

Perhaps the centurion himself is "paralyzed and suffering dreadfully" though his issue is quite different from that of his servant. 

And then when Jesus immediately responds, "I will come and cure him!" the centurion seems to panic. His reaction is immediate and insistent, "You cannot come to my home!" 

A Veteran friend of mine explained it to me. The centurion is a combat Veteran; he has killed people in face-to-face, hand-to-hand combat. He has cleaned their blood off his sword, spear, shield, and face even as he prepared for another round of slaughter. The phalanx of soldiers under his command is an efficient killing machine. Some of the dead were defenseless; none were prepared to die. The centurion must live with the memory of their shocked faces and agonized bodies. They haunt his sleeping and his waking. They occupy his house. He cannot have a Man of God enter that cursed space. 

And so he comes to Jesus and proposes as far as he is able. He can only describe the situation with its obvious inferences. He can tell a story and hope the Nazarene understands. 

This Gospel tells us much about Jesus and the Father who has sent him to us. God wants to heal us. The Spirit urges us to ask. If you can't ask, at least show up! Be there. Be desperate. Be hungry for mercy and thirsty for compassion.

Saint Paul taught his disciples about prayer, 

Have no anxiety at all, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God. Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:6

Friday of the Twelfth Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 375

And then a leper approached, did him homage, and said,
“Lord, if you wish, you can make me clean.”
He stretched out his hand, touched him, and said,
“I will do it. Be made clean.”
His leprosy was cleansed immediately.

Through the Prophet Isaiah, the Lord spoke to Ahaz, king of Jerusalem:

"Ask for a sign from the LORD, your God; let it be deep as Sheol, or high as the sky!"
But Ahaz answered, “I will not ask! I will not tempt the LORD!”

As heir of David, and hearing news of hostile armies approaching Jerusalem, Ahaz had every right to beg the Lord for mercy. But being a proud man he would not ask. He cloaked his pride in humility, like a wolf in sheep's clothing, but his wickedness was transparent to anyone who knew him. 

I think of that story as I hear of the humble leper who dared to accost Jesus. On that occasion Jesus had just wowed a huge crowd with his Sermon on the Mount. He was evidently a great man, able to command the attention of many people. But whether he was great or not, the sick man saw his opportunity and would not let it pass by. 

People sometimes cloak their pride in false modesty or cosmic excuses that the God of the Universe doesn't have time for me and my problems. The leper might say to them, "Cry a river. Build a bridge. And get over yourself." 

The Bible is filled with God's urging us to ask for his help. We simply cannot manage our affairs without God. Only the fool thinks otherwise and there are many stories of fools in the same Book. 

In the 1950's the Roman Catholic Church in the United States was hugely successful with well-attended churches, schools from elementary to graduate, hospitals, social services, and innumerable volunteer organizations. Many dioceses had complete seminary systems with doctored professors. In Louisville, it seemed that every parish had a eighth-grade elementary school which prepared boys and girls to enter the Catholic high schools. Those days are gone. To one remembering that triumphant church, the future seems bleak. 

Should I despair? Imagine a rosy picture of a glorious past restored? Or pray? 

The leper in today's story tells me, "Pray boldly! It is the Spirit of God moving within us and we should not stifle the Spirit." 

Solemnity of the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist

Lectionary: 587

Truly you have formed my inmost being;
    you knit me in my mother’s womb.
I give you thanks that I am fearfully, wonderfully made;
    wonderful are your works.

Late one evening in Washington DC, almost fifty years ago, having finished complaining about whatever worried me at the time, I found myself lingering alone in the chapel and reciting words from the psalms. By that time I had been reading morning and evening prayer with the friars for several years and, because my brain was still somewhat pliable, I learned by repetition even without trying. I wondered, "What is that psalm I am reciting?" 

It took a while to discover it was Psalm 139. Like many generations of Christian women and men, I was learning to pray from the psalter. 

It's always a pleasure to find 139 in our liturgy. It is used today to remember the Birth of Saint John the Baptist. The infant who had leapt for joy in his mother's womb at the approach of the Savior would certainly have prayed, "You knit me in my mother's womb; I am fearfully, wonderfully made." 

Psalm 139 is a prayer of discovery. The believer first realizes:

LORD, you have probed me, you know me:

you know when I sit and stand;

you understand my thoughts from afar.

They are like the child whose mother has eyes on the back of her head. She knows when trouble is afoot even in the silence. "What are you doing?" she asks the guilty little innocent one. The feeling is not entirely comfortable. And the believer asks of God,

Where can I go from your spirit?
From your presence, where can I flee? 

But the believer soon realizes the omniscience and omnipotence of God pervades the past also and, 

You formed my inmost being;

you knit me in my mother’s womb.

I praise you,

because I am wonderfully made;

wonderful are your works!

My very self you know.

My bones are not hidden from you,

When I was being made in secret,

fashioned in the depths of the earth.

This knowledge is reassuring for the Lord certainly would not regret what he has made so wonderfully. 

The psalmist goes on to discover how alien evil is to God's world and will want to enlist in God's army to fight it. And to beg God to free them from evil:

See if there is a wicked path in me;

lead me along an ancient path

 Saint John the Baptist knew God's mercy from the day he was born and his ancient parents reinforced his assurance as they raised him in the Jewish religion. As we celebrate his Nativity we ask the Lord for the same assurance, and the same willingness to oppose evil within our hearts and in the world which would seduce away from the Lord. 

Wednesday of the Twelfth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 373

He took him outside and said:

“Look up at the sky and count the stars, if you can.
Just so,” he added, “shall your descendants be.”
Abram put his faith in the LORD,
who credited it to him as an act of righteousness.

Saint Paul, in his letter to the Romans, makes much of this passage from the Book of Genesis. Following the principles Jesus had laid down, the early Church reflected more upon Abraham and less about Moses, and more upon our faith in God than upon rigorous observance of the Law.

Faith, as this Genesis passage indicates, is about the trust two parties place in each other. More than contractual, it reflects their mutual confidence, affection, and admiration. They rely on each other and they are there for each other.

Faith may be called an adult relationship. Children, as they discover their separate identity within a relationship to parents and others, can be expected to lie and attempt to deceive. They cannot simply mirror everything their parents and older people want or think. To find themselves they must sometimes conceal their thoughts, desires, and plans. Their foolishness is often transparent to adults. 

Adults -- after considerable struggle! -- should have attained comfort with their own identity and freedom to relate to others with trust, openness, and freedom. Adults appreciate the boundaries between individuals even as they are willing to share life and experience with them.

Abraham believed the LORD’s promise that he would have many descendants. There was no scientific evidence to warrant such a faith. In fact his and Sarah’s advanced age made it seem unlikely. He had, with God’s help won a battle against four kings; but, in today's passage from Genesis 15, they had not yet seen the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. They were still getting acquainted with the LORD, and their willingness to live by God’s promise was a huge step for the patriarchal couple and all their descendants.

The Bible recalls the childish behavior of their descendants, especially as they found freedom in the Sinai peninsula. Although they had seen a “mighty work,” the destruction of Pharaoh and his army in the Red Sea, they had little faith in their Deliverer. Like children the Hebrews continually tested the limits of God’s patience; like adolescents they studied the law for loopholes. Salvation History records continual cycles of deception and trust. Always the Lord was faithful as he taught them to believe through the Law, wisdom literature, and the prophets. 

As heirs of Abraham, Christians see the “greatest proof” of God’s love in the sacrificial death of his only beloved son. With our eyes fixed on the Lord, we can have no doubt of God's intense, personal regard for each of us. 

Faith in an omnipotent, omniscient, and entirely benevolent God is about “You!” in the sense that no thought, word, or deed is hidden from you, my God. “You are always here with me.” Living in the truth is surrender to your merciful, affectionate presence; it is a willingness to trust the One who is trustworthy.

LORD, you have probed me, you know me:

you know when I sit and stand;

you understand my thoughts from afar.

You sift through my travels and my rest;

with all my ways you are familiar. Psalm 139

Optional Memorial of Saint John Fisher, bishop and martyr and Saint Thomas More, martyr

Martyrs in Defense of Marriage

Lectionary: 372

Thus they separated from each other;
Abram stayed in the land of Canaan,
while Lot settled among the cities of the Plain,
pitching his tents near Sodom.
Now the inhabitants of Sodom were very wicked
in the sins they committed against the LORD.

 

Today’s passage from Genesis describes a scenario hard to imagine in the 21^st century: wide-open stretches of fertile land unoccupied by human settlements. Abraham and Lot lived approximately 1800 BCE; I understand that Alexander the Great found similar opportunities fifteen centuries later. The human population of the world was still very small. Wikipedia reports that, “…It took over 2 million years of human prehistory and history for the world's population to reach 1 billion, and only 200 years more to reach 7 billion.”

The same passage also reveals a traditional preference for rural over city life. Lot chose foolishly when he settled in Sodom, as following chapters will show. God would rescue him after Abraham’s pleading for him, but his family seemed to prefer the loose morals of urban life. Lot’s wife turned back, and his daughters behaved very badly.

A recent history of cities, Metropolis, shows that one of their main attractions, even in prehistoric times, was their opportunities for sexual adventurism. Rural families, neighbors, and churches scrutinize and manage young people’s behavior, but they have little authority after sundown in the city. As Nora Bayes sang after the First World War, "How Ya Gonna Keep 'em Down on the Farm (After They've Seen Paree?)"

More alarming, Metropolis says that, as of the 21^st century, most human beings live in major cities. Rural life, customs, and mores are rapidly disappearing. This is not just an American phenomenon. This development is sudden and unprecedented; and the wisdom of traditional societies are flummoxed by its challenges.

Although Christianity flourished in the cities of the Roman Empire because of its strict morality, our ancient church faces a very different world. The city offers a panoply of alternative lifestyles that compete with the once-accepted model of marriage as one man, one woman, and their biological children, in sickness and in health, till death do us part. The traditional methods of criticizing, shaming, and ostracizing no longer suppress fornication, adultery, divorce, abortion, and homosexuality. Consequently, formerly aberrant illnesses like alcoholism, drug abuse, and suicide have become epidemics. Traditional wisdom, like “Just Say No,” fails before these challenges.

Many people ask, “When will the Roman Catholic Church rewrite its definitions of marriage to fit this new age?” But, as the Bible shows, our traditional understanding of marriage has been challenged since long before Jesus was born. The teachings in Genesis 2 – that it is not good to be alone; that a couple should be suitable helpmates to one another; that “a man leaves his father and mother and clings to his wife, and the two of them become one body;” and that they should feel no shame in their intimacy – feel like they were born of controversy! Marriage has never been easy.

Marriage has been reliable as a bedrock of family and society and, for that reason, has often been the butt of jokes. My favorite quip is, “I have never considered divorce. Murder, yes; but never divorce.” Many Catholics still live that way. Divorce is not an option. They work it out; they make it work. With God all things are possible.

The Church stands by these faithful men and women despite the worrisome trends of an ever-changing world. As the world changes and society showers contempt both upon our beliefs and on those who practice them, we beg the Lord for grace, courage,  joy, and the freedom of true love. 

On this memorial feast day of Saints Thomas More and John Fisher, martyrs, we should remember they died for opposing the illegitimate marriage of King Henry VIII  to Anne Boleyn. 

Memorial of Saint Aloysius Gonzaga, Religious

Lectionary: 371

The LORD said to Abram:
“Go forth from the land of your kinsfolk
and from your father’s house to a land that I will show you.

“I will make of you a great nation,
and I will bless you;
I will make your name great,
so that you will be a blessing.
I will bless those who bless you
and curse those who curse you.
All the communities of the earth
shall find blessing in you.”

 

As we invoke the Patriarch Abraham, our father in faith, we do well to turn to Genesis 17. There we learn of the physical relationship between the LORD and Abraham:

This is the covenant between me and you and your descendants after you that you must keep: every male among you shall be circumcised. Circumcise the flesh of your foreskin. That will be the sign of the covenant between me and you. Throughout the ages, every male among you, when he is eight days old, shall be circumcised.

Although the circumcision of every Jewish male might be taken for granted, Saint Luke made sure that we knew that Jesus was also circumcised.

When eight days were completed for his circumcision, he was named Jesus, the name given him by the angel before he was conceived in the womb.

It was necessary that the Messiah, born under the law, comply in every way to God’s command and the everlasting covenant, as Saint Paul wrote to the Galatians: 

But when the fullness of time had come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to ransom those under the law, so that we might receive adoption.

Given the memory of the Nazi extermination of Jews and the current resurgence of anti-Semitism in the United States, Christians and Catholics should reflect upon Jesus as a descendant of Abraham, a Jew. 

The revelation of Jesus as God -- coequal to and consubstantial with the Father -- does not cancel his being a human being, a man, and a Jew. The Church has always denounced any effort to wash out the human nature of our Redeemer. Doing so would not only emasculate the man, it would sever our historical ties to his saving event. 

Our sacraments fix us firmly in his human nature just as surely as Baptism and Eucharist grafted gentiles into the family of Abraham.

…you, a wild olive shoot, were grafted in their place and have come to share in the rich root of the olive tree, do not boast against the branches. If you do boast, consider that you do not support the root; the root supports you. Indeed you will say, “Branches were broken off so that I might be grafted in.” That is so. They were broken off because of unbelief, but you are there because of faith. So do not become haughty but stand in awe. For if God did not spare the natural branches, he will not spare you either.

Because Jesus is a Jew, Christians and Catholics can have no quarrel with the seed of Abraham.

 

Today when "spiritual-not-religious" would abolish the memory of Jesus even as it descends into conspirituality and QAnon, Catholics must contemplate our historical debt to Abraham and his descendants. Today's first reading recalls that prehistoric moment when the LORD called Abraham to" Go forth from the land of your kinsfolk and from your father’s house to a land that I will show you."

We too are setting out for the deep in the spirit of Saint Pope John Paul II. We must imagine and live in a post-racist world, free of anti-semitism, assured that the friend of Abraham goes with us. 

For your further reflection, I found a thought-provoking essay about Saint Paul's teaching: "Jew first and then gentile;" on Gateway Center for Israel website. 

Twelfth Sunday of Ordinary Time

The Creek at MSF,
below the dam

Lectionary: 95

So whoever is in Christ is a new creation:
the old things have passed away;
behold, new things have come.

Recently, NASA announced that they would collect and study what little solid data the military and other sources might have about Unidentified Flying Objects. They have assured the public they are not looking for conspiracies and have no intention of creating any, but some odd occurrences have been recorded and they want to look into it. (Given how few facts there are, it shouldn't take this government agency more than ten years and a few million dollars to complete their study.) 

NASA insists they don't expect to meet "aliens" from another galaxy or dimension. Were there aliens in our world their presence would be immediate, obvious, and overwhelming. Something like the Kingdom of God when it finally comes. 

Today's gospel describes an incident, witnessed by only a few, which signalled an unmistakable new age in human history. Jesus, aroused from his sleep during a storm like the Prophet Jonah, had -- unlike Jonah -- commanded the storm and seas, "Quiet! Be still!" 

His apostles saw it, but it happened so quickly they could hardly believe their eyes. Had he told them what he was about to do they would have thought him a madman. But, at the same time, perhaps without realizing it, they expected something of him. We can suppose the Holy Spirit prompted them to wake the "Teacher" who seemed oblivious to the danger; and the same Spirit that caused them to scold him for his apparent indifference to the danger. 

These experienced fishermen might have been familiar with the Book of Jonah but they surely weren't thinking of it when they roused him. The distraught sailors had tossed the reluctant prophet overboard and saved themselves by it. The Apostles surely didn't intend that! But the Evangelist Mark certainly did intend the parallel. He would show us that, "You have a greater than Jonah here!"

The new Jonah calls us to repent like the Ninevites in that fictional Old Testament account. But Jonah is no more than a type of the One who is to Come. 

Jesus is the Kingdom of God walking among us, a kingdom whose impact is so important, spectacular and climactic, it makes an invasion of space aliens seem like just another day at the office. 

Space Invaders?

Our first reading today, from the Book of Job, offers a highlight of the book and an "instant replay" of God's appearance. We can try to grasp its significance for the disgruntled Job and his obtuse companions. The LORD's astonishing appearance in the whirlwind ended their esoteric debate about the meaning of suffering. Their discussion had been conducted in the darkness of ignorance; it suddenly appeared in the light of day as presumptuous and blasphemous. Who were they to argue about God's sovereign rule? 

The arguers, and especially Job, heard God's terrifying reply and saw that the LORD of the Universe has all things in hand. Only a fool would doubt it. More than that, they were satisfied that the Lord does hear and answer prayer.

During this long summer, as the pent-up tensions of the Covid 19 pandemic are released and we return to the terrifying normal of hate politics, mass shootings, drug abuse, and suicide, the Scriptures remind us that God is till in charge. Not even space invaders can disrupt that. 

Memorial of Saint Romuald, monk and reformer

 Lectionary: 370

Look at the birds in the sky; they do not sow or reap, they gather nothing into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are not you more important than they? Can any of you by worrying add a single moment to your life-span?

The fishing club at Mount Saint Francis, to improve the health of the lake, seeded it with grass eating carp. These vegetarian fish will not take a hook for they have no interest in worms, leeches, or maggots; but the young eat several times their own weight every day. They grow fat and lazy in our lake. Attaining maturity, they don't eat as much and serve little purpose as far as we're concerned. 

I saw several recently as a school of four or five slowly, idly moved about one end of the lake. I got one decent picture of an unphotogenic monster. It's about two feet long and likes to loll in the shallows and bright sunshine. 

Looking at it early the next morning I thought of a song by Jerry Lee Lewis, Dat Lucky Old Sun, and the words, "Give me nothin to do but roll around heaven all day." 

Today the Church remembers Saint Romuald, a hermit, founder, and martyr. A pious man who moved often as he inspired men and women to build hermitages and monasteries. His monks and nuns retreated from the furious pace of the cities. They chose to live quietly, reliant on the weather to grow their crops and God's mercy to protect them from thieves and marauders. Between the demands of work and communal support, they would have nothin to do but roll through the days, nights, and four seasons giving praise to God.  

In today's gospel, the Lord reminds us that we need not worry so much about our labor and productivity. Despite whatever the boss tells you, life is not measured by metrics. We can be sure the Lord never heard of such nonsense. 

Are you not more important than metrics? than your work? 

When Saint Paul boasted -- as he does in today's first reading -- he crowed about his failure, weakness, and the insults, hardships, persecutions, and constraints he had suffered for the sake of Christ. One of the most productive missionaries in the history of the Church spent many days cooling his heels in Roman jails. 

No one can measure the important work we do, our ministry as families, neighbors, friends, and congregations. Our being here counts for much. Our work, as Jesus patiently explained in Capernaum, is to believe in the One sent from the Father. 

Accomplishing that we will hear the happy pronouncement, 

"Well done, my good and faithful servant. Since you were faithful in small matters, I will give you great responsibilities. Come, share your master’s joy.’"

Friday of the Eleventh Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 369

If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness.

Of the four most powerful forces in the physical universe, gravity is the weakest. And yet, because its range is infinite, it dominates the universe. I don’t understand that kind of physics that but that’s what I’m told.

Spiritually, there is nothing stronger than the Word of God. And yet those empowered by God’s word appeared so weak as they were led into the coliseum to face a pride of hungry lions. Like gravity, their strength persisted and grew even as they died. Many who watched and mocked them from the nosebleed sections surrendered to their gravitational force. They flowed down into the staging area where they joined, and died with, the martyrs.

But it didn’t always work that well for the Gospel. The Church, like every human and all organization, is tempted by power. It promises to get quick results and, in the face of a looming crisis, we sometimes want quick results. 

Also, finding ourselves dominant in society, we are attempted to corral everyone into the congregation. Sometimes we use military force, economic influence, or social pressure. We have occasionally used the power of food and charity to win impoverished converts, only to be disappointed. When the rice ran out the “rice Christians” returned to their old religions.

The Pauline principle of sola fides teaches us to trust the Word of God. Like gravity, it is more powerful and more persuasive than all the coercive methods humans can create. God’s love, as Saint Augustine said, draws hearts as a magnet draws iron. We have only to accept and share the Word of God to see how others are drawn to it. It is more powerful when we don’t try to hurry it along.

The great missionary Saint Paul knew this as well as anyone. His opponents gave him the opportunity to demonstrate the persuasive power of love as they harassed, arrested, and beat him on many occasions. The more the religious and civil authorities opposed him, the more the people flocked to him. If he boasted of his success, he had to do it by showing his weakness.

During our troubled age good people are again tempted to resort to force. As Saint Ignatius of Loyola said, "The devil tempts good people with good things." Seeing unexpected and unpredictable social developments in society -- things like abortion, gay marriage, recreational drugs, and suicide -- they feel uneasy and frightened. And fear often turns to violence. Even as it tries to head off trouble, it generates more.

Sola Fides (Faith Alone) reminds us that Jesus alone is our savior. We cannot save ourselves. We practice our faith with religious zeal and apostolic charity, and let God be God. 

Thursday of the Eleventh Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 368

Did I make a mistake when I humbled myself so that you might be exalted, because I preached the Gospel of God to you without charge? I plundered other churches by accepting from them in order to minister to you. And when I was with you and in need, I did not burden anyone, for the brothers who came from Macedonia supplied my needs.
So I refrained and will refrain from burdening you in any way.

 

Although Saint Paul’s intention as he writes this passage to the Corinthians is to persuade them to avoid the “super apostles,” he also gives us a useful description of his lifestyle. Apparently of a good family in a time of political and economic stability, and well educated in Greek and Hebrew philosophy, he might have done better by this world’s standards. But the young zealot abandoned a great future as a  Pharisee and tormentor of Christians to become one tormented by Jewish and Christian pharisees!

His reward for that sacrificial way of life was the opportunity to make more sacrifices while he coped with disappointing results from his missionary efforts. Clearly, the man was motivated by something other than money.  

In a world that offered security and stability to anyone who would maintain the established order without shaking anything up, Saint Paul announced the life, teachings, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Animated by the Spirit of Jesus which simply mystified everyone who wasn't caught up in the same Spirit, he could not help but generate trouble. 

Given his example, faithful Christians still expect the same disinterested dedication of their leaders. There should be no hidden agendas and no secret stashes to support an outlandish life style among the clergy. 

Nor, for the most part, are layfolks eager to examine where or how their donations are spent. They want to believe their leaders are trustworthy; and, for the most part, their trust is honored. 

Although the priest pedophilia scandal, first appearing in the 1980's, rocked the Church to its foundations, and many safeguards have been put in place, most Catholics still believe their own pastors are honorable men. 

That faith in the Church is akin to the sola fides of Saint Paul's Gospel. We must trust one another. When we are betrayed, we must work to restore trust for we cannot simply abandon the practice of religion or faith. 

Faith in God and in the Church is also faith in democracy and the people, institutions, and principles that make it work. "That make it work" for it does not happen automatically. 

That faith relies on every parties willingness to live simply, without avarice, greed, or lust -- as Saint Paul described. 

Confident of my own integrity and that of my fellows, even as we know and confess our occasional infidelity, we work together to build the Kingdom of God. 

Wednesday of the Eleventh Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 367

Such confidence we have through Christ toward God. Not that of ourselves we are qualified to take credit for anything as coming from us; rather, our qualification comes from God, who has indeed qualified us as ministers of a new covenant, not of letter but of spirit; for the letter brings death, but the Spirit gives life.

 

Saint Paul’s talk of qualification should sound familiar to anyone remotely acquainted with government or business bureaucracies. They also understand his attitude: “the letter brings death, but the Spirit gives life.” 

Some individuals have “the letter” but no spirit. We’ve met MBAs who cannot manage their way out of a paper bag. The best schools sometimes graduate persons who are fundamentally incompetent. In every profession from priesthood to police, there are people that you wonder, “How on earth did they get through the system?” And yet they have the credentials -- the death-dealing letter of the law -- and remain!

Saint Paul had all the credentials with his solid education – albeit pharisaic -- in Jewish beliefs, customs, and traditions. But, until he had the Spirit of Jesus, he was anything but helpful in doing God’s work.

The Spirit comes from God, and so the Apostle can say, “our qualification comes from God…” We should understand, however, that it costs dearly. There is much anguish in living in the spirit, as well as confidence and freedom. Spirited people sometimes appear to move impulsively, and others wonder why they have done this. Anxiety abides in that general confusion, an anxiety which is alleviated only in prayer, and usually with much time in prayer. The sign of an unwise, uninspired fool is their cocksure attitude that they can do nothing wrong. They give little evidence of a prayerful spirit. 

As they embrace the anxiety of choosing and acting, inspired people know confidence and freedom. They cannot guarantee anyone, “This will all come out right.” Their confidence is like that of Saint Paul; he was sure God had qualified him as a minister of a new covenant. His conversations with fellow apostles and his debates with Jewish opponents made him all the more confident. 

Even when the Spirit told him there is trouble ahead, as it did when he left Miletus, he knew he was doing God’s will.

But now, compelled by the Spirit, I am going to Jerusalem. What will happen to me there I do not know, except that in one city after another the Holy Spirit has been warning me that imprisonment and hardships await me.

Yet I consider life of no importance to me, if only I may finish my course and the ministry that I received from the Lord Jesus, to bear witness to the gospel of God’s grace. (Acts 20:22ff) 

 Saint Paul lives among us still because he had no fear of death; his abode was in God's eternal spirit.