Tuesday of the Twenty-second Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 432

For you yourselves know very well
that the day of the Lord will come like a thief at night.
When people are saying, “Peace and security,”
then sudden disaster comes upon them,
like labor pains upon a pregnant woman, 
and they will not escape.

 

In his First Letter to the Thessalonians, Saint Paul described the Second Coming of Jesus in very familiar terms. It sounds like an unexpected disaster.

As Kabul fell to the Taliban I heard the story of a woman who, two months ago, had gone with her children from the United States to Afghanistan to visit her family. They knew there was danger from terrorist bombings but had no idea the Afghan military and government would collapse so suddenly. I did not hear the end of the story but it sounded grim. They might never return to their new home, the United States.

Speaking of the Day of Judgement, Saint Matthew described a similar, terrible scene when he spoke of two men sleeping side by side, and two women working together, “One will be taken and the other left.” Tornadoes and wildfires act like that. Train wrecks and auto crashes kill some and others walk away unharmed. One house is swept away while neighbors watch the Weather Channel. 

As democracies developed and shaped their economies in America and Europe they created insurance companies to provide a buffer against catastrophes. Gradually these companies for the privileged have extended their reach into the middle and lower classes so that, it seems, everyone has some life, home, health, and car insurance. With those safeguards people can take vacations and travel. Many feel so secure they take grave risks like smoking and motorcycling without a helmet. If they die, they suppose, their survivors will be supported.

But they don't always calculate the costs of long term, chronic illness, endless doctor appointments, and home health care. Governments rightly assume that everyone wants to live as long as possible; and many citizens, caught off guard, survive for weeks and months on death-prolonging "life support." Taxpayers and their insurance companies are not eager to take up the slack. Eventually overstressed health care systems must resort to triage, deciding who should live and who should die.

When our human systems collapse "…disaster comes upon them, like labor pains upon a pregnant woman, and they will not escape.”

Some Christians interpret these scripture passages as if they predict a mythological future, but Jesus and Saint Paul were familiar, as we should be, with both this world’s catastrophes and God’s sovereign presence. The LORD is still in charge.

Parables like that of the wise and foolish girls remind us that our best systems are only human products; they neither guarantee God’s mercy nor forestall God’s justice. They do not insure indulgence, foolishness, or sin. They cannot guarantee even responsible compliance to just human laws.

As he gathered Jews and gentiles into his Christian congregations, Saint Paul spoke to them of Jesus’s life, death, and resurrection; and of our destiny as God’s holy people. He promised nothing in this world except harassment, ostracism, and persecution. And he assured them that the coming days of disaster would be, for us, days of deliverance. 

If disasters like the fall of Kabul, wildfires in the west, or worldwide pandemics do not signal the end of human life on the planet, they are nonetheless apocalyptic events. They remind us that we must remain faithful, hopeful, and charitable in good times and in bad. As the Lord says in Saint Luke’s Gospel, “… when these signs begin to happen, stand erect and raise your heads because your redemption is at hand.

 

Monday of the Twenty-second Week of Ordinary Time

  Lectionary: 431

For if we believe that Jesus died and rose,
so too will God, through Jesus,
bring with him those who have fallen asleep.
Indeed, we tell you this, on the word of the Lord….

 

In this oldest document of the New Testament, Saint Paul tries to imagine the unimaginable. He describes a vision of living disciples of Jesus caught up in the air and reunited with those few Christians who have died; and then the restored congregation will meet the Lord in the air. We can suppose that this first century Pharisee used a scenario popular to his Jewish brethren of that time.

In our time we often hear stories of afflicted persons who are turned back from heaven’s gate to resume their life on earth. These fortunate persons had a powerful near-death experience and search for words and images to describe it. They resort to a popular trope, used often in movies and television dramas. There was a dark tunnel and a light; a voice and a bright but indistinct vision; a feeling of happiness and relief. And then a wrenching, disappointing return to this world. 

Whether things actually happen that way is not very important but their significance is. Saint Paul insisted that the resurrection of Jesus is a sure and certain sign of hope for everyone who believes in Jesus. The facticity of his resurrection was beyond dispute.

I met a woman who had recently quit attending a microchurch in Minnesota. The group believed that no one of them would die before the second coming of Christ.

“What happens when they do die?” I asked.

“We don’t talk about them.” she said.

Apparently Saint Paul had told his Thessalonian church to expect the Lord’s return “any day now, perhaps before I finish this sentence – or paragraph – or blog post!” When devout people died, the grieving Thessalonians worried that they had not been saved. Saint Paul reassured them, “...the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air.”

He had to stretch his original scenario to include this new development but his intent remained intact, “Indeed, we tell you this, on the word of the Lord….” And “Thus we shall always be with the Lord. Therefore, console one another with these words.”

We still struggle to imagine how the “resurrection of the body” is supposed to occur, especially for those who were eaten by sharks and suffered similar awful catastrophes. It’s one thing to imagine the opening of graves and crypts but what about those who were incinerated and ascended through a smokestack?

Never mind. I can’t explain quantum theory either. We hope in the Lord. It doesn't matter how we imagine the resurrection of the body and life everlasting; it doesn't matter how those things might actually happen, when they happen. What matters is that we never surrender our hope in the Lord. 

Personally, I like to imagine the Lord remembering and calling my name, as he called Lazarus out of the tomb. I was given this name in baptism. I’ll remember it, and so will the Lord. What a great day that will be. “Here I am, LORD!” I shall say, “I come to do your will!”

 

 

Twenty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 125

He willed to give us birth by the word of truth that we may be a kind of firstfruits of his creatures. Humbly welcome the word that has been planted in you and is able to save your souls. Be doers of the word and not hearers only, deluding yourselves.

Among the many epidemics and several pandemics that sweep the earth today is the conviction that there is no truth. Our minds are continually assailed by someone trying to sell us something, whether it be toothpaste or totalitarianism. Desperate to survive in the competitive marketplaces of products and ideas, merchants cannot be bothered with a straightforward account of their products' advantages and disadvantages. To cover their moral backsides they simply declare, "Caveat emptor." (Let the buyer beware.)  Nor do consumers much care whether they're buying trash or treasure; they prefer convenience and savings over salvation. 

The philosopher Nietzsche foresaw this kind of world. He believed in power. If truth exists, it is not important. Neither to him nor to those who follow him. "Might makes right." And those clever enough to survive will amass power even as they avoid its savage ruthlessness. 

Ancient Roman politicians would have recognized Nietzsche's teaching; they ascended to positions of unchallenged authority or suffered beheading. The great orator Cicero managed to destroy his nemesis Cataline before he was murdered by Marc Antony. They took their politics seriously in those days; there were no second acts. 

Today's gospel can only be familiar to us today, as people argue through op eds, blogs, and social media. In the heat of an argument, no one cares about discovering the truth, their goal is to overcome opposition. When reason fails there are innumerable strategies to victory. We might wonder these twenty centuries later why Pharisees would quibble over the "purification of cups and jugs and kettles and beds," but they would wonder why anyone would hesitate to accept immunity from a virulent epidemic. In their saner moments, they might agree that "winning isn't the most important thing; it's the only thing." 

Catholics love the truth regardless of winning; especially as the Truth lives among us: 

And the Word became flesh

and made his dwelling among us,

and we saw his glory,

the glory as of the Father’s only Son,

full of grace and truth.

 

Because we believe in the truth we have less need to argue about it. We understand how people lose contact with the truth, and how they must pursue the false idols of power, winning, and success. We understand their fear of loss, failure, and death. 

We understand because our eyes are fixed on Someone who is beautiful, and worthy of our devotion. Jesus, the Son of Mary, has overpowered power by renouncing it. When it destroyed him he came back to invite us to go with him. He showed us that, although death is certainly real, frightening, and unavoidable, it has no power over him or his people. 

Abiding in this world, Catholics retain our sense of humor amid this world's controversies. It doesn't really matter who wins or who is right, for there is only one Truth and he has the whole world in his hands. 

Memorial of Saint Augustine, Bishop and Doctor of the Church

 Lectionary: 430

On the subject of fraternal charity you have no need for anyone to write you, for you yourselves have been taught by God to love one another.

As we have read Paul's first letter to the Thessalonians I have been struck several times by his deference to the direct work of God who taught, guided, and built up the Church. 

In his greeting, the Apostle reminded them that,

"in receiving the word of God from hearing us, you received not a human word but, as it truly is, the word of God, which is now at work in you who believe."

In today's brief passage from the same letter, he honors the living action of God: 

"On the subject of fraternal charity you have no need for anyone to write you, for you yourselves have been taught by God to love one another."

And in the last chapter, 

May the God of peace himself make you perfectly holy and may you entirely, spirit, soul, and body, be preserved blameless for the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. The one who calls you is faithful, and he will also accomplish it.

Professional business people and those familiar with their lingo sometimes wonder about the business plan of the Roman Catholic Church. Wikipedia defines this,

A business plan is a formal written document containing the goals of a business, the methods for attaining those goals, and the time-frame for the achievement of the goals. It also describes the nature of the business, background information on the organization, the organization's financial projections, and the strategies it intends to implement to achieve the stated targets. In its entirety, this document serves as a road-map (a plan) that provides direction to the business.

Some Protestant churches might say their "...business plan is the Bible," an ancient document formulated long before the twenty-first century, which remains vague enough to justify anything. 

The Catholic response, I believe, is more precise. It is to discern and honor the work of the Holy Trinity as God creates, redeems, and sanctifies our world. Our Holy Father Pope Francis, representing his Jesuit tradition, has often spoken of discerning the work and direction of the Holy Spirit. 

A business plan that adapts too readily to the current cultural environment and the demands of a consumer society would not do justice to the nature and mission of the Church. I hear, for instance, some urging the Church to ordain women to the priesthood and I wonder if that might happen someday. 

But, given the widespread confusion about sexual and gender identity, the leaping back and forth of some "trans" persons, and the uncertainty of some "cis" persons, I think we'd better let the issue rest for another century or three. When they can speak more clearly about male and female, husband and wife, brother and sister, we might discuss the matter. In the meanwhile, let it ride. We have more important News to announce. 

We can only work within and under God's directions. Clearly a universal church must address a universal crisis like climate change. How can we care for the billions of people whose lives, customs, and cities are being uprooted and obliterated by rising temperatures and sea levels? What fraternal charity do Catholics and Christians owe to their coreligionists in these afflicted places? What does the Holy Trinity want us to do? 

Is it time to stop manufacturing weapons and study the ways of climate peace? 

Dear God, speak to us a word of direction, courage, and comfort. Amen

Memorial of Saint Monica

 Lectionary: 428

The Kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish and five were wise. The foolish ones, when taking their lamps, brought no oil with them, but the wise brought flasks of oil with their lamps.

Our first reading from the earliest extent document of our Christian tradition -- 1 Thessalonians -- touches on the ever-popular topic of sexual morality. Saint Paul urged his new converts to

"refrain from immorality, that each of you know how to acquire a wife for himself

in holiness and honor, not in lustful passion as do the Gentiles who do not know God." 

He assumed, as people have from time immemorial, that our sexual urges are primarily procreative and oriented toward stable contracts between men and women where their children would flourish in a safe, predictable environment. Marriage in the ancient world was not about companionship or friendship; romantic ideals would not appear for another thousand years. 

The Apostle pressed on with his reflection, reminding them and us of the dangers of urban life, 

"not to take advantage of or exploit a brother or sister in this matter, for the Lord is an avenger in all these things, as we told you before and solemnly affirmed."

It is fun to watch this routine moral standard rise up in wrath and bring down powerful governors and popular entertainers. The media seem to think they've invented or just discovered sexual morality, as if we have not been saying the same thing since Adam married Eve. 

It makes you wonder if the world is finally coming to its senses. 

Nah!

The world will always produce its five wise and five foolish virgins. Some of the fools will be our own children who would not listen to common sense; and others will be pagans who decided as children they would not smoke, drink, and act stupid like their parents. Some will turn away from their foolishness to return to the Church; and others will realize their native common sense is welcome among us. 

Saint Paul concludes his admonition with:

For God did not call us to impurity but to holiness. Therefore, whoever disregards this,

disregards not a human being but God, who also gives his Holy Spirit to you.

Our natural law tradition teaches us that human cultures can decipher the moral code built into our human nature. Periodically it rises up to slap down the powerful and vindicate the lowly. 

Thursday of the Twenty-first Week in Ordinary Time

Collect of Saint Paul

Lectionary: 428

We have been reassured about you, brothers and sisters,
in our every distress and affliction, through your faith.
For we now live, if you stand firm in the Lord.
What thanksgiving, then, can we render to God for you,
for all the joy we feel on your account before our God?

Those who turn to the Letters of Saint Paul looking for the picture of their ideal hero will find neither a Lone Ranger nor a tall, silent type, nor a defiant maverick. They will find a man who counts on others to keep the faith with him and for him, as he keeps it for them. 

Especially as he cooled his heels in several Roman jails he loved to "see" his people in Thessalonica, Philippi, and Corinth worshipping God. He was there in spirit and he was sure they were there in fact. Without that assurance, he might have collapsed altogether. 

Certainly, during this long agonizing year and a half, when I have, more often than not, celebrated Mass in an empty chapel, with only a low-def TV camera for company, I have hoped someone is out there, in a hospital bed, praying with me. I rarely had any feedback from them. More often, they told me they'd slept through it; hospital patients need much sleep! Or the doctors came in. 

I didn't want to hear about it. Let me think you were there.

I am sure millions of Catholics have hoped their parish priests were celebrating the Mass during the epidemic, even if they could not attend. We cannot stop praying!

Like Saint Paul, we count on each other to be there, faithful in prayer and dependable in works of mercy. That is how the Lord remains with us through his Body the Church. If our fidelity fails, we send a mixed signal to a world which desperately needs a clear and certain sign of God's abiding presence. 

Optional Memorial of Saint Louis of France

Lectionary: 427

Where can I go from your spirit?
From your presence, where can I flee?
If I ascend to the heavens, you are there;
if I lie down in Sheol, there you are.
If I take the wings of dawn
and dwell beyond the sea,
Even there your hand guides me,
your right hand holds me fast.
If I say, “Surely darkness shall hide me,
and night shall be my light”
Darkness is not dark for you,
and night shines as the day.
Darkness and light are but one.

I don't remember playing peekaboo with my parents, uncles or aunts, but I do remember playing with my younger brothers and sisters. It's the silliest of games but little children find it hysterically funny. What is it, I wonder, that is so amusing to their dawning awareness in their rapidly developing world? 

Perhaps the game recreates the anxiety of caregivers going away; and then, the reassurance of their return. Their disappearing smile is reaffirmed by the same smile upon their reappearance. 

God sometimes seems to go away from us. There are moments of abandonment in every life. They may last only a short time, or they may go on for years. 

Sometimes we bring them upon ourselves. I have often heard alcoholics declare they have no faith in God. One fellow admitted he had displaced his faith in God with faith in alcohol, a most unworthy substance. With that realization he was well on his way to recovery. 

The psalmist's prayer recounts the night when they hid in darkness only to learn that darkness and light are the same to God. 

How could I be so silly? they might have said. 

But even the saints complain about God's absence as they insist they have done nothing to deserve such a punishment. 

Saint Paul's letters must have seemed like peekaboo moments to his people in Thessalonica, Corinth, and Galatia. He had gone away but he wrote to them and the cadences of his words and phrases recreated his presence. His was a sacred presence, like that a father with his children. He exhorted and encouraged them and insisted that they walk in a manner worthy of the God who called them into his Kingdom and glory.

Recently, when someone asked me at the hospital for a Bible I felt impelled to remind them what the Bible should do for them. It should be like meeting people of two and three thousand years ago, and praying with them. 

They seemed to be gone away; but they abide in the cloud of witnesses. They pray with us for relief and deliverance in this twenty-first century. Perhaps, as we encounter them in God's word, we also pray with them for deliverance from the threats and oppressions of their day. 

The Lord's face is hidden at times, but he is only behind the veil of his wounded hands. 

Feast of Saint Bartholomew, Apostle

Lectionary: 629

It had a massive, high wall, with twelve gates where twelve angels were stationed and on which names were inscribed, the names of the twelve tribes of the children of Israel.

Today's readings from Revelation and the Gospel of John celebrate an apostle.Today is the feast of the least known Apostle Bartholomew. (The statue depicted on the right describes his ghastly death by flaying.) 

Our first reading from the twenty-first chapter of Revelation describes the New Jerusalem coming down out of heaven, and particularly its walls. No ancient city of any size or importance would not have a wall for protection against foreign armies. At the approach of an enemy a city could amass its resources, gather its people inside the walls, maintain a stout defense from their heights, and outwait the enemy. Armies often "melted away" as they marched from place to place, drinking the local water and dying of unfamiliar germs. 

God's Holy City would be no exception except that its walls don't strike me as very strong. They were not made of iron or steel, the strongest materials available at that time. Rather, the walls and gates are built of beautiful stones, precious and semiprecious. 

The foundations of the city wall were decorated with every precious stone; the first course of stones was jasper, the second sapphire, the third chalcedony, the fourth emerald, the fifth sardonyx, the sixth carnelian, the seventh chrysolite, the eighth beryl, the ninth topaz, the tenth chrysoprase, the eleventh hyacinth, and the twelfth amethyst. The twelve gates were twelve pearls, each of the gates made from a single pearl...

Perhaps they are beautiful rather than powerful since the Bible speaks of God's omnipotence mostly in passing, but is far more interested in God's sublimely beautiful mercy and justice.  A thing of beauty is a joy forever, as the poet John Keats said. And that eternal quality needs no strong defense. It is imperishable. 

As we live and practice our faith in these quarrelsome times, we do well to fix our gaze on Jesus and his beauty. Fearmongers will try to torment us with their worries and they will urge us to amass more power to defend against possible incursions. Certainly we should take ordinary steps to relieve our suffering planet and its migrating peoples from climate change. Extreme heat and flooding will force millions, perhaps billions, of people to abandon the tropics. We should prepare to welcome them. 

And we'll be especially glad to share the beauty of our faith, remembering that many of them already perceive the Father's beauty in Jesus and his Holy Spirit. 

Memorial of Saint Rose of Lima

Lectionary: 423

For our Gospel did not come to you in word alone, but also in power and in the Holy Spirit and with much conviction.

Saint Paul's first letter to the Thessalonians is the oldest document of the New Testament. Although the gospels give us powerful narratives about the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, they were written several years after Saint Paul's epistles. The Apostle's interest here was not to tell them about the Lord, for he has done that in person; it was to encourage them to keep the faith that was already founded on a firm foundation, which consisted of 1) the word they had heard from him, 2) his personal integrity, and 3) the powerful affirmation of the Holy Spirit. 

Because they were honest people who had tried to live by the ordinary, pagan standards of a good life, the Spirit could affirm Saint Paul's teaching. As the Prophet Isaiah had said many centuries before:

Yes, people of Zion, dwelling in Jerusalem,
you shall no longer weep;
He will be most gracious to you when you cry out;
as soon as he hears he will answer you.
The Lord will give you bread in adversity
and water in affliction.
No longer will your Teacher hide himself,
but with your own eyes you shall see your Teacher,
And your ears shall hear a word behind you:
“This is the way; walk in it,”
when you would turn to the right or the left.
You shall defile your silver-plated idols
and your gold-covered images;
You shall throw them away like filthy rags,
you shall say, “Get out!”

This earliest Christian document celebrates the joy of the Gospel as Saint Paul shared it with his people. They had suffered loss of standing in the community and financial setbacks. Some might have endured public humiliation and even physical assaults for their courage. But no one could take their joy from them, for the Spirit continued to assure them, "This is the way; walk in it. 

Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 122

Joshua addressed all the people:

“If it does not please you to serve the LORD, decide today whom you will serve, the gods your fathers served beyond the River or the gods of the Amorites in whose country you are now dwelling.  As for me and my household, we will serve the LORD.”

The readings from the Book of Joshua and the Gospel according to John, describe critical moments in our history. With the forty year sojourn in the desert behind them, the first generation who never knew slavery in Egypt had to choose to serve the God of Abraham and Moses, or to worship the gods of Canaan.

They knew the LORD as the warrior, desert god of a nomadic people who provided for them in the wilderness, far from cities and settlements. The gods of Canaan were known to provide fair weather and fertility to ewes, cows, and women. The choice might have seemed like a simple one to the incoming migrants: mingle, settle, and learn local ways! (Isn't that what Americans demand of immigrants? "Forget your past and your identity; you're us now!) 

But the LORD placed his prophetic spirit upon Moses' protege who demanded, "Decide today whom you will serve... As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord!" 

The LORD would show he was not simply a god of nomadic wanderers. Those who remembered their history as Joshua did knew the LORD. From ancient times, God had called Abraham out of Ur, and Abraham had prospered. Though he had only one legitimate son by his elderly wife, that son begot a father of twelve sons whose descendents thrived in Egypt. 

Today's text tells us the people courageously declared: "...we also will serve the LORD, for he is our God.” They would not mingle, settle, and forget their past.

Today's gospel describes a similar moment when Jesus insisted that He is the Bread of Life and his followers must eat his flesh. "Many of Jesus’ disciples who were listening said, “This saying is hard; who can accept it?” They left the Lord and disappeared into the backwash of history. 

Catholics today cling to the Eucharist. The sacrament identifies us among Christians. We obey the commands of the LORD to "Take and eat, this is my body." and "Take and drink, this is my blood." We long for the day when we will again congregate tightly around the altar to sing God's praises and be fed by the hand of the LORD. We are not content with a spiritual (Facebook) communion that requires no courage and entails no sacrifice. We want the real thing, the Real Presence of Jesus, his physical body. 

The pandemic is another crisis. It is attacking the Church in every nation on earth; the celebration of our Eucharist is hampered all over the world. In that sense it is like those crises described in Joshua and John. Just as the LORD appeared to his disciples in the darkness of that Easter Sunday evening, so he remains with us during this dark time. We wait with him as he abides with us.

Memorial of Saint Pius X, Pope

Lectionary: 424

Call no one on earth your father;
you have but one Father in heaven.
Do not be called ‘Master’;
you have but one master, the Christ.
The greatest among you must be your servant.
Whoever exalts himself will be humbled;
but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”

Some Christian denominations, forced to sharply define and clearly mark the difference between their religion and Catholicism, harp upon today's teaching about calling no one father except your heavenly father. They complain that Catholics address their priests as father. I meet them in the VA and something about their calling me "Brother Ken" gives them away. 

But, of course, Jesus wasn't talking about Catholic priests, nor about Jewish rabbis. He meant your biological father, whom you might call Dad, Daddy, Father, or Pop. You have only one "Dad, Daddy, Father, or Pop" and that is your heavenly Father! 

He seemed to mean that no one in the Church should have so much authority as to displace the fealty we owe to one God whose name is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Every baptized Christian receiving the Holy Eucharist has a direct relationship to God, much as the branch is attached to the vine. He did not ban ordinary titles like mother and father and bishop. 

The duty of leadership is to direct the attention of every Christian away from themselves and to the Lord. Every title we might use in the church, from pope and pastor to sacristan and janitor, designates not a privilege but a duty to serve. Like Mary, every priest, catechist, Eucharistic Minister of Holy Communion, Cantor, Lector, Mother, and Father should say, 

"My soul magnifies the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my savior." 

Doing this, we avoid the serious danger of clericalism. We can thank the ministers of the church and show reverence for their office without forgetting the boundaries that define and delineate the servant's responsibilities. 

The role of confessor within the Catholic Church, especially, must be regarded with great reverence and strict rules. The priest who hears the confession of sins must never refer to anything he has heard, not to that person or anyone else. He should not even think about it. Nor should the penitent, in conversation with the same priest, ever refer to it outside that sacred conversation. It is not to be discussed except within the bounds of the sacrament. It is not a joking or winking matter. The knowledge of that disclosure goes no farther than the sacred time and place of the Sacrament. Civil laws have honored that privilege; a priest may swear in court that he knows nothing and the jurists cannot contest it. 

Canon Law decrees that any violation of that confidentiality is a matter of excommunication. The priest who abuses his privilege is automatically excommunicated, regardless of who knows or doesn't know about it.

That is not a new teaching. But some priests and bishops, perhaps out of their own psychiatric needs, have exploited their authority. And some adult layfolks have been too willing to allow these abuses to continue. I think of the sheriff who, unwilling to prosecute a popular cleric, quietly told the bishop to, "Get this SoB out of my county." 

As we protect God's sovereignty over every soul, we obey the command of Jesus, 

The greatest among you must be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”

Memorial of Saint Bernard, abbot and doctor of the Church

Lectionary: 423

This is the greatest and the first commandment.
The second is like it:
You shall love your neighbor as yourself.
The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments.”

The story of Naomi and Ruth accompanies today's Gospel concerning the two greatest commandments, and we do well to notice their synergy. 

As he deals with hostile Sadducees and tiresome Pharisees, Jesus's teaching rankles both parties and many of his Christian disciples. Loving God is so much easier than loving one's neighbor! But if loving the neighbor is inseparably linked to the love of God with very little distinction between them -- or at least none in the eyes of the Supreme Judge -- the whole project is rendered humanly impossible. And that's the point! 

So we turn to the more approachable and charming story of the elderly Naomi and Ruth, her winsome widowed daughter-in-law. 

Like Solomon's wife, Ruth had thrown in her lot with her husband and his family. She preferred to forget her people and her father's house. She felt more welcome and at home with her Naomi than she did with her own family. Because Naomi had decided to return to her family, Ruth would go with her. 

For wherever you go, I will go, wherever you lodge I will lodge,

your people shall be my people, and your God my God.”

People often join the Catholic Church because their fiances are Catholic. Others join as they accompany a friend to the Mass or other events. They're not swayed by the beautiful doctrines of the Church; they're not fascinated by her moral/ethical teachings. They're not even attracted to the historical fact that the Catholic Church is the original institution. Even fewer are overwhelmed by the power of our preaching! 

Rather, they feel welcome and comfortable in our Church because someone said, "Come with me." Or they just tagged along because their Catholic friend had an attractive presence. 

If the world ever needed us, it's now. Catholics are not given the choice of believing what they want to believe. We hear the truth spoken through the sacraments, doctrines, magestarium, and prayers; and we believe. When many of our neighbors and friends decide they don't believe something -- the loss of an election, climate change, or a pandemic -- because they don't like it, or feel uncomfortable with it, we know the Truth doesn't compromise to please us. It comes to us to save us. 

The world needs us and our truth. Let's invite them to join us. 

Thursday of the Twentieth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 422

Then the king said to his servants, ‘The feast is ready, but those who were invited were not worthy to come. Go out, therefore, into the main roads and invite to the feast whomever you find.’

The servants went out into the streets and gathered all they found, bad and good alike, and the hall was filled with guests.

Where many people talk vaguely of salvation and others speak equally vaguely of freedom, I think they are the same thing; and wonder what that means. 

After living with, and sometimes counseling, both active and recovering alcoholics most of my life, I am pretty sure freedom is not doing whatever I want to do. People often die of that childish fantasy. In the substance abuse program at the VA hospital I sometimes remind the residents they are in treatment precisely because they did what they wanted to do. 

I found insight with the Scottish Presbyterian philosopher of the mid-twentieth century, John Macmurray. Shortly after World War II, he wrote:

 

“…the essential conditions of freedom are social and the simplest answer to the question, “Why cannot I do as I please?” is “Because other people won’t let me.”

 

There is a second corollary of our interdependence which is less widely recognized, and which seems to me the most important of all. No man can secure his own freedom for himself. He must accept it as a free gift from others, and if they will not give it to him he cannot have it. This is the law of freedom…. If we struggle to achieve our own private freedom we merely frustrate ourselves and destroy its possibility; for we cannot free ourselves from our dependence upon our fellows….

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

To believe in freedom, in any sense worthy of consideration, is to believe in setting other people free. This is to some extent within our power, and it is the greatest service we can render; even if it must be, at times, by the sacrifice of our own.

In giving freedom to others we have a right to hope that they in turn will have the grace and gratitude to give us ours. But of this we can have no guarantee.

The Conditions of Freedom

John Macmurray,

(Humanity Books, 1949)

As I see it, freedom, salvation, and grace are pretty much the same thing. One who moves freely moves gracefully. One who gives freely gives graciously. And those who have authority and welcome others to move within their ambit give them gracious freedom. They are free with their generosity, gracious in their trust of others, and saved from the anguish of trying to control other people. 

The invited guests in today's parable lost their freedom by exercising their freedom to refuse, mistreat, and kill the king's servants. They disregarded the consequences of their free choices, and did what they wanted to do. They were not saved.  

And they probably supposed they had been cheated by the King who "sent his troops, destroyed those murderers, and burned their city."

I believe that freedom considers its options; regards the needs, rights, and hopes of others; and wisely chooses the possibilities that open to greater generosity, trust, and self-sacrifice. The Kingdom of Heaven will be an endless road of opportunities to trust, support, and admire other people. 

Wednesday of the Twentieth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 421

He said to one of them in reply,
‘My friend, I am not cheating you.
Did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? Take what is yours and go.
What if I wish to give this last one the same as you? Or am I not free to do as I wish with my own money?

 

I’ve had a hard time wrapping my head around this parable and its teaching. I’ve had  to be reminded that God is Justice; and God is Mercy; and God is the law.

Recently, we have seen elected officials pardon felons not because the judicial system failed, or because the felons repented, but for the official's political advantage. The convicts are admired like Robin Hoods for their racist, homophobic, or misogynist behavior and the base wants them free regardless. These political gambits highlight what African- and Native Americans have been telling us all along, that American justice serves political concerns. The executive might not be above the law but politics is. The Bible knew that all along, as today's first reading reminds us.

I remember a devout Catholic judge many years ago who chortled over Jesus’s parable of the wicked judge and the importunate widow. My friend knew our system doesn’t act like a machine; it’s very human and always subject to human vagaries. No legal system works automatically, not even the infamous "three strikes and you're out." 

With those sobering thoughts in mind, we approach today’s parable. First, we should notice that the landowner spoke to only one of them in reply. He didn’t owe anyone even that explanation; his rebuke of one fellow is simply Saint Luke’s literary device to explain what happened.

And then the landowner challenges the man, “Am I not free to do as I wish with my own money?” Who could argue with that? Unless I am ready to subject my finances to another’s scrutiny, I will not doubt this rich man’s prerogative. Of course he can do with his money as he pleases!

But is that fair? And who decides fairness? The rich man or the laborer? Or both? Or neither? In Jesus's parable, this landowner clearly stands in for God, and God is subject to no higher authority.

Romanticism imagines impersonal ideals as superior to our personal God. But what are they really? Have they power or authority? Are they absolute values or relative? Do they do anything?

Jesus, from his Jewish tradition, knew no higher authority than God; and those who pit their opinions, ideas, and ideals against God are called fools.

I learned to wrap my head around this parable when I realized the personhood of God. Because I am a person, I am sure God is Personal.  Atheists suppose a mechanical principle or ideal created the universe. “It’s made of numbers!” they say. But there is neither love, mercy, or justice in their universe. And besides, who created the numbers? 

I believe in the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit whose love I cannot fathom; whose supreme authority to forgive and heal I worship.

 

Tuesday of the Twentieth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 420

When the disciples heard this, they were greatly astonished and said, “Who then can be saved?”
Jesus looked at them and said, “For men this is impossible, but for God all things are possible.”
Then Peter said to him in reply, “We have given up everything and followed you. What will there be for us?”

Lest anyone reading yesterday's post, suppose that I would diminish the beauty, importance, and necessity of consecrated religious life, today I offer the collect for vocations to the communities of whom God has gathered into monasteries, convents, friaries, priories, and hermitages. 

Philosophers tell us there are two ways to increase one's freedom. First, by having more power I can do more things. With more economic, physical, military, social, political or intellectual power I can effect more change. Western culture for the last several centuries has resolutely developed ways to garner more power, resulting in faster and bigger technologies to do just about anything. When the Bible speaks of God filling valleys and leveling mountains to make straight the way of the Lord, we say, "What's the big deal; we do that all the time!" And there seems no end in sight to humankind's developing and amassing more power. 

The other way to increase one's freedom is to want less. A hundred thousand dollars cannot buy some cars but a lot less money will buy an old used beater and get me where I need to go. I've met men who were content with three hots and a cot in jail; given small daily chores they felt wanted and useful. 

Consecrated religious life practices that kind of freedom. We do with less. By third world standards I am sure my life in southern Indiana is posh; missionaries have assured me of that. But the men I live with at Mount Saint Francis are pretty happy with cars that get us around and simple vacations. Most of us could have done a lot better in the world, if luxury is what you mean by better. We find that less is better. 

Religious life witnesses to the freedom of God's children as we learn to want less. Age teaches that, of course, and the Gospel reinforces it. 

Optional Memorial of Saint Stephen of Hungary

Lectionary: 419

The young man said to him,
“All of these I have observed. What do I still lack?”
Jesus said to him, “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell what you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven.
Then come, follow me.”

 

The Church has sometimes interpreted this teaching about perfection as a suggestion or an option, rather than a command. As if to say, “If you want to be perfect, here’s what you do. If not, you can get by with less.” A teacher might make a similar suggestion to the class, “If you want to get an A+ for this course, you’ll have to do this extra work. But if you only show up and pass your tests, you’ll get no better than an A.” 

With that reading, some Catholics aspired to priesthood or vowed celibacy in a religious community as the way of perfection. Others seemed to choose inferior paths of marriage and parenting, or the single life.

But that reading doesn’t fit well with the overall tenor of the gospels. There are too many other passages that exhort us to strive to enter through the narrow gate, and to renounce family, property, and social standing if you would be my disciple. Neither does it recognize the heroic sacrifices of husbands, wives, and parents as they practice their faith in a challenging society.

I read these verses more as a reminder that life is not easy for anyone, and it’s not supposed to be. We either rise to the challenge or fail miserably; there is no in between. The young man in the story walked away from a golden opportunity; he might not get a second chance.

As a hospital chaplain I sometimes meet patients who are awaiting major surgery. I ask, “How do you feel about that?”

They sometimes respond, “I have no choice.”

Actually, they do. First, they are free to refuse the surgery. More importantly, they may choose another attitude, one like: “Let’s do this!”

Neither life nor the Lord invites us to take the easy street. That is why he speaks of renouncing all property and every ordinary human relationship. We give it all or give nothing.

Soldiers who go into combat only because they fear being called cowards will not fight well. The teacher who fails to invite and challenge every student to strive for excellence cannot teach well. Adults who engage in sexual activity without embracing the possibility of parenthood with all its responsibilities betray themselves and their own human generativity.

 

The Lord invited this young man to a full life of discipleship, an invitation which God extends to every human being regardless. Not everyone has heard of Jesus but everyone knows they are called to heroic generosity and fidelity, and will be judged for their failure. 

A coward dies a thousand times before his death, but the valiant taste of death but once. It seems to me most strange that men should fear, seeing that death, a necessary end, will come when it will come.” William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar