Monday of the Thirty-first Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 485

If there is any encouragement in Christ, any solace in love, any participation in the Spirit, any compassion and mercy, complete my joy by being of the same mind, with the same love, united in heart, thinking one thing.

The song of Jesus's kenosis in Philippians 2 is cited so often -- because it is so important! -- that we might neglect Saint Paul's wonderful preamble. 

In these few words, he urged his disciples to "complete his joy" by their oneness of mind and heart; and they would accomplish that as they contemplated the passage of Jesus through his most humiliating death to his more astonishing glorification. 

While admitting that the Church is always faithful because the Holy Spirit never abandons us, we can also say we are faithful so long as ponder the passion and death of Jesus. Which is to admit that our attention has often wandered. And that is why Saint Paul urged his Philippians to greater fidelity. 

Our Baptism and Eucharist are wonderful entries into the great mystery of the Lord's divinity, especially as we remain within the wonder of contemplation. The Apostle apparently believes our individual peace of mind and our collective harmony will remain undisturbed under the most trying circumstances when we live in thrall of the Pascal (Easter) mystery. 

Even a cursory glance at the liturgical and artistic history of the Church shows that we have never lost sight of that vision. I think of the innumerable images, songs, plays, and movies, some quite graphic, which describe the Lord's death, resurrection, ascension, and enthronement. Anyone who attends religion gazes continually on the Pascal Mystery. . 

We have perhaps at times over-stressed his suffering and ghastly death, and at other times, focused too much on his victorious resurrection, but the Spirit invariably brings us back toward some kind of balance. 

Unfortunately, the world outside the Church, lacking the Spirit, cherry picks the gospel, retaining its more agreeable messages and scrapping its challenges. I think of Thomas Jefferson's famous "bible" which dismissed the entire Old Testament, and retained only some teachings of Jesus. The great philosopher and second president of the United States had not use for miracles and symbols. We can create our own meaning and manage quite well without divine intervention, Thank You! If there is a God he should stay out of human affairs. 

Those who enter the mystery through prayer and contemplation suffer the Lord's agony. And then their own, as they experience the disappointments, setbacks, and insults of ordinary life. Willingly they approach the crucifixion and discover mercy as they are led to Jesus's resurrection. 

That challenging, exhilarating process finally allows them to be, 

"of the same mind, with the same love, united in heart, thinking one thing. (They) do nothing out of selfishness or out of vainglory; rather, humbly regard others as more important than yourselves, each looking out not for his own interests, but also everyone for those of others."

Thirty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 153

When they all saw this, they began to grumble, saying, "He has gone to stay at the house of a sinner."

The Lord is so generous; he will always provide a ready excuse for our ignoring him. Not that he intends to be ignored, but since every action has a billion potential consequences, when he favors the least the rest of us might consider ourselves "excused." And that would be a very serious mistake.

The Book of Wisdom today praises God, 

"...you have mercy on all, because you can do all things; and you overlook people's sins that they may repent.

And so we see Jesus overlooking the carping criticism and enjoying Zacchaeus's hospitality. True, the food he'll eat and the wine he'll drink at the tax collector's table are compromised by Zacchaeus's sinful practices. As he shares them with Jesus he makes no secret of that. 

And the Lord knows that, for to live in this tainted world, to handle money, to engage in commerce, or to drink the water may be a compromise with sinful matter. There have always been purists who would avoid contamination with their fantastic practices of abstinence and hygiene. There may be more today than ever before, given the Internet's ability to fascinate the foolish. The Covid epidemic certainly inspired a new wave of superstitious practices. Some of these odd behaviors are regarded as neurotic, and others are perfectly normal, though no less odd.  

As we strive to enter through the narrow gate we have to study the Lord's manner. He was easy amid sinners and tax collectors; he was cautious among scribes, Pharisees, Levites, and Herodians. While the self-righteous wanted him in their company, the scorned and despised welcomed him. The former group would restrict the company he kept; the latter recognized him as one of their own despite his innocence. 

He knew something that few around him could comprehend. A church that would train its youth in the ways of virtue strains to understand Jesus's manner. On the one hand we want young people to shun bad companions and cultivate good relationships; on the other hand we would have them recognize the divine resemblance in every human being. We advise them to make your acquaintances many and your friendships few. They should assess without judgement. 

What Jesus knew was his own standing in God's presence. He often took time for prayer; he made time to be with and know his Father. Secondly, he knew he was a man who would die like any mortal. His virtue granted no exception to death. As he set out for Jerusalem, he knew it would be a one way trip. His friends warned him; his enemies made no secret of their plans. He could see their winks, nods, and signals on the edge of every crowd. But he also knew that God is faithful to his faithful people. 

There was then among Jews no strong tradition of belief in an afterlife. The question was disputed between Pharisees and Saducees and no one had ever risen from the dead to settle the questions. As Hamlet would say, Death was an "undiscovere'd country, from whose bourn / No traveller returns." 

So Jesus had only his faith in God his Father. He had the history of Judaism from Abraham to Joseph, and from Sarah to Mary, to assure him that God is faithful not only to his nation, but also to every individual. He knew the tradition of the Maccabees as they prayed for the sinful dead. More importantly, he recalled Eleazar, and the widow and her seven sons. 

Jesus knew in his confident heart that God is faithful. With that assurance he could dismiss the grumbling and carping that hounded him at every step. He could receive Zacchaeus, the woman caught in adultery, and the sinful woman, along with the blind, lame, and impure who were suspected of sin. 

His confidence in God was like that of his ancestor King David, who could rule over Israel and Judah with the assurance that God would correct his faults and forgive his mistakes. For nothing could cancel his love of God and the Father's love for him. 

We live in the same confidence, as Saint Paul said:

For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor present things, nor future things, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:38)

 

Saturday of the Thirtieth Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 484

As long as in every way, whether in pretense or in truth, Christ is being proclaimed, and in that I rejoice. 
Indeed I shall continue to rejoice,
for I know that this will result in deliverance for me through your prayers and support from the Spirit of Jesus Christ.

The Roman jails might not have been as cruel as American jails but they represented a severe inconvenience to Saint Paul. Despite his freedom to write his important letters to the churches, and the necessary support he had from the local church which provided food and other necessities, he had to wait for the magistrates to decide what to do with him. He could not preach in the synagogues on the Sabbath, celebrate the "breaking of bread" with the church, nor set out for another city. 

But he was the freest of men as he rejoiced in proclaiming Christ. He could as readily share the good news with jailers and fellow prisoners as he did in the streets, homes, and synagogues. His being jailed for preaching the gospel was no disgrace, and it represented a challenging conundrum to the authorities who must deal with this obvious injustice. So why should he worry? 

"Indeed,' he said, "I shall continue to rejoice."

Freedom, for Saint Paul, was life in the Spirit. If there were circumstances that might deprive him of the Spirit, they were certainly not Roman jails. In fact he seemed to laugh about his suffering as he enumerated the toil, hunger, thirst, floggings, shipwrecks, and challenges of his distinguished career. 

These inconveniences only assured him that he was walking the path of Jesus Christ, and carrying the crosses he'd been assigned. 

"I must be doing something right!" he might have said as he looked back on all the setbacks he'd suffered. 

Freedom to the Christian bears little resemblance to the parody most Americans make of it. They're notion of freedom is the right to be let alone, to use the expression of Chief Justice Louis D. Brandeis. The judge said this despite the appearance of religion as the foremost freedom in the first Amendment: 

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof. 

I often meet Americans who still believe and hope in the promise of the American Constitution; they believe its foundation is the Gospel. 

I do not argue with them but I might remind them that the Gospel challenges every culture and civilization. We can practice some allegiance to every government that permits our freedom to practice our faith, even as we retain the freedom to preach the Truth to an indifferent, suspicious, or hostile nation. The Gospel makes everyone uncomfortable, including hypocrites, antagonists, and the faithful. In fact the discomfort we feel is its mark of authenticity. When the gospel fails to irritate, we'll know its not the Gospel of Jesus Christ. 

Saint Paul rejoiced in his incarceration as he cooled his heels in a Roman jail. He found the Holy Spirit and knew the freedom of the Crucified in that uncomfortable place. 

Feast of Saints Simon and Jude, Apostles

 Lectionary: 666

Jesus went up to the mountain to pray, and he spent the night in prayer to God. When day came, he called his disciples to himself, and from them he chose Twelve, whom he also named Apostles...

On this feast of apostles and our Apostolic Church we should notice that Jesus went up to the mountain to pray, and spent the night in prayer, before he chose the twelve from among his disciples and named them apostles. 

If Jesus named his apostles after a night spent in prayer, we should expect the same of us. Our affiliation and attachment to the one, holy, catholic, and apostolic church doesn't happen without prayer. There is nothing automatic about it. Without prayer we cannot claim membership within the Church; our sense of belonging is more fantasy than real.  

Recently we heard Jesus' gloomy remark, "When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?" This followed his amusing parables about the wicked judge and the persistent widow, and the Pharisee and the publican in the temple. Belonging to Jesus is the result of persistent prayer, personal, communal, and liturgical. 

The apostolic tradition is a historical anchor in Truth. When lies abound and powerful liars demand unquestioning loyalty, God's people must remember who they are, and the Eternal Word the Lord has spoken to them. We belong to the Lord; our identity as citizens of any nation or members of any party is secondary. 

Lies can be as overt as Mr. Trump's claim that to be the legitimate president of the United States, or as subtle as the demands of fashion police. They can be insinuating, subtly threatening, and apparently harmless. They're as persistent as scam telephone calls, or as laughably absurd as autonomous human settlements on Mars. 

Prayer begins in Gratitude for the Word who saves us, and the assurance of an unwavering community. We're here for each other; and for the Earth. We're not going away. We support one another; and, when necessary, set one another back in the narrow way which leads through the narrow gate of Truth. If some are fooled by certain shepherds, others of us saw them climb over the fence. They didn't come through the gate who is Christ. 

The apostolic church receives the faith of our ancestors, preserves and celebrates it today, and gives it freely to future generations. The memory of the apostles assures us we've seen worse times than these, and better; and God never abandons his faithful people. We have only to keep our eyes fixed on Jesus and our hearts fixed in prayer. 

Thursday of the Thirtieth Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 482

Draw your strength from the Lord and from his mighty power.
Put on the armor of God so that you may be able to stand firm against the tactics of the Devil.

I took a side trip one Sunday afternoon to visit a neighboring town in Ohio. It was farther than I expected and as I returned home in late afternoon, I found that I was running out of gas. And I was riding a bicycle. 

Fortunately, I had a little money on me and I stopped at a Mom and Pop grocery store, open on Sunday, and bought an orange. I guess that was as much as I could afford. To my surprise, the familiar fruit juiced me up and I steamed home with energy to spare. 

Does your faith do that for you? Do you "draw your strength from the Lord and his mighty power?" Or, to put it differently, does the Holy Spirit energize you, to give you the willingness and strength to say and do what must be said and done? 

I have to ask myself these questions and, hopefully, be surprised by the answers. But I may be disappointed too, for my faith is often weak and my confidence uncertain. 

Jesus observed of his disciples, "the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak." But perhaps the "spirit" in that situation was just their ordinary human spirit, which is often addled by cowardice, confusion, and uncertainty. We just don't know what to do and when to do it. 

When the Spirit of God is willing, things happen which may surprise us. And they're all the more surprising when we were the agent God used to make it happen! Sometimes we might blurt out an expression we've never used before, and perhaps never thought of, and it's absolutely the right thing to say. 

"Did I say that?" and "Where did that come from?" 

And again, sometimes I have thought that I should do or say something but found I could not do it. And when it finally happened, apparently at the last minute, I discovered that I had spoken or acted at just the right time. Perhaps the Lord was holding me back until the opportune moment came; he obviously knows more about the situation and the people involved. 

In today's reflection, Saint Paul urges us to put on the armor of Christ; and he has some fun with the metaphor as he speaks of the armor, breastplate, shield, sandals, and sword of the spiritual warrior. 

But these are more than the good intentions we might generate in our minds. In difficult circumstances when courage and action are required, along with wisdom and good timing, we may find ourselves paralyzed and helpless. That is when we "retreat" or "fall back" to prayer and wait upon the Lord to juice us up and send us back to the front. 

For our struggle is not with flesh and blood
but with the principalities, with the powers,
with the world rulers of this present darkness,
with the evil spirits in the heavens.

We're dealing with powerful forces like racism, greed, entitlement, and indolence; and simple outrage against institutions like abortion, capital punishment, and drug abuse can only fume impotently against them. 

In this passage from his letter to the Ephesians, Saint Paul assures us there is such a power and authority available to us if we are willing to be led and directed by the Spirit of God. Such extraordinary grace is not even unusual when it appears among the denizens of God's kingdom. We have only to ask.

Wednesday of the Thirtieth Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 481

He answered them, "Strive to enter through the narrow gate, for many, I tell you, will attempt to enter but will not be strong enough.

Speaking along the same lines as the Lord in today's gospel, Saint Paul urged his disciples to run so as to win: 

Do you not know that the runners in the stadium all run in the race, but only one wins the prize? 

Winning a foot race is, by definition, a very narrow gate; and the Christian disciples should run so as to win. 

In the secular sphere, in 2005, Tom Friedman, columnist with the New York Times, warned American students that "The World is Flat!" meaning that your being American gives you no advantage over Asian or South American students. He was teaching at the time and knew the indolence of university students. He warned them, you don't live on a higher plane than anyone else! Chinese and Indian students have access to the Internet; and sometimes it's better than yours. They're studying hard, and they'll eat your lunch if you are not prepared for serious competition from young people all over the world. "Run so as to win!"

Many American Protestants believe "once saved, always saved." Some Catholic mystics, enthrall of the Most Blessed Sacrament, said that anyone receiving the Eucharist once in their life is saved. We can appreciate their enthusiasm for the beautiful sacraments of Baptism and Eucharist without misinterpreting their teaching.  They're not saying anyone gets a free pass out of hell or first class fare to heaven. 

While we believe in God's benevolence, mercy, and patience, there is nonetheless a Judgment Day. On that day there will be real consequences for the decisions and behaviors of each one's life. To suppose that everyone will go to heaven is to say nothing in human life matters; good deeds are not preferred to wicked; nor need the wicked face their victims and atone for their misdeeds. Without a Day of Reckoning, nothing in this life of struggle, hardship, and disappointment means anything. Our loudly declaimed belief at Mass -- "It is right and just" -- becomes bombast before such a vain belief. 

Strive to enter through the narrow gate is an insistent invitation to the Holiness of God. Many are called, but few are chosen. 

If, in the end, there are more winners than we expected, we can thank God that so many heard and accepted the challenge to be holy, human, and fully alive. 

Tuesday of the Thirtieth Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 480 

Be subordinate to one another out of reverence for Christ.

As I watched older friars, I learned the meaning of such words as obedience, submission, subordination, obsequiousness, passive aggression, willingness, thoughtfulness, kindness, and cooperation.

If the words are clearly defined -- and they're not -- the behaviors of obedience are not so easily recognized. Nor are the right attitudes readily assumed. It takes practice, patience, persistence, and years -- and large dollops of the Holy Spirit. 

If anyone has mastered the virtue of obedience, I've not met them. Give me another ten years to get it? I don't think so. 

The scriptures give us an unattainable ideal in the story of Jesus Christ. Saint Paul's paean in Philippians 2 says, "...he humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross." Further reflection on the Lord's passion and death only deepens our sense of wonder as we see a healthy, charismatic leader with a commanding presence and a huge following betrayed, abandoned, denounced, falsely accused, condemned by government officials, religious leaders, and an angry mob; and then tortured, mocked, stripped, and crucified. The Gospel of Mark suggests that even this man's faith abandoned him as he cried in utter despair, "Why have you abandoned me?" 

Despite some minor differences, the evangelists largely agree on what happened. They describe the utter abandonment of a man who can have no reason to hope for justice, vindication, or deliverance. His obedience "even to death on a cross" has proven futile, and -- if there is any humor in the story -- comically absurd. The wise of this world still laugh at the story. 

But our faith in the Lord's vindication remains as does a cloud of faithful witnesses. Hearing Saint Paul's teaching "be subordinate to one another out of reverence for Christ" we cannot but help remembering the cross of Jesus and the reverence it demands of us. The most courageous husband, wife, or couple could not hope to precisely imitate the Lord, and yet they emulate him as they practice Saint Paul's spirit of subordination and obedience. 

In my own life as a friar and priest, I've become familiar with the Spirit of cooperation that cues me when to act and when to wait, when to speak and when to remain silent, when to suggest and when to demand. Sometime it works out beautifully; sometimes the whole scheme falls apart. And who knows but that may have been the way God wanted it. We shake it off, laugh it off, confess our sins, and learn from the experience. 

I remember Father Ambrose Finnegan's story, which might have been the way it actually happened: Arriving rather late at the closing of a Forty Hours Devotion, the pastor greeted him with, "Oh there you are! You're on!" Poor Finnegan was pushed out unexpectedly and unprepared into the sanctuary, before the bishop and many of his peers, and toward the pulpit. 
He paused, bowed before the Tabernacle, and prayed for an obedient spirit, "Lord, I don't mind if you make a fool of Finnegan, but please don't make a fool of yourself. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit...." 

Optional Memorial of Saint Anthony Mary Claret, bishop

 Lectionary 479

Be kind to one another, compassionate, forgiving one another as God has forgiven you in Christ.
Be imitators of God, as beloved children, and live in love, as Christ loved us and handed himself over for us as a sacrificial offering to God for a fragrant aroma.

Perhaps our life together begins in forgiveness. Or, to put it differently, we cannot live together without forgiving one another in Christ -- often. So often that we hardly notice it and don't remember it. 

As we move around the kitchen, reaching for the plates, cups, or silverware we move around each other, patiently waiting for one to move until we can step into that place. If one opens the refrigerator, the other closes it, and then one quietly opens it again, hardly noticing the inconvenience. It's the dance we do for each other so as to make of our lives a sacrificial offering to God for a fragrant aroma.

These are the gestures every human being makes who lives with other human beings; and yet, because we are Christians, these routines make us imitators of God, as beloved children, when we live in love as Christ loved us. 

It's not so difficult, and it is worth noticing how sweet and how pleasant it is when we live as one. 

Growing in maturity, we notice that we're no longer entertained by immorality or any impurity or greed, nor by obscenity, and silly or suggestive talk, which is out of place. Such things are not even mentioned among holy ones. 

It's not that we're trying to be holy. We don't have to try to act our age as our parents or teachers used to scold us. We've learned that it's better to live this way. Goodness is its own reward. 

We live, as Saint Paul observed in today's first reading, in gratitude.  As we begin our daily routines of prayer, health. and duties we thank God for the blessings we receive; and for the blessings we are to others. 

It is good. 

Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 150

The prayer of the lowly pierces the clouds; it does not rest till it reaches its goal, nor will it withdraw till the Most High responds, judges justly and affirms the right, and the Lord will not delay.

Vladimir Nabakov's famously began his memoir, Speak, Memory with: 

The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light, between two eternities of darkness. 

But "common sense" is often a false assurance with little memory and less wisdom. For the two eternities of darkness have been split when the Word of God spoke like a bolt of lightning. Its thunder still resounds eternally throughout the universe. For the Word appeared in a moment of time but secular historians dismissed it as culturally biased, unproven, and anecdotal. 

No one should suppose that doubt of God's existence provides one with an excuse for ignoring the cloud-piercing prayer of the lowly. They will be heard! Their prayer, as Sirach teaches us, "does not rest till it reaches its goal." 

Today the Lord tells us the familiar parable of two men who went up to the temple to pray. The first "spoke this prayer to himself." Though it might have echoed around the temple, it was not heard in heaven. For God cannot hear the prayers of those who do not exist, and the one who sounded the prayer was like an actor on an imaginary stage. He was playing the role of a holy man, and badly at that. 

The second offered the prayer of a sinner, "O God, be merciful to me a sinner." This prayer, we're assured, pierced the clouds and rested in God's presence. 

Then Jesus adds: 

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

for whoever exalts himself will be humbled,

and the one who humbles himself will be exalted."

I have heard the complaint of some people who rarely attend church, that those who do are like the self-confident Pharisee. They're smug, complacent, and aloof toward the occasional guest who wanders into the church. 

I don't believe it; that's not my experience. From the altar I see people whose minds may be wandering but their hearts -- even the troubled hearts -- are resting in God's presence. Their faces are soft, their eyes are closed or intent; their bodies are still. They are enjoying a respite from the harassment of an anxious, uneasy culture; a culture which dreads, and resolutely denies, both "eternities of darkness." 

The hypocrites are those who think they are more sincere for not attending any church. 

The Pharisee in today' story is like the Bill Murphy character in the movie, Groundhog's Day. He is caught in an eternal now. He remembers neither the past, with its history of sin, nor his own particular sin. Nor does he anticipate a future of vindication, redemption, and freedom. He looks forward to nothing. 

The Publican, on the other hand, remembers a long history of God's mercy, from Abraham and Sarah through Moses and Miriam, innumerable holy men, women, prophets, and sages. He emulates the original penitent, King David, and Jesus, the Son of David. He looks forward to a bliss of eternity in God's presence with Mary the Mother of God, all the saints and angels. If he now lives in the present moment with a foolish Pharisee, he never forgets eternities past, present, and future which are illuminated with the thundering  Word of God. 

Optional Memorial of Saint John Paul II, pope

Lectionary: 478

And he gave some as Apostles, others as prophets, others as evangelists, others as pastors and teachers, to equip the holy ones for the work of ministry, for building up the Body of Christ,
until we all attain to the unity of faith and knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood
to the extent of the full stature of Christ, so that we may no longer be infants, tossed by waves and swept along by every wind of teaching arising from human trickery, 
from their cunning in the interests of deceitful scheming. 
Rather, living the truth in love...

It's easy to get lost like a puppy dog in high weeds when reading Saint Paul's long sentences. He sometimes wrote while serving time in a Roman jail and he could afford to let his creative mind run wild with inspiration. Reading his thought, we need to take a deep breath and parse his sentences to discover, amid all the ecstatic expressions, what he's getting at. 

The above sentence, for instance, might be simplified to read, "God gave us church leaders so that we might no longer be infants." 

Now there's a thought to give us pause, especially in the light of the clericalism that has only recently been denounced in the highest places of the Church, even as it's protected in some lower offices. 

Clericalism would "infantilize" adult members of the Church. There are far more lay members of the Church -- deeply devout and fiercely dedicated -- than there are clergy. Many are ready to serve and eager to rise to potential challenges if only the patronizing, idle clergy would get out of the way. 

But there are also many childish consumers who are willing to be "tossed by waves and swept along by every wind of teaching arising from human trickery."

The invitation and challenge for every adult Catholic, lay or clerical, is to search the mysteries of our faith ever more deeply. Our first and readiest guidance comes from our liturgy; that is, the Mass, Liturgy of the Hours, Eucharistic devotion, and the Sacraments, (especially the Sacrament of Penance/Reconciliation.) 

These liturgical practices feed our personal devotions. Hearing the readings of the Mass, we want to study the scriptures. The Lord's Prayer encourages us to recite it privately, especially within the rosary, which also reflects our liturgical honoring Mary the Mother of God. Feast days of the saints pique our curiosity about the great cloud of witnesses who pray with and for us. 

Finally, we want our personal devotion to reflect the deep mysteries of our faith, especially the Trinity and the Incarnation. We're not fascinated by ghost stories, we have no patience for Halloween culture which exploits our religious symbols. There are many who are still

"tossed by waves and swept along by every wind of teaching arising from human trickery, from their cunning in the interests of deceitful scheming."

They will inevitably suffer the consequences of their consumer religion. In his Divine Comedy, Dante described their unhappy plight in the outermost sphere of hell. 

We want to live the Truth in Love, realizing that accepting the invitation will cost us more and more as we live more deeply by faith. 

Friday of the Twenty-ninth Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 477

You know how to interpret the appearance of the earth and the sky; why do you not know how to interpret the present time?

Recently, leadership of the fourth degree Knights of Columbus decided it was time to store their swords among the memorabilia, and not bring them to church. Many people didn't understand what they meant, were offended by their militaristic overtones, and didn't know they were made of cheap metal and useless for anything but display. They might cut soft butter but can't slice bread. Knights who had been indoctrinated through complicated initiation rites assumed that everyone knows the sword shows our zealous faith in the Church. 

Americans don't get symbols. Schooled in materialistic secularism, they cannot interpret religious images and stories. They often read the histories, poetry, songs, and prescripts of the Bible as if they're literal accounts of historical facts; and then they scoff at all the errors and contradictions they suppose they have found in the texts.  

In her book, Into the Deep, an unlikely Catholic Conversion, Abigail Rine Favale, describes her personal journey from Evangelical Christianity through radical feminism into the Catholic Church. She is fascinated and drawn by Catholic symbols -- the Eucharist, Baptism, the human sexual body, and so forth -- as she tells of her healing from the blindness of secularism. The world sees the human body only as a malleable machine with replaceable parts. It can be redesigned as male or female, according to the owner's whims or preferences; but it has no essential connection to the person -- a disembodied, asexual, denatured soul -- who happens to occupy it. 

She sadly recalls her adolescent and young adult experience when she regarded her body only as a plaything. Friends, strangers, and (finally) her husband were playmates. With chemical prophylaxis they could avoid the unpleasant realities, staggering beauty, and bewildering mystery of human sexuality. 

Gratefully, Favale describes her own and her husband's return to sanity and the discovery of meaning, purpose, and satisfaction in their marriage. I highly recommend her first book, and I am eager to read her more recent, The Genesis of Gender. 

In today's gospel, we hear the Lord's complaint about his contemporaries, 

"You know how to interpret the appearance of the earth and the sky; why do you not know how to interpret the present time?" 

We can suppose they knew that sexual activity necessarily engages a man and a woman, and often leads to the conception of a third human being. As foolish as they were, they understood sexuality as well as they knew the weather, despite their blindness to the appearance of the Messiah. 

The Catholic Church still offers the Truth to a world absorbed in its own ideologies. They are convinced they can find a narrow path around the obvious which will lead them to a promised land of their own design. Debts need not be paid in their fantasies; facts are fungible; consequences, avoidable; and death will never happen to me. 

 We find our freedom in the real world, with our aging, beautiful bodies which reveal the presence of the Holy to those with eyes to see. 

Thursday of the Twenty-ninth Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 476

...that he may grant you in accord with the riches of his glory
to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in the inner self,
and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith;
that you, rooted and grounded in love,
may have strength to comprehend with all the holy ones
what is the breadth and length and height and depth,
and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge,
so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.

I met a woman recently who admitted that her understanding of faith lacked depth. As the conversation continued in another direction she didn't explain what she meant by "depth," but I was struck by the word.

During our conversation I noticed the setting, a suburban Catholic church. In the very large nave there were few images. The walls were blank, and both statues were bought out of a church supply catalog, typically 1970's. The saints and martyrs did not appear; and the colored glass windows only suggested the stations of the cross. I saw no details that might invite reflection; and little that would fascinate children or uplift the mind to God. 

Garrison Keillor once described the difference between a Catholic and a Protestant Church. The starkly bare Protestant church says, "You're going to think about what you hear from the pulpit. There's nothing else to do in this place." The traditional Catholic Church, with its statues, windows, paintings, candles, bells, and smells says. "You will not think. You will contemplate." This suburban Catholic church offered little for thought or contemplation. If the parish doesn't sponsor pilgrimages they seem to be going no where.

Saint Paul lists depth among the four dimensions of the love of Christ. Ordinarily we think of three dimensions of space (height, width, and depth) and one dimension of time. (Physicists say there are more but that's only to solve problems.) 

Saint Paul prayed that his Ephesian disciples should have the strength to comprehend those four dimensions of faith. Though I am not sure how his four dimensions --breadth, length, height, and depth -- fit together as a geometric set, I am sure that every Christian should apprehend those dimensions, and study so as to comprehend them. 

When the woman spoke of her lack of depth I suggested two dimensions, space and time; that is, history and geography. She might read stories of the Catholic faith, including the history of biblical Israel, the New Testament, the Church Fathers, and the Roman martyrs. With pilgrimages to national and international shrines she would encounter many unfamiliar Catholic images, songs, and practices. Our Catholic faith is shared by many different people, places, cultures, and languages. 

No one practices faith alone, nor simply among one's own. We should meet many different people, of the 21st century and of the twenty preceding centuries. Already we're meeting people of the 22nd century and should anticipate many ages to come. The universal in Catholic includes all times and all places, with all its "breadth and length and height and depth. It "surpasses all knowledge." 

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

 Lectionary: 475

Much will be required of the person entrusted with much, and still more will be demanded of the person entrusted with more.”

How do we reconcile the innumerable threats and warnings in the Old and New Testaments with the freedom of the children of God? Are even the many promised "carrots" which encourage right behavior demeaning? 

I am struck by these paradoxes. I was reminded recently of a medieval argument among the greatest philosopher/theologians concerning God's will and morality. Is a good action right because it is innately good, or because God prefers it? Is morality subject to God's caprice? Or, are evil actions invariably evil?

If God's will is capricious, then the adult Christian must be continually watching to see which way God's will is turning. But if the principles of good and evil are stable, we can study them apart from our concerns about God. Even reasonable atheists can agree that certain actions are good while others are wicked. The great theologian Thomas of Aquinas insisted upon this latter opinion, and taught that God built stable, discernible principles into creation. 

Today's gospel concludes with an inviting warning, "Much will be required of those entrusted with much." With grateful hearts the wise consider how blessed they are; while fools dwell upon what they want and don't have. They suppose they're exempt from the obligation of gratitude since they seem to have so little. 

Again, even the atheist must be moved by the awareness of privilege rather than the temptation to resentment. For when I realize there is no particular reason I should exist in the first place, that my being is contingent and not necessary, then I must respond in gratitude for every moment of human life and every breath of the human body. 

However, the difference between believers and atheists is sharp: believers have the lovely privilege of knowing to Whom they're grateful, while unbelievers struggle with that conundrum.

With many severe warnings, the Lord reminds us of the choice between gratitude and resentment not because the Lord enjoys punishing evil persons but because the consequences of good and evil are built into God's creation. If I set a mousetrap and you intentionally put your finger in it, you can hardly blame me for creating something as useful as a mousetrap! Should you decide to blame me anyway, that won't change the fact of your foolishness, nor the pain in your finger.  

The warnings also remind us that life is full of challenges and was never meant to be easy. In fact those who enjoy life with little struggle may be the more unfortunate for they are unprepared for the inevitable temptations referenced in the Lord's Prayer. 

Aware of God's promises and threats. our life begins with gratitude. 

Feast of Saint Luke, evangelist

St. Luke painting the portrait of
the Virgin and her Son

Lectionary: 661

The Lord Jesus appointed seventy-two disciples whom he sent ahead of him in pairs to every town and place he intended to visit.....

"Whatever town you enter and they welcome you, eat what is set before you, cure the sick in it and say to them, ‘The Kingdom of God is at hand for you.’”

As believers in God and disciples of Jesus, we wonder what we should do. Belief cannot be simply an opinion that makes no difference in how I think, feel, act, or live. It's more than taking someone's word for it and going on about one's life unchanged. (I used to know how far the Earth is from the sun, but since it makes no difference to me, I've forgotten.)

Today's gospel gives us basic direction. First, we live where the Lord intends to visit. Our neighbors will recognize him because they're acquainted with us. He will be better, and far more wonderful, enchanting, and desirable than they expected.  

They might recognize our joy in the Lord; they might appreciate the pleasure of our company. We can care for them and their sick as the Lord directs, and say, "The Kingdom of God is at hand for you!" But we're not obliged to inject or insert him into their lives. He and the Holy Spirit will arrive in good time, and in an hour we might not know. 

That's where our faith checks in; it is a willingness that sometimes works in ignorance, but not ignorantly. We do as our parents did for us, "the best we can." And leave the rest to God. 

Should we find that neither our faith nor our presence is welcome, we may move on. Or we might, as the history of Catholicism shows, go underground. I've heard stories about English and Japanese Catholics who worshiped silently in their homes. The latter group retained the sacraments of Baptism and Marriage for centuries when there were no priests. They emerged cautiously after 1865. when western Catholic missionaries finally returned. 

The Gospel endures despite the most savage persecutions of the enemy because we humans need salvation and we know it; and because the Holy Spirit never gives up on us. Praise God for that! 

Memorial of Saint Ignatius of Antioch, Bishop and Martyr

 Lectionary: 473

For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not from you; it is the gift of God; it is not from works, so no one may boast.
For we are his handiwork, created in Christ Jesus for good works that God has prepared in advance, that we should live in them.

"You didn't build that!" Barak Obama reminded the nation as he spoke of the world we inherited with its highways, bridges, and buildings. If we have accomplished anything, or see beyond the horizons that contained our ancestors, it's because "We are standing on the shoulders of giants." 

As I age I appreciate more and more how much I have received and how little I have given. And the scriptures remind me often, "...this is not from you; it is the gift of God." 

Today we celebrate the memorial of Saint Ignatius of Antioch. Jesus had created the archetype of martyrdom, showing how we are saved by self-sacrifice. The proto-martyr Stephen readily imitated his example as he faced an angry mob. 

On his feast day, we admire the martyr Saint Ignatius of Antioch for his epistles. The great writer and patriarch accepted the Roman judge's death sentence and insisted that no one -- neither friend, admirer, acquaintance nor enemy -- should interfere in its execution. He compared himself to a loaf of bread which is ground by teeth, and the teeth which ground him should be in the mouths of the Roman Colosseum's lions. He would be bread like the Eucharist.

One of the early giants of our faith, Saint Ignatius received what he handed on to us, that willingness to make sacrifice, even of his own life. If you or I are not called to the ultimate sacrifice today, we nonetheless accept the tradition of making our lives holy (i.e sacrificial) as a gift to be cherished and passed along. Deuteronomy especially, makes it clear that, if the next generation does not accept the gift of our ancestors, then our deliverance will have been in vain. 

However, be on your guard and be very careful not to forget the things your own eyes have seen, nor let them slip from your heart as long as you live, but make them known to your children and to your children’s children, that day you stood before the LORD, your God, at Horeb, when the LORD said to me: Assemble the people for me, that I may let them hear my words, that they may learn to fear me as long as they live in the land and may so teach their children. (Deuteronomy 4:9-10)

We show that we have received of salvation, and are worthy of it, as we keep the faith and invest another generation in the vestments of holiness. 

Twenty-ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 147

Jesus told his disciples a parable about the necessity for them to pray always without becoming weary. He said, "There was a judge in a certain town who neither feared God nor respected any human being....

I love this parable about the wicked judge and the importunate widow. Not only is the point well made, but the story is unforgettable; though we might be distracted by its humor. 

The moral of the story is sharpened by the possibility that the widow might not have a legitimate claim. The Parablist doesn't say she does. If neither the judge nor the widow is just, then we're reminded that persistence pays. Now go and do likewise.

Today's story of Israel's defeat of Amalek also speaks of persistence as we see the ancient Moses, too weak to hold his arms aloft all day, accepts the help of two fierce warriors. Though we might suppose Aaron and Hur should be down in the fray, duking it out with the enemy, they do better to support Moses in his prayer. 

All too often we neglect our prayer in favor of our work, only to discover the futility of time, effort, and energy wasted. Workaholics are often the least effective workers. And Americans, who take less than ten vacation days a year, are less productive than German workers who take thirty! What's wrong with this picture?

German Catholic philosopher Josef Pieper, in his book Leisure, the Basis of Culture,  has argued that without leisure activities like conversation, the arts, play, dining, prayer (both communal and personal), and so forth, industrious lives become meaningless. Entertainment might be added to the list as life-enhancing, provided it's not neutralized by commercial breaks or compromised by politics. Watching newsreels about emotional meltdowns, natural catastrophes, and murder is voyeurism, not leisure. It ranks with lust and gossip. 

On this 29th Sunday of Ordinary time, as winter approaches, the Church urges us to pray persistently; for the Christian, an activity as natural as breathing. The Holy Spirit calls us to worship together and invites us to pray in solitude. Our prayer begins with our presence before the majesty of God and our bold declaration, "Here I am, Lord. I come to do your will." 

Just as the Lord will not leave us, neither will we leave the Lord. We can make like the obnoxious widow greeting the wicked judge each morning with, "I'm still here!" 

Or as Ruth said to her mother-in-law Naomi, 

Wherever you go I will go,
wherever you lodge I will lodge.
Your people shall be my people
and your God, my God.
Where you die I will die
and there be buried.
May the LORD do thus to me, and more,
if even death separates me from you!”

Memorial of Saint Teresa of Jesus, Virgin and Doctor of the Church

 Lectionary: 472

“I tell you, everyone who acknowledges me before others the Son of Man will acknowledge before the angels of God.
But whoever denies me before others will be denied before the angels of God.

Recently, as I was carried away by the thrill of preaching to a live congregation in a full chapel -- I had few such opportunities in the VA hospital -- I declared, "As I read the Bible I find both threats and promises. For every promise there is threat; and for every threat, there is a promise. The Lord is true to his word."

I find that pattern again in today's gospel. 

I have heard -- and I suppose most of us have heard -- preachers reassure us that there is no hell, that the Lord or his apostle is kidding about that; that our all-good God would not send anyone to hell forever! We have been reassured that overwrought preachers are only using hyperbole when they preach fire and brimstone.

But we all know certain truths: consequences are real, and the past cannot be changed. As the Veterans would remind me, "You cannot unfire a gun." Many of us have suffered hell on earth, and often for our own sins. We did something stupid and we endured the consequences. We could not wish the pain away, or pretend it wasn't there. Sometimes it went on for months or years; it seemed both endless and as real as a heart attack.

During the same homily, I suggested to the congregation, "If you want to lose a night of sleep, read the 28th chapter of Deuteronomy. It's framed as God's threats against a sinful Jerusalem -- the city that was supposed to be holy -- but the Divine Author actually describes what had already happened to Jerusalem when the Babylonians captured and razed God's holy city. The Divine Author put in the mouth of Moses a threat which had already been fulfilled.  

During the last third of the twentieth century, many pastors -- Catholic and Protestant -- found they were working with traumatized adults who had suffered physical, emotional, and sexual abuse as children. Many Veterans of World War II had worked out their PTSD and spiritual injury on their hapless wives and children. A harmless accident like a broken ashtray or a misplaced shoe sometimes evoked savage punishment. Their homes were never safe and sacred images were often used to bludgeon the helpless. 

When preachers and catechists heard these stories they could not speak of God as the Father without insisting that "Jesus's Abba is not like your father." Words of reassurance and comfort were needed, and the healing word of God annulled outrageous threats of deeply troubled warriors. 

Unfortunately, the United States has seen a resurgence of evil in the 21st century that seemed unthinkable in the halcyon days of the Pax Americana. Donald Trump's Big Lie with innumerable variations has been woven into American discourse. Thousands accept parody religions like Q-Anon, Odinism, and Scientology. They believe that so long as truth is malleable they are innocent of wrongdoing. They can "believe" anything they want since there is no truth.

With the onset of this troubling new age, I have heard the threats in the Bible as well as the promises. Both are good news to God's faithful anawim, despite the redolence of sulfur in some awful words. God's poor look for salvation and vindication. Their hope must be fulfilled, their lying accusers must be shamed. 

We do not find, in Jesus's parable of the rich man and Lazarus, a parenthetical remark insisting that, "...you know, Hell is just a metaphor." It seemed quite real to the Savior and to the Pharisees who heard his story. 

We live with the hope that God's just and merciful kingdom might be established soon, and very soon. We hope that we might be included in the roster of the saints on that day, even as we acknowledge our unworthiness. We pray that Wisdom might reveal to the doomed, the stupid, and the foolish the sovereignty of Truth, and that they might join us before the Day of Judgement. 

Optional Memorial of Saint Callistus I, pope and martyr

St Callistus, patron saint of
Catholic cemeteries

 Lectionary: 471

So many people were crowding together 
that they were trampling one another underfoot.
Jesus began to speak, first to his disciples,
“Beware of the leaven–that is, the hypocrisy–of the Pharisees.

Trained as I was in the early 1970's to pay attention to context, I have to notice the first words of today's gospel. Saint Luke says people were "crowding together" and "trampling one another underfoot." This sounds like catastrophic success. Recently an extremely popular entertainer condoned the excesses of an excited crowd; and ten people died of "compression asphyxiation" when a hysterical mob rushed the stage.  

We can hope Luke was using hyperbole, and Jesus's followers were not that excited. But we should notice the Lord is not carried away by his apparent success, or by the crowd's enthusiasm. Rather, he chooses that moment to warn his disciples about hypocrisy. 

Success is a great invitation to hypocrisy. It often induces a godlike feeling of achievement, accomplishment, and power. One's efforts and personhood seem validated. "I am someone!" they might declare to any bystander, whether their achievement be the defeat of an enemy or a nothing-but-net basketball goal. Some will crow about winning the lottery when they did virtually nothing but buy a ticket. Hypocrites can use even a loss to make something of nothing, and campaign for public office on their lack of achievement. 

And, on this feast of the patron saint of Catholic cemeteries, it is that nothing we're concerned about; the nothingness of having been, until quite recently, no one. For my being is entirely contingent. I came about through the encounter of a man and woman who had little idea of what, or who, I might be. I was never necessary. 

Vladimir Nabokov began his autobiography, Speak, Memory with 

The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light, between two eternities of darkness. 

Tristram Shandy, in Lawrence Stern's novel, comically complained about that moment when his distracted mother-to-be asked his laboring father if he had remembered to wind up the clock: 

"I wish either my father or my mother or indeed both of them, as they were in duty both equally bound to it, had minded what they were about when they begot me..." 

That dreadful nothingness, wearing the mask of Death, will return when I take my last breath. In the face of it and with defiance both exaggerated and hopeless, do I dare to celebrate my feeble success?

"Beware of the leaven–that is, the hypocrisy–of the Pharisees. There is nothing concealed that will not be revealed, nor secret that will not be known. Therefore whatever you have said in the darkness will be heard in the light, and what you have whispered behind closed doors will be proclaimed on the housetops.

Success is more often the result of circumstances and dumb luck. For everyone who hits the jackpot there are millions who failed because they would not quit after succeeding. They heard the promise of a false god, "Trust the Force, Luke." Hypocrites and successful persons fear the revelations that prove they are no better than anyone else. 

James Finley, in his book Merton's Palace of Nowhere, (which I recommend to everyone) cites the Trappist Monk,

A few years ago, a man who was compiling a book on success wrote and asked me to contribute a statement on how I got to be a success. I replied indignantly that I was not able to consider myself a success in any terms that had a meaning to me. I swore I spent my life strenuously avoiding success. If it happened that I had once written a bestseller, this was a pure accident, due to inattention and naivete, and I would take very good care never to do the same thing again. 

If I had a message to my contemporaries," I said, "It was surely this: Be anything you like, be madmen, drunks, and bastards of every shape and form, but at all costs avoid one thing: success. I heard no more from him and I am not aware that my reply was published with the other testimonials.