Memorial of Saint John Bosco, Priest

Lectionary: 325 

They said, “Where did this man get all this?
What kind of wisdom has been given him?
What mighty deeds are wrought by his hands!
Is he not the carpenter, the son of Mary,
and the brother of James and Joseph and Judas and Simon?
And are not his sisters here with us?”
And they took offense at him.

As a child I was taught to examine my conscience; I should consider my thoughts, words, and deeds under the lens of the Ten Commandments to discover any sins I might have committed. If some of these awful things seemed like victimless crimes, I should nonetheless confess them when the opportunity came. 

But really, who can remember all their sins? And does the priest really want to hear about my wicked thoughts? I mean, come on!

The scriptures today give us two examples of sinful thinking. First, King David orders his soldiers to take a census of the region and the people under his command. His General Joab doubts the wisdom of this move and says, 

“May the LORD your God increase the number of people a hundredfold for my lord the king to see it with his own eyes. But why does it please my lord to do a thing of this kind?”

But the army followed the king's orders and took the census, and God was displeased. What was David thinking? It's not clear, but the last judge Samuel had expressed severe reservations about kingship with all its trappings. The impulse to census must lead toward bureaucracy with all its complexity, policies, delays, resistance, privileges, and entitlements. Next you'll want a standing army! And perhaps a navy. Nothing good can come of it. 

Wouldn't it be simpler if everyone agreed to obey God and do the right thing? Can a government do what the people won't do? 

But a royal government was established with Jerusalem as its capital, and a long line of Davidic successors. Most of them were deplorable but some governed wisely.  

The gospel also tells a story of wicked thoughts. The Lord's family, friends, and neighbors are first astonished and then suspicious of their native son. "Where did he get all this?" they ask. It's uncomfortable; it's unfamiliar; we don't know where this is going. Who is he to stand before us with such authority? We don't like it. 

As we practice the examination of conscience -- or better, the daily examen -- we learn to remember and watch our thoughts. We learn to not go there! when we suspect this train of thought is not bound for glory. Experience is knowing I've made this mistake before. 

Moses warned us with the Ten Commandments, We should not covet a neighbor's lifestyle, privilege, property, possessions, or spouse. But aren't our thoughts invisible to others? Who really knows what we're thinking? Who is harmed?  

When covetousness becomes habitual, it rearranges the synapses in one's brain. It directs unpleasant feelings toward anxiety, appears in eye movements and facial expressions, and manifests in unfortunate words and deeds. 

David regretted the thoughts that led to a census after it incurred God's wrath. He forgot that our God is a jealous God who can govern, guide, and discipline his people. If the LORD wants a complex government, he will direct the king to build one; but the initiative will remain with God! Likewise, the people's suspicion of Jesus can lead only to infidelity to the One God has sent. 

We learn not to go there with the practice of faith. We know our Good God watches and knows what we're thinking. We watch with him, and listen continually for his voice, 

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. Isaiah 30:20

Tuesday of the Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 324

She felt in her body that she was healed of her affliction.
Jesus, aware at once that power had gone out from him,
turned around in the crowd and asked, "Who has touched my clothes?"
But his disciples said to him,
"You see how the crowd is pressing upon you,
and yet you ask, Who touched me?"

If Saint Mark has a sense of humor, it's a very dry wit, and easily mistaken for dead seriousness. Or perhaps, it's the other way around, we mistake his serious message for comedy. 

In today's dual story about two women, one suffering a lifelong, chronic illness and the other snatched from life as she is about to blossom into fertility, we're also told about the mocking remarks Jesus must suffer. 

First, his disciples are amused by his odd question, "Who touched me?" He is being pushed from all sides by an eager, boisterous mob and he asks, "Who touched me?" 

Well, everyone did! What are you getting at? 

And then he is mocked by the mourners who have flooded into Jairus's courtyard -- very likely, professionals paid for their loud lamentations.  

Or is Jesus laughing at them? 

For he will have the last laugh.

 

I have long believed that true faith has a deep, confident sense of humor. Believers can take the most serious matters lightly for they believe the Lord has everything in hand. 

And, more importantly, they can laugh at themselves and their uncertainty, for they have at least some appreciation of their own infidelity. Who doesn't pretend to be better, more generous, more faithful, more patient and kind than they actually are? 

The faithful hope, believe, and pray that God is more faithful to us than we are to him. And as soon as we're discovered in sin, anxiety, or doubt we can say, "Well what did you expect of this mortal flesh?" And then we cite Psalm 131 for the umpteenth time, 

"If you, Lord, mark iniquity, who can stand? But with the Lord is mercy, and fullness of redemption." 

Ideologues, on the other hand, have little sense of humor for they are never sure of their correct belief or their eventual victory. They might be wrong; their mission might fail; they might be caught in a moment of political incorrectness. Their confidence is too anxious; and their life, too dangerous for humor.  

Saint Mark tells us of other occasions when the Lord laughed at his disciples' lack of faith. I think especially of the storm on the Galilean Sea and his command, "Oh, pipe down!" 

And then, in the sudden calm, he turned to his astonished apostles and quietly said, "Did you really think that I might be drowned and that my mission to save the world might fail? 

Stay with me and you will see far greater things than this! 

Monday of the Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

Potato Run Creek, Indiana,
on a dry, frozen January day. 

Lectionary: 323

"Go home to your family and announce to them all that the Lord in his pity has done for you."

If someone has truly been changed by their encounter with Jesus, the family knows it better than anyone. Friends may notice a difference but can wonder how deep it runs. Acquaintances can be fooled; they see only one's public behavior. 

But, knowing a history that includes parents and grandparents, uncles and aunts, and past generations, one's family can see that something has changed. They will also enjoy the grace this one has found more than anyone else. 

Unfortunately, an atomized society of individuals with little or no connection to family, may find little support or confidence among their acquaintances as they learn new ways of thinking, feeling, assessing, and planning their life. Who would know that your life has changed? Who sees with their own eyes that the Lord has touched your life? Who remembers the past you are trying to escape? 

When Jesus directed the formerly possessed man to return to this home, he knew the man would find a welcome. His people had tried to manage him as best they could with limited resources. Saint Mark tells us they tried to restrain him with chains and manacles but he tore himself free. But even in his madness he did not terrorize the village with his cursing screams and maniacal laughter; rather he stayed in the cemetery howling against the darkness and quiet tombs. When he returns a changed man, everyone is relieved and happy for him. 

Salvation entails a return to family connections; it invites genealogical knowledge of oneself. The redeemed know where they come from; their champions, heroes, and saints as well as their odd, misguided, mad, and criminal relations. 

And just as important: our ancestors are blessed through our turn to the Lord, just as the grace of Jesus's life, death, and resurrection included everyone listed in the genealogies of Saints Matthew and Luke. Perhaps that's what Saint Paul meant by his allusion to the Corinthian practice of baptizing the dead: 

Otherwise, what will people accomplish by having themselves baptized for the dead? If the dead are not raised at all, then why are they having themselves baptized for them?

This odd suggestion follows the Apostle vision of the Lord's total victory over all creation, including the present, future, and past: 

When everything is subjected to him, then the Son himself will [also] be subjected to the one who subjected everything to him, so that God may be all in all.  

This much we know: the Lord's victory surpasses everything we can imagine or expect. Hearing of it, we learn a hope which is unbounded and infinite. It embraces far more than me, myself, and I.

Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

 Mt. St. Francis Lake  
 January 13, 2024 

 Lectionary: 71

The people were astonished at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority and not as the scribes.

A quadrennial year challenges Americans to consider authority. In November we will go to the polls to select our legislators in state and federal office; plus our state governors and national president.

In a democracy, authority comes from "we the people;" it does not come from God or nature. It is not imposed by a police force, an occupying army, or government-sponsored terrorists. Part of the social contract we make as a nation is to bestow authority upon some men and women. We can also take it from these elected officials to give to someone else. Despite the Gospel injunction that we should judge no one, we judge our leaders and dismiss those we find unfit.

In today's gospel, Jesus's hearers were astonished by his authority. It was not like that of any scribe, priest, king, or emperor. When he spoke a word of command, demons fled. Many powerful individuals had challenged demons and met only their mocking taunts; pleas, threats, reason, and reassurance did nothing for the possessed persons. But the Lord spoke and the spirits fled.

Last week we heard how the fishermen Simon, Andrew, James, and John, hearing his command to, "Come follow me!" dropped their nets, left their families, and went with him. They did so without hesitation, and they never looked back.

His authority did not come from an emperor, governor, or democracy. No one but God elected him. Nor did he need to enforce it with a weapon or a threat. And when he taught, people flocked to hear him speak. They did so freely, eagerly, and generously.

It was clearly a divine authority like nothing we'd ever seen. Even religious authorities -- the priests, Levites, and scribes -- could not compare with him. Skeptics were confused; they asked, "Where does he get this authority? We know where he comes from. He is a Jew from Galilee! We know his family, his teachers and mentors, his friends and associates. But now he heals the sick; and casts out demons; and when he speaks we listen!"

Several years before I was ordained, I took a course of practical instruction in the dos and don’ts of ministry. The instructor reminded us continually, “You are not the messiah! You do not and cannot save anyone. You cannot tell anyone how to live their life. No one has to listen to you, much less take your advice.”

But, sinful people that we are, we look for saviors among us, and we pretend to save one another. The world is too complicated and it’s always changing. A dynamic planet like earth with air, water, rock, and fire is fluid, unpredictable, and often dangerous. Some mistakes are fatal; we need a savior, a messiah, a christ.

But that need for a messiah generates a messiah and there will always be preachers, politicians, teachers, and leaders who will come at us and say, “I am the one!” They may be your daughter’s boyfriend! “I can make you happy!” they say. “Just do things my way!” and, “Give me the power!”

The bible calls them antichrists, false messiahs, false prophets, wolves in sheep’s clothing. They have some of the credentials of the real thing. They are clever, popular, and charismatic. They are successful, and nothing succeeds like success. They generate a following and, because many people on this dynamic, ever-changing planet are desperately afraid, they trust them implicitly.

Almighty God in his mercy first sends us Jesus, and then he gives us the Holy Spirit to recognize Jesus as the One Lord. The Spirit of Jesus is a flocking spirit, it gathers us like sheep to the Good Shepherd. It is an honest, compassionate, wise, generous, and humble spirit; and so it recognizes the One who is humble, generous, wise, compassionate, and honest.

We know our shepherd because he does not hate anyone. Although he has millions of enemies, he makes no enemies. When the Lord was crucified, after being denied and betrayed by his own disciples, condemned by an angry mob, scourged, and crowned with thorns, he prayed, “Father, forgive them they know not what they do.”

He would not hate; he would not condemn. “For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him.”

We know our Savior because he obeys God his Father even to death on a cross. Antichrists obey no one; they die for no one.

As we approach the decision of November 5, 2024, Christians remember there is only one Messiah, one Christ, one Lord. No one else can save us. That authority is given to no one else.

Optional Memorial of Saint Angela Merici, virgin

Lectionary: 322

They woke him and said to him,
"Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?"
He woke up,
rebuked the wind,
and said to the sea, "Quiet! Be still!"
The wind ceased and there was great calm.
Then he asked them, "Why are you terrified?
Do you not yet have faith?"

Today's gospel offers many opportunities for comedy. The Lord seems to mock his disciples' terror when he asks about their faith. I can well imagine a high school or middle school skit making a fine joke of the story. 

The point might be, "What's the point of having faith if it does not assure you in times of trouble? Your claim to belief in the Lord is ludicrous!" 

And likewise, if you have faith you should expect to be tested. Your faith must prove finer than fire-tried gold. Saint Peter commended his readers when he learned of their rejoicing despite their trials,

In this you rejoice, although now for a little while you may have to suffer through various trials, so that the genuineness of your faith, more precious than gold that is perishable even though tested by fire, may prove to be for praise, glory, and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. Although you have not seen him you love him; even though you do not see him now yet believe in him, you rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy, as you attain the goal of faith, the salvation of your souls. (I Peter 1:7-9)

But everyone experiences these trials and we're often dismayed by our fearful anxiety. We thought our faith was stronger, as if we should be 😄 when sorrows come down upon us. 

It doesn't work that way. We may be calm in distress but we certainly acknowledge the hardship. We feel challenged and we know we must rely on God's goodness in the face of uncertainty. Faith remembers better times, and worse. Hope expects better times without dismissing the fear of what may come. Always we trust in God's love for us, and our love for God. That, like the Lord's sacrificial death and resurrection, cannot fail. 

Memorial of Saints Timothy and Titus, bishops Lectionary: 520/321

Lectionary: 520/321

Jesus said to the crowds:
“This is how it is with the Kingdom of God;
it is as if a man were to scatter seed on the land
and would sleep and rise night and day
and the seed would sprout and grow,
he knows not how."

Jesus uses simple analogies to explain the mysteries of the kingdom of God; but, hearing them, we learn about ourselves. In today's gospel, the Lord describes the farmer's patience. They plow, they plant, they fertilize, they water, and they wait. After all their work, the seed grows, flourishes, and fructifies -- if conditions are right. There must be no pestilence of bugs, foraging animals, or enemy invasions. Some of these nuisances farmers can manage but they have no control of the weather. 

The Lord's disciples are naturally impatient; they want to see results. I once had lunch with a student surgeon, a very intelligent, intense young man. Seeing a group of social workers enter the cafeteria, he admitted he would never have their patience. He wanted results! And he got them with his knowledge, skills, and tools. A student chaplain at the time, not yet ordained, I had no idea of the patience I should practice in my own career. 

The Spirit of God sees the Kingdom of God flourish in our world. Our vision is delightful, encouraging, and sometimes satisfying. But it can also be delusional. We cannot know what will come of our efforts; the best results might be swept away as a neighborhood, city, or nation collapses under the crush of history. 

Today we celebrate Saint Paul's disciples, Timothy and Titus. We know little about these men except their appointment as bishops of the first century. They could not have imagined the history we're familiar with. The day would come when the Roman Empire would declare itself Christian, and would persecute non-Christians in a most unchristian fashion. The church would build fabulous basilicas which would amaze irreligious generations of a more distant future. Christians would war against each other, each nation declaring its allegiance to truth, goodness, and beauty as they develop and deploy more clever and more barbaric weapons. 

Saints Timothy and Titus were spared that vision of the future; they let that knowledge remain in the mystery of God as they obediently, hopefully proclaimed the death and resurrection of Jesus. Knowing the Lord is as much as we need to know. The rest belongs to God.

Feast of the Conversion of Saint Paul, Apostle

Lectionary: 519

On that journey as I drew near to Damascus,
about noon a great light from the sky suddenly shone around me.
I fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to me,
'Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?'

Caravaggio's painting, "Conversion on the Way to Damascus," describes the moment the astonished Pharisee heard the Lord's voice and realized his own foolishness. According to Elizabeth Lev, the Counter-Reformation Church sponsored paintings which would portray the human fallibility of popular saints like Peter and Paul. Caravaggio (1571-1610) knew human sinfulness as much as any artist (and then some!) and took to the project with gusto. Rather than a sturdy saint with a book to represent his writing and a sword for his martyrdom, he twice described the Apostle in fallen, chaotic distress. (I have used one of the paintings in the collect on this page.) 

Saint Paul did not hesitate to speak of that incident as he announced the Good News of Jesus. His misguided zeal was as much a part of his gospel as the Lord's crucifixion and resurrection. Nor does the Church hide his misguided efforts as we celebrate this particular feast in addition to the Feast of Saints Peter and Paul on June 29. 

Just as Christianity must speak of the crucifixion of Jesus, our personal witness of the Gospel includes honest admissions of our misguided, sinful past. The gospels, beginning with Saint Mark, are very frank about Jesus's first disciples. They quarreled about which was the greatest among them; two went so far as to persuade their mother to ask Jesus to prefer them! They swore they would never abandon him hours before they fled in panic from the Garden of Gethsemane. One shed his clothing to save his skin and ran away naked! After the Lord had died, Jerusalem's wrath was spent, and calm had returned, but the Twelve still hid in the Upper Room, confused and terrified. 

And even worse, he was betrayed with a kiss by Judas Iscariot, the apostle who had been entrusted with the money. 

These memories are painful. Nor did the betrayals end with the first disciples of Jesus; every generation of the Church has experienced innumerable scandals, embarrassments, and criminal offences which sabotage our mission. They occur within the highest levels of the Church and within the intimate privacy of the poorest homes. 

But the Gospel is preached nonetheless and every generation sees new disciples raised apparently from these very stones. For, as the poet Alexander Pope said, "Hope springs eternal within the human breast / Man never is, but always to be blest." 

If we argue that the beauty and majesty of creation demonstrates the superabundant authority of God, we can also say that the mercy each of us have found in our lives -- his healing forgiveness of our sins and his benevolent, long-suffering patience -- prove beyond all doubt the Lord's astonishing goodness. That truth is all the more convincing when we attest to it before others. 

Memorial of Saint Francis de Sales, Bishop and Doctor of the Church

 Lectionary: 319

In all my wanderings everywhere among the children of Israel,
did I ever utter a word to any one of the judges
whom I charged to tend my people Israel, to ask:
Why have you not built me a house of cedar?'

Since long before the birth of Jesus, and ever since his resurrection, we have tried to build splendid buildings as appropriate dwellings for the Lord God of Heaven and Earth. And we've always known how badly we fail. The glory of God would make the Hope Diamond look like a lump of coal. 

God's word to Nathan in today's first reading reminds me of the manger in which Jesus lay. 

On Christmas Day, as I celebrated the Mass of Dawn and proclaimed the Gospel, I felt an urgent question arise within me, "And then what happened?" 

For reasons I do not know -- and I'm sure they're good -- the Vigil (or Midnight) Mass leaves us hanging with only the first part of Saint Luke's narrative. We're told that Mary brought forth her first born son and laid him in a manger because there was no room in the inn. And then we hear the angels tell the shepherds they should go look for the sign, that is a child lying in a manger. And then...? 

If you come back in the morning to celebrate the Mass at Dawn, you'll hear that the shepherds immediately decided to "go to Bethlehem to see this thing that has taken place."  Arriving there they "found Mary and Joseph, and the infant lying in the manger."

With the complete text, we've heard the word manger three times; and whenever we hear something three times in the Bible, that means we should sit up and take notice of it. It's really important. 

Actually, we have noticed and millions of sermons have been preached about the inhospitality of the inn in Bethlehem -- an institution which should specialize in hospitality. ("We'll leave the light on for you!") My beef is with the editors of the lectionary who give us snatches of a story and draw our attention to something less important than the gist of the story.  

The manger, like the Lord's crown of thorns, his borrowed tomb, and Jerusalem's temple, reveal the Lord's glory far better than a splendid cathedral, basilica, or temple ever could. In the scriptures, humble circumstances provide a foil for the brilliance that is God. Faith sees God more clearly in that apocalyptic (a word meaning revealing) darkness. The murder of John the Baptist and of Bethlehem's innocent boys complement the death of the Messiah; their darkness is overpowering brilliance. 

When the centurion sees the light shining in deep darkness, he declares, "Truly this was the Son of God!" 

David would build a temple to show the Lord's glory; we also build churches, cathedrals, and basilicas to provide the world with a glimpse of God's beauty, but his glory shines more brilliantly in our humble service to the least among us.

Tuesday of the Third Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 318

For whoever does the will of God
is my brother and sister and mother."

Our first reading concerns David, the ancestor of Joseph and Jesus; and the gospel speaks of that king's descendants who have serious misgivings about their royal son. 

You might remember that, following the arrival of the Ark of the Covenant in Jerusalem, David's wife Michal, the daughter of Saul, scolded him for making such a fool of himself in front of serving girls. He, in turn, banished her from his household and never spoke to her again. As Katherine Hepburn, in the role of Eleanor of Aquitaine, said in "The Lion in Winter," after one especially violent quarrel with King Henry II, "Every family has its ups and downs." 

David's descendants were no different; and the Lord had to deal with his people like everyone else. And so we can learn from him about family life. 

But, first we should understand: one of Saint Mark's dominant themes is the total surrender of Jesus to his mission as the Messiah. That obedience entails desolation. The price of our salvation is more than God can afford; it requires the Lord's utter abandonment of every kind of familial, social, or emotional support. He must be hated by religious authorities, abandoned by his disciples, distanced by his family, and despised by representatives in every level of government. He must die on a cross; that is, he must be lifted off the Earth as if we don't want him here. But neither is he accepted by heaven; and so we find him suspended in that place between, a place without life or meaning, and we hear his cry, "My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?" 

He is recognized as the Son of God only after his death, and by the manner of his death. Nothing he said or done until now overcame his disciple's cowardice, his family's misgivings, or the world's hostility. That recognition finally came from an apparent enemy, the centurion who oversaw his execution. And it would be confirmed by the Father's intervention as he was raised on the third day, long after hope had gone elsewhere. 

This story of Jesus reminds us that our relations with our family must also begin in our obedience to God. Every child should learn that they are not the center of their mother's or father's existence. That position belongs to God. Their parents are assigned the responsibility of raising, protecting, and educating them by the Lord. And they in turn must accept the God who prepares them for his service. The family that prays together honors the Lord who is their head. 

Jesus left his family as he set out on that Gospel Road toward Jerusalem. They had to sacrifice the delight they felt in his presence for a higher good, which was the salvation of the world. Every family also learns to make sacrifices for the Lord. They might set attainable goals like the education and formation of their children; or they might not know why they must pay so dearly for apparently small profit. It's all in service of the Lord. 

Mary appears in this story, and something should be said about that. The Evangelist includes her among Jesus's family, anticipating his teaching: 

"Here are my mother and my brothers.

For whoever does the will of God

is my brother and sister and mother." 

Disciples of Jesus find more than a fellowship in the Church. We are family. We might not care much for one another; but, in fact, we belong intensely to one another. Our belonging is not voluntary. Can a leg walk away from the  body, or an eye see without a face around it? No one can walk away from the covenant God has made with us, nor can anyone claim an exclusive or singular relationship with God. Not even the Mother of God can distance herself from her family when she finds herself taken along to confront their unruly child. 

Day of Prayer for the Legal Protection of Unborn Children

Lectionary: 516

Hear me, O coastlands,
listen, O distant peoples.
The LORD called me from birth,
from my mother's womb he gave me my name.

Abortions, it would seem, happen without human intervention. A woman feels compelled to terminate her pregnancy due to certain ineluctable forces. They may be financial considerations, social or familial pressure, requirements of her career, or emotional fragility. She has no choice; the unborn cannot live. 

Twenty-eight states have "three strikes laws," which deny a judge the authority to show mercy to a felon after their third conviction. Offenders are imprisoned without parole for the rest of their lives. The law is applied automatically, like the functions of a machine, without human interference, 

Sister Helen Prejean CSJ, an advocate for condemned prisoners on death row, has pointed out that no one makes the decision to take the life of people on death row. Although they are trapped, unarmed, and defenseless -- effectively harmless -- they are executed without mercy. 

When they were tried, the judge and jury convicted them with the assurance that their decision would be challenged in a higher court. They were not responsible for the death. The appellate court did not condemn the convict; they only found that the proper procedures had been followed; the lower court's decision was not overturned. Later -- usually several years later -- the state governor did not block the decision despite innumerable appeals for clemency from local, state, federal, and international parties. These elected officials could not risk their office or career for a convicted killer. The prison wardens and staff carried out the sentence because it was their duty; they had no say in the decision. No one decided to kill the condemned persons, but they died.

However: 

In 2015 Kim Davis, a county clerk in Kentucky, refused a marriage certificate to two gay persons. Her decision was overthrown by a court and she is being sued by the offended "couple."

Shenna Bellows, Maine’s secretary of state, has decided that Donald Trump is not eligible to run for the Office of President of the United States because of his involvement in the insurrection of January 6, 2021. Her decision will be tested by the Supreme Court but, in the meanwhile, it stands. 

I  recall these five stories as I hear Isaiah's promise of a Messiah. This One will make choices and a difference. He will not be controlled by the limits of an office, by political or financial considerations, or by certain ineluctable forces. There will be no bureaucracy, policy, or standard operating procedure to tell him what he must do. 

But he will not act arbitrarily; he will be governed by his love for, and obedience to, the God he knows as Abba. 

We're all familiar with Saint Paul's complaints against the Pharisees and their Law. The Apostle had met the Lord on the road to Damascus. He found freedom in knowing Jesus Christ; and he would not be misled by anything as impersonal as "the Law." He loved his Jewish people and was loyal to their tradition because the core of that ancient way of life is the Messiah, Jesus Christ. 

The Catholic Church and its many allies challenge the forces which strip human life of its humanity, forcing it into a mode of automatic, impersonal, irresistible decisions that have already been made and cannot be reversed. These demonic powers demand abortion, capital punishment, weapons of mass destruction, and euthanasia. They insist that we have no choice but to fight, kill, and go to war against our enemies, whether they are Russian imperialists or unborn babies. 

Some anthropologists describe an arc of evolution guided by human decisions which created the human being as we know it. They urge a more intentional, deliberate course of action, guided by the best scientific theories and data. They promise an end to poverty and injustice as the species finally attains rationality. Theories like original sin and divine intervention will be shown as irrelevant and misguided. There will be no need for the hypothesis of God. 

Their goal is eugenics. But eugenics is no longer the effort to purify the Caucasian race; it would remake the human being into a plastic, manipulable organism which cooperates with bureaucratic regulations and its own destruction.  

Individuals like Sister Helen Prejean, Kim Davis, and Shenna Bellows still make a difference. As we choose human life in all its manifestations -- from conception to birth to natural death -- we obey the God who created us to know, love, and serve him in this world, and be with him in the next. 

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 68

After John had been arrested,
Jesus came to Galilee proclaiming the gospel of God:
"This is the time of fulfillment.
The kingdom of God is at hand.
Repent, and believe in the gospel."

A quadrennial year again invites us to settle into a state of crisis. On or before Tuesday, November 5, Americans will select their state and federal legislators and, by a more complicated electoral process, the next president of the United States. This particular election might be unique as we watch the same presidential candidates of 2020 square off against each other. But history does not repeat itself; four years make a difference;  and our choices will be different even if the outcome is the same. 

Today's scripture readings from Jonah, First Corinthians, and the Gospel of Mark contribute to our sense of urgency. Saint Paul fairly shouts at us, "I tell you, brothers and sisters, the time is running out." We hear emergency in Saint Mark's repeated word immediately; and in Jesus's proclamation "This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the gospel."

Jonah gave notice of forty days until Nineveh's utter destruction. He too reminds us that time is running out. Millions of people, alive today, will see no tomorrow. And many of them on this pleasant Sunday in mid-January, do not know it. 

Any civilized society must cultivate this paradox: we should plan and act as if tomorrow is just as certain as yesterday, but we should know that everything can change in the twinkling of an eye. Accidents are rarely foreseen, but they occur often. Most don't change anything, but some are irreversible and catastrophic. We build infrastructure for dependability; we create fixed incomes, warranties, and insurance policies to normalize daily life. But we also conduct emergency drills so that we and our loved ones will know what to do should a building catch fire, the earth tremble, or a storm assail us. More recently, we expect a shooter to enter our schools, churches, and shopping centers and we rehearse our responses. The NRA has won that contest and we might as well get used to it. 

Our religion too, cultivates the paradox. Religion is, by its nature, conservative. It remembers and honors the past; and insists that future generations be familiar with today's traditions. Our Abrahamic faith reminds us of God's immediate authority; he appraises our righteousness, condemns our wickedness, and overlooks nothing. The Lord remembers the fidelity of our ancestors; but he also recalls our sins even when we don't. The Lord can forget our righteousness:

And if the just turn from justice and do evil, like all the abominations the wicked do, can they do this evil and still live? None of the justice they did shall be remembered, because they acted treacherously and committed these sins; because of this, they shall die. Ezekiel 18:24

But Christianity also anticipates an extraordinary future, like nothing we've ever dreamed of. Jesus's preaching began with an announcement, a promise,  and a warning: 

This is the time of fulfillment.

The kingdom of God is at hand.

Repent, and believe in the gospel."

Hearing the Lord's proclamation of great things to come, we do as his contemporaries did: we confess our sins and ask God's mercy.

No one can call themself Christian who is not aware of their sins, both personal and collective. We have sinned; we and our ancestors have sinned. We live and actively participate in sinful systems that exploit the earth and its people. Even if most of us are not wealthy by any standard, we support those attitudes, policies, and procedures that maintain inequality, even when they are arbitrary and cruel. We might say we have no choice, but this is the world we have created. And it's the world we give our children. 

Some would dismiss the crimes of the past as "history," as if they no longer mean anything, as if God should have forgotten that sorry business by now. But history is endless; we live within an unfinished story like fish in water. 

The prophet Micah recorded our whining and complaining, and our absurd helplessness in the face of our corrupt society. The people cry, 

With what shall I come before the LORD,

and bow before God most high?

Shall I come before him with burnt offerings,

with calves a year old?

Will the LORD be pleased with thousands of rams,

with myriad streams of oil?

Shall I give my firstborn for my crime,

the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?

And he delivered the Lord's equally ferocious reply:

You have been told, O mortal, what is good,

and what the LORD requires of you:

Only to do justice and to love goodness,

and to walk humbly with your God. Micah 6:6-8

As we enter this quadrennial year of decision, as the nations watch and wait for that fateful day in November, we hear the Lord's announcement, we remember our sins, and we ponder the promise of peace for those who do justice, love goodness, and walk humbly with their God. 

Saturday of the Second Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 316

“How can the warriors have fallen–
in the thick of the battle,
slain upon your heights!
“I grieve for you, Jonathan my brother!
most dear have you been to me;
more precious have I held love for you than love for women.
“How can the warriors have fallen,
the weapons of war have perished!”

Coming to the VA hospital as a non-veteran chaplain, I had never heard the expression, battle buddies.  I had to learn that men and women are given a baptism of fire in combat that creates intense bonds between them. A warrior's buddy who fought side by side and back to back with him in a kill zone may be more dear to him than his sister, girlfriend, wife, or daughter. Years later, a Combat Veteran's spouse may learn that they were not there, and cannot know what their battle buddies mean to them.  

Unfortunately, a sexually obsessed culture, fascinated by bizarre human behavior and ignorant of military experience, can misread David's grief over the death of Jonathan. According to a 2021 Army study, 75% of Americans aged 16-28 know little to nothing about the Army. Homosexuals have read the story in 1 Samuel through an ideology that sexualizes all human interaction. And then they try to prove that homosexual behavior has always been normal and, in some societies, perfectly acceptable.

 

I, for one, don't buy it. True, the behavior has always been there; the Bible attests to that. But as normal, healthy, and natural? I don't think so. As something people do under stressful conditions like intense trauma or inebriation? Yes, it can happen. Sailors isolated from women for months at a time, stressed with intense work, relaxing with alcohol, caffeine, nicotine, and other substances, do strange things. Human beings have vivid imagination and can entertain themselves with anything. 

But normal like a norm for human behavior? 

I don't think so. 

Blessed? No. 

Secondly, we should notice that the Bible is not familiar with ideologies. They are the misbegotten children of Romanticism and the Enlightenment. An ideology says, "This is the way the world should be!" and assesses everything according to that artificial standard. It also discovers minorities where there were only people. Karl Marx created the ideology of the working class who are supposedly exploited by wealthy capitalists. It makes sense to a lot of people; it explains a lot of their experience. But it also demonizes a lot of good people, both the wealthy and those who don't buy the theory. 

An ideology goes on to create a counter-ideology, a fantasy enemy who lives by an opposite principle. Thus a wealthy person becomes a capitalist, a man becomes a chauvinist, a heterosexual person is homophobic, and so forth. Each of these enemies supposedly believes, and has always believed, in their inherent superiority over their unfortunate enemy. 

Ideologies create minorities like race, ethnicity, gender, sexual- and gender-preference. Feeling like victims, or persuaded that they are victims, people discover their anger; some organize into political blocs. Anyone can be a minority. Military veterans, people with disabilities, Catholics, gun owners, or lonely men see a world of us and them. Eventually even the wealthiest, most influential people decide they too are victims. 

And victims are dangerous people; their anger justifies their violence. 

Ideologies have their purpose. Like ultraviolet light which can reveal features invisible to ordinary light, an ideology can discover virtue or malice where they were overlooked. The Civil Rights Movement clearly revealed racism and its roots in society and religion. It's a useful tool, but not the answer to every question.

The Bible celebrates the love of God for the children of Abraham and their mission to the whole world. But it's not ideologically written and not everything in it makes perfect sense by any particular standard. There are many contradictions in it. If you're looking for a Gold Standard of Truth, which you might call The Gospel, you'll be disappointed. The Word of God is more mysterious than our most subtle ideology. 

The Bible knows that God's people should be holy, they are called to holiness. And it knows they fail to be holy. The Chosen will suffer God's punishment for their impiety, and will suffer the world's abuse for being set apart. 

An ideology justifies its members and its hatred; the Bible does not. Believers can never say, "Thank God I am not like the rest of men" (Luke 18:11) for they are not. Rather, they are grateful for their knowledge of God who is good, all good, supreme good. 

Unlike ideologues, they have animosity toward none.

Friday of the Second Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 315

He said to his men,
"The LORD forbid that I should do such a thing to my master,
the LORD's anointed, as to lay a hand on him,
for he is the LORD's anointed."
With these words David restrained his men
and would not permit them to attack Saul.

Warriors do not lack reverence for their enemies, as David demonstrates in today's reading from First Samuel. In many ways, this kind of piety is common sense. 

First, the man who aspires to rule should not kill the ruler; it sets a very bad example which can only be copied by those who would follow him. President Biden must ponder that dilemma as his opponent faces criminal charges. The Republican party would impeach him simply because the Democrats impeached Trump, following the Republican impeachment of Bill Clinton, which was payback for the impeachment of Richard Nixon. David knew instinctively this was not the path to success. 

But he was also following the practice of his faith which remembered that Abraham's descendants are sheltered under the aegis of the LORD. God will not permit the nations to invade, oppress, or destroy his people so long as they are holy as God is holy. As God's chosen king, Saul especially enjoyed that protection, at least from the devout David, if not from the Philistines. Armies and warriors with a basic sense of decency (or reverence) do not engage in senseless killing. Christian warriors who must defend their country do not kill indiscriminately. 

The Church remembers the protection of God as she sends her missionaries throughout the world. They are sent to bring the Good News of Jesus; and may, like the martyrs of every age, encounter opposition. So long as they do not think of themselves or their habits as superior to the people they serve, they can expect to find welcome. The Lord who can raise a faithful people "from these very stones" will open hearts before them. 

As Catholics in the United States, we too live in a foreign culture which has little sympathy for, and less knowledge of, the Gospel; but there are people eager to know the Lord and the truth we live by. Let's not be shy about our faith; we're here for a reason.

Thursday of the Second Week in Ordinary Time

The Week of Prayer for the Unity of Christians
begins today

Lectionary: 314

Saul was very angry and resentful of the song, for he thought:
“They give David ten thousands, but only thousands to me.
All that remains for him is the kingship.”
And from that day on, Saul was jealous of David.

We can suppose that Saul's hostility toward David began even before he heard the village girls idolizing the handsome young hero. Saul had not stepped forward to face the Philistine warrior Goliath. Had he done so, he would have worn his full armor; he would have carried more than a shepherd's sling and a handful of pebbles. He might not have charged the giant as David did, nor would he have shouted, 

“You come against me with sword and spear and scimitar, but I come against you in the name of the LORD of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel whom you have insulted.... 

"All this multitude, too, shall learn that it is not by sword or spear that the LORD saves. For the battle belongs to the LORD, who shall deliver you into our hands."

Saul would have boasted like Goliath of his coming triumph. Despite Samuel's anointing, Saul did not rely on God when he faced a massive threat. Like many future kings of Israel, he trusted his own intelligence and the resources at hand when his authority was challenged or his people threatened. Prayer was his last resort, if and when all else fails.

Abandoned by God's spirit because of his infidelity, the tragic king was possessed by a jealous spirit. He had to guard his leadership rather than share it with his very capable lieutenant.  He would not thank God for raising up a champion from among his farmer-soldiers to defend the chosen people. 

I have found a simple cure for jealousy and envy. (There is a difference, by the way: jealousy concerns what I have and fear losing; envy is what I don't have but others do. Saul was jealous of his authority and feared David's taking it from him. He envied the hero-worship the nubile maidens gave to David.) 

When we're afflicted with either jealousy or envy, we should direct our gaze upon the Virgin Mary. The Lord selected this flower of her race to be immaculately conceived. That is, from the moment of her conception she was without sin; and she lived her entire life with all its disappointments, heartaches, fears, and threats, without a moment of doubt in God's merciful authority. She believed in God; she felt his presence; she relied on his Spirit; she let her heart, soul, mind, and strength be directed by obedience to the Lord at every moment of her life.

This was obviously a singular grace; only her Son was more blessed. (Infinitely more blessed as the Only Begotten Son of God!) 

As we contemplate the gift of Immaculate Conception, and remember her blessedness as the Lord's mother, we can admire her and sing her praises. Like her kinswoman Elizabeth we can say, "Most blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb." 

We should remember that Immaculate Conception was God's gift to the Earth and all its peoples, and its purpose was to create a worthy vessel for the birth of God's Son. And we should remember how dearly this woman paid for the privilege. 

Who would envy the privilege of seeing one's son shunned by heaven and despised by earth as he dies on a cross? If I faced a similar trial would I pray with the young champion, "Father, forgive them?" 

Contemplating Our Lady of Sorrows, no one would envy her privilege. But we can share her grace when we say to her, "You are most blessed among all women!" 

We can thank God for giving us such a mother and say with Elizabeth, "And how does this happen to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?"

We can readily obey the Angel's command to Joseph, "Do not be afraid to take Mary into your home!" for we have heard Our Savior's last word, "Behold your Mother!" 

Jealousy and envy flee like a routed Philistine army before the image of Mary. They leave us chastened and grateful that God has triumphed again, and set us free. 

Memorial of Saint Anthony, Abbot

St.Anthony assaulted by devils

 Lectionary: 313

"Is it lawful to do good on the sabbath rather than to do evil,
to save life rather than to destroy it?"

Our scripture readings today describe two situations of combat. The first story is about a fight to the death between warriors; the second concerns an argument with deadly consequences. In both cases, we who hear them must take a great interest in the outcome; our faith hangs in the balance.

In "the best of all possible worlds," combat would not be necessary. Reason and good will should prevail. I know people who would like to live in that better world; they grieve continually about its loss, or its failure to appear. 

But I also know people who choose to live in this world and have made their peace with it. I would not call it a choice between the real world and worlds that should exist. I am not sure what people mean by real, reality, true, or truth. But I have seen conflict in this world where I have also met the Lord. 

In his Iliad, Homer describes a contest between Menelaus and Paris not unlike that of David and Goliath. Two armies, weary of warfare after a ten year struggle, and with nothing to show for it, select champions; their duel should settle their differences. Paris had kidnapped Helen, the wife of Menelaus, who seemed all too willing to be kidnapped by the charming Trojan. But she had tired of him after ten years and missed her homeland and her husband. Not many Trojans would grieve the loss of the handsome couple if the aggrieved husband slew the thief and took his wife home. Unfortunately, the meddlesome gods intervene and the dreary siege of Troy continues for several more years. 

The story of David and Goliath is more plausible. The Philistines were accustomed to pillaging the fields, livestock, and storehouses of the Hebrews, but they had finally met enough resistance that they tried a different tact. The Hebrew farmers would surrender and go home if a Philistine champion were to kill the Hebrew champion. The equally exhausted Hebrews had little choice but not even Saul, who enjoyed God's particular protection, would fight Goliath. 

And so the lad David, with the bravado of youth and the assurance of Samuel's secret anointing,  stepped forward. The Hebrews could afford the loss. "Why not let the boy have a go at it?" 

The denouement is not implausible either; history records many stranger incidents. The shepherd boy killed the battle-hardened warrior and the unnerved Philistines fled. Eventually, as Saul's star descended and David's rose, the Hebrews captured Jerusalem, subdued the Philistines, and built a a small but significant nation amid the superpowers of Egypt, Assyria, and Mesopotamia. 

Modern romantics might wish that God's selection of Abraham's children should have protected them from the greedy, violent peoples they encountered. Can't God manage things without warfare? But the Scriptures remember the sins that betrayed God's covenant and left them vulnerable to alien encroachment. They also remember the heroes whom the Lord appointed; they were capable, sinful, virtuous and foolish; and appeared at the right moment to effect God's purposes. The list includes men and women, Jews and gentiles, slaves and emperors, warriors and martyrs. 

Sometimes combat is necessary; despite its horror. It leaves lasting damage in victims and victors, and is never glorious. If we fight, it's only with the hope that it will finally be justified when the lion lies down with the lamb, and every sword is turned to a plowshare.