Feast of the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary

Lectionary: 572

Shout for joy, O daughter Zion!
Sing joyfully, O Israel!
Be glad and exult with all your heart,
O daughter Jerusalem!
The LORD has removed the judgment against you, he has turned away your enemies...

Along with everything else that's wonderful about the Virgin Mary's visit to Elizabeth, we should celebrate the gift of her song, the Magnificat. It's very dear to our tradition, and is sung or recited daily during the Evening Prayer (Vespers.) It's a prayer whose depth, meaning, and beauty only grow with constant repetition. 

The song appears in Saint Luke's infancy narrative and, to my mind, is the high point of that story. After Elizabeth's greeting and Mary's song, the births of John and Jesus are almost anticlimactic. I say that because of Luke's arrangement of five incidents into a single narrative. Two incidents concern John the Baptist: his annunciation and his birth. Two concern Jesus: his annunciation and his birth. And one -- the Visitation -- concerns both. It's the third of five stories, and the crossroads or meeting point where four stories about two women and their two sons come together and become a single marvelous history. 

The Visitation also gives us a most important testimony about Mary and her Son, "Blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of your womb." We recite that phrase many times a day with the Hail Mary. Speaking for the city of Jerusalem, Elizabeth welcomed the Son of God and his mother.  Elizabeth's exultant greeting might be the sounding trumpets for the Lord. With no less enthusiasm, a few months later, Simeon and Anna would welcome the mother and son to God's temple in Jerusalem. 

If the Bible is a universe where we find ourselves in God's eternal presence, the New Testament is a holy city, and the Gospels are its temple: the Magnificat might be a little portion, a Portiuncula, within the temple. Here we meet our Mother Mary face to face as she opens her heart to our coming. Daily, during Vespers, we take our place there and recite with her, "My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord...."

The first verses are about God's goodness to her, and to every Christian; and we must sing with her,

...my spirit rejoices in God my savior.

For he has looked upon his handmaid’s lowliness;

behold, all ages will call me blessed.

The Mighty One has done great things for me,

and holy is his name.

Even as we sing about God's goodness to Mary and to each of us, we're soon distracted away from ourselves to glory in God's sovereign, all-powerful mercy:

His mercy is from age to age

 to those who fear him.

He has shown might with his arm,

 dispersed the arrogant of mind and heart.

He has thrown down the rulers from their thrones

 but lifted up the lowly.

The hungry he has filled with good things;

 the rich he has sent away empty.

He has helped Israel his servant,

 remembering his mercy,

according to his promise to our fathers,

 to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”

 

Thursday of the Eighth Week in Ordinary Time

 Evening comes to Lake Mount Saint Francis 

Lectionary: 350

Like newborn infants, long for pure spiritual milk
so that through it you may grow into salvation,
for you have tasted that the Lord is good.

The first missionaries of the Gospel soon discovered the immaturity of new Christians who were eager for the Lord, eager to be accepted as adult members of the community, and eager to promote this new religion; even when their grasp of faith's demands and the new Law of the Spirit was rudimentary at best. Alcoholics Anonymous knows the problem of "two-steppers."  People take Step One (accepting they are powerless in their addiction) and then jump directly to Step Twelve (promoting AA) without the in-between steps where the hard work lies. They try to pass along something they themselves have not yet received.

The missionaries said these new Christians cannot consume the solid meat of our religion; they need spiritual milk to bring them along. Saint Paul warned his Corinthian congregation,

Brothers, I could not talk to you as spiritual people, but as fleshly people, as infants in Christ. I fed you milk, not solid food, because you were unable to take it. Indeed, you are still not able, even now,for you are still of the flesh. While there is jealousy and rivalry among you, are you not of the flesh, and behaving in an ordinary human way? 

The Author of the Letter to the Hebrews also complained:

About this we have much to say, and it is difficult to explain, for you have become sluggish in hearing. Although you should be teachers by this time, you need to have someone teach you again the basic elements of the utterances of God. You need milk, [and] not solid food. Everyone who lives on milk lacks experience of the word of righteousness, for he is a child. But solid food is for the mature, for those whose faculties are trained by practice to discern good and evil.

In our time, the problem is compounded when spiritually illiterate "former" Catholics take what little they know and scold the Church with their own bizarre notions of our beliefs, prayers, and traditions. Their ignorance is most flagrant when they suppose they can renounce their Baptism. 

Catholics continually seek deeper understanding of our faith. Unlike other denominations, we do not pick and choose our beliefs. If we think we disagree with a certain teaching, we owe it to ourselves and those around us to do the work and discover the truth that God has revealed to his Church.  

Hearing, "Unless you eat my flesh and drink my blood you do not have life within me" we search for its meaning and its challenge. We ask more than, "What does this mean to me?" for the standard of my understanding is pathetically narrow. Rather, we dive into it like a scuba diver exploring a bottomless pool in a cave deep underground. The Lord's words become palatable food for us as we let it alter our spiritual metabolism until we can say, I live no longer but Christ lives in me. 

Recently I have been fascinated by the life and writings of Edith Stein, Jewish convert, Holocaust victim, Carmelite nun, and canonized as Saint Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, Raised in a devout Jewish household, she was affectionate to her friends and family but intensely devoted to her philosophical studies. As the Nazi ideology systematically curtailed her teaching career, the Lord first led her into Catholicism and then into a Carmelite cloister. There she relentlessly continued her search of the divine mysteries God has revealed through the writings of Saints Theresa of Avila, Saint John of the Cross, and Saint Therese Lisieux. She found the truth endlessly fascinating, beautiful, and delightful even as the Nazis drove her from her homeland to Belgium. They arrested her there; she died at Auschwitz. 

Catholics study the lives of saints because they have outgrown the pap of popular religion and eaten the solid meat revealed through the life, teachings, death and resurrection of Our Lord Jesus Christ. Our hunger for more and deeper understanding is never satisfied. 

Optional Memorial of Saint Paul VI, Pope

Lectionary: 349

Realize that you were ransomed from your futile conduct,
handed on by your ancestors,
not with perishable things like silver or gold but with the precious Blood of Christ as of a spotless unblemished Lamb.

Yesterday Saint Peter reminded us of the ancestors who "prophesied about the grace that was to be yours." Today, we hear him speak of our ancestors who sinned and bequeathed their futile way of life to us. In this case, he is speaking to gentiles whose ancestors knew nothing of Abraham and the covenant with God. But the same standards might apply to the Pharisees who idolized the Law of God rather than God. Their attempts to live without attention to God's spirit also doomed their lives to futility. 

Given a culture which cannot imagine beyond itself, we cannot escape the legacy of past sins. We can neither see the full dimensions of a culture so invested in control, dominance, and power, nor enjoy the freedom offered to us in Christ. 

And so Saint Peter employs graphic imagery to arouse our imaginations and show us something we can hardly imagine -- that we have been purchased with the Precious Blood of Christ. 

The Roman world was familiar with slavery although theirs was not as barbaric as the American experience. The purchase price of millions of men, women, and children was assessed with standards of silver and gold -- much like today. Everyone knows the price of a professional athlete, some CEOs are worth  billions to their corporations though they work no harder than anyone else. Young people are told to develop and sell their brand, some sort of marketable, fungible identity. It should be cultivated in a virtual marketplace where celebrities appear one day in a starry firmament and disappear the following day, leaving no trace. 

The Lord's disciples turn their back on this world's illusions to discover their true worth in God's sight, "the precious Blood of Christ as of a spotless unblemished Lamb." Jewish Christians in his congregation knew that unblemished lambs were preferred in the temple sacrifice. Exodus insisted, "Your lamb must be a year-old male and without blemish." (12:5). We can suppose that gentiles were also familiar with the darling qualities of a lamb whose wool was as white as the snow. Even today, I don't recall seeing images of spotted lambs. (But there they are on the Internet!) 

And the Roman world was too familiar with crucifixion. Romans used it to punish malefactors, and signal their complete control of cities and citizens. Americans still hope they can purify their society with the use of capital punishment, a form of human sacrifice. 

Our faith invites us to consider our worth in God's sight as we gaze upon the cross of Christ. He has considered our salvation worth his agony and death. He has done so at the behest of his Father who so loved the world. Even as the world routinely buys, sells, uses, abuses, and discards human beings regardless of their personal dignity, regardless of their identity as beloved children, parents, siblings, and grandchildren -- we see the Cross of Christ rising like the sun over the pagan marketplace to reveal our worth in God's sight. 

We can realize our worth only in the light of the Cross, and we can see others only through the eyes of him who gazes upon the world from his Cross. Nor should we be surprised that the world does not see what we have seen with our eyes, what we looked upon, and touched with our hands. It concerns the Word of life. 

They might coo over spotless lambs, darling ducklings, suckling piglets, frisky puppies, and sleeping children. But they cannot see what is fiercely apparent to the eyes of faith. 

Tuesday of the Eighth Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 348

Concerning the salvation of your souls....
it was revealed to them that [the prophets] were serving not themselves but you with regard to the things that have now been announced to you by those who preached the Good News to you
through the Holy Spirit sent from heaven, things into which angels longed to look.

Often, when we assess our own contribution in whatever field it might be, we admit, "We're standing on the shoulders of giants." As clever as we might be, we're always building on the discoveries, invention, genius, effort, and sacrifice of our ancestors.  

As the early Church tried to grasp the full dimensions of the Gospel, they too appreciated the gifts of the past. Christian evangelists, preachers, and teachers studied the Hebrew laws, histories, prophets, psalms, and proverbs which past generations had accumulated, pondered, refined, and cherished. They realized they were living the dream of their forebears. The promises of the prophetic tradition were fulfilled in Jesus for those who lived by his Spirit. As they practiced their faith amid a hostile, suspicious society, their joy and confidence astounded even them. Although their new life included much hardship, it was deeply satisfying and profoundly hopeful.  

The prophets had "searched and investigated the grace" centuries before, like miners working a seam, or scholars poring over their books. If their insight was not as clear and as compelling as the one the Church had received through the preaching of the Gospel, the ancients were nonetheless divinely inspired and zealous in their love of God. 

Whether I'm standing on the shoulders of giants or living the fullness of Christ's life, I confess that, "My life did not begin the day I was born." The sources of my faith are deeper and their meaning richer than anything I can appreciate or express. And that's when we turn to prayer and especially to liturgical prayer with others. 

I might not know the meaning of every word of the psalms or every gesture in the Mass. But I share each verse of every song with faithful men and women who lived centuries ago. Our prayers look forward also, and will be received and celebrated long after our day has passed. 

And, we should add, we share the same human anxieties. If we no longer suspect witches, smiths, and wizards like our Irish ancestors when something goes wrong, we call them conspiracies. It amounts to the same thing; there are forces operating in me and around me, I have no control of them. Like my ancestors and descendants, I turn to God for help. 

Finally, our prayers tell us that former generations faced more challenges and worse threats and that's why they remain with us. The martyrs and saints still pray with us, and we are grateful for their company. 

Monday of the Eighth Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 347

Jesus looked around and said to his disciples,
"How hard it is for those who have wealth
to enter the Kingdom of God!"
The disciples were amazed at his words.

In his novel Hawaii, James Michener recalled a Hawaiian expression about the first Christian missionaries from New England. "They came to do good, and they did very well." 

The married ministers raised their American children to expect the same opportunities and entitlements as their parents. Those who didn't become pastors became successful businessmen, bankers, and lawyers. And they prospered. If the first generation relied on God's providence and support from home, their children and grandchildren did very well without either.

That seems to be a truism of Protestantism in America. Catholicism has traditionally been skeptical of wealth, success, and prosperity; while the "Protestant work ethic" expects that virtues like hard work, efficiency, and dedication will be rewarded in this world and the next. 

As I have followed the headlines through the past several decades about the latest scandals, and remembered that Hawaiian aphorism, I have sometimes suggested, "If you hope to do well by doing good, be careful. Be very careful." 

Headlines about the pharmaceutical industry especially raise eyebrows nowadays. We'll be a long time recovering from the remarkable success of opioid sales. The manufacturers of these dubious cures for pain bought influence in state and national capitals. The Joint Commission, a nonprofit organization which oversees 22,000 health organizations in the United States, combed the hospitals and sounded the alarm about any patient who suffered discomfort. "No one should ever be in pain!" they decreed; and nurses and doctors were told to make sure it never happened. Many patients have never recovered from the addictive medicines their doctors pushed on them, and some have died. 

But the American pharmaceutical industry, salespeople, and pill pushing doctors did very well. 

The economic crash of 2008 was brought on by reputable banks who urged poor people to accept huge loans, and then sold their debts to shadier operations. (Who knew that their debts could be bought, sold, and traded?) And I remember when farmers were going bankrupt in the early 1980's after accepting fistfuls of dollars to buy more acreage and larger machines. 

I also remember when multinational institutions loaned money to corrupt national leaders in "third world countries." When the tinpot dictators absconded with the funds -- some like Idi Amin were rescued from "terrorists" and whisked to safety by wealthy friends -- leaving their impoverished nations leaderless and desolate. 

But isn't lending money to poor people and impoverished nations a good thing? And profitable for everyone? And isn't selling painkillers a blessed thing? 

If you expect to do well by doing good, be very careful. Be very careful. 

In his book Crazy Like Us, Ethan Watters reports that highly paid university professors who accepted enormous gifts as well as luxurious vacations from Big Pharma replied, when asked about the ethical dimensions of their giving advice, "If I had not done it, someone else would have." 

Wealthy, prosperous Americans may agree with that assessment. But God judges differently. 

For my thoughts are not your thoughts,

nor are your ways my ways, says the LORD. Isaiah 55:8

On this Memorial Day, we pray, 

May God remember, save, and raise up all those 

sacrificed to American wars. 

War, never again. Never again. 

The Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity 2024

Lectionary: 165

The eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had ordered them.

Only eleven disciples appeared on "the mountain to which Jesus had ordered them." One of the twelve is conspicuously absent. They are not as full of themselves and their accomplishments as they were before Judas's betrayal, Peter's denial, and Jesus's crucifixion. The Eleven are a wounded group – like the wounded, scarred Body of Jesus; and not unlike the Church. But the Lord commissioned them nonetheless, to "make disciples of all nations."

And they should do this by 

baptizing in the name of the Father,

and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,

teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.

This word is powerful. The truth of the One God and Three persons is powerful. It is sometimes demanding and intrusive. The nations might not want to hear it. Especially those who are happy with the way things are. They're comfortable, they're content. Why rock the boat? 

But more people will welcome the truth, for they know that something is seriously wrong with the way things are. Our way is not working; our accomplishments accomplish nothing; and our satisfactions are not satisfying. 

What can the doctrine of God the Father and God the Son and God the Holy Spirit teach us? What can this wounded Church teach us? 

The Eleven tell the world that our God is supremely powerful. Our God is more powerful than even his own power. And power has no authority over him. God our Father can say no to power; he can disown it; surrender it, hand it over to another. Being supremely powerful, in God's eyes, is not worth very much. 

And so the Father cedes his authority to God the Son who not only receives all authority in heaven and earth; but is also more powerful than power; and in obedience to the will of the Father and the guidance of the Holy Spirit he renders himself powerless. If Jesus is not wrapped in tight, swaddling clothes, and lying helpless in a manger he cannot save us. He must go to Jerusalem, suffer humiliation, torture, and crucifixion. Obeying his tormentors, he must carry his own cross to Calvary. He must suffer himself to be buried in someone else’s grave for he has no money to buy his own. As Saint Paul said, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped.' (Philippians 2:6)

We have never seen such authority. Our powerful people are possessed by it and cannot let it go; they are helpless before its demands. Threatened with a loss of authority and power, they fear death itself; and they make worse threats. Stripped of power they whine and snivel and say they've been cheated of what was theirs. They want their entitlements back. 

We would not believe that an all powerful God can and does surrender his authority if we had not seen it. We would not believe it if the Eleven had not obeyed the command of the Lord to baptize all nations in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. 

The truth of God's humility is demanding and often intrusive to those who will not welcome it; to those who do not love it with all their heart, soul, mind and strength. But you cannot ignore a broken back; and you cannot suppress truth no matter how much you despise it. It may be intrusive, rude, and obnoxious. It may punish those who sneer at it; but it is never arbitrary. It is reasonable, patient, and merciful. It has more time than anyone. If the Lord does not direct our work, our greatest accomplishments will disappear and be forgotten. Neither the Great Wall of China nor the pyramids of Egypt can resist the eternity of God. 

The wounded Church went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had ordered them, humiliated by their own folly and by their misguided impulses. When they announced the Gospel they made no secret of their human failings. And they remain obedient to the Mercy of God. No one should believe in a Church that clings to power, as if it owns the truth; as if it's a private possession and privilege for select men and women who have neither sinned nor admitted that they sin.

We confess our craving for power, and surrender that craving to God’s authority. Where we are given authority as parents over children and pastors over parishes, we beg for that same humble Spirit which directed Jesus throughout his life. That Spirit is wiser, more compassionate, and gentler than anything we can manage. It sees the future, which we cannot imagine, and knows where we are going. 

Saint Francis told the parable of the corpse that is declared king and crowned with a golden tiara. When the corpse is stripped of that same crown, it sheds no tears and expresses no regret.  

But, because we speak the Truth, we cannot condone falsehood or encourage deception. We hear of doctors who affirm the misguided in their confusion, and counselors who assure their clients that if it feels right it must be right. We must not encourage fools to remain in their foolishness; or sinners to remain in their sin. That pseudo-compassion which promotes abortion, assisted suicide, and mutilation of one's sexual being is neither kind nor merciful. The Lord himself warned such advisors with terrifying language. 

As we ponder the beauty and mystery of the Holy Trinity, we hope we are owned by the Truth; and, like Jesus, obedient to it. The truth will always be a heavy cross for those willing to carry it, but those who bear it can expect to wear a crown of glory. 

Saturday of the Seventh Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 346

The fervent prayer of a righteous person is very powerful.
Elijah was a man like us;
yet he prayed earnestly that it might not rain,
and for three years and six months it did not rain upon the land.
Then Elijah prayed again, and the sky gave rain
and the earth produced its fruit.

Saint Paul urges us in the oldest document of the New Testament to Pray without ceasing. Our first and easiest duty as the People of God is to pray. Out of that blessed practice flows our patience, gratitude, generosity, courage, joy, and willing abstinence from the idle distractions of modern life. 

In today's first reading, Saint James also reminds us of the duty and privilege of our prayerful life. The first sentence describes three different human conditions: suffering, good spirits, and sickness. The response to suffering is prayer with songs of praise; and to suffering, we call in the elders of the Church to pray for recovery. 

We should pray especially for the forgiveness of sins. We cannot know the mercy of God without a keen awareness of our sins. Those afflicted with ignorance of their sins may salute God from afar, as if they are fellow beings in the universe who occasionally work together on a worthwhile task. They might even take their places in the Church, like the Pharisee in Jesus's parable, and remind the Lord of their extraordinary virtue. 

But repentant sinners know their need for God's forbearance and merciful help. They may be occasionally overwhelmed by the enormity of their sins, like the saints who are given visions of their prepared places in Hell. They consider the latitude, entitlements, and privilege they've enjoyed in God's presence and their carelessness about it. In all humility they turn to the Lord again and again, like Mary Magdalene who turned away from the empty tomb and then turned to the Lord. (Saint John emphasizes her turning by using the word twice in verses 14 and 16.)

Our responsorial psalm today, Psalm 141, has been described as the prayer of a penitent who knows the need for God's guidance and discipline. Four verses enumerate God's saving work: 

1. Set a guard, LORD, before my mouth,
2. keep watch over the door of my lips.
3. Do not let my heart incline to evil, to perform deeds in wickedness.
4. Let me not feast on the delicacies of the arrogant.

As serious as these disciplines might be, they are graced with a joyous invocation, "Let my prayer come like incense before you." And they agree with Saint James advice for those in good spirits, "they should sing a song of praise." 

If a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down in the most delightful way, our daily prayer makes our continual disciplines pleasant, satisfying, and effective. They assure us of our place in heaven even as we take our assigned places and fulfill our assigned roles on earth. 

Friday of the Seventh Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 345
"...from the beginning of creation, God made them male and female.
For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother
and be joined to his wife,
and the two shall become one flesh.
So they are no longer two but one flesh.
Therefore what God has joined together,
no human being must separate."

When we're caught up in controversies, the Holy Spirit often directs our attention back to the Scriptures and the fundamental principles of human life. In the Bible we find the same perennial questions although parts of it were written in prehistoric times. They were no less wise for being without advanced technologies and a written language.

Jesus, like rabbis, ministers, deacons, and priests of every age, was asked about divorce. "Must I stay with my nagging wife?" " Must I cling to my abusive husband?" He had come to fulfill the scriptures, not to change them; and could only repeat its teaching; "from the beginning, God made them male and female." Men and women need each other and obviously belong together. They do not and cannot exist apart. 

But restless humans challenge even our own human nature; we wonder if perhaps God made a mistake in our creation. They wonder if perhaps, after all this time, we can tweak some things, make a few alterations, repurpose genes, organs, impulses, and energies to serve more practical, attainable ends. 

Recently, in an effort to appease some elements of a troubled society, many people prefer to neutralize God talk. They avoid references to God the Father because it might invoke in some people the memory of a parent who failed his basic responsibilities. "Dad" was absent to his wife and children; and his occasional presence was violent. And so some ministers have neutralized the Father of Jesus, preferring the asexual word god to father and lord. 

Reducing Jesus and his Father to a neutral god suggests there is an antagonism between male and female; as if male and female are not complementary and have no need for each other. In this brave new world, women bear children without fathers as if children are pets one can purchase when the consumer is ready to buy one. They are taken as a parental right and not as gifts from God. But when adorable puppies or kittens age into adolescence they're often dumped into city streets or onto rural farms. And millions of grandchildren are being raised by their grandparents. 

Suddenly the beloved and universally known Lord's Prayer is a Statement about the disputed masculinity of God, and not the supremely generous progenitor who sacrificed his only begotten son for our salvation. 

Medieval scholastics taught that God's nature transcends human sexuality, for only a transcendent Creator could fashion the first humans as "male and female, in his own image." That insight is neither new nor controversial. 

But, injected into Jesus's prayer, god depersonalizes the God of Abraham, Jacob, and Joseph; for we cannot imagine a person who is neither male nor female. God becomes only a principle, impulse, or energy without consciousness or concern. And we are already very familiar with impersonal forces, standard operating procedures, faceless bureaucrats, robotic voices, and thinking machines. They have no compassion; and care about nothing, least of all the sorrows and joys of men and women. 

Neutralizing God talk is intrusive, distracting the congregation from their prayer and its healing effects. I recently heard four verses in 1 John 3:21-24 reinterpreted eleven times in four verses. He became god and his became god's. It was a contortionist's performance without the humor.

The authors of scripture were very familiar with the uncaring, arbitrary gods of earth, sky, seas, and fire; and finally denied their existence: 

"I am the LORD, there is no other,  there is no God besides me." (Is 45:5)

Today we need men and women to represent the beauty, wonder, majesty, wisdom, and authority of God Our Father and his Son Jesus Christ. Marriage will always be the foundation of a stable society. Husbands and wives must demonstrate the irrevocable nature of the LORD's marriage to Israel, and Jesus's irrevocable covenant with the Church. Faithful couples raise their children to know the unearned, unmerited mercy of God. They assure them that God has not abandoned his people. His Spirit remains with us not as a vague idea but as One who directs our freedom. 

Divorce should never become normal; it is a great tragedy for millions of people. Women and children are not safer without husbands and fathers. It has led to open marriage, gay marriage, gay ideology, and finally to the absurd notion that some wicked person assigned my gender when I was born. (Whenever a Red Cross phlebotomist asks about my gender I assure her that I was male the last time I checked.)  

I believe in the Father of Jesus, but I am skeptical of anyone's "god." That was never the NAME of the One who spoke to Moses from the Burning Bush, nor was He the One whom Jesus called Abba. 

Thursday of the Seventh Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 344

"Everyone will be salted with fire.
Salt is good, but if salt becomes insipid,
with what will you restore its flavor?
Keep salt in yourselves and you will have peace with one another."

Jesus uses an odd expression in today's Gospel. How is one salted with fire? If I would make peace with others and be desirable in God's sight, how can I be salted with fire? 

Certainly, we usually salt our food, especially meat, before cooking it to make it both palatable and desirable. Processed foods are made tastier with salt, and restaurant diners insist upon lots of flavor in their food. And most dining tables feature one or more shakers should anyone want even more salt on their food. 

And I suppose there are evolutionary reasons for that. We like sapid, salty food because

"sodium chloride (NaCl), is an essential nutrient that helps the body maintain fluid and electrolyte balance, blood pressure, and cellular homeostasis. It also helps muscles contract and relax, and nerves conduct impulses. The body needs about 500 milligrams of sodium per day to perform these functions." (Google AI)

However, "Adults should have no more than 6g of salt a day (around 1 level teaspoon). This includes the salt that's already in our food and the salt added during and after cooking. Babies should not have much salt, because their kidneys are not fully developed and cannot process it." (Google AI) 

For that very reason, many people have to avoid restaurants and processed foods: 

"The primary health effect associated with diets high in sodium is raised blood pressure, increasing the risk of cardiovascular diseases, gastric cancer, obesity, osteoporosis, Meniere’s disease, and kidney disease." (World Health Organization)

Pity the poor wife who desperately tries to keep her husband healthy while he complains incessantly about her unsalted, insipid food. 

The Lord's salted with fire apparently alludes to that dual process of preparing food with fire and salt to make it desirable and enjoyable. 

But we have a similar ambivalent relationship with fire. Naked creatures that we are, unless we live in equatorial zones, we need fire to keep warm against the cold. It's more of a necessity than a luxury. But we can't get too close to the flame. And everyone has been burned. 

We know burnout; we know the burning heat of shame. We may be once burned, and twice shy after disappointment or humiliation, but grace teaches us to desire love and be loved again. We also hear of that burning desire of the mystics who describe their burning desire for God's love and God's insatiable love for us. 

Jesus's expression, "be salted with fire," speaks of intense love with its longing, fearfulness, and occasional betrayals. I used to say to the Veterans in the Substance Abuse Program, "If you turn forty and haven't screwed up yet, you ain't even trying!" Everyone needs to be burned, and will be burned, on our way to salvation. And we may even need salt poured on our wounds to heal them. 

We learn the full dimension of the cross and it's Bearer as fiery salt teaches us, "It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." 

Wednesday of the Seventh Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 343

There is no one who performs a mighty deed in my name
who can at the same time speak ill of me.
For whoever is not against us is for us."

We hear in both readings today a warning against hubris, that easy assumption that we all make; that, "I know something. I own something. I have authority because I have this truth." 

I certainly notice my own habit. I take enormous pride in my Catholic faith, and listen impatiently to other teachings; I smoke out suspicious notions that might come from some foreign place. The arrogance is palpable. 

Jesus urges us in today's Gospel to keep an open mind as we hear of new ideas and the people who espouse them. We needn't immediately inform them that their inspirations have been around for centuries, and have a dark, complex history. The point is we should care more about the person than their ideas. 

We should be more interested in what this idea means to them. Do they find some relief, pleasure, vindication, or validation in it? Isn't that what my beliefs mean to me -- relief, pleasure, vindication, and validation? So who am I to strip their carapaces from them? Would I leave them naked, exposed, and vulnerable without the hope they've found in their beliefs. 

I used to visit the city and parish jails in Jennings, Louisiana. I often met young men who had found the Lord in their government-sponsored free time. They eagerly shared their joy with me. What could I say but, "Good for you!" as I listened to their fundamentalist interpretations and pentecostal misreadings? There would never be time enough to explain how Catholics read those oft-quoted passages of scripture. And even if they heard my interpretation and it made sense to them, would they find a community to support and encourage them in my way of thinking? (Most Catholics and my confrieres don't understand what I am saying!) 

Eventually they would leave the jail and return to their homes and neighborhoods, and some would find a nearby church and practicing Christians who would encourage neither my readings of the Bible nor theirs but their walk in faith. They would soon forget the ideas of a priest they met in jail, but they might remember the Gospel they shared with him. 

Whoever is not against us is for us. 

Tuesday of the Seventh Week of Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 342

Where do the wars and where do the conflicts among you come from?
Is it not from your passions that make war within your members?
You covet but do not possess.
You kill and envy but you cannot obtain....

Today we resume the celebration of Mass within the "ordinary cycle" of the year. Ordinary refers to ordinal numbers, that is, "a number defining a thing's position in a series, such as first, second, or third." (Google) 

The season is not the routine or quotidian time of year; it is full of grace and opportunity. As my friend, Chaplain Keith at the VA hospital, was wont to say, "Another chance to get it right." 

Right out of the gate we hear the challenge of Saint James, "Where do the wars and where do the conflicts come from?" and his immediate answer, "your passions that make war within your members!" 

I suppose by members  he meant the members of the Church as they struggled to understand the new life they'd been given. But in this individualist, post-Freudian age it might also refer to the inner conflict every Christian knows. As Saint Paul said, 

We know that the law is spiritual; but I am carnal, sold into slavery to sin. What I do, I do not understand. For I do not do what I want, but I do what I hate. Now if I do what I do not want, I concur that the law is good. So now it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells in me.

In both cases, the collective and the personal, Saint James reminds us of our practice of penance. If we'd slipped from it during the eight week Easter cycle, we should be reminded of the obvious, the continual "war within our members." 

Penance responds to the awareness of, and gratitude for, God's blessings. God is so very good to us despite our sins. Penance forgets nothing, neither our history of sin nor my personal guilt. For without that memory we cannot know or appreciate God's goodness. 

Why would I remember our ancestors' escape from Egypt through the Red Sea and into the desert if I didn't remember the cruel oppression of the Egyptian slavers? Why would I remember Easter if I never think of my sins? The story of the Lord's crucifixion and resurrection would be nothing more than an ancient legend -- and a silly one at that -- but we believe it's an historical fact. God has raised up his Beloved Son and restored him to us as our God and Savior, and there is no other name by which we are to be saved.  

Nor can I suppose that sin is a thing of the past. If I entertain such a fantasy, it evaporates like last night's dream. Where do the wars and conflicts come from except from my own members? Saint Paul, relying upon his Greek education, brought a standard list of vices to our conversation, 

...immorality, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry, sorcery, hatreds, rivalry, jealousy, outbursts of fury, acts of selfishness, dissensions, factions, occasions of envy, drinking bouts, orgies, and the like. (Gal 5:19-21)

If I am personally not presently plagued with these complaints I certainly recognize them, and thank God for my deliverance. 

Speaking of ordinary, there is nothing ordinary about practicing penance, for it restores our joy daily. We remember both our deliverance from a sinful past and our hope for that day when, by God's grace, we'll have outgrown all that nonsense. We long for that day of integrity when all our members will be integrated into the Body of Christ. On That Day, we will sing with all the angels, martyrs, and saints the praises of God and the Song of the Lamb: 

Great and wonderful are your works,

Lord God almighty.
Just and true are your ways,
O king of the nations.
Who will not fear you, Lord,
or glorify your name?
For you alone are holy.
All the nations will come
and worship before you,
for your righteous acts have been revealed. 

Rev 15:3-4

Memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of the Church

Lectionary: 572A

When they entered the city they went to the upper room where they were staying, Peter and John and James and Andrew, Philip and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James son of Alphaeus, Simon the Zealot, and Judas son of James.
All these devoted themselves with one accord to prayer, together with some women, and Mary the mother of Jesus, and his brothers.

Whenever the Church celebrates Pentecost we cannot overlook the presence of Mary among his disciples in the Upper Room. This is her last appearance in the writings of the Evangelists though the "woman clothed with the sun" in the Book of Revelation certainly looks like her. In Saint Luke's telling, Mary opens and closes the complete account of the Lord's physical presence among us. 

She also signals that Shekinah (presence) of the Holy Spirit. In the first chapter of Saint Luke's Gospel the Angel Gabriel told her the Holy Spirit would overshadow her much as it had overshadowed Solomon's new temple:

When Solomon had ended his prayer, fire came down from heaven and consumed the burnt offerings and the sacrifices, and the glory of the LORD filled the house. But the priests could not enter the house of the LORD, for the glory of the LORD filled the house of the LORD. All the Israelites looked on while the fire came down and the glory of the LORD was upon the house, and they fell down upon the pavement with their faces to the earth and worshiped, praising the LORD, “who is so good, whose love endures forever.” 2 Chronicles 7:1-3

 That same Spirit appears in Acts of the Apostles 2:

And suddenly there came from the sky a noise like a strong driving wind, and it filled the entire house in which they were. Then there appeared to them tongues as of fire, which parted and came to rest on each one of them. And they were all filled with the holy Spirit and began to speak in different tongues, as the Spirit enabled them to proclaim.

With Mary in the room, there can be no doubt that this is the same Holy Spirit who accompanied, guided, and impelled Jesus throughout his life. Luke's sequel to the Gospel describes how closely the Church obeyed and imitated her Lord as missionaries carried the Gospel to the ends of the earth beginning at Jerusalem. 

Mary continues to act as a guarantor of the Holy Spirit in our lives and in our Church. We cannot assemble without her, and would not want to. Could a family gather without their mother so long as she is alive? "Am I not your mother?" she might say if they were to attempt it! 

The Father of Jesus has given the Church many touchstones to assure us of his continual guidance. The last chapter of the Gospel of Saint Mark describes several accompanying signs: 

These signs will accompany those who believe: in my name they will drive out demons, they will speak new languages. They will pick up serpents  and if they drink any deadly thing, it will not harm them. They will lay hands on the sick, and they will recover.” 

But for those who recoil from serpents and have no taste for battery acid, the Lord gives the Eucharist and the sacraments, the apostolic succession, the Magisterium, the witness of the martyrs, and especially the presence of Mary. 

As the Church sails through these troubled times when even common sense understandings of truth and falsehood, male and female, law and disorder are confused, we thank God that her Shekinah remains with us. 

Pentecost Sunday 2024

Lectionary: 63

Brothers and sisters, live by the Spirit and you will certainly not gratify the desire of the flesh.
For the flesh has desires against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh;
these are opposed to each other, so that you may not do what you want.
But if you are guided by the Spirit, you are not under the law.

Although Saint Paul knew nothing of Jesus before his death and resurrection, after his conversion he spent much time with the Lord's disciples. He studied the Jewish scriptures with a new understanding; he prayed, pondered, and reconsidered the direction of his life.  And he knew the Spirit of Jesus. That Spirit was not something one could describe or define. It could not be bottled and sold in the marketplace or auctioned to the highest bidder. 

The Spirit was neither impulsive nor undisciplined enthusiasm. It was not a cultivation of correct attitudes and opinions. Jesus had never tried to speak the right words, expressions, or language. So Paul never deleted Jewish, Greek, or Latin words from the Christian dictionary. He could talk about men and women, sin and sinners, saints and martyrs, Jews, Greeks, and Romans without fear of being called antisemitic, racist, sexist, or homophobic. The Spirit of Jesus has no need to control minds or wash brains.

Saint Paul knew the Holy Spirit as the God who guided and directed him day by day. The Lord was with him when he moved from one Jewish neighborhood to another, and as he spoke to congregations in synagogues and crowds in the marketplace. The Spirit remained with him when he was opposed, arrested, beaten, tried, and jailed. It sat with him in the darkness of a prison, met him at the door when they released him, and then sent him on his way. The Spirit also sometimes prevented him from doing things he wanted to do, as when he wanted to go to Bithynia. 

Saint Paul was never frustrated by the time he spent in Roman jails because the Spirit came to him, healed his wounds, relieved his resentments, filled his idle hours with contemplation and prayer, and revealed the truth as he wrote his epistles. In the spirit, he could be honestly angry about those "super Apostles" who followed him from town to town; and he could shamelessly mock their pretensions and dishonesty.  

Saint Paul preached the Gospel and spoke the Gospel Truth because he knew the Spirit of God. It was the Voice of the One who spoke to him on the road to Damascus; it was the Voice of one who had been Crucified and raised from the dead. And when the Spirit was silent he could stop, wait, and pray until God spoke to him again. 

And so, when he urges his Galatian congregation to "live by the Spirit and you will certainly not gratify the desire of the flesh," he is not simply saying, "Do good and avoid evil." That's common sense and needs no divine revelation. "Live by the Spirit" means listen for God’s coming to you; and listen to God when he speaks to you, both to you personally and to your church.

Saint Paul knew that God had an intention for every church and for every individual in the Church. Every baptized person should listen to God's voice for God has a particular intention for everyone. 

And when Pope Francis gathers men and women, priests and lay folks from all over the world to meet in a synod, he believes that God has something specific to say to the entire Church. If we pray, listen in prayer, believe in one another, trust the integrity of every person, and listen to one another we may – as a Church – have a very good idea of where the Holy Spirit is leading us, and what we should do in the meanwhile. 

We know that God directs human affairs today as he did when the Pharaoh drove the Hebrews out of Egypt, and when Cyrus sent the Jewish exiles to Jerusalem. As Christians we watch for, and often see, God’s active presence in the world. He is there in war zones of Russia and Ukraine, Gaza and Israel. He is there in the partisan feuding of Republicans and Democrats. We can hope God is speaking somehow through the pseudo-compassionate voices of those who promote abortion, euthanasia, and gender transitioning. We despise their goals, and suspect their motives, but we acknowledge their stated good intentions. Because we practice penance and confess our sins, we know how it is to be absolutely sure of something that is absolutely false. 

But more importantly, we know the Holy Spirit’s presence when we worship the Lord in this church, when we care for our elderly neighbors, teach the young our faith, honor our spouses, parents, and children, and participate in public discussions. He has promised, “I am with you always, even to the end of time;” and so we have no fear about what is happening around us. 

Coming at the end of the Easter Season, Pentecost celebrates our birth and rebirth as a Church. And we know the Holy Spirit is with us because we’re here today, and God is alive in our sad, beautiful, sinful world. 

Saturday of the Seventh Week of Easter

Lectionary: 302

It is this disciple who testifies to these things
and has written them, and we know that his testimony is true.
There are also many other things that Jesus did,
but if these were to be described individually,
I do not think the whole world would contain the books that would be written.

Perhaps Saint John's closing remark is not hyperbole. As we view the vast universe above below, and within us; as we ponder this mysterious creature, the human being; as we discover the presence and power of God in our daily life: we have to agree this small planet could not contain every marvelous account of God's wonderful works. 

As I read the Fourth Gospel with a Bible Study group this past spring, the "disciple whom Jesus loved" spoke more clearly to me. He is the witness who has not died. The Word and the Spirit still generate witnesses in every age and every generation. We're still here, and the Lord still lives and loves with us. 

John 21 ponders the mystery of the Church. In the first verses we find the disciples fishing in the Sea of Tiberias. Peter is still the leader. Nathaniel, one of the first to follow the Lord is there; as is Thomas who finished the Book with his new title for Jesus, "My Lord and my God!" Zebedee's sons are there, James and John. The latter, we assume, is the one whom Jesus loved. "And two others," which brings the number to seven. The Gospel began with an account of seven days. Seven is a fulsome number, implying completeness. We're all here. 

But the disciples seem aimless, as if they've nothing better to do than go fishing; and they're frustrated as they catch nothing. The thrill is gone.  

The story begins when Jesus appears on the shore. The mystery, adventure, revelation, and movement resume. 

But the mood remains sober; and the focus is on Peter, the man who denied knowing the Lord. After the Lord provides a breakfast for the seven, he and Peter take a walk apart from the group. The others seem okay with that; Jesus and Peter often consulted privately, out of their hearing. 

But today's Gospel concerns only Peter's question about the beloved disciple, "What about him?" Jesus does not reply; and we're reminded the Lord is still in charge of the Church, and owes no explanation to his right hand man. 

If the thrill is gone, the commands remain, "Feed my sheep!" and "Follow me." Enthusiasm is great fun and very productive, but obedience is more important. We have seen its importance as we watched Jesus march from the River Jordan to Jerusalem. 

And this spring I noticed another astonishing act of obedience, Lazarus's escape from the tomb. When he heard that voice, the dead man (four days!) sat up, got up, and came out, although he was still tightly bound by his burial clothes. If Jesus's resurrection is far beyond comprehension, this act of obedience is not far behind. 

Where did he find the willingness after lying four days in the dank darkness and fetid atmosphere of a tomb? It was there, silent, unexpected, and unknown until he heard the voice of his friend and Savior. 

I suppose he forgot himself. His sickness unto death, the grief and disappointment of dying, his idleness, inertia, and lack of Spirit: none of it mattered when he heard the voice. He might not have even said, "I'm coming out!" for there was no ego to make such a remark. That was not restored to life by the Voice of Command.

Peter, John, and the other five knew that obedience when they spotted him standing on the short; and even more so after he had prepared their breakfast of fish. Peter knew it when he realized the Lord had not only forgiven his denials but had recommissioned him to feed my sheep and tend my lambs. 

I hope that I am as obedient when that day comes. That will certainly be another Marvelous Work of God. 

Friday of the Seventh Week of Easter

 Lectionary: 301

"Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?"
Simon Peter answered him, "Yes, Lord, you know that I love you."
Jesus said to him, "Feed my lambs."

Several times in the past I have reflected upon this last conversation between the Risen Lord and his right hand man, Peter. I have noted especially the evocative power of charcoal to remind Peter of his denial of Jesus. He and another disciple had followed the arresting mob from Gethsemane into Herod's courtyard. They certainly had no plan; they could not prevent whatever was going to happen. 

They might at least have admitted they were Galilean associates of the Nazarene, and were concerned about what was happening. But, when accosted by a girl about their accents, Peter vehemently denied any association with him. The other disciple -- whom we suspect was John -- remained as silent as ever. 

If nothing was said to either of them about the thrice denial when they returned to the Upper Room, it remained nonetheless as a shameful regret. Everyone certainly remembered Peter's loud declaration that he would stand by the Lord regardless of the danger. But no one had acted courageously -- the Spirit had gone out of them and left them defeated, hiding, and terrified in the Upper Room. Perhaps they quietly admitted there was nothing they could do. Nothing could have stopped what happened, but that did not excuse their cowardice.  

Peter's loud denial certainly came back to hit him like a speeding freight train when he smelled the charcoal fire by the seashore. And beyond the smell of charcoal was the Lord's question, "Do you love me more than these?"

This recalls another unfortunate incident: 

"Peter said to him, “Even though all should have their faith shaken, mine will not be.” Mark 14:29

He declared himself superior to everyone else. We can imagine how that remark went down with the others. After all the years of Jesus's training, his teaching about humility, and about aspiring to be the least of all and servant of all, there was Peter putting himself above the rest with that demeaning boast. 

When the Lord appeared by the Sea of Tiberias, that remark had also to be recalled, and atonement offered. If we don't hear Peter admitting his sin and apologizing to the disciples, we do hear his remorse after the third question: 

Peter was distressed that he had said to him a third time, “Do you love me?” and he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.”

Atonement may come easily when a mother catches her four year old child misbehaving. He has only to settle down, or take a nap, and all is forgiven. But it's not so easy between adults. Sometimes, if the incident really is no big deal, it can be dismissed with a simple fuggedaboutit. 

But insulting remarks like Peter's "though all should have their faith shaken, mine will not be" can resurface years later, especially when a similar incident occurs. Then we say, "They were always like that!" and suppose they never really changed at all. 

John 21 is a story of defeated, deflated disciples who have lost the spirit. They've got nothing to do but go fishing. When the Lord appears to them, he comes to inspire them, but they will also be reminded that, without the Holy Spirit, you were always like that. 

Our worse instincts don't go away because we've not acted that way recently. Without God's spirit they can reappear. We might not have the energy for the old sins, or even much interest, but the Self remains ever watchful to rise against the Lord's goad. 

We pray. We confess our sins -- the same old sins -- time after time. And ask the Lord to fill our sails with his Holy Spirit, for we are, and will always be, helpless.