Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 136

Thus says the LORD:

You say, "The LORD's way is not fair!"

Hear now, house of Israel:

Is it my way that is unfair, or rather, are not your ways unfair?

There’s Today's Gospel is a story of two young men. One makes a show of doing the right thing and does nothing. The other refuses to work in his Father's garden; but later thinks better of it, and obeys. One son lives in the world of pretense and illusions; the other lives in the real world as an impulsive young man and an obedient son.

There’s an amusing moment in Woody Allen’s film, The Purple Rose of Cairo, when Henry, a character on the movie screen, pleads with the projectionist not to turn the projector off. In this post-modern film, Woody Allen imagined what might happen if a handsome, romantic movie character jumped off the silver screen into the theater, and took a lonely young woman out dancing. The movie had to stop right there, while the other characters wondered what they were supposed to do. And when the missing character didn’t come back to the theater for several days, the whole movie industry all over the United States was thrown into confusion. 

When the theater manager told the projectionist to turn off the projector and shut down the empty theater because the audience had gone home, one of the images on the screen pleaded, 

“You don't understand what it's like to disappear! To be nothing! To be annihilated! Don't turn the projector off.”

But Woody Allen’s movie was more than a comedy. He worried about actors and politicians and athletes whose entire lives are about being who and what their fans think they are. Real people dream of playing in professional sports or of landing roles on Broadway; but when some people actually succeed they discover that they exist only in the minds of their fans. And there are severe consequences for those who disappoint their fans. 

Jim Backus, who played Thurston Howell III in the situation comedy Gilligan’s Island was severely criticised one evening when he went to a restaurant with his wife, Henny Kaye Backus. A woman in the restaurant accused him of philandering because Mrs. Backus was not Lovey Howell, his on-screen wife – who was played by Natalie Shafer. Fans don’t want to know that the pixels on their TV screens are just actors doing a job. 

Gilligan’s Island went off the air in 1967, long before computers, the Internet, Facebook, YouTube, WhatsApp, and Instagram. Now anyone can be a pixel image and cultivate an onscreen persona and make people think they live ideal lives like the characters in the Purple Rose of Cairo. 

But some people think they are Cecilia, played by Mia Farrow. She is a bored housewife in the film who kills time by watching again and again a silly old movie called, “The Purple Rose of Cairo.” These lonely Cecilias post on the Internet like everyone else; but their images are not real and they know it. And so they grumble like Ezekiel’s neighbors, “The Lord’s way is not fair!”

And they really hate God’s reply, 

“Hear now, house of Israel:

Is it my way that is unfair, or rather, are not your ways unfair?

God is real and his Word is True. He is not an imaginary character in the Bible or any other book, movie, or video. And He can demand, as he does to Job, “Who are you to complain against me?”

Where were you when I founded the earth?

Tell me, if you have understanding.

Who determined its size? Surely you know?

Who stretched out the measuring line for it?

Have you entered into the sources of the sea,

or walked about on the bottom of the deep?

Have the gates of death been shown to you,

or have you seen the gates of darkness?

Have you comprehended the breadth of the earth?

Tell me, if you know it all.

That truth – that the God who created us with enormous courage and generosity, and who saves us with the crucifixion of his only begotten Son; that truth comes as bad news to people who create self-images, project them into the world, and think that makes them real. In fact they don’t know who or what they are. They’re living in a fiction, and think it should and must and has to go on forever. They’re terrified that someone might turn off the projector and their lives will be turned into a blank screen. 

But the truth about God – that He exists, creates, and cares about us – comes as wonderful news to those who live in the Truth. We know that living a lie and cultivating images are exercises in futility: pointless, frustrating, disappointing and painful. We deserve better because God has made us to be like himself – free, courageous, and generous. 

We don’t amaze anyone with phony happiness; we don’t impress anyone with threats, bullying, or violence. Those who know God know he does not forget us, lose us, or abandon us. We find him here with us even in darkness and silence, in disappointment and loneliness. 

In today’s Gospel a man asked his two sons to “go out and work in the vineyard today.” He was probably upset when the first son said he would not obey; but he was very pleased when the second son said he would. However, the son who refused to go actually went out and worked; and the agreeable boy who said he would work in the vineyard did nothing. 

Finishing that very short story, Jesus did not ask which son pleased his father. Which one showed a better Facebook, YouTube, WhatsApp, or Instagram picture? 

Rather he asked, “Which of the two did his father's will?" 

On Judgment Day we will be judged for who we are and not for what we look like. People around us may judge our appearance and that's fine for them. But they don’t matter. Those who care about us want to know who we are and why we believe as we do. 

On Judgment Day people who are not pretty faces, people who are not pleasant images, people who are not cartoons,  will hear God say, “With you. I am well pleased.” They will hear, “Come, you who are blessed by my Father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.”

Thursday of the Twenty-fifth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 452

Vanity of vanities, says Qoheleth,
vanity of vanities!  All things are vanity!
What profit has man from all the labor
which he toils at under the sun?
One generation passes and another comes,
but the world forever stays.

Qoheleth's day had an important advantage over ours; they believed that "the world forever stays." But thanks to astonomers and physicists of the last few hundred years, we know that the planet we call home has only five billions years left before our beloved Sun expands into a red giant and fries its closest planets, including Mercury, Venus, and Earth. 

I hope no one loses sleep over that, but it's one more unsettling fact for an unsettled age. Everything passes, never to return, leaving us with memories and scars. And given our penchant for remembering selectively, is neither reliable nor reassuring. 

Scientists tell us about our origins in the past but say nothing helpful about its meaning. And those with no religious imagination suppose a planet with intelligent, self-aware beings is only a fluke. They might agree with Qoheleth and Macbeth. For the cynical, life is nothing more than

...a walking shadow, a poor player,

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more. It is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.

Hopeless stories appeal to romantics. They get excited about love stories that end in death. They can boast of their perspicuity: "I knew it all along!"

But Christians are not romantics; our story doesn't end in tragedy. We put our faith in Salvation History, and track its course from Genesis to Revelation; from Eden to Armageddon with innumerable divine revelations along the way. We are never alone; the Lord God goes with us, and especially with those who recognizes his presence. 

Even Herod the tetrarch knew the story of Elijah and other prophets, and saw Jesus' mysterious place within that story. But he could not greet the Lord's mission or purpose, it meant trouble for him. As a sycophant to Roman authority, which knew only power and nothing of God, the Son of God on earth meant nothing but disturbance, change, and Salvation History marching onward toward Death, Judgment, Heaven, and Hell. 

In Roman 8, Saint Paul described our destiny, and it is grand:

I consider that the sufferings of this present time are as nothing compared with the glory to be revealed for us.

For creation awaits with eager expectation the revelation of the children of God;

for creation was made subject to futility, not of its own accord but because of the one who subjected it, in hope

that creation itself would be set free from slavery to corruption and share in the glorious freedom of the children of God.

 

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 106

He spoke to them only in parables,
to fulfill what had been said through the prophet:

I will open my mouth in parables,
I will announce what has lain hidden from the foundation
of the world.

The Bible often speaks of mysteries, which are hidden since the foundation of the world. There is nothing obvious about God, or man, or woman for that matter. Too often we think we know why we’re doing something, only to turn around the next day, or a week later, or many years later and say, “What was I thinking?” When our human ways so often make no sense, do we really expect to know the ways of God?

 

The word mystery appears often in the Bible, and most often in the New Testament. But clearly Abraham was awestruck and terrified by his first encounters with God. In the Book of Genesis, soon after their friendship began, when the LORD told Sarah she would have a son, we are told about God's musing; that is, his inner conversation:

The LORD considered: Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do, now that he is to become a great and mighty nation, and all the nations of the earth are to find blessing in him? Indeed, I have singled him out that he may direct his children and his household in the future to keep the way of the LORD by doing what is right and just, so that the LORD may put into effect for Abraham the promises he made about him. (Genesis 18:16ff)

The story of Abraham's dickering with God over the fate of Sodom and Gomorrah follows:

"If there are only fifty, forty, thirty, twenty, ten good men, will you destroy the cities?" 

 Clearly, Abraham doesn't know with Whom he is dealing. But then he watched burning pitch fall from the sky, and a fiery, mushroom cloud rise over the Cities of the Plain, destroying livestock, homes, temples, marketplaces, men, women, and children.

The Patriarch had never asked to know God, and never expected to meet God. But for reasons God only knew he had chosen Abraham and would be known as the Friend of Abraham.

Several years later, as Abraham bowed before the Lord, he was told to sacrifice Isaac, his beloved Son. In obedience to the LORD's command, he proved himself a worthy friend of God; although God intervened again and the boy was spared. . 

Almost two thousand years later, St Paul worried, fretted, and fumed throughout his Letter to the Romans over another great mystery: why the descendants of Abraham would not sacrifice their old conceptions about the Law of Moses and accept Jesus as their Messiah and Lord. 

After his encounter with the Son of God on the road to Damascus, he saw it so clearly. The Gospel of the Lord’s crucifixion, death, and resurrection fit so perfectly into the entire history of the Bible as he read it. The Gospel satisfied every prescription of the Law, every verse of the psalms, and every proverb in Wisdom literature; how could Abraham’s people not see it? 

But there finally came a day when the Apostle would surrender to God’s mysterious ways. Supposing that the intransigence of most Jews also fit into God’s plan, the Apostle had to bow down before the unfathomable wisdom and mystery of God and submit to

…the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How inscrutable are his judgments and how unsearchable his ways!” (Romans 11:33)

In the nineteenth century many thoughtful people in Europe and America thought they knew, if not the ways of God, at least the ways of men. Europeans and white Americans were supposed to be rational creatures who knew up from down, right from left, and right from wrong pretty well. Not only had we figured those things out, but we were rapidly building faster railroads; bigger coal-powered steamboats,  faster communications; and bigger governments with larger armies than the world had ever seen. In fact, the world didn’t need God or the Word of God anymore because we had the power of reason and could make sense of anything. 

And then the First World War happened, and millions of civilized, educated, disciplined, and honest young men marched across Europe and slaughtered one another for no apparent reason. Historians are still trying to understand why the First World War happened. And if they ever do, then they might explain the Second, which exterminated even more defenseless men, women, and children, and incinerated far more cities than Sodom and Gomorrah.  

Why did rationality fail? And why are we still investing billions of dollars and millions of lives in finding better ways to obliterate each other? Why do we still not study theology, the queen of the sciences? And philosophy, the mother of the sciences? Are we condemned to destroy one another because God hates the world He has made? But we thought there is no such thing as god!

Without the Church which still believes that God created us, loves us, and saves us from the hell we create for ourselves, many people live without hope, without purpose, without any expectation of satisfaction or eternal life. They occupy themselves in this world with work and play, making money and spending it. They idle themselves with billions of useless hours of entertainment. And when they suffer chronic illness, they legalize what they call MAiD – “medical assistance in dying.” That’s a euphemism for suicide, self-murder, the intentional rebuke of God and his purposes. 

The Church calls us to ponder again the mysterious ways of God, especially as we find God in failure, disappointment, loneliness, chronic illness, disabilities, and the tedious process of dying. We must discover who we are in depending on one another, and not in the popular myth of the Lone Ranger.

If we want nothing but success, comfort, ease, and security; if we want a life with no challenges, no complexity, and everything suited to our middling standards, we aspire to godless, pointless futility. There is nothing blessed in that; nor is that what our Father intends for the descendants of Abraham, whose ransom he paid not in gold or silver, but with the precious blood of Jesus, 

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the LORD. For as the heavens are higher than the earth,so are my ways higher than your ways, my thoughts higher than your thoughts. Is 55:8-9

 

Wednesday of the Tenth Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 361

Elijah appealed to all the people and said,
"How long will you straddle the issue?
If the LORD is God, follow him; if Baal, follow him."
The people, however, did not answer him.

The Hebrew prophets from Moses through Zechariah insisted that God's people must worship Him alone. We find in the Prophet Isaiah, 

I am the LORD, there is no other,

there is no God besides me.

It is I who arm you, though you do not know me, so that all may know, from the rising of the sun to its setting, that there is none besides me.

I am the LORD, there is no other.

That jealous demand comes against us as intensely as it did against the Jews, and finds us harrassed by the invitations, temptations, and empty entertainment of the same world. As T.S. Eliot wrote in his poem Burnt Norton, we are distracted by distractions from distractions: 

                                    Only a flicker

Over the strained time-ridden faces

Distracted from distraction by distraction

Filled with fancies and empty of meaning

Tumid apathy with no concentration

Men and bits of paper, whirled by the cold wind

That blows before and after time,

Wind in and out of unwholesome lungs

Time before and time after. 

The godless insist that this continual upheaval with neither direction, purpose, or meaning is the way things are; and we should not expect otherwise. The only purpose, for those who might want one, is survival; which falls more often to the fortunate than to the clever. No one can boast of their accomplishments for they prove nothing except the vanity and futility of effort. Death, which is very democratic, takes everyone and levels everyone. 

God's people find their purpose in God's calling us out of that maelstrom of emptiness, as He did when "the earth was without form or shape, with darkness over the abyss and a mighty wind sweeping over the waters." 

We have sometimes found that dark, formless, shapeless abyss in our own lives but in those moments we also heard the Word of God saying...

"Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;

I have called you by name: you are mine.

When you pass through waters, I will be with you;

through rivers, you shall not be swept away.

When you walk through fire, you shall not be burned,

nor will flames consume you." Is 43:1-2

One by one, every one of us is doomed to return to that emptiness as our bodies fail and we fail to breathe. And so we prepare for that day by learning to hear and recognize the commanding voice of Jesus over the storm. He will certainly call us, for he came not to condemn but to redeem. But will we recognize the voice? And will we be so delighted by its familiar affection that we pull out of the lethargy of death. 

Some might reply, "Hey, Lord. I appreciate your stopping by, but I'm fine here, in the quiet emptiness. This is all I ever wanted, without the bother of other people. But give my regards to the saints!"

I hope that I'll have the good sense to rise up and say, "Here I am Lord; I'm coming out!" Ready to embrace whatever adventure awaits in eternity. 

Wednesday of the Sixth Week of Easter

 Lectionary: 293

"You Athenians, I see that in every respect
you are very religious.
For as I walked around looking carefully at your shrines,
I even discovered an altar inscribed, 'To an Unknown God.'
What therefore you unknowingly worship, I proclaim to you.
The God who made the world and all that is in it,
the Lord of heaven and earth...."

Saint Paul's initial words to the Athenian intelligentsia might have been salted with a bit of sarcasm; Athenian elites were not "very religious." They might have observed the rites and paid their dues in public, when it was necessary; but "the gods" hardly entered their personal concerns or private matters. As we study their mythology today we wonder how anyone could take it seriously. 

The masses of the people, whom the elite sneeringly called hoi polloi, might have been eager to defer to the mysterious powers which made much of life unpredictable; they might have appealed for help to their gods sincerely and with affection. 

But, like any religion, pagan worship was laced with wickedness. Saint Luke describes in some detail the riot of the Ephesian silversmiths when the disciples' healed in the Name of the Lord. They were doing a land office business selling graven images of Astarte. The shrine in Ephesus welcomed pilgrims from the entire Roman empire! 

Elite Athenians, of course, knew better than to worship Astarte but neither would they challenge her devotees. As far as they were concerned, there was no God to worship, love, adore, or obey; so why bother?

Saint Paul did not need to upturn tables like Jesus in the temple when he announced the Son of Mary to the Athenians. He had only to suggest that a crucified man had been raised up, and that he would "judge the world with justice." With that, they snickered, sneered, and left.

He would get the same response were he to announce to Americans, "I see by your Christian nationalism and your mega-churches that you are very religious." They might give him the same amused attention until he offers them the Truth which upends false idols and pretentious images. Americans don't invest energy, time, or money in disappointment, failure, or futility. They don't speak of death unless it's about enemies, criminals, foreigners, and aliens. Sacrifice is never necessary for them; it attracts neither consumers nor investors. 

Catholicism, as Mother Theresa reminded us, does not expect success. We are called to worship God; and to practice our faith with prayerful rituals and charitable works. It is "right and just" that we should stop everything we're doing to pay attention to the Lord who has paid so much for us. It is good when others join us; it is wonderful when they want to join us. But we will love God in either case, for He is worthy of everything we can give Him. 

 

Monday of Holy Week

Lectionary: 257

Mary took a liter of costly perfumed oil
made from genuine aromatic nard
and anointed the feet of Jesus and dried them with her hair;
the house was filled with the fragrance of the oil. 

I know little about fragrant oils but a liter sounds like an awful lot to pour over a man's feet. However, I have smelled myrrh and it's a powerful scent. It's easy to imagine how "the house was filled with the fragrance of the oil." The neighbors down the street must have noticed. And the astonishment of those in the room; and the complaint of at least one of them. 

Myrrh was used to anoint dead bodies, which were immediately buried or entombed. Mary's odd behavior, outrageous expenditure, and invasive odor certainly upset more than a few people. If Judas was the only one to object, the rest may have been too surprised, polite, or cowed by the presence of the Master to complain about it.

However, we should notice that Nicodemus did something similar when he attended the Lord's entombment several days later. 

"The one who had first come to him at night also came bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes weighing about one hundred pounds."

That's enough for an entire village of corpses! 

Their excess is heavy with meaning for us. They remind us of Isaiah's proclamation in today's first reading: 

Here is my servant whom I uphold,

my chosen one with whom I am pleased....

This man, whose presence overwhelms us is the same Cloud of Glory that overwhelmed the priests in Solomon's temple. He has come from God and is returning to God. He is the One who was with God in the beginning, and is God. (John 1:1-2) He is the One through whom all things came to be, and he is with us here. 

This overpowering myrrh smells of heaven itself, which may be initially repulsive -- as death and corpses and futility and waste are repulsive. But that is because we do not understand the ways of God. His light is too bright for blind eyes; and his voice, too loud for those who don't listen. 

Jesus, by his human nature and his sacrifice has made our humanity beautiful in God's sight, and by his compassionate divinity has made the divine delightful to our taste, smell, touch, hearing, and sight. But Jesus is a cultivated taste, meant for everyone though welcomed by few. 

We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you, because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world. 

Fifth Sunday of Lent

 Lectionary: 34

Thus says the Lord GOD:
O my people, I will open your graves
and have you rise from them,
and bring you back to the land of Israel.
Then you shall know that I am the LORD.

Ezekiel is fond of reminding us who we are and where we find ourselves in God's plan of salvation. We are certainly important to God, but not as important as we might suppose. Speaking for God, the Prophet insists, "When I do these things, then you shall know that I am the Lord."

As the wise man Sirach wrote several centuries later, God uses us to show the world his holiness; and for that purpose Jesus, Mary, the saints and martyrs, the Church, and the Jewish people are everlasting signs – despite the sins of the Church and the Jews.

Every year, during the Easter vigil, the cantor sings Saint Augustine’s “O felix culpa,” O happy fault which merited such a redeemer.” Human sin, as dreadful, horrible, and unspeakably ugly as it is, rather than being a total catastrophe, has given God a perfect opportunity to demonstrate the generous, superabundant Grace which outshines billions of stars and gazillions of galaxies in our universe. We have seen with our eyes, heard with our ears, and touched with our hands the God made human flesh who gave his very life to win our salvation and our everlasting gratitude.

Yes, it is possible to exponentially multiply Infinity by infinity; God has done it in the death and resurrection of Jesus; and we are his witnesses.

But that infinite goodness can be revealed to us only so far as we are able and willing to see it. And so God is born of Mary, an otherwise unknown Galilean virgin, wrapped in swaddling clothes, and laid in a manger. The same God grows up as all children do, and begins to demonstrate his singularity only as an adult, and only with signs and wonders visible to our eyes. As Saint John said, that which “we have seen and heard, and touched with our own hands...."

Were He to appear as a royal prince riding an Arabian stallion, or an American president in an Abrams tank, his glory would be ridiculous. Can you set off a diamond with the sun? Precious gems are set off with dark fabrics that attract no attention. Sunbeams sparkle through its facets and flaws but disappear in a black matte setting.

Likewise, it is fitting that we should see our God only in the smallest things: a wafer which appears to be bread, and a liquid drop which tastes for all the world like wine. God presents himself in a human body suspended between heaven and earth, before the dark futility of death. He wears a crown of thorns, not of silver or gold; his suffering is mocked by an angry mob. That’s how we know he is our God.

We see these small things – things which the world ignores – and we know what they mean. We know God because we believe in him; and are glad that no other sign will be given. Consider Lazarus. The poor fellow was dead and buried for four days! Can anyone be more dead? Can any reasonable person hope that he might return to the land of the living? Even his grieving sister will remind the Lord, “He’s been dead for four days; there’ll be a stench. We cannot open the grave.” But Jesus had predicted, “Amen, amen, I say to you, the hour is coming and is now here when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live. For just as the Father has life in himself, so also he gave to his Son the possession of life in himself.” When Lazarus heard the voice of his friend and Lord Jesus, he came out, as you and I will come out of our tombs when we hear his voice. Some will come reluctantly to their doom; others will come joyously to celebrate forever God's mercy and justice. In the wonder of God’s face, we will see infinite goodness and beauty multiplied exponentially. We have heard that voice. We know it from our life of prayer. We’ve heard it in churches, chapels, and cathedrals; we’ve heard it in your solitary room. It’s as familiar as a mother’s voice, which we learned to recognize weeks before we were born! The Voice of Jesus is just that sweet, charming, and attractive. It overcomes our resistance, and makes our stubbornness look foolish. It’s a voice with authority and wisdom, and when he calls us from the grave we will sing out, “Here I am! You called me!”

Ezekiel reminds us that God will demonstrate his holiness and power by saving us from our sins, a small thing of no great significance in the eyes of the world. But to us it is heaven itself.

Lent reminds us that we must choose our God over every evil thought, word, deed, or impulse. And we must be acutely aware of our sins as we turn to the Lord for mercy. We pray continually with King David and his 51st psalm,

Have mercy on me, O God,
according to your merciful love;  
according to your great compassion, blot out my transgressions.
Wash me completely from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.

We have that choice during Lent; we still have two weeks before Easter. We can turn away from sin, believe in the Good News of Jesus, and obey his voice. We too can come back to life as we hear the prophet’s words:

O my people, I will open your graves

and have you rise from them,

and bring you back….

Then you shall know that I am the LORD,

when I open your graves and have you rise from them,

O my people!

Day of Prayer for the Legal Protection of Unborn Children

 Lectionary: 516A

For now the LORD has spoken
who formed me as his servant from the womb,
that Jacob may be brought back to him
and Israel gathered to him;
and I am made glorious in the sight of the LORD,
and my God is now my strength!

Stephen Hawkins, in a TV program about the wonders of the universe, admitted that he and his colleagues may be able to explain how the universe came to be; but they cannot say why. It's not within their competence.  

When theologians and philosophers are shut out of the conversation, the question is not raised nor is an answer posited. Because the Mother of all Sciences and the Queen of all Sciences are not permitted to speak to their progeny, the faithful have no reason to believe in a hypothetical multiverse.  

Although any reasonable person might ask why is there existence and what should we expect of it, when the question is banned, explanations of everything else are severely limited to the pragmatic. Bugs exist to feed birds; and birds exist to spread seeds; and raptors exist to kill weaker animals; and so forth. Apparently, someone has figured out why the human gut has an appendix, but they have not answered, "Why are there humans who have appendices?" 

In the meanwhile, the "man in the street" has a personal philosophy and strong opinions about God; but he, obedient to the "scientists," will not tolerate philosophical or theological discussions. 

Within that grand silence, babies are conceived and born. But, to those who never asked why anything exists, the presence of a baby may seem unnecessary, intrusive, and frankly rude. They may have had reasons for conceiving the child, but perhaps they were thinking about something else at the time: pleasure, or power, or escape from loneliness, anxiety, and futility. None of that matters to the babies whose needs are immediate and demanding. 

Practicing Catholics who take their faith seriously know why there is a universe, and why they have a place in the universe. It's for the glory of the LORD who created it through Jesus Christ and in the Holy Spirit. Like Mary, they are handmaids and servants of the Lord. 

They know why they desire sexual intercourse, and why babies are conceived. Their healthy, human desires for love, security, and happiness have a reason and purpose in God's world. They protect, nurture, and cultivate their natural affection for babies. They protect the children God gives them; and abhor ideas of abortion, infanticide, and murder. Their families celebrate the greater honor and glory of God. 

Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam 

Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Advent

Lectionary: 199

Yes, he is coming, says the LORD of hosts.
But who will endure the day of his coming?
And who can stand when he appears?
For he is like the refiner’s fire,
or like the fuller’s lye.
He will sit refining and purifying silver,
and he will purify the sons of Levi,
Refining them like gold or like silver
that they may offer due sacrifice to the LORD.

Malachi assures us during these days of Advent as he assured his contemporaries long before the Birth of the Messiah, "Yes, he is coming!" But he also reminds us that the Day will challenge everyone, and particularly those who believe -- or think they believe -- in the mercy of God. 

You might be surprised. You might not know what to expect. You might be deeply disappointed. "Who will endure the day of his coming?" 

in her book, A Wrinkle in Time, on the planet Camazotz, the time-travelling children of Madeleine L'Engle watch inhabitants continually, mindlessly building a city of dystopian, enforced conformity. They apparently expect something like our "City of God" although, once it's built, it will know nothing of God. L'Enge's children, of course, see as any child does, the futility of their frenetic work. 

Malachi reminds us that our troubles might not end with the appearance of the Savior. There may be a period of severe testing, similar to the refining process of gold or silver. The slag and dross in our hearts will be purged, and many of our precious things will be forgotten. Remember the fate of Gollum who sank into the fiery abyss, he could not let go of his Precious. 

Nor should we expect to bargain for the precious things we hold most dear, thinking that surely God must agree that, "This is priceless, I must have it!" 

If any one comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple.

Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple.

Which of you wishing to construct a tower does not first sit down and calculate the cost to see if there is enough for its completion? (Luke 14:26-28)

I have seen grandparents compromise their faith when their adult children suggested they might cut them off from their grandchildren. It's very hard at Christmas time.

As we study the Cross of Christ, gazing upon it as Saint Clare urges us, the Spirit gently teaches us to surrender everything to God:

Come to me.... 

Take my yoke upon you, 

learn from me, 

for I am meek and humble of heart. 

You will find rest for yourselves.

For my yoke is easy; and my burden, light. 

Memorial of Saint Leonard of Port Maurice, Franciscan priest

Lectionary: 505

Remember, you are not to prepare your defense beforehand,
for I myself shall give you a wisdom in speaking
that all your adversaries will be powerless to resist or refute.
You will even be handed over by parents,
brothers, relatives, and friends,
and they will put some of you to death.

Once, amid a group of people whom I respected and trusted, I was given an experience of most unusual, if not "complete," vulnerability. The word is often used by flattering media interviewers to discuss their guests acting performance or perhaps a book they had written. So I use the word reluctantly when I speak of myself or my experience. 

But I think of that long ago moment, and imagine the freedom of many Christian martyrs before their tormentors. It is very hard to describe, and even that single moment in my life I would not describe to many. (The Internet is not the place for that.) 

Despite the extreme pain they suffered, the futility of every effort to relieve their pain, their helpless humiliation before their enemies and tormentors, and the certain death that was rapidly coming at them, they spoke freely of the Lord and insisted that they still waited upon his deliverance. Some, like Saint Lawrence the Deacon, openly laughed at the effort of their tormentors. In other cases, as the Book of Maccabees describes, their tormentors admitted their failure. King Antiochus, in the Second Book of Maccabees, was overcome by the courage of his martyred victims; and ask the boys' mother for help before he murdered her.

That is hard to imagine and yet we know these stories are true. Warriors, fighting  in defense of homeland and loved ones, sometimes demonstrate that freedom, but they have weapons and intend to take their enemies with them into death. True martyrs harm no one. They are overcome by their simple, naked honesty. They speak the truth and stand by the truth, and nothing can dissuade them from it.

Today, Franciscans celebrate the memorial of Saint Leonard of Port Maurice. A ferocious preacher, he doubted that many of his listeners or readers would be saved. He was surely familiar with the stories of martyrs and he looked into that Mirror of Perfection and saw his own cowardice and that of his contemporaries. But thousands of people flocked to hear him speak and to gaze into the awful mirror he held before them. 

During this season when we contemplate death and judgment, heaven and hell, we do well to ask God for the freedom of the martyrs as we study our faith and share with our loved ones. 

Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 123

And you will say,
'We ate and drank in your company and you taught in our streets.'
Then he will say to you,
'I do not know where you are from.
Depart from me, all you evildoers!'
And there will be wailing and grinding of teeth
when you see Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob
and all the prophets in the kingdom of God
and you yourselves cast out.

Although Jesus' warning in today’s Gospel is clearly addressed to the crowds, we cannot suppose that "the crowds" of his time were any more disturbed by his teachings or his warnings than the crowds today. The world regards prophets like Ezekiel, Jeremiah, and John the Baptists as more entertaining than troubling. You remember that Herod liked to hear John the Baptist preach despite his complaints about the governor’s incestuous marriage. Back in the seventies we sang along with Credence Clearwater Revival, Bad Moon Rising, but we never worried about it. 

The Lord warns those who read and hear the Gospel. We should pay attention and imagine Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob -- and all the prophets -- gathered into the Kingdom of God; and we should understand that we might not be admitted. God gives us everything but owes us nothing. 

The warning is "to you who hear..." If you hear this, consider yourself forewarned. If you hear and ignore it, don't think you've not been forewarned, because you were. And you're responsible for what you heard, even if you didn't want to hear it, or thought it was nonsense, or didn't believe in the messenger, or thought there is no God. It doesn't matter. The Word of God was spoken; you were forewarned; and by ignoring the message and not taking it to heart, you chose the consequences. They too were announced well in advance; and when disaster strikes you can blame no one but yourself. 

After his warnings to those who will not listen, Jesus tells us, "Strive to enter through the narrow gate...." The scriptures use the words strive and try differently. They certainly have close to the same meaning, and may substitute one another, but in the Bible striving is not quite the same as trying. 

Saint Paul issued a severe warning to those who tried:

"You are separated from Christ, you who are trying to be justified by law; you have fallen from grace." 

As a recovering Pharisee he knew the futility and vanity of trying. It was lonely, unsatisfying work with little hope of success. It offered only bragging rights to the self-righteous, even as it presumed upon the patience of a long-suffering God. 

We've all had the experience of trying too hard. With creative work like baking, painting, writing, or singing, the harder we try the worse it gets. Some people try to quit smoking; and they never do because they don’t actually quit. They only try to quit. In sports, losers try to win, winners win gracefully. They work hard but they make it look easy. 

Simone Weil, philosopher and teacher of children, wrote: “If you say to your students: “Now you must pay attention!” you’ll see them contracting their brows, holding their breath, stiffening their muscles. If after two minutes you ask what they have been paying attention to, they cannot reply. They have been concentrating on nothing. They have not been paying attention. They have been contracting their muscles….” 

“Willpower” she wrote, “has practically no place in study. Learning can only be led by desire. For there to be desire, there must be pleasure and joy in the work. Intelligence only grows and bears fruit in joy. The joy of learning is as indispensable in study as breathing is in running. Where it is lacking, there are no real students. But only poor caricatures of apprentices who, at the end of their apprenticeship, would not even have a trade.”

We can say the same thing of prayer and of serving the Lord. When Jesus says, "Strive to enter through the narrow gate.” he is speaking of that desire, joy. and eagerness to follow him in the path of penance and sacrifice. There is no trying involved; trying only gets in the way. 

The spiritual masters tell us, if you’re trying to pray, you’re not praying. If you think you are praying, you are not. You’re thinking about yourself and what you're doing. Prayer is much simpler than that. As King Claudius said in the play Hamlet, “My words fly up, my thoughts remain below: Words without thoughts never to heaven go.”

Because we love the Lord, we learn to serve the Lord as infants learn to walk; and toddlers, to run. The effort is immediately satisfied with the pleasure of doing these things. 

Our walking with the Lord, our paying attention to his presence and his word, are gratifying. And our walking with the Lord is our answer to his call. We have heard the warning; we have heard his invitation; and we go with him. 

The sacrifice is simply in letting go of everything in which God has no interest. And because he has no interest in it, we forget about it too. We call it sacrifice because it pleases God, but that sacrifice is not as hard as trying to please God. God is already pleased with us. He is happy, and deeply satisfied with what Jesus has done for us. He is not the unhappy, implacable parent many of us knew as children. 

That is why Saint Paul was so happy with his Thessalonian disciples. He knew the sins in his own heart and recognized theirs. He knew how grace had saved him from his obsessive trying; and he knew how grace had worked miracles in Thessaloniki.

  

Like him, we have watched the faith grow, flourish, and bear fruit in our courage, generosity, and fidelity. We make sacrifices for God, for one another, and for the Gospel. We hear the prophetic warnings and take them to heart. Attending Church and Mass, singing, responding, being silent: these are not entertainment for us; and they don’t have to make us feel good about ourselves. 

But we believe in the Gospel, the Word of God. That is good, and nothing but satisfying. We are a fortunate and most blessed people.