Memorial of the Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary

 Lectionary: 500

If this day you only knew what makes for peace– but now it is hidden from your eyes.
For the days are coming upon you
when your enemies will raise a palisade against you...

Today's gospel passage and the Memorial of Blessed Virgin Mary present a very deep and very troubling mystery of our faith. It's a question we live with and must be somehow reconciled with. How is it that God's Holy City crucified the Son of God? 

The one city on earth which is claimed by the Lord and belongs entirely to the Lord is the site where the Messiah was condemned to death. It is also the city where he was presented as the firstborn son of Mary. He clearly loved the city and was familiar with it from his youth, even making it his home for a day or two while his parents frantically looked for him! Not many years later, he stormed into town complaining that they had made God's temple into a den of thieves. If he was homeless, as he once remarked, he was also a citizen of Jerusalem with all its rights and privileges. 

Today's memorial, coupled with this passage from Luke, reminds us that Jesus' pilgrimage from Galilee is a homecoming for him. And the Church honors Mary as the New Jerusalem. She is the Virgin Church which has been utterly faithful to God, without sin and in purity of heart. 

Saint Matthew represents that same paradox to us with the magi discovering the "newborn King of the Jews" in Mary's arms after failing to find him in Jerusalem. (There is also a legend of a fourth magi finding Jesus on the outstretched arms of the cross, where Jerusalem has left him to die.)

Saint Luke ponders the paradox as he shows the  City's delight at the Child's birth. Zechariah and Elizabeth welcomed him before he was born, and the elderly Simeon and Anna delighted at his first coming to the temple. But Jesus mourns over the City's infidelity and, accurately prophesied its destruction some forty years after he was crucified there. 

The Holy City is the Holy Church is the Holy Mother of God, and is also the city of God's agony and death. And every Christian without exception is implicated in that killing.

Atonement begins with recognizing this paradox. We are God's Holy people. We are unfaithful sinners with treacherous hearts. More tortuous than anything is the human heart, beyond remedy; who can understand it? (Jeremiah 17:9)

In the month of November we anticipate the Joy of Christmas as we should. But we also remember the tragedy of Jerusalem. By Mary's presence the universe has become the holy city, worthy to receive its Savior. And yet it is also the site of tragedy, of deicide. We live with that mysterious irony, aware of our duplicity and our calling. 

Wednesday of the Thirty-third Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 499

A throne was there in heaven, and on the throne sat one
whose appearance sparkled like jasper and carnelian.
Around the throne was a halo as brilliant as an emerald.

 A fter hearing the Lord's dictated messages to the seven church, the visionary John of Patmos is led deeper into the purpose of Revelation. 

I toured the ruins of an ancient fort in Trim, Ireland where the tourists were shown what remained of an upper floor ballroom. The floor had mostly collapsed but we walked around the narrow ridge that remained. The guide told us the local neighbors of the lord would never have seen that room. It was only for the wealthy and the nobility. 

In today's first reading, the seer John of Patmos is shown into the very room where the Lord God of the Universe reigns supreme. It is not unlike that described in the Book of Daniel; and very like a room few ever saw in Rome. It was, in fact, far more splendid than the Roman Emperor's throne room, despite all the fabulous finery they might have amassed for that legendary site. Walls cannot contain God's palatial chamber with its sea of crystal glass, its panoply of kings bowing down before Him, and its rank on rank of angels. Any comparison with the Roman emperor's display must be ludicrous. It's no wonder few ever saw that earthly chamber ; anyone who knows the One whose appearance sparkles like jasper and carnelian would laugh at it. 

Nor can anyone question God's authority. It is beyond anything the powers of earth might devise. Today's gospel alludes to that authority with its story of an unpopular despot who travels to a distant city to receive greater power. Upon his return, after checking on his lieutenants and their management of affairs in his absence, he has his opponents summarily executed. "Business is business," and he does not hesitate to dispose of certain unpleasantries. 

Every day of his life, the Son of God lived and demonstrated his profound gratitude for, and his obedience before, the Lord of Heaven and Earth. His humility demonstrated the patience of the One whom he worshiped. But he could also speak of that Day when Justice will be administered. That will not be simply a leveling day when everyone is made equal in God's sight. No, the lowly, poor, and despised will be raised on high; while the well-fed, prosperous, and universally admired are thrown into desolation. 

As we approach the "Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe" we can look around at the pitiful demonstrations of power the media offers to us. We know too well the staggering power of the world's militaries. They are prepared to kill all life, human and otherwise, for the sake of their ideologies. Each one claims to defend their subject's freedom even as their bureaucracies control and manage every citizen's thought, word, and deed. Each one is like an enormous oil tanker, made of cheap plastic, sailing a stormy sea through narrow straits. Their destruction is not a matter of if but when. 

We do not know how much more they must destroy. But we do know they cannot last into eternity; that has been reserved for the Lord Jesus and those who belong to him. And we will see That Day. 

Tuesday of the Thirty-third Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 498

“I know your works;
I know that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either cold or hot.
So, because you are lukewarm, neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my outh.
For you say, ‘I am rich and affluent and have no need of anything,’
and yet do not realize that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked.

Today's gospel recalls Zacchaeus, despised by many as a government agent, but goodhearted, given to spontaneity, and affluent. He would be one of those who, during an annual fund drive to support the Temple, flouts their wealth with ostentatious donations. 

He can afford to laugh off his detractors as life and luck have not been so good to them. He can suppose that, if that's the way it is, that's the way God intended it in the first place. What good would come of his abandoning his career and connections to join his contemporaries in their poverty? He would gain only their discontent and resentment. If they hate him they admire his wealth and good fortune. Were he to walk away from that, they would hate him all the more for that insane and pointless gesture. 

Does he perhaps suspect that his Jewish piety is lukewarm, or that he is actually "wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked?" Yes, perhaps he does, but he thinks little about it since he sees no alternative. His contemporaries, including the wealthier and the poorer -- up and down the social scale -- are no happier, and no less happy, than himself. His world is flat and no one stands above the crowd. 

Not even Jesus, apparently, because Zacchaeus must climb a tree to get a better look at him. But when they come face to face, the tax collector does see something amazing, fascinating, and eminently desirable. He sees a happy man who laughs with everyone else in the crowd at the fool in the tree, but also calls him by name and wants to dine with him. Joining in the fun, Zacchaeus declares himself an admirer and friend of the Lord. And then, in an astonishing and reckless moment, disavows his wealth and position for discipleship to the Messiah. 

Scholars suggest that we remember his name because he kept his pledge. He remained in the Church throughout the Lord's ordeal and subsequent victory in Jerusalem. His natural glee was affirmed and empowered by the Spirit of Pentecost. Jesus spoke with many people and healed many more, but we remember only a few names. They might not be listed in the Book of Life. Zacchaeus is. 

A hundred years from now, or a thousand, we might wonder if anyone remembers the spectacular wealth, power, security, and accomplishments of the United States. Will it be a fond memory of a grand experiment in democracy, or a disastrous failure? 

The Lord's descriptive words -- wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked -- certainly match the experience of missionaries from impoverished nations, who come to support our Catholic faith. They are astonished by our overstuffed storage lockers, unhappy children, and desperate yearning for security. Why do these people suffer chronic depression, obsessive compulsions, and suicidal impulses? Why are their stadiums full and their churches empty? What happened to the land of the free and the home of the brave?  

Zacchaeus and his new friend invite us to come to our senses and return to our roots in faith. It is too late for many; they are lost. There is still time for us. 

Monday of the Thirty-third Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 497

Blessed is the one who reads aloud
and blessed are those who listen to this prophetic message
and heed what is written in it, for the appointed time is near.

 During these last weekdays of the liturgical year, before the welcome season of Advent, we will hear passages from the last book of the Bible, Revelation. In the introduction we hear the first of seven blessings. It is especially for the lector who reads the book to a congregation. The USCCB website provides the New American Bible Revised Edition, (NABRE), with links to the six other verses: Rev 14:13; 16:15; 19:9; 20:6; 22:7, 14. 

This blessings remind us of the primary purpose of Revelation, and that is comfort. Though the seer is understandably frightened by the vision; and he and his congregation are repeatedly assured, "Do not be afraid." Those who have come to the Lord through the proclamation of the Gospel know that invitation. We have heard angels announce it to Mary, the shepherds of Bethlehem, and the women who saw the Risen Lord. And the Lord personally appeared to Saint Paul with the same message. (Acts 18:9 & 27:24)

Those who read and hear Revelation might see terrible things as the world reacts to the Gospel like a trapped feral animal. Consequently, many Christian churches will be burned, and many Christians will suffer persecution and death. All will experience suspicion and contempt. They live the Good News in a world that fears more than anything else the presence and actions of God. As Jean Paul Sartre said, "If there is a God, there shouldn't be!" 

They do not know that if human beings are not free to receive reassurance, guidance, and rebuke from God, they are not free at all. They severely limit their world to that which is known and familiar. "Better the devil you know," they say, "than the God you don't." Seeing no farther than their own horizons, they cannot see, or intentionally refuse to see, the long-term consequences of their behavior. They expect no more than brief satisfaction, and momentary pleasure is enough. They suppose the end justifies the means, however violent and cruel the means might be. 

In addition to those who read and hear this prophetic message, the seven blessings of Revelation include

• reassurance about the dead; they "find rest from their labor, for their works accompany them.” Rev 14:13; 
• those who expect the Lord wear appropriate wedding garments, Rev 16:15; 
• they share the banquet, especially the Eucharist, Rev 19:9;
• they have died and are reborn through the Sacrament, Rev 20:6;
• they hear the Word of God and do it Rev 22:7,;
• and they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. Rev 22: 14. 

As is typical of apocalyptic literature, the imagery is colorful, graphic, and unforgettable. But the message is not like most apocalyptic. In fact, it is quite different from similar writings of the first century, and the horrific videos, movies, and cartoons of today. Where our entertainment tells us to "Be afraid, be very afraid," Revelation assures the faithful who cling to the Lord. They have nothing to fear. 

We should only stand up and watch, for our salvation is near at hand. As Moses said to his frightened little flock in the face of the most powerful army on earth: 

“Do not fear! Stand your ground and see the victory the LORD will win for you today. For these Egyptians whom you see today you will never see again.
The LORD will fight for you; you have only to keep still.” (Exodus 14:13-14)

Thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 158

Jesus said to his disciples:
"In those days after that tribulation
the sun will be darkened,
and the moon will not give its light,
and the stars will be falling from the sky,
and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.

 I begin to write these reflections for this 33rd Sunday of Ordinary Time, a week ahead of the decisions of Tuesday, November 5. But I don't suppose the sun has darkened appreciably between my writing and your reading; or that the moon no longer shines in the night sky. (We're now two days past the full moon, known as the Beaver Moon.) Other moons with their planets, innumerable stars, and uncountable constellations: all seem unmoved and unchanged since November 5. The end is not yet. 

But we live with the decisions of that day, as we must live with every decision we've ever made. The past cannot be undone, but neither can the future be determined. We can plan, as we must; we can expect naturally; but no one knows what will happen tomorrow. 

Despite the confident assertions of communists, eugenicists, and other ideologues, the future is not ineluctable. No one, neither liberal or conservative, racist or feminist knows what must, or even should, happen. As Jesus says in today's gospel, 

"...of that day or hour, no one knows,
neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father."

In other words, there is nothing automatic or even systematic about human life that a savant might understand and say, "This is what comes next." The future is written in a sealed scroll and no one has read it. There may be clues in heaven or earth, under the earth or the sea but no one knows. Not the Mother of Jesus, or the Lord's disciples, or John the Baptist had he lived that long, could have said, "I always knew he would rise from the dead;" much less, "I told you so." On that exhausted Sabbath morning, there was no way anyone could expect any more of Jesus. He was dead and buried. 

It was only afterward that Jesus himself would show his disciples that "it was necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and enter into his glory." (Luke 24:26) 

There was a plan but it was known only to God; no scientist, philosopher, or theologian, no optimist, pessimist, or ideologue could have predicted it. The truth is revealed to those whom God loves and when God chooses, as Saint Paul said, "...the mystery hidden from ages and from generations past, but now... manifested to his holy ones" (Col 1:26)

After the Lord opened their minds to understand the scriptures, he said to them, 

“Thus it is written that the Messiah would suffer and rise from the dead on the third day and that repentance, for the forgiveness of sins, would be preached in his name to all the nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things."

This knowledge of the Lord’s resurrection and our destiny as the Redeemed People of God has been revealed to us, but it is not a set of idle, dispassionate facts. Martyrs do not put their life on the line for a set of facts.

Rather, the Gospel is a commission to witness these things to the whole world. There's little point in your opinion that Jesus is the Son of God, that he died on the cross, and rose from the dead if your lifestyle, your attitudes, habits, and preferences, your relationships, your use of money, time, and talent don't bear witness to what God has shown you. The Lord did not die to tell us something about life after death. 

He died to save the world and he sent us from Jerusalem to the United States to invite everyone to personally know him through repentance for our sins, through baptism in the water that flowed from his side, through eating his flesh and drinking his blood. 

In these troubled days after last week’s election, we will find comfort and reassurance in our faith, and by sharing it with others. We cannot afford to hide it. Our friends, family, and neighbors, our political allies and opponents must hear the Good News of salvation. They must know that we were created for communion and not for conflict. Our naked bodies are not provided with protective turtle shells or rhinoceros armor; our hands are not deadly weapons; our feet are not taloned or clawed. We are formed in the image of a vulnerable God to care for one another and trust one another. We have two ears for listening and only one mouth for speaking one truth. We cannot risk believing nonsense. 

Regardless of who is president or which party controls the Congress, we can afford gentleness and reverence; we cannot afford conflict or violence. As Saint Peter said, “Always be ready to give an explanation to anyone who asks you for a reason for your hope, but do it with gentleness and reverence.” 

Jesus has assured us, “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.” As we carry that message from Jerusalem to the world, we walk with all the confidence of Saint Peter who kept his eyes on Jesus and walked on water. 

Saturday of the Thirty-second Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 496

Beloved, you are faithful in all you do for the brothers and sisters,
especially for strangers;
they have testified to your love before the Church.
Please help them in a way worthy of God to continue their journey.

 T his passage from the Third Letter of Saint John testifies to the practice of the earliest Christian churches; they supported itinerant missionaries as they received them and sent them from place to place. 

The custom began long before Christ as Jews, eager to hear news of Jerusalem and keep up with loved ones in the diaspora welcomed travelers. Many itinerant teachers and rabbis facilitated their continual adjustment to changing times and circumstances. Merchants, pilgrims, and scholars also moved about freely with Jewish hospitality. The Law of Moses must prevail in their homes and synagogues as it had in Babylon during their exile. Hadn't they learned to keep the faith under Persian, Greek, Hasmonean, and Roman domination? 

Christians kept the custom with even more enthusiasm as they supported the work of evangelization, first to the Jews, and then the gentiles. Jesus had commanded them, to

"Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them 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. And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.”

Not everyone could or should wander far from their homeland and families, but all could support the universal church with prayer, friendship, and generosity. Saint Paul saw a marvelous opportunity when Christians in Jerusalem -- already facing ostracism and persecution -- had to suffer drought. Both Letters to the Corinthians end with an appeal to send money to Judea during the crisis. "If any part of the body suffers, the whole body suffers;" and the Lord's disciples are the Body of Christ. It is unthinkable that some should prosper while others perish. 

That custom remains strong among the Christian and Catholic churches of this twenty-first century. It is vital that we support our missions, even as they support us. In our time we are seeing a re-evangelisation of Europe and North America as Africa, India, and Asia send missionaries to "post-Christian" countries. While prosperous churches send money to impoverished churches, they receive incalculable spiritual wealth from those same spiritually rich congregations. They're also reminded of their traditional beliefs and common sense as they suffer recurrent and increasingly bizarre waves of ideological nonsense. (i.e. surrogate mothering, artificial insemination, and transsexualism.) 

These New Testament writings remind us of our first century sisters and brothers and their habitual sacrifices. Their holy customs have supported the Church through many centuries, and remain vital today. 

Optional Memorial of Saint Albert the Great, Bishop and Doctor of the Church

Lectionary: 494

But now, Lady, I ask you,
not as though I were writing a new commandment
but the one we have had from the beginning:
let us love one another.
For this is love, that we walk according to his commandments;
this is the commandment, as you heard from the beginning,
in which you should walk.

 A s we approach the end of the liturgical year and a series of readings from Revelation, we hear several of the shortest New Testament writings: Jude, Philemon, and the second and third letters of Saint John. Although very brief, we treasure these "second generation" writings as clues to the life and spirit of the earliest Christian church. We are the same people with many of the same concerns, questions, and confident hope. 

Saint John addressed his third letter to a "Lady," apparently a local Church which he knew as the Bride of Christ. The earliest writings of the Church, found in the writings of Paul and Mark's gospel, refer to Jesus as the bridegroom, who obviously has a bride. And she is the Church. When Saint John reminded his Lady friend, "Let us love one another!" he reminded the congregation of their essential bonds to the Lord and one another. 

We should love our church as spouses love one another; we should love one another as the children of one father and mother, because our Father is God and our mother is the Church, or Mary the Mother of Jesus.  

The thing I notice about family is that we don't choose one another. Parents give brothers and sisters to their children, and the children are not given a choice about their siblings. I can remember my Dad saying, "Here is your sister!" as he and Mom returned from the hospital. (They didn't ask me about it! Or if they did, my response had to be of boundless delight.) 

Frankly, as I have known, loved, and watched married couples, I see they're also stuck with one another. They might have chosen one another in the beginning, but that was a long time ago, and the choice was made by much younger, more foolish people. A lot has changed since then but they're still together. Still making it work and still getting acquainted. At some point in every marriage, one wakes up and says, "Who is that stranger sleeping in my bed?" 
And marriage begins anew. 

"Lady..., let us love one another..., this is the commandment, as you heard from the beginning, in which you should walk." We love our brothers and sisters, our husbands and wives, in obedience, because we love the God who has given us to one another. 

Toward the end of his life, as Saint Francis wrote his last Testament in an effort to address some intractable problems in the community, he said, "The Lord gave me brothers." 

He had not asked for them. He had set out in solitude to live with, and be like, Jesus Christ. He had found escape from his family's luxurious life, enormous joy, and astonishing freedom in the poverty of Jesus. As he shared that good news with Assisi, he was astonished to find that many young men -- and later, young women -- insisted on joining him. He could only believe, "the Lord gave me brothers." 

That's been my experience of life among the friars. I might not have chosen these men as friars; I might have preferred that some not remain in the seminary or among us. But I wasn't asked; I was told, "Here is your brother." The choice -- if you call it that -- is to accept, respect, love, and understand them as they are. Parishioners are given the same invitation, as are Catholics in general, and then Christians. 

But -- Make no mistake! -- our bonds are deeper than that of biological families. Because we eat the flesh of the Lord Jesus and drink his blood, our true family is the enfleshed being of the Lord. Our biological brothers and sisters are family insofar as we are like the family of Jesus. Similarly, marriage is the perfect love of Jesus for his Church, and the covenant of husband and wife is like that of Jesus and his Church. (Not vice versa.)

For this is love, that we walk according to his commandments;

this is the commandment, as you heard from the beginning,

in which you should walk.

And his commandments are not difficult, unless we make them so. As we walk in the Spirit of Jesus, having surrendered our egos, our destinies, and our lives to the Lord, his commandment to love one another is not burdensome.