Memorial of Saint Ignatius of Antioch, Bishop and Martyr

Lectionary: 470

In all wisdom and insight, he has made known to us
the mystery of his will in accord with his favor
that he set forth in him as a plan for the fullness of times,
to sum up all things in Christ, in heaven and on earth.

Although study is often difficult, there is great satisfaction in the work. God's universe spreads itself like a banquet before the open mind that is willing to sacrifice time and effort. The more we learn the more we want to know. Enough is never enough! 

But learning is also difficult; it requires that we unlearn what we thought we knew and bend the brain around something unfamiliar. And it comes with the danger of vanity in achieving what others have not achieved. That vanity had to be overcome on the way to learning; and then it reappears as a sense of superiority to others. It considers itself wise despite the obvious limits of all human knowledge; and ignores the fact that, before the vast scope of God's universe, I am ignorant, needy, and dependent upon his merciful and just authority.

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. our scriptures repeatedly tell us. Wisdom begins in humility and leads to deeper humility. 

American culture and many strains of Catholicism are afflicted with the vanity of anti-intellectualism. They glory in their elite ignorance and cultivate it in their children. It is fostered by a jealous fear that the child might outdo the parent. Some children are repeatedly told they will fail, and will never be as smart as their father or mother; that programming  is hard to overcome. 

Our scriptures and the core of our Catholic tradition encourage us to watch, study, and be amazed at the wonderful things we can learn, and always to seek greater wisdom and understanding. We especially glory in the cross because it reveals to us that hidden wisdom. As Saint Paul wrote to the Corinthians (2 Cor 2:8)

Yet we do speak a wisdom to those who are mature, but not a wisdom of this age, nor of the rulers of this age who are passing away.
Rather, we speak God’s wisdom,* mysterious, hidden, which God predetermined before the ages for our glory,
and which none of the rulers of this age* knew; for if they had known it, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory.
But as it is written:

“What eye has not seen, and ear has not heard,

and what has not entered the human heart,

what God has prepared for those who love him,”

this God has revealed to us through the Spirit.

For the Spirit scrutinizes everything, even the depths of God.

Unlike the mysterious nonsense of some occult groups, our mysteries are hidden in plain sight. We have only to look around to see the humility, mercy, and justice of God. We have only to listen to our saints -- both the canonized and those who attend church with us -- to see the wonders God has wrought. We have only to lift up our heads and see the humility of God in the Blessed Sacrament to know how we should live our lives. 

Wednesday of the Twenty-eighth Week in Ordinary Time

Saint Hedwig &
St Margaret Mary Alacoque

Lectionary: 469

In contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace,
patience, kindness, generosity,
faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.
Against such there is no law.

For our instruction and reassurance, Saint Paul described a sharp, obvious difference between the works of the spirit and the works of the flesh. The latter are civilized, edifying, gratifying, and pleasant; the former are insufferable. He might have enjoyed, but would not have agreed with, "...heaven for the climate, hell for the company." Hellacious company is disagreeable by any standard. 

His heavenly standard can be used at the end of the day as we check in with the Lord. We use it to gauge our behavior and the presence we offered to others. Altogether these values are good, which has a satisfying texture of godly rightness. Even when a conversation or chore was difficult or disappointing, the effort may be assessed as good and laid to rest. "I did the best I could within the limits of my strength and experience; I'll let the Lord be its judge, and let the results fall where they will." 

A civilized society must also agree with, "Against such there is no law." The Lord's disciples bring this standard with us as we enter the conversations of politics, business, and commerce. Because not everyone believes as we do, nor has a similar experience of life's fundamental goodness -- an experience gained by living upon the rock of faith and in the company of saints -- we need not be surprised by fear and greed, the controlling impulses of a rapacious society. Nor do we operate that way. We seek the common good and believe it's a standard everyone can agree to. There is surely no law against the common good!

As Saint Paul peered more deeply into freedom's ideal law, he founds its origin in the cross,

Now those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified their flesh

with its passions and desires. 

When Puritans, in their pursuit of ridding England of every semblance of Catholicism, proposed that the nation's churches should be stripped of the crosses on their altars, walls, and windows, John Donne replied,

Since Christ embrac’d the Crosse it selfe, dare I

His image, the’image of his Crosse deny?

Would I have profit by the sacrifice,

And dare the chosen Altar to despise?

It bore all other sinnes, but is it fit

That it should beare the sinne of scorning it? (from The Crosse)

If our standard for public behavior and conversation is Saint Paul's list from Galatians, we never forget that we stand under the shadow of the cross and are humbled by its demands and by its beauty. No one can suppose they meet that standard, but we are not hesitate to gaze upon it and be judged by its mercy.

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

 Lectionary: 468

You are separated from Christ,
you who are trying to be justified by law; you have fallen from grace.
For through the Spirit, by faith, we await the hope of righteousness.

Saint Paul in his Letter to the Galatians explored the same theological principles he developed more fully in his Letter to the Romans. He was especially concerned about the freedom we enjoy in Christ, a freedom which knows little of the Laws of Moses. 

When he learned that many of the gentiles he had baptized were attempting to complete their initiation into the Lord by circumcision -- a very painful ordeal -- he was horrified. That was precisely the wrong thing to do, and irreversible! "You are separated from Christ!" he shouts through his Letter. 

He knew the Pharisaic interpretation of the Law of Moses; he had lived under it too long, and had tried to impress it on others. It was suffocating, allowing no room for relaxation, enjoyment, or reassurance. It was continually anxious, demanding, shaming, and guilt-inducing. There was no pleasing the Pharisee's God.   

When we love and trust someone -- whether they are God, a friend, or a spouse -- we don't need to knock ourselves out anticipating and meeting everything they might want. We don't try to read their minds or know everything they're thinking. We give them space. If they want or need something, they'll ask. 

Nor do we suppose they expect us to wait upon them hand and foot. They give us space to think our own thoughts and work out our own plans. Unlike tyranny, there is room in love for being apart and coming together. There is no possessiveness or jealousy to force us together and tear us apart. Love recognizes the otherness of the other and honors it.  

Paul had found freedom and deliverance on the road to Damascus, and he knew that he could never turn back. He might not have yet known, but he would soon realize, that Christians could never live like Pharisees, and the split with Judaism was both necessary and inevitable.

The unfortunate Galatians, duped by false disciples of Jesus, were trying too hard to please their implacable god. By the rite of circumcision, they showed they did not trust the Lord; they had no faith. 

Informed as they were of Jewish history, Jesus and Paul knew the danger of false prophets and their fate. We have seen plenty of that recently as rogue priests leave obedience to their bishops and superiors to create their own churches of misguided Catholics. Some would tighten religious discipline; others relax it. Both types agree that everyone else is wrong. Their followers and their followers' children might never know the beauty of Communion within the Body of Christ.

But Saint Paul was concerned about the immediate state of those he had baptized. Could they undo the rite of circumcision and return to faith in God? 

"For in Christ Jesus, neither circumcision nor uncircumcision counts for anything, but only faith working through love." 

He would be reassured by their love of the Lord. Although they must repent of their infidelity, of trying to win God's love when it was so freely offered, the path of return remains open and available.  

Monday of the Twenty-eighth Week in Ordinary Time

Pope Saint Callistus
Founder and patron of Catholic Cemeteries

 Lectionary: 467

These women represent two covenants.
One was from Mount Sinai, bearing children for slavery;
this is Hagar.
But the Jerusalem above is freeborn, and she is our mother.
For it is written:
Rejoice, you barren one who bore no children;
break forth and shout, you who were not in labor....

With his personal experience of freedom, Saint Paul struggled mightily to convince his fellow Jews and those gentiles who had come to Jesus that this way of life is free, whereas that of the Pharisaic Jews is not. The gospels describe the same struggle, though with different language and few references to "freedom," between Jesus and his opponents. 

Many observers have pointed out that the Pharisees were not universally bad people. Ideologues use childish language to describe their opponents as "bad" and "evil people." We are certainly seeing plenty of that today in the United States.  

The Pharisees had to contend with the iron fist of Rome which did not hesitate to ruthlessly destroy opposition. Given the fractious nature of all conversation at the time, they feared that Jesus with his hordes of disciples and his apocalyptic talk could only invite Roman discipline. While Herodians collaborated with Rome, the Pharisees kept a low profile, practicing their religion at home and arguing with one another in the synagogues. 

They offered the assurances of security. "So long as we don't make trouble, and pay our taxes to Caesar, Rome doesn't care what God we worship or how we go about doing it." Most Irish Catholic priests offered the same security to their flocks during centuries of  British occupation. The spiritual cost of that security -- emigration, alcoholism, and the cruelty of priests and religious communities -- has only been revealed since the British left. 

Saint Paul's Gospel offered both security and freedom. Although it meant ostracism from one's Jewish friends and family, and expulsion from Jewish synagogues, along with the suspicion -- sometimes violent -- of Rome, his freedom was contagious and joyful. His disciples were free not only from fear, but also from regret, resentment, and possessiveness. Because they freely acknowledged their sins, they could speak honestly and modestly with one another without boasting, and praise God without fear, remorse, or hidden guilt. They had utter confidence in the God who would not spare his own son to save them from their sins. 

What then shall we say to this? If God is for us, who can be against us?

He who did not spare his own Son but handed him over for us all, how will he not also give us everything else along with him?

Who will bring a charge against God’s chosen ones? It is God who acquits us.

Who will condemn? It is Christ [Jesus] who died, rather, was raised, who also is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us.

What will separate us from the love of Christ? Will anguish, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or the sword?

To this day we struggle to claim this freedom for ourselves and our children. How do we raise the next generation with the convictions and discipline that God's freedom demands? It's especially difficult in a culture which believes discipline, commitments, and convictions are the opposite of freedom. Their freedom is unlimited power and unchallenged authority to do as one pleases, with accountability to no one. 

Our freedom comes as we accept God's mercy and acknowledge our sins transparently and vulnerably, with neither shame nor remorse. With this freedom we can also welcome those fellow sinners whom the world despises. 

Our freedom requires intense, lifelong dedication. If we are frightened and uncertain at times, we cannot turn back. As Saint Peter said, "Where could we go? You have the words of eternal life!" 

Twenty-eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 143

I prayed, and prudence was given me;
I pleaded, and the spirit of wisdom came to me.
I preferred her to scepter and throne, and deemed riches nothing in comparison with her,
nor did I liken any priceless gem to her;
because all gold, in view of her, is a little sand, and before her, silver is to be accounted mire.

Anthropologist Agustin Fuentes, in his book about the evolution of the human species, The Creative Spark, suggests that the emergence of cities and the development of specialized labor created the ever-widening gap between wealth and poverty. As towns and villages evolved into cities, those responsible for storing food developed methods for preserving the food by drying, salting, pickling, and – where ice was available – chilling it. They also developed ways to sort and pile the food stocks, with written records to keep track of where the food was stored, and to account for income, outgo, and inventory. 

But few could read or understand their accounts. In good times and bad, everyone relied on these trusted specialists; and perhaps they didn’t blame the specialists for protecting their own families first against want. Their children were the first to take an interest in how the food was stored, and how the records were kept. They could read and write, and seemed to enjoy that arcane science with its gobbledygook signs and symbols, and its strange language of decimals, percentages, and interests.

And so royal families appeared in the cities. Because they had and retained power, they could live better than everyone else, with better clothes, better food, and better education. If you were lucky you got to serve them, and they might take care of you before everyone else. If you were strong and skilled you could protect them, and fight for them. You could police their cities or join their armies. 

Or, if you were bold and adventurous like the Patriarch Abraham, you could organize caravans and carry clothing, spices, incense, precious medals, and gems, as you traveled and traded from one city to another. 

It's no surprise that rulers, bankers, and traders are often wealthier, since they hold and manage everyone's treasure. Money is a kind of fluid and when you put your hands in water, they get wet! If you know how to manage currents, you can build a little dam and store up currency for yourself and your loved ones.

Today's gospel concerns the tragedy of a wealthy man who rushes up to Jesus, all in a hurry to be saved. Like the disciples who wanted to sit at his right and left hand, this fellow has no idea what he is asking for. Nor is he remotely prepared for the answer Jesus gives him.

We're not told what his conception of "eternal life" might have been. He seemed to know that some people might not enjoy that blessed opportunity, and that there was something he had to do to inherit it. Could he be adopted by someone who owns, manages, or distributes eternal life out of some heavenly store? Can he count eternal life among his assets, and list them in his portfolio? 

A few years later, when Saint Paul addressed the gentiles, he assured them they had been adopted into the Chosen People of God because they believed in Jesus. How hard could that be? 

Jesus answered the young man very directly; he should liquidate his assets, pour them into the bottomless cistern of human need where not one fluid penny can be retrieved, and follow the Lord. He should live like the birds of the air and the foxes in their holes, without the securities we have built into our cities for the past five or six thousand years. 

His immediate decision not to follow Jesus indicates he had assumed the prize was not very costly, nor the road very difficult. He'd only heard it was something wonderful and might be obtained for the asking. 

The story is tragic. There can be no doubt about that as we see how Jesus loved the man and was saddened by his departure. Not everyone whom Jesus loves will enjoy eternal life. 

Witnessing the man's decision, Jesus said, "How hard it is for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God! And the disciples were amazed at his words."

They had not really thought about what they had signed up for. Perhaps some of them still had vague intentions of returning to their homes, families, and villages after their tutelage under the remarkable rabbi. Perhaps they were delighted at the approach of a young man with many possessions, and disheartened by his immediate dismissal. For hadn't the Lord sent him away with his extreme demand? 

Jesus had not so precisely spelled out the cost of discipleship to his little band of fishermen, tax collectors, or farmers. He had spoken of serving one another, and about the ideal leader who is everyone’s servant; but that sounded too strange and impossible to make any sense.

He'd said, "Follow me!" and they did; the rest would work itself out; and, so far, they’d had a pretty easy time of it. 

But if their entire future was described with Jesus's reply – “...sell what you have, and give to the poor and you will have treasure in heaven” – they might never return to the old normal. There might never be a normal! They might never be wealthier, more secure, or more powerful than anyone else. Where are we going, anyway?

I wish I knew the answer to that question. But as there are more than a quarter million new cases of Covid worldwide in the past month – including 115,000 in the Russian federation; as polarized politics deepens daily here in the United States and throughout the world; as we face the specter of democracy’s collapse and the return of tyranny; as climate change threatens everything we thought we knew about life; as the wealth-poverty chasm grows ever wider; and as more people disappear into the vortex of depression, addiction, and suicide, we hear only the invitation of Jesus, sell what you have, and give to the poor and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me. 

Saint Peter speaks for you and me as he says to Jesus, "We have given up everything and followed you." 

We know no more than anyone else what he means by the expression "eternal life” but the Spirit who draws, directs, and drives us knows, and we follow Jesus willingly. 

Saturday of the Twenty-seventh Week in Ordinary Time

Collect of Our Mother of Divine Providence

Lectionary: 466

Scripture confined all things under the power of sin, that through faith in Jesus Christ the promise might be given to those who believe.

As the gospels faithfully and repeatedly insist, fidelity begins with an awareness of sin. 

John [the] Baptist appeared in the desert proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. People of the whole Judean countryside and all the inhabitants of Jerusalem were going out to him and were being baptized by him in the Jordan River as they acknowledged their sins. (Mark 1: 4)

Coming to the Lord, we admit we have violated our own integrity and the very reasonable restrictions of God's law. We have sinned; we and our ancestors have sinned. And no longer deserve to be called children of God. 

Many people say they believe in God with only a limited ownership of their sins. I'm not perfect is not an admission of personal guilt. 

Every encounter with another person -- friend, family, or stranger; alien, homeless person, or drug addict; fellow Catholic, Christian, or "none" -- begins with an awareness of God's particular mercy for me, and God's particular mercy for this other person. We stand together under the judgment of God which we pray is merciful although it can be wrathful.

The story is told -- I've probably told it in this blog -- of two monks on an overnight trek from their monastery to the nearest city. Arriving at its gates, they agreed to separate, conduct their business, reunite here under this tree, and return to the monastery.
A few hours later, the first monk returned and sat down to wait. And wait, and wait. He recited his prayers, and the rosary, and contemplated the evening skylarks, the nighthawks, hooting owls, and morning wrens.
Finally the other monk appeared, somewhat haggard. He readily admitted, "I am sorry, but I cannot return with you. I have returned to my former life of sin, and spent the night carousing. I do not deserve the title of monk. But I knew you'd be waiting so I've come to say goodbye."
His friend replied, "Listen, I've also just come back. I too spent the night in dreadful sin. But let's go back. The abbot is severe but just. He will punish us as we deserve, but he'll let us return."
Arm in arm, they returned to the path of holiness.    

If I am faced with another's sinful behavior, I am also aware of mine. I know there are this-worldly consequences to stupid and wicked behavior, not to mention the reality of death, judgment, heaven, and hell. If I believe in the mercy I have found, I am also sure of the merciful relief God offers to this unfortunate soul. If I must, in some form or another, remind others of the wrath that is withheld, I also share my hope and confident belief in the the mercy that is proffered. 

I know "the wages of sin is death," and I fear for this person. "But the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 6:23)

Friday of the Twenty-seventh Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 464

Realize that it is those who have faith who are children of Abraham. Scripture, which saw in advance that God would justify the Gentiles by faith, foretold the good news to Abraham, saying, Through you shall all the nations be blessed.

Saint Paul struggled mightily with the unexpected mystery of gentiles insistently listening to Christian preachers and asking for baptism. They were clearly not Jews and he saw that they had received the Spirit of wisdom, courage,
patience under hardship, and joy which marks disciples of Jesus. 

He had experienced the futility of living like the Pharisees who strictly observed every stricture of the Law of Moses, and often created new, more restrictive rules to prove their worthiness in God's sight. "Give it up, People!" he might have said. "Trust our Good God, believe in Jesus, and let all that stuff go!" 

Saint Paul's breakthrough came when he realized we are saved by faith. We belong to the Lord; that is, we are God's people by faith in Jesus and not by birth, or by our decision to belong to him. As Saint John wrote,

But to those who did accept him he gave power to become children of God, to those who believe in his name, who were born not by natural generation nor by human choice nor by a man’s decision but of God. (John 1:12-13)

He chooses us through baptism and we gratefully accept his election, entirely aware that we have neither earned it nor deserved it. Paul himself would insist that he was the last of the apostles, the least of all and servant of all. "But," he insisted, "by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace to me has not been ineffective." (I Corinthians 15:10)

Americans -- Catholics, Protestants, and nones alike -- express great discomfort with this doctrine. Some piously insist that no one is special, implying that God should not prefer some over others. Others, perhaps more honestly, don't want the responsibility that goes with being among the elect. Neither group is willing to do penance for their sins, though they might admit they screwed up, or have "character defects," but they insist their "intentions were never wicked." 

When we finally surrender to the Lord's particular mercy shown to each of us, we take up our cross of guilt, remorse, regret, and shame; practice penance; and follow in his footsteps. And then we know the Spirit of wisdom, courage, patience under hardship, and joy which marks disciples of Jesus.