Monday, August 31, 2020

Monday of the Twenty-third Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 431

When I came to you, brothers and sisters, proclaiming the mystery of God, I did not come with sublimity of words or of wisdom. For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you
except Jesus Christ, and him crucified.
I came to you in weakness and fear and much trembling…



Arriving at the second chapter of Saint Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians, we find that he is still exploring the mystery of kenosis, the humility of God. Following the principle that "We imitate the god whom we adore," the Apostle resolved to "know nothing except Jesus Christ, and him crucified.”

He would not use the powerful, oratorical methods he had learned, methods used by every educated person. In a world where few enjoyed the privilege of education, students learned techniques and skills of public speaking. Paul had tried these persuasive techniques in Athens, the center of the Roman intellectual world, and they laughed at him. From then on, he would Keep It Simple, eschewing oratorical flourishes and clever arguments. He would speak from his heart and from his personal experience of the Risen Lord.

But he would also reflect on their experience as a church and their knowledge of the Holy Spirit. He wrote several letters to the Corinthians in response to the troubles he’d heard they suffered. Keeping it simple, he didn’t have to appeal to abstruse philosophical arguments. Nor did he appeal to more familiar pagan traditions.

The universe had been reborn with the resurrection of Jesus; so rational principles and reasonable statements were built on the foundation of Jesus Christ and him crucified. Arguments could be settled by examining their differences in the light of Easter glory. Likewise, churches would be designed in the new light of the Gospel, although their organizations and (eventually) their buildings would resemble Jewish synagogues.

And the guiding principle would be kenosis, God’s humility. No one should be overpowered in a competition to win some kind of spiritual competition. If we’re bringing in the sheaves, we do so with profound respect for the sensitivities and sensibilities of each individual soul. It is a profound honor to be called by the Lord, no one should be badgered or shamed into joining His Church.

We’ve had a hard time maintaining that principle. We know a million ways to overpower ignorant, reluctant, and obstinate people; we’re always tempted to take those shortcuts to success. But when our successes humiliate, our ends fail to justify the means, and the right path is treachery, we realize we have betrayed the Lord. Judas Iscariot, for all we know, intended the right thing but used the wrong means and lives forever as a sign of disgrace.

As we invite neighbors, friends, and family to know the Lord we share our memories of failure, grief, and shame. If no one knows the Lord who does not know his crucifixion, neither do they know us if we seem to be always wise, always right, and always blameless. We are vessels of clay as Paul insisted, damaged goods. They might join our gardening club because we grow such lovely zenias, or our softball teams because we're batting .500, but they join us in prayer because they have sinned like us. 


 

Sunday, August 30, 2020

Twenty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time

Collect of 22nd Sunday of Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 124

Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer greatly from the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed and on the third day be raised.
Then Peter took Jesus aside and began to rebuke him....



Although Jesus silenced Saint Peter and his objection with a stern rebuke, the conversation continues twenty centuries later. Why must the Lord die on a cross? Why is his obedience absolutely necessary?

Does not a Good, Compassionate, and Merciful God understand how difficult his demands are upon a human being? How many times have you heard people excusing themselves from Sunday worship, or marital fidelity, or respect for another's property with, "I'm only human and God will understand?" They find the Ten Commandments unrealistic and suppose God will allow some noncompliance, so long as it's done nicely, by civil standards.

But Jesus of Nazareth is set on his pilgrimage to Jerusalem. He must do this, he says, in obedience to his Father. We know nothing about Jesus if we do not recognize his willingness even to death, death on a cross. He cannot be unfaithful, as Saint Paul said. He has set his face like flint and must proceed to Jerusalem over the objections of family, admirers, friends, and enemies. If his cross is sacrilegious to the sanctimonious and madness to the intelligentia, it is nonetheless the wisdom of God.

It has something to do with the nature of our human will. Made in God's image, we enjoy a God-like freedom. But it comes with an insatiable anxiety. Everything we do is done, and cannot be undone. It's consequences might be mitigated but the fact that it happened cannot be deleted from the past. 
I am responsible for both my actions and decisions, including the decisions I chose not to make.  

In the agony of Jesus we see that God too must suffer that anxiety. He must act with infinite courage in the face of mortal reluctance, unwillingness, refusal, and rebellion.  

We have tried to save ourselves without a Savior and failed repeatedly. For every advance we fell back farther. We make progress only if God himself helps us, for just as without love the simplest chore is impossible, so in love we can accomplish the impossible. Such is the Power of the Holy Spirit that empowers our willingness. His crucifixion paradoxically insures our freedom and guarantees our salvation.

In the parable of the faithful servant who was ready for his master's return, Jesus describes the burden that is laid upon him:
Much will be required of the person entrusted with much, and still more will be demanded of the person entrusted with more.
The only begotten Son of God, the image of the invisible God, has been entrusted with more than an infinite blessing. No less is demanded of him. And so he...
"...must go to Jerusalem, suffer greatly from the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed and on the third day be raised.

Saint Peter is appalled by Jesus's words. He would defend his friend and champion from the savage treatment of human authorities. But he is thinking as men think, and he is thinking of himself. First he does not want to lose a friend; secondly, he doesn't want to follow in those bloody footprints.

He cannot see it now but he will come to believe what every disciple must accept. As Blaise Pascal said, "The heart has its reasons, of which reason knows nothing."

Saturday, August 29, 2020

Memorial of the Passion of Saint John the Baptist

Lectionary: 430/634

Consider your own calling, brothers and sisters. Not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful,
not many were of noble birth....


We always do well to consider our own calling, as Saint Paul urges us. 

Several years ago I attended a workshop in which the leaders asked the participants to share their own experience of injustice. Several had suffered or witnessed racism, and others were humiliated by sexual or gender discrimination. A few participants had travelled and seen squalid poverty. 

And then they asked us to share mystical moments in our lives when we felt the presence of God in some palpable fashion. It might have been through dreams, visions, or auditions (voices.) Most people have such experiences and they remember them when asked, although they might never have shared these "crazy impulses" with others. 

The scriptures tell us of the call of patriarchs, matriarchs, and prophets when they were called to serve the Lord in some particular, unexpecteed capacity. The prophets Jeremiah, John the Baptist, and Jesus were called before they were born! Samuel was a child serving at a Jewish shrine. Judith and Esther faced the annihilation of their people and used their feminine charms to destroy the enemy. Daniel was aroused to action when a woman was falsely accused of adultery. Saint Paul was knocked to the ground on the road to Damascus. 

Very often, the precise circumstances of that moment when we are called determine the message we should deliver. Saint Paul, learning that his attacks on Christians assailed the Lord personally, realized the Church is the Body of Christ. He also became a great comforter of the afflicted as he recalled his own afflictions. 

Many are hearing the call of the Holy Spirit as we suffer concurrent crises of the pandemic, suicide, drug abuse, racism, neglect of the elderly, poverty and climate change. Many alcoholics, turning their life and will over the care of God, seek other men and women who still suffer that fatal disease. 

We do well to consider our own calling often. Christians are called to action; no one just comes along for the ride. If, at one time, some layfolks thought their part was to pay, pray, and obey while priests and sisters did the work of the church, those days are long gone, and good riddance. 

Daily we remember our calling, renew our commitment in prayer, and make disciples of all nations in whatever fashion the Lord directs. 

Friday, August 28, 2020

Memorial of Saint Augustine, Bishop and Doctor of the Church

 Lectionary: 429

Christ did not send me to baptize but to preach the Gospel, and not with the wisdom of human eloquence, so that the cross of Christ might not be emptied of its meaning. The message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.


 

If Saint Paul's brilliant mind were remembered for nothing else, this insight would make him remembered as the most important thinker in the history of the Church. But, of course, he is remembered for many other discoveries. The cross was a spade for him to dig into the Hebrew scriptures and tradition, and the wisdom of Greek philosophers.

This reading of the cross remains until the end of time as a challenge to the world and an invitation to the Church. Whenever we are tempted to buy into popular ideas, movements, or ideologies, God's foolishness calls us back to our sanity.

Power is dreadfully seductive, both to those who have it and those who don't. The wealthy cannot imagine life without it, the poor are enchanted with lifestyles of the rich and famous.

Saint Francis of Assisi, born to wealth with all its luxurious privileges, traumatized by war and imprisonment, and inspired by grace, suddenly saw the absurdity of power. Aspiring, grabbing, and clinging to it made no sense after what he had seen in battle and in a Perusian dungeon. Staring at the inevitability of death he pondered the same question people ask today, "Why shouldn't I kill myself?"

The cross taught him to live for God and for others; to aspire to the Greatest Commandment and its corollary. Living for himself, for his own pleasure and satisfaction, to suit his own purposes and satisfy his own desires: they tasted like ashes in his mouth. So much "rubbish," as Saint Paul called it.

Almost two millennia since Jesus's death and Saint Paul's insight we still see nations, institutions, people and individuals aspiring to wealth, security, and power. We're confronted today by the real possibility that half the world's wealth is owned by eight people. If this is true it defies every notion of common sense; it is so utterly absurd it must be true, at least to some peculiar way of thinking. Who could those unfortunate persons be and who gave them such a ridiculous position? What were we thinking when we let it happen?

The wisdom of the world leads to an ever increasing gap between the haves and have nots, the violence of universal poverty, and the global warming which signals the end of human life on Earth.

The cross and resurrection of Jesus call us to sanity. In the cross we find communion with God, others, self, and the Earth. In the resurrection we see that the sacrifices we make for one another, and our willingness to die to self, lead to peace, security, and contentment.

It's really not so hard since, "All things are possible with God." 

Thursday, August 27, 2020

Memorial of Saint Monica

 Lectionary: 428

Jesus said to his disciples:
“Stay awake!
For you do not know on which day your Lord will come.


As a child in Catholic elementary school, I learned to sing with my classmates the Latin hymn, Dies Irae. The melody is powerful and haunting and expresses a grim fear of the Day of Judgement. It has been used by Berlioz, Liszt, Saint-Saƫns, and Holst, and many others, and is sometimes heard in horror movies.

The words, too, are frightening:
THAT day of wrath, that dreadful day,
shall heaven and earth in ashes lay,
as David and the Sybil say.
 
 
What horror must invade the mind
when the approaching Judge shall find
and sift the deeds of all mankind!
 
and so forth, for nineteen tercets. Although the dirge ends with hopeful words -- Lord, have mercy, Jesus blest, grant them all Your Light and Rest. Amen. -- the overall mood is pessimistic. We really don't deserve mercy and have little reasonable hope of attaining heaven. 
The song was written by a thirteenth century Franciscan, and my own disposition inclines to  pessimism --  my friend Tony called me a "pestimist" -- but I think the Gospels give us more reason to hope.
 
Romantics prefer underdogs and lost causes, Christians take their stand with the Winner and we believe that God has already won the victory for us. The Judgement Day -- "That Day!" -- will be the Victory Day when the whole world, astonished and stricken with awe, will acknowledge that Jesus is Lord! 
Every knee shall bow in heaven, on earth, and under the earth, and every tongue proclaim, that Jesus Christ is Lord! 
Forgetting the particular, minor matter of our personal salvation, we look forward to the Revelation of God's glory. What a day that will be! It is worth staying awake for! 
Fools hope it never comes; and if it must come, they hope it won't be today, or within the foreseeable future. They dismiss the wisdom of Jesus's advice. The New Testament is rife with warnings about such foolishness. It will come in any case, whether we look for it or not. 

Since the attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941, the United States has tried to maintain an alert readiness for attacks from every direction. Despite that we've been caught off guard by many unexpected developments: recessions, epidemics, hurricanes, fires, and --not least -- 9/11. 

The Church also teaches us to be alert for the Day of the Lord. But it will be for us neither a Dies Irae nor a sudden plandemic. It will be a joyous day for God and all the saints, for you and me. 

Wednesday, August 26, 2020

Wednesday of the Twenty-first Week in Ordinary Time

A trail through MSF woods

 Lectionary: 427

We instruct you, brothers and sisters, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, to shun any brother
who walks in a disorderly way
and not according to the tradition they received from us.



Saint Paul’s First and Second Letters to the Thessalonians are considered the oldest documents in the New Testament. Written several years before the more important gospels, they give us an idea of how the first Christians coped with the challenge of their new religion. There are sketchy ideas about Jesus’s second coming, and warnings not to get carried away with anticipatory excitement; as well as remarks about some new members who seem inspired with the wrong spirit.

“If the world is ending tomorrow,” they apparently believe, “why should I work today?” It might make sense to some people but that was not Saint Paul’s intention when he announced the Lord. Nor does it conform to the Spirit’s counsel. In fact, inspired persons should work night and day, in toil and drudgery, so as not to be a burden! That is how the faithful imitate the Apostle who recommends himself as a model and example.

In the earliest days of the church we discover many of today's problems. And we see how the Holy Spirit invests certain persons with authority to preach, teach, and establish our traditions and mores. Although we welcome everyone to believe with us and worship our Lord Jesus, we shun those who act in a disorderly way.

Second Thessalonians also validates a universal experience of church: there are always useless members and we’re often confused about what we should do with them. Confident and optimistic as we are, we’re not very discriminating about who joins us. People of every race, class, or social station are welcome; and everyone contributes simply by catching the spirit of generosity, courage, and gratitude. Even persons with severe disabilities can be animated by that joyful spirit. They are no burden to anyone.

But, as the parable of the broadcast seeds tells us, some people lose the spirit and resume former disorderly ways. They have no roots and wither in the heat. 

It is not easy to be Christian; it’s not supposed to be. The very first documents of our tradition assure us of that.

 

 

Tuesday, August 25, 2020

Tuesday of the Twenty-first Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 426

Jesus said:
“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, you hypocrites.
You pay tithes of mint and dill and cummin,
and have neglected the weightier things of the law:
judgment and mercy and fidelity."


 

In today’s gospel we hear Jesus railing against the influential religious leaders of his time. Hypocritical “scribes and Pharisees” boasted of their scrupulous observance of the law and denounced the vast majority who couldn’t afford, or be bothered with, their pretensions.

Twenty centuries later, if we only evaluate pompous religious leaders, we might overlook the broader problems these gospel verses address. Religion is not that important to many people; there is little cachet in being super-pious. But there is still serious neglect of “the weightier things of the law: judgment, mercy, and fidelity.”

People often take the law as the arbiter of morality: "If it’s legal it’s okay; if it’s illegal, it’s not okay." They might justify their inaction by the law that makes no demands upon them. Or they justify destructive behavior like selling dangerous materials to children because it’s not illegal. They do so without reference to God’s law, the teachings of the Bible, or common sense.

Hiding behind laws justifies depriving needy persons of help. I think of those federal officials who reluctantly address the student loan crisis. Where it is clearly in our best interest as an economy and nation to encourage home ownership, many young couples with children are hobbled by the exorbitant cost of their education. Too often they attended for-profit schools that collected their federal loans and gave nothing in return. (Think, “Trump University.”)

Black Lives Matter has shown us how often arbitrary interpretations of the law are used to harass African Americans. Police readily overlook speeding, for instance, by “white” drivers but quickly pull over drivers "of color." Even teenaged pedestrians are corralled and handcuffed for being "black."


2020 might be remembered as the year of Covid-19, but this is also the year the world learned of state-sponsored terrorism in the United States. It’s being legal does not make it moral. If we neglect the weightier things of the law, we cannot expect the Divine Judge to overlook that injustice.


We remember Jesus’s opponents, the scribes and Pharisees, as particularly obnoxious. When many people felt uncomfortable with these pious frauds and wondered about their apparent holiness, Jesus called them out and fixed on them a perpetual rebuke. They disgraced the faith of Abraham and their Jewish tradition. We pray that Americans will not suffer the same everlasting shame for a senseless, arbitrary adherence to shortsighted, manmade laws.


Monday, August 24, 2020

Feast of Saint Bartholomew, Apostle

Lectionary: 629

Jesus saw Nathanael coming toward him and said of him,
“Here is a true child of Israel.
There is no duplicity in him.”


I have encountered duplicity and were someone to accuse me of it, they would not be far wrong. But as one living in the heart of the Church, I have lived most of my life with people who trusted others and proved themselves trustworthy. We have worked together in parishes and retreat houses, and in a host of other ministries. I hope that, in the end, I will be judged as one worthy to belong to this communion.  

The Spirit revealed to Jesus Bartholomew, known also as Nathaniel, an honest man without duplicity, . They were immediately drawn to one another as like-minded individuals. Seeing one another, both men took only a moment to determine, "He's one of us." 

I see that belonging when I attend gatherings of Catholics and Christians: Knights of Columbus, Ladies' Guilds, Franciscan tertiaries, Ministerial Alliances of Catholic and Protestant leaders, and so forth. There may be misunderstandings; they're inevitable. But there is little duplicity. 

People expect honesty when they attend a church and they generally find it. That's why the pedophilia scandal was so profoundly disturbing. There are wolves in sheep's clothing and we are particularly vulnerable to their perfidy. We don't expect it; we don't know what to make of it; we're often blind to what is patently obvious. We might, to paraphrase Groucho Marx, believe what they tell us rather than what we see with our own eyes. 

In the last twenty to thirty years I have attended innumerable workshops and training sessions. They warned me to behave myself, and then to suspect trouble when there is trouble. I am willing to do both. 

But I am also willing to cultivate that lack of duplicity, that gullibility that Jesus found in Nathaniel. I don't get all the double intendres because I don't want to. Yes, I heard it, but I don't think it's funny. If I were fifteen I'd think it's hysterical, but I haven't been fifteen since a very long time. 

Saint Paul urged his Christians in Corinth to eschew the wisdom of the wise and learn the foolishness of God. Today's patron saint was born with that native wisdom; it came to him by his Jewish ancestry and tradition -- both nature and nurture -- and we should ask God for a double measure of his spirit in these duplicitous times. 



Sunday, August 23, 2020

Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 121

Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! 

How inscrutable are his judgments and how unsearchable his ways!
For who has known the mind of the Lord
or who has been his counselor?

 


There may be no more mysterious, unexpected, unsearchable, controversial judgement of God than the decision to trust Saint Peter with the keys of the kingdom. If many of God’s decisions are inscrutable, this one is at the top of the list. It is second only to God’s unexpected and unappreciated decision to become a human incarnate being.

The latter has to do with the Second Person of the Holy Trinity; and the former, with the Holy Spirit. First, God is invested in the very flesh of a human being; that is, Jesus. That mystery must be revealed for we could never imagine it. And then, the Holy Spirit bestows the authority of Jesus upon other human beings who are far less worthy than the Savior. They should announce the kingdom of God and make disciples of all nations despite their innumerable and flagrantly obvious disqualifications to perform such a task. "For," as the Angel said to Mary, "nothing is impossible with God."

Many people, perhaps all of us, want to be saved. But many of us would also prefer some other way than trusting our eternal salvation into the hands of other men and women. We just don’t want to deal with institutions, organizations, fellowships, and all the messiness of belonging to groups of people with their rules, regulations, customs, traditions, and hidden agendas. 

Sure, we might join clubs and societies to pass the time as hobbyists. Religion, for those who dig it, makes for great fellowship among like-minded persons of the same race and socio-economic class. And we might sign into organizations and corporations to get work done and make a place for us in the economic world. That only makes sense.

But the spiritual life? That should remain spiritualMy God doesn’t need or want to get entangled in the morally suspect affairs of this world.


Your god mightn’t, but our God does. The Father showed God’s intense concern for humanity by his covenant with Abraham, his law to Moses, and his promises to David. Jesus showed his intense concern by his life and death and resurrection among us. And finally, the Holy Spirit shows us the Way of Salvation by gathering us into the Church and sending us throughout the world. Animated and empowered by the Spirit, our natural human compassion becomes a divine gift to friends and strangers, to family and foes.

Saturday, August 22, 2020

Memorial of the Queenship of the Blessed Virgin Mary

Lectionary: 424

The voice said to me: Son of man, this is where my throne shall be, this is where I will set the soles of my feet; here I will dwell among the children of Israel forever.


In today’s first reading, Ezekiel describes a visionary, triumphant return of the Lord God to the temple in Jerusalem, a temple recently destroyed by the Babylonian army. Israel’s faith, though anchored in time, does not rely on historical events, which are occasionally catastrophic, but on the Spirit of God which abides forever. When we seem to be utterly abandoned and lost, the Lord reappears.

We generally expect great things of the Lord, and we often have detailed diagrams for what those great things should be. They include security, success, abundance, and substantial peace. But, as the pundits say, “If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.” Faith teaches us to wait on the Lord. If we expect our needs to be satisfied and our hopes to be fulfilled, that’s fine -- but wait on the Lord in any case.

A week after the solemn feast of the Assumption we celebrate the Queenship of Mary. I sometimes remind Veterans in the hospital, “You do not know Jesus if you don’t know his crucifixion.” Likewise, we know nothing of Mary if we don’t know of her profound sorrows.

In her personal history we discover a recapitulation of the history of the Jewish people from initial call to deep distress to amazing exaltation. She did not suffer martyrdom for the faith like many Christians of every age, but she suffered like most of us a life of unexpected and undeserved hardship. Innocent of all sin she endured punishing tragedy as she watched from afar her son’s journey.

But we find no evidence of betrayal in her story. Readily she accepted the angel’s invitation, willingly she fled from Bethlehem to Egypt, sorrowfully she realized her son must go to Jerusalem, faithfully she stood by the cross. If she expected a different, easier, more successful, satisfying, and triumphant end to the story – and what mother doesn’t? – Mary trusted the unseen Hand of God in every moment of her life. Even as she stood at the foot of the cross she must have whispered to her son, “I believe in you.”
Catholics celebrate the Fourth Station of the Way of the Cross, “Jesus meets his afflicted mother.” In his movie, Mel Gibson described the moment and Jesus’ reassuring words, “See, Mother, I make all things new.” I believe Mary and Jesus found deep comfort in one another’s presence even in that dreadful place. It was not a joyful moment; that must come later. But with their infinite capacity to give and receive comfort, they proceeded to Calvary together. There was no betrayal between them, and no abandonment. “Here I am!” they said. The only prayer that matters.
For this reason, we celebrate the Queenship of the Blessed Virgin Mary as we celebrate Jesus Christ, King of the Universe.






Friday, August 21, 2020

Memorial of Saint Pius X, Pope

 

Lectionary: 423



Thus says the Lord GOD to these bones: See! I will bring spirit into you, that you may come to life. I will put sinews upon you, make flesh grow over you, cover you with skin, and put spirit in you so that you may come to life and know that I am the LORD.




What a terrific image! It's celebrated in American bible camp songs, and now illustrated with clever animation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OCtneZbJb3Q

We can suppose Ezekiel's original audience in Babylon found his vision equally entertaining, even as they were encouraged and inspired. Perhaps they went home laughing at the outlandish story, for hope without laughter is like a hamburger without ketchup, mustard, or both. It may be nourishing but it needs a condiment to slide into our spiritual gullets. 
Perhaps I have told this story before but it happened early in my priesthood and helped to form who I am: 
As a rather dismal meeting of priests adjourned and we headed for the parking lot, one fellow said, "You've got to have faith!"
A second said, "You've got to have faith and a sense of humor!"
A third rejoined, "You've got to have a sense of humor and faith." 

Faith without a sense of humor is probably not the real thing. It tries too hard, like Bert Lahr, the cowardly lion, "I do believe; I do believe; I do believe." -- when you really don't believe. 
Faith rides out the storms patiently, reassured that even if the worse should happen, it'll be alright. God is still in charge. 
Faith surrenders control to the Lord, and believes that all things will be well because there is nothing so enormous or terrible that God cannot handle it. 
We have seen the Lord conquer death as the Son of God died in the most ignomious fashion, but returned in spectacular fashion and with unimaginable gifts on the third day. 
Today we face a pandemic that, in a matter of weeks, swept around the world and, eight months later, threatens to remain with us for at least another eight months. And quite possible, forever. 
Apparently this Covid-19 pandemic is child's play compared to the looming catastrophe of climate change. The world is heating up due to our own policies and deliberate actions. We see it happening; we understand it; and all we can do is quarrel about it. It is as senseless as a world war, the Shoah, and Original Sin; the direct result of mindless progress. We have proven we're clever enough to destroy life on Earth; can we now restore it?
Humor doesn't make problems go away. Hope does that. But humor addresses our denial and reminds us we can be, and have often been, wrong. It assures us we can change our thinking, attitudes, and behavior. We can work together for the common good in the same way that we laugh with our opponents and then find agreement. 
Realists will insist that dry bones cannot be rehydrated, refleshed, or reinspired; but faith, hope, love, and humor insist, "All things are possible with God." 

Thursday, August 20, 2020

Memorial of Saint Bernard, Abbot and Doctor of the Church

Lectionary: 422

I will prove the holiness of my great name, profaned among the nations, in whose midst you have profaned it. Thus the nations shall know that I am the LORD, says the Lord GOD, when in their sight I prove my holiness through you.


The scriptures often remind the Jewish people, and then baptized Christians, that we were not chosen for our remarkable virtue, intelligence, birth, or beauty. In fact there was nothing in particular about the Hebrew slaves in Egypt to draw God's attention to them except their descendence from Abraham, the friend of God. But neither was Abraham a particularly heroic or admirable character before God adopted him and, by circumcision, made him a blood relative.

In his First Letter to the Corinthians (1:26), Saint Paul reminded his fledging church:
Consider your own calling, brothers. Not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. Rather, God chose the foolish of the world to shame the wise, and God chose the weak of the world to shame the strong, and God chose the lowly and despised of the world, those who count for nothing, to reduce to nothing those who are something, so that no human being might boast before God.

We should be reminded of this often lest we think too highly of ourselves and become arrogant. If we feel extraordinarily grateful for the gift of faith, as we should, we will invest little stock in lesser claims like race, color, wealth, education, or social standing. Saint Paul gave us a word for all that: rubbish. Given our frequent sins we can't even boast of our fidelity. That too is the Spirit of God which, despite our best effort, does not give up on us.

But if we were chosen for no particular reason, why were we chosen? To prove the holiness of God's great name. A name which the Jews do not utter and Christians, sadly, have forgotten. It is a unique word of four Hebrew letters, called the Tetragrammaton. It is not a generic word like god, lord, or father; it is name without etymology, belonging to the God of the Hebrews, the God whom Jesus sometimes called "Abba."

Rather than utter the sound which is so holy, Jews and Christians substitute many other names, first among them is "Our Father." That circumlocution is a good practice but we should not forget our particular responsibility to it. By our thoughts, words, and deeds; by our demeaner, attitudes, expectations, and hope we should hallow the Name of God.

Anyone meeting us should say, "Clearly, their God is the Most Holy One, for they are a holy people. They carry themselves with self-respect, they honor their parents and their children; they address their neighbors with dignity; they esteem and beautify the world around them. They are not given to exploitation or abuse; they do not lose themselves in moments of intense passion but they do surrender to joy and gratitude in their God's presence. Who is this God whom they worship? We want to know."

Hallowing God's name may seem beyond our abilities. Because it is. But the Spirit of God gives us the ability and eager willingness to carry it out.

Wednesday, August 19, 2020

Wednesday of the Twentieth Week in Ordinary Time


Lectionary: 421



For thus says the Lord GOD: I myself will look after and tend my sheep.


The readings today present a striking contrast of two popular images of God. The first reading and the responsory psalm recall our Good Shepherd who never leaves his flock untended. Ezekiel's words remind us that corruption among powerful managers is nothing new. Ancient government officials, traders, and religious authorities were little different from the law-twisting businesses, entertainers, politicians, judges, news media, or religious leaders of our time. First they watch out for themselves; then for those who gave them the power; and finally for the jobs they were supposed to do in the first place.
In the ancient world corrupt officials could be removed from powerful positions by armed revolution; it is not so easy today as they move through the revolving door of government officials and lobbyists.
The Lord's people, that is the minorities and powerless who can only watch these shenanigans as Lazarus watched the diners at their opulent table, call upon their Good Shepherd to guide and comfort them in a treacherous world.
The other popular image is God as an arbitrary, all-powerful ruler, as he appears in today's gospel. He hires and fires, rewards, and punishes, gives and refuses to give -- to suit his own purposes. He owes an explanation to no one.
How do we reconcile these opposite images of God?
The world can be cruel. If God is, by definition, the all powerful creator of the world, it's not unreasonable to suppose that his universe reflects his nature. Those who experience life as cruelly indifferent and merciless can only suppose that "God" is like that. Those who want to get ahead in this world, or even survive, adapt to their beliefs. They too are violent and pitiless. I think of the cartels that ship illegal drugs from Mexico to American addicts, using American money, American carriers, and American weapons. They act upon their experience and beliefs.
Christian revelation challenges that system. Although we believe that God is the all-powerful creator, God's mercy shines through our scriptures, tradition, and liturgy. His eye is upon his elect and his elect are the least among us. They are the sheep of his flock and
because his sheep have been given over to pillage, and because his sheep have become food for every wild beast, for lack of a shepherd; because his shepherds did not look after his sheep, but pastured themselves and did not pasture the sheep; he will come against these shepherds. He will claim the sheep from them and put a stop to their shepherding.
The arbitrary landlord of today's gospel reminds us that whatever we expect of God might not be God's intention.
Several years ago, as the only inhabitant of a small rectory, I often answered the door and telephone to find people asking for help. Some expected that, because this was a Catholic church and I was a Catholic priest, I had to give them what they wanted in the manner they wanted. I didn't see it that way. I helped some of them in my own way, if I chose to.
I never believed anything they told me about their pathetic situation. Nor did I blame them for their fabrications; I'm sure I would do the same thing. Survival in America is often desperate and doesn't allow for the luxury of precise truth-telling.
In some cases, I sent them to the gasoline station or the grocery store, and then called the managers to tell them what to sell to the individuals, and to charge it to me. I never gave cash and never charged it to the parish. Sometimes I simply refused. Maybe I'd seen them before; maybe I didn't like them; maybe I couldn't afford it. As the landowner says in today's gospel, "...am I not free to do as I wish with my own money?"

I hoped that I was guided by the Holy Spirit, which is both merciful and just. The Spirit knows what I should have done, and is my only judge.

"For freedom, Christ set you free!" Saint Paul insisted. In the freedom of God's spirit we are both sheperds and sheep. As we have money, authority, and limited freedom we are responsible. As we are subject to the vagaries of an amoral, indifferent economy we look to the Good Shepherd.
We look to the Judge who, like the judges of the Old Testament, sets things right in God's time and God's way. We dare not presume to tell the Lord how he should govern, but we believe devoutly in his mercy.

Tuesday, August 18, 2020

Tuesday of the Twentieth Week in Ordinary Time


Then Peter said to him in reply,
“We have given up everything and followed you. What will there be for us?”
Jesus said to them, “Amen, I say to you
that you who have followed me, in the new age, when the Son of Man is seated on his throne of glory, will yourselves sit on twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel.


Saint Peter, speaking for you and me, speaks rightly. By our Baptism we have given up everything to follow the Lord. And we cannot help but wonder, “What will there be for us?”
Sitting on twelve thrones, as the Son of Man is seated on his throne of glory, and judging the twelve tribes is certainly an interesting vision. What it means is not so clear. Few of us are eager to judge our families and tribes though we might occasionally indulge in sanctimonious gossip about them.
On further reflection, we realize the Lord’s throne of glory was the cross, and we are reminded that we must take up our crosses daily and follow in his steps.
The vision is partial. There is something gleaming and beautiful there in the future. It may be coming rapidly at us like the thunderstorm that overtook Ahab and Elijah. Or it may be pending, a promise like Don Quixote’s impossible dream; fascinating, intoxicating, worthy of our intense devotion, unbearably close and yet unreachable. 
We are guided by faith, hope, and love. And the longer we continue on this quest the farther its end seems to recede. If, in the 1960’s, I thought that Camelot was attainable, I learned that King Arthur was only flirting with Guinevere as he described his magic kingdom. The once and future Garden of Eden never was and never could be.
It is, as Odysseus remarked in Tennyson’s poem, an “untraveled world whose margin fades / For ever and for ever when I move.” But, like Odysseus, we cannot rest: “How dull it is to pause, to make an end, / To rust unburnished, not to shine in use! / As though to breathe were life! Life piled on life / Were all too little….” 
Guided by faith, we drink from the springs of scripture and prayer each day. If the stories seem old and irrelevant to many of our family and friends, to us they are more reliable and urgent than the morning news. Guided by hope, we expect with a divine expectation that the seeds we plant today will flourish and bear fruit. Our hope is palpable like the flesh of a melon in August; its perfume is sweet in our nostrils. Guided by love, we can no more abandon the Lord and his people than He can abandon us. Faith, hope, and love are the Spirit of Jesus that compel us as it compelled him.
Have we given up everything? Peter knew his shortcomings as well as you and I know ours. But he spoke truly. For it was God the Holy Spirit who prompted his words. As severe as our shortcomings, faults, and failings may be, we press on like Saint Paul:
It is not that I have already taken hold of it or have already attained perfect maturity, but I continue my pursuit in hope that I may possess it, since I have indeed been taken possession of by Christ [Jesus]. Brothers, I for my part do not consider myself to have taken possession. Just one thing: forgetting what lies behind but straining forward to what lies ahead, I continue my pursuit toward the goal, the prize of God’s upward calling, in Christ Jesus.

Monday, August 17, 2020

Monday of the Twentieth Week in Ordinary Time

Collect for vocations to the religious life
“Teacher, what good must I do to gain eternal life?”


In today’s gospel Jesus responds to the wealthy young man’s impetuous question with a challenge and an invitation. Startled by the Savior’s response, he has little choice but to turn and go away sad, for he had many possessions.


Besides an inordinate attachment to stuff, he may have asked the wrong question. Jesus’s response, of course, is spot on; but the young man presumed he was ready to do whatever was necessary.

Jesus first tried to brush him off with “…keep the commandments.” The gospels tell us more than a few people thought they might follow the Lord and were rejected. Matthew 8:20 describes two other eager volunteers who were sent packing. They are not responding to a divine calling; but, for whatever reason, have decided, “This is what I will do!” Perhaps Jesus is “the next big thing.” They have heard him speak and they want to catch the Christian movement at its outset, on its way to success, power, and glory. Like James and John, they might sit at his right and his left!

This brash young fellow was not prepared to pay the price. There were too many I’s in this young man’s declaration. Would-be disciples assume the initiative is theirs. “Just teach me what I should do," they say, "and I will do it!” 

And so Jesus hits him with the whole, unvarnished truth, “You must give me everything you’ve got, and then some! You must pay more than you are willing to pay; more than you can afford; more than you will ever be able to afford! There will be nothing left of you.”

How many of us, recalling the day we took our vows, knew how much it would cost at the time? If we were asked to do it all over again, we might say yes, but we’d think long and hard about it. “Had I known then what I know now….”

Young man, you don't want to know the answer to your question. Why don’t you cool your jets for a while and wait to see what develops? You have the Lord’s eye. (Saint Mark tells us that Jesus looked at him with affection.) Let him decide when, where, and how you will give. Let him draw you to himself and reveal your future to you without your interference. 

What you have to pay will be everything, and nothing. A pittance really, compared to what He will do for you. 


Sunday, August 16, 2020

Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

“…for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.”


If Christians were, at one time, like monks living in a monocultural monastery where everyone said the same prayers, accepted the same moral teaching, and worshipped the One God, we are now missionaries. During our daily encounters, we meet few who share our prayers, agree with our ethical/moral principles, or worship any god.
Our Galilean was not unfamiliar with this kind of world. Where ancient Jerusalem was a city of Jews, Galilee was a polyglot of many languages and religions. Galilee straddled the highways from Africa, Europe, and Asia. Travelers came and went. Jesus might have grown up with children of uncertain parentage, unstable families, and varying religious beliefs.
The practice of Christianity involves the yin and yang of maintaining our religious beliefs and practices amid an indifferent or suspicious culture, while inviting them to join us. If “converts” share the same language and cultural expectations, the transition into the Church might be relatively easy. But when they come from a very different culture, with very different life experience, the customs and practices of Catholicism – which is said to be a western or European religion -- might be unfathomable.
If missionaries meet tribal chiefs who boast of a large harem, American evangelists encounter serial polygamy. An American teen, sociologists say, can expect to be married three times: once for love, once for parenting, and a third time for companionship. The middle-aged American, approaching RCIA, might be astonished into bewilderment to learn they should have remained married to the first mistake. “That was a long time ago; we moved on and lost touch. An annulment? What’s that got to do with believing in Jesus as my personal Lord and Savior?” they might ask. By the time the catechist gets through several layers of explanation, the applicant will have joined a less demanding Christian denomination.
The yin is the Great Command to evangelize the world; the yang is the challenge of receiving the world into a disciplined organization whose members must agree to certain beliefs, teachings, and moral principles. We might create a field hospital for the wounded but not everyone can be a nurse.

The New Testament, its gospels and its writings, addresses the issue often. Even the Lord Himself, as we hear in today’s gospel, was perplexed on occasion. Should he deal with this Canaanite woman and her troubles? He was bound for Jerusalem to gather “the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” He had withdrawn to the region of Tyre and Sidon, as Saint Mark says, “to escape notice.” But there she was demanding, “Have pity of me!” and invoking his famous ancestor, King David. Nor would she go away when he scolded her. Instead, she cleverly traded badinage with him. Like many women in his Jewish history – Sarah, Judith, Esther, the Maccabean widow, Ruth, and others – she had placed herself within the story and would not be pushed out.
Face to face with human need, he had no choice but to hear and respond with compassion.
Does this resolve the yin and yang of our conundrum? Do we abandon our principles and welcome everyone with all their peculiar beliefs and customs? I don’t think so. But the story reminds us that the paradox is unresolved and will remain so forever. 
We can laugh as Jesus and his disciples must have laughed at the woman’s clever remark. We can laugh at ourselves and our rigidities; and compromise, perhaps one case at a time, in the confidence that Our Father understands and trusts our judgement. 
It's fun to be Catholic because we don't have answers for all our questions!

Saturday, August 15, 2020

The Solemnity of the Assumption


Vigil Lectionary: 621

When that which is mortal clothes itself with immortality, then the word that is written shall come about:
Death is swallowed up in victory.
Where, O death, is your victory?
Where, O death, is your sting?
The sting of death is sin,
and the power of sin is the law.
But thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.



The citation above from 1 Corinthians 15 is the second reading for the vigil of today's solemnity. It comes at the end of Saint Paul's reflections on Jesus's resurrection. He has met resistance from certain quarters; some people have challenged the Christian teaching about eternal life, saying there is no afterlife. He replies,
But if Christ is preached as raised from the dead, how can some among you say there is no resurrection of the dead?
If Jesus were not a human being; if he were an apparition or an angel; if he had come to teach us how to be saved rather than to save us, he might not have been raised from the dead. In fact, there would be no point to his suffering and death.
But the eyewitnesses of his life and resurrection unanimously declared he was as human as anyone else. He ate and drank with us! There was no faking his death. And his resurrection was as real as I'm standing here! The gospel accounts of his resurrection, despite his passing through walls and appearing in many unexpected places, insist upon his physical resurrection.
Besides that, common sense tells us we cannot save ourselves with good advice. God knows we've tried! How many religions and philosophies have tried to teach us how it's done? And yet we fail persistently, consistently; our best efforts are futile.
His death and resurrection and gift of the Holy Spirit are effective; his teachings are not especially original and only helpful. 
He saved us by being human with us, in his flesh. And we are saved not by our efforts but by being baptized into his body, by eating his flesh and drinking his blood. The proof of our salvation is the good life we live; it appears through our generosity, courage, compassion, and patience under adversity. These virtues don't save us but they reveal the Real Presence of Jesus, the Holy Spirit, and the Father. They abide with us in our hearts.

Our hope of physical resurrection is more than reasonable; it is common sense. Not for nothing do we declare in the Apostles Creed, "I believe in... the resurrection of the body!"

And so we celebrate the Assumption of Mary into heaven at the end of her life. First we're confident that she who first heard the Good News from the Angel Gabriel is as risen as the Lord himself; secondly, we're convinced no one could deserve it more than she. Mary was conceived without sin and grew in grace from day to day throughout her life, even when she was tried by the most horrible trial, the crucifixion of her son which she personally witnessed. Even in her agony she waited for she-knew-not-what. 
No doubt she had the Spirit of the Maccabean widow who witnessed the death of her seven sons. Undaunted by their pain, she encouraged them to remain faithful to God. She broke her tormentor who begged her to command her surviving sons to eat pork! She only mocked them as she commanded her last remaining son -- in Hebrew -- to remain faithful. Finally, they murdered her too. 
Clearly, Mary had the widow's courage as she stood by the foot of the cross. No one could deserve a glorious and deathless transition into heaven more, for she had given her all on Calvary. Her assumption into heaven was only a single step through the veil that is draped between time and eternity. 
Certainly, on that first Easter Sunday, she could say with Saint Paul, 
Death is swallowed up in victory.
Where, O death, is your victory?
Where, O death, is your sting?

Friday, August 14, 2020

Memorial of Saint Maximilian Kolbe, Priest and Martyr

Lectionary: 417

Thus says the Lord GOD to Jerusalem: By origin and birth you are of the land of Canaan;
your father was an Amorite and your mother a Hittite.
As for your birth, the day you were born your navel cord was not cut….


Ezekiel gives us some of the most graphic images in the Bible, and lessons that should stick to us even if we’re not paying attention, even if we wish he’d use nicer expressions!
Today’s parable of the unfaithful bride is especially memorable. He begins with crude reminders: Jerusalem, you are a native of Canaan and your parents were different races. In the southwest United States the word is mestizo; white men might call them half-breeds. The word bastard is not far off. Unfortunately, contempt for mixed-race persons is neither new nor just an American thing. Christians should rid our minds and our language of this contempt for God’s image.
Adding more disgrace to his metaphor, Ezekiel compares the exiled Jewish people in Babylon to discarded infants. That too, is no rare phenomenon. This link to Safe Haven Baby Boxes tells the current story of efforts to save abandoned infants. SHBB recognize that bad things happen in our world and they would relieve young mothers of shame and blame as they offer a helpful alternative to a crime of desperation.
Israel is a discarded, mixed-race infant! The prophet can use no worse language as he tries to bring his people to repentance – until he takes a different tack.
He reminds them of the privilege they were given; they were found, rescued, adopted, and betrothed to the Lord God of Heaven and Earth. They had no claim upon the Lord except their pathetic wretchedness. Had the Lord walked on by no one would know and no one would blame him for it. Why should the Majestic, Magnificent One stoop to this indignity? But God claimed them for himself with pure, unnecessary, undeserved, unearned generosity. He poured upon them unimaginably splendid blessings:
You were renowned among the nations for your beauty, perfect as it was,
because of my splendor which I had bestowed on you,
says the Lord GOD.

But you were captivated by your own beauty,
you used your renown to make yourself a harlot,
and you lavished your harlotry on every passer-by,
whose own you became.

Many of us suffer a phobia around shame. Some parents, teachers, and older siblings use it carelessly, thoughtlessly, and cruelly on children for no apparent reason. Helpless, the innocent suffer obsessive thoughts that torture them years and decades beyond their childhood. If the abusive language is salted with religious imagery, the injury is worse; seemingly incurable.
In such a case, the individual’s response to passages like Ezekiel 16 are fight, flight, or paralysis. They get angry, shun religious teaching, or attempt to hide their thoughts, feelings, and presence from others. They cannot experience Ezekiel’s invitation to repentance even when they know their sins are real and their predicament is dangerous. Some have, in fact, resorted to drug abuse, prostitution, and suicidality to escape the burning sensation of shame.
That was certainly not Ezekiel’s purpose.
Yet I will remember the covenant I made with you when you were a girl,
and I will set up an everlasting covenant with you…
when I pardon you for all you have done, says the Lord GOD.

Ezekiel would have us know God’s goodness, and we should feel gladness at God’s kindness. If we think of ourselves at all, it will be with grief and shame. But turning to the Lord like Mary Magdalene to her Rabbouni, we are flooded with joy. God is good, all good, supreme good.
Ezekiel invites us to ecstasy, that complete forgetting of oneself, as he experienced by the river Chebar.  He invites us to let that self-forgetting ecstasy guide our thoughts, words, and actions toward generosity, courage, and compassion. We have sinned; we have done evil in God’s sight; but with Ezekiel’s vision flooding our vision, we remember only God’s goodness.