Monday of the First Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 305

For to which of the angels did God ever say:

You are my Son; this day I have begotten you?

Or again:

I will be a father to him, and he shall be a Son to me?

And again, when he leads the first born into the world, he says:

Let all the angels of God worship him.

I have always been partial to the Letter to the Hebrews, especially because it celebrates the priesthood of Jesus Christ. A democratic, nominally egalitarian society, insists that it selects and appoints its own leaders without divine intervention; it would have neither theocracy nor priesthood. Leaders have term limits and, though they might be allowed the title of president, governor, or senator throughout their remaining years, they abandon the office when the electorate chooses someone else. Because their terms are up they resume their places among the governed. 

This is well and good for democratic states and nations, but the Church insists its authority comes not from the governed but from the Governor, the Lord himself. Its leaders have the duties of priests, prophets, and kings. That is to say, they mediate God's sacred blessings to the Church, and bless God in the name of the Church. As prophets they speak for the Lord, both reassuring and challenging the Church; as kings they have authority over the personal lives of the faithful, especially as administrators of the sacraments. 

As we leave the Christmas season and reenter Ordinary Time, we believe and hope that the Begotten Son goes with us. Even as the angels worship him and the saints sing his praises, he accompanies us through the winter and early spring days. Jesus is always our priest. Even as we practice that holy reverence which might be called Fear of the Lord, we nestle into his bosom, daring to make ourselves comfortable in his presence. 

That striking contrast appears in today's first reading and gospel passage. First we hear of his exalted, unparalleled status as the Begotten Son, and then we find him walking by the shore of the Sea of Galilee, recruiting fishermen. 

"Look at the humility of God!" Saint Francis urged his followers as he gazed upon the Blessed Sacrament. We do that in Church but we also do it as we walk by our own seashores, supermarket aisles, and office corridors. The Lord is with us. 

I write this blog two weeks in advance and yet, during this strange year, I find that circumstances have changed so little, I can make observations in advance that are still valid after two weeks:

Given Mr. Trump's failure to act as the President of the United States, we should recall that, by law, Americans do not invest their elected leaders as priests unless, perhaps, they have forgotten that priesthood is a religious function. People who espouse no religion, and insist they want no religion, might regard an elected official as their consecrated priest with a term of life in office. The Russians, for instance, regard their dictators -- Lenin, Stalin, Putin, etc -- like religiously ordained czars. When our religious instincts are dismissed and ignored, they're likely to turn up in other strange, entirely wrong places. 

Along the same lines, I've had some weird conversations with men who regard their guns with as much reverence as I regard the Most Blessed Sacrament. These unfortunate souls -- some of them Catholic -- have nothing else to worship. Guns offer them security, strength, and confidence because they have so little faith in God.

Today's readings from Hebrews and Saint Mark invite us back to our senses; let us worship the LORD, resume right living, and eschew any further nonsense.