Feast of the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary

Lectionary: 572

Mary set out and traveled to the hill country in haste to a town of Judah,

where she entered the house of Zechariah
and greeted Elizabeth.

We celebrate the Annunciation in March and will celebrate the Birth of John the Baptist in June. So it makes sense to celebrate Mary’s visit with John’s mother, Elizabeth, halfway between those two events.

Saint Luke places this story strategically between Gabriel’s appearances to Zechariah and Mary on the one hand, and the births of John and Jesus on the other. Both story streams, that of John and that of Jesus, converge in the meeting of Mary and Elizabeth. They diverge again with the birth of the boys. First we hear about the mini crisis of John’s unusual name, and then several stories of Jesus’s birth and childhood.

From that perspective the Visitation seems more important than the Birth of Jesus. It is a moment of sublime joy as both women realize what is happening. One shouts her joyful welcome and the other sings her grateful response.

Who are these women? They are the faithful Church: inspired, expectant, and jubilant at the coming of the Lord. The Church which is born and appears at Pentecost is present in Spirit when Mary arrives in Jerusalem. She and her cousin are exhilarated by the mighty wind which will sweep over the turbulent waters of the Roman Empire.

Catholics invite the Maid of Galilee to visit. Our homes have images of her and usually in a prominent place. My dad, always clever with his hands, fashioned a corner shelf in the dining room wide enough to hold a small statue, with horizontal pegs. We hung our rosaries on these pegs, each one to its assigned place; and gathered on most nights to finish the day in prayer. I think of that family gathering as, fifty years later, my family still gathers “at the drop of a hat” for birthdays, funerals, and holidays. We’ve had our differences but none so important as to keep us apart. I credit the Mother for that.

Invite Mary to your home and into your heart. And don’t be surprised when she makes it a tidier, nicer place to live.

 

The Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity

Lectionary: 165

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."

 

 

First and second century extra-biblical documents of the Church tell us that new members were baptized with Saint Matthew's expression: "…in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." In fact, we can suppose the Evangelist took the formula from the traditional practice of the Church and gave it to us as Jesus's parting word.

First century catechists who prepared candidates for baptism built their teachings around the same formula; and from their practice the Apostles Creed appeared. Many centuries later, when Pope Saint John Paul II called theologians and catechist to produce a catechism for our time, they adopted the same threefold schema. The Catechism of the Catholic Church is an in-depth commentary on Jesus's farewell address. 

Faith in the Holy Trinity is the foundation of our life as Church. If the Gospel message could be summarized in a few words – It cannot! – it might be this formula. But awareness and appreciation of this teaching are not where our faith begins. The Holy Trinity, in the taxonomy of our religion, is not Roman numeral I, Capital A, number 1, small letter a. Rather it is the end point, the conclusion of everything we have learned about God’s mercy and justice. We have a God whose name is “the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.”

We should notice that the Gospel formula begins with a singular, not a plural, word: name. The riddle is intentional. Although there are three names our God is singular. Pope Benedict XVI, writing as Cardinal Ratzinger, explained that we should not make too much of the numbers one and three.

Numbers and mathematics are human conceptions. They are remarkably useful for hard science but not so handy for counting mysterious things like people. If a general counts the casualties of a recent victory he might count the killed, maimed, and injured as three categories. The first two will never see combat again; the third might yet be useful. But if he counts the number of fathers, sons, uncles, brothers, and nephews along with the mothers, daughters, aunts, sisters, and nieces plus the immediate and extended families impacted by the losses, his casualty list will be more substantial, but less useful.

“Three persons in one God” may define our belief but it tells us little about the God who speaks to us during our public worship and private prayer. It is more like a riddle, an enigma to inspire wonder, amazement, and gratitude. Who are we that such wonders should be revealed to us?

Trinity Sunday is the grand finale of our Easter season. If it ended with Pentecost we’re still shouting a week later. Our God has won! Our God is Good!

 

Memorial of Saint Paul VI, Pope

Lectionary: 352

When I was young and innocent,

    I sought wisdom openly in my prayer

I prayed for her before the temple,

    and I will seek her until the end,

    and she flourished as a grape soon ripe.

I've not been in a classroom in several years, since a sabbatical in 1995, but I fear that the education offered to young people is not about wisdom. It's about maintaining the status quo by a stronger grasp of the STEM courses: science, technology, engineering, and mathematics. 

Those who ask why these subjects are important and who made that choice may be shunted into the smallest classroom in the basement to meet the school philosopher. But if they pursue the questions and discover some answers they might be better prepared for the future as it comes at us. 

Young Christians, also, neglect the search for wisdom as they're told how right their feelings are. How often do they use the expression, "I feel" when they mean "I think?" But, in fact, they're not thinking; they're only feeling their way through a dark room without the light of wisdom or the reassuring hand of a thoughtful mentor. 

Heresies that are clearly recognizable to anyone with a passing knowledge of Church history go unchallenged. "I just feel..." justifies ignorance and invites the dreadful consequences of foolishness. 

In today's first reading, Sirach, author of Ecclesiasticus (found in Catholic bibles) urges the young to acknowledge their youth and innocence as they seek wisdom. If wisdom is not found in books it is found in reading books, listening to others, discussing ideas, critical thinking, contemplation of mysteries, and waiting for understanding. 

The study of the Bible is important not because "It's the BIBLE!" but because by it we connect with fellow believers of ancient times. When we read or sing the psalms we should feel their harmonizing presence all around us. When we study their myths and read their histories we understand that the writers were not addressing the problems of the 21st century; they were pondering their own difficult issues. And if we understand the challenges they faced and the answers they formulated, we will breathe their Spirit and be more prepared to address the problems of our time. 

When we hear their anguish and grief we weep with them, for grief remains the same in every age for all people. Surely everyone who reads the Prophets Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel have wept over the rape of Jerusalem in 586 BC.

Likewise, when we read their songs glorifying God we stand among them, praising the same Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. 

Just as King Solomon in today's first reading "prayed for her before the temple," Wisdom leads us into the Temple of our Church where we meet God face to face. 

Friday of the Eighth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 351

Peter remembered and said to him, “Rabbi, look! The fig tree that you cursed has withered.”
Jesus said to them in reply, “Have faith in God.
Amen, I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, ‘Be lifted up and thrown into the sea,’
and does not doubt in his heart but believes that what he says will happen, it shall be done for him.

In the twenty centuries since the earthly ministry of Jesus, humankind has developed a frightening ability to move mountains, drain oceans, raise islands, and fill valleys. That's child's play anymore. Look out, Mars, here we come!

We're not so adept at removing the mountains of abortion, racism, poverty, addiction, and suicide. Even a small hillock like a pandemic takes an enormously generous effort on the part of millions of people before it budges. (And now, as the threat subsides, many people will declare it never was a threat.) 

But this message, as vital as it is, is not apparently addressed to every citizen of every nation. Jesus speaks to his disciples about faith and its effects. We're the ones who must use our faith to move the Earth to repentance, or lose our faith and the Earth with all its peoples. 

The movement begins, as always, with myself and my church. As the Psalmist says in 106, "We have sinned like our ancestors; we have done wrong and are guilty." With every Mass we own our sins; with every time we enter the church, dipping our fingers in the holy water font, we recall our obligation to turn away from sin and live by the Gospel. And periodically, we must look at the structures, customs, and habits of our parishes and dioceses to discover what we would rather not see. 

If my religion does not make me feel very uncomfortable occasionally, it's obviously not from God. 

With the realization of our own sins, overt and covert, occasional and habitual, we ask where they come from. Often they are "cultural." There was a time when philosophers and people in general assumed that the way things are is the way things are. Kings rightfully rule; the poor you always have with you; no one can change the weather. 

Discovering the Anthropocene Age has changed all that. We made this world as it is, we must answer for it. That mountain is there not by God's design but ours. We can change the way we govern ourselves; the Economy is a human construct, governed by the principles we built into it. There is no need to throw it into the sea but the impassable chasm between wealth and poverty -- as Jesus described in the Gospel of Saint Luke -- can be filled with compassion. 

Memorial of Saint Augustine of Canterbury

Lectionary: 350

Jesus said to him in reply, “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man replied to him, “Master, I want to see.”

Saint Mark is a master story teller and his tale of Bartimaeus is one of my favorite. As brief as it is, every phrase invites reflection. 

"He threw aside his cloak," for instance, suggests the cost of discipleship. We can suppose the man's cloak was his only asset. Despite its tattered, filthy condition, it was valuable to him. But at the Lord's invitation he threw it off, perhaps forgetting it altogether as he blindly rushed into an unknown, unimaginable future. He took with him only one thing, and that he readily surrendered to the Lord, his desire to see. 

I love the Lord's direct question, "What do you want...?" It's translated more politely, of course. We use similar expressions, "What can I do for you?" and, "How may I assist you?" We're often ask, "How may I direct your call?" But they all boil down to, "What do you want?"

I have heard mothers pleading with their babies, "Tell me what you want?" Some children, for reasons adults cannot fathom, do not say what they want. They whine, whimper, and pule and, "That's supposed to mean something?" Some parents will offer them a dozen different services, anything to get them to stop crying! Others will say, "Go to your room and when you're ready to tell me what you want, come back!" 

But adults do the same thing to their employers or employees. We're supposed to know what they want. Isn't it perfectly obvious? No. You'll have to tell me in so many words. What do you want?

Bartimaeus did not need a second prompt, "Master, I want to see." Simple question, simple answer: "Go your way, your faith has saved you."

And then notice what happens: he received his sight and followed him on the way. 

We know Bartimaeus's name because he followed the Lord. There are other stories of Jesus's healing and most of these blessed individuals remain anonymous. For whatever reason, they did not follow Jesus, and the Church never learned their names. But Bartimaeus followed Jesus because the Master's way was now his own. Frequent readers of the New Testament will recognize "the way." Saint Paul intended to suppress the religion of that name as he traveled to Damascus. 

Finally, we should recognize the beggar's rapid ascent from nuisance to a recognized and named disciple. The congregation around Jesus tried to hush him, They rebuked him and told him to be silent. Perhaps they assumed there was nothing to be done for this mendicant. How many thousands had they already passed on the road, each of them with their hands out for alms? 

They assumed their attitude was the Lord's. They could speak and act for him, until he stopped walking and teaching, and called the fellow to come forward. 

Franciscans are often reminded that Saint Francis prayed continually for the Lord's guidance and direction. Pray always and take nothing for granted! Let every decision be considered with a prayerful pause. This is how we walk as followers in the way. 

Finally, let us never stop begging the Lord for help. We should have an immediate, ready answer when he asks, "What do you want?" 

Memorial of Saint Philip Neri, Priest

Lectionary: 349

The disciples were on the way, going up to Jerusalem, and Jesus went ahead of them. They were amazed, and those who followed were afraid.


Introducing the third prediction of Jesus's passion and death, Saint Mark describes the disciples as amazed, and the following crowd, afraid. 
Saint Mark emphasizes the extreme isolation of Jesus. No one understands him and, as he approaches Calvary, no one will stand by him. His family would take him home and lock him away, his disciples abandon him, his coreligionists hand him over to the Roman authorities, and the mob demands his crucifixion. Even the Father who spoke -- apparently to him alone -- when he was baptized is silent as Jesus dies. 

In today's gospel then, his disciples' amazement and the crowd's fear fit the Gospel's motif. They simply don't know what to make of him.

The Lord's isolation is typical of the Hebrew prophet. The prophets Elijah and Elisha were feared and respected and untouchable. The first "writing prophet" Amos was a stranger, a native of Judah, prophesying in Israel. Isaiah, a priest and member of the guild of prophets, was isolated by his extraordinary vision. And Jeremiah, though he was respected, suffered terrible loneliness as he could predict nothing but doom. The word jeremiad still signifies an excessively bad pronouncement. 

The Hebrew prophets, with Jesus among them, remind us of the responsibility every person has before God. No one can hide in the congregation and think God will overlook their sins as He delivers the Church. More importantly, every Christian must accept the demand of the Gospel to preach the word in season and out. 

When I was in secondary school, somewhere between the seventh and ninth grades, I heard that one who participated in the killing of an African-American -- a lynch mob -- might be excused because he was carried along by the emotion of the group. His sin might not be "mortal." I don't suppose anyone would make such a claim today. We are responsible for our choices when we comply with powerful economic and social forces that direct us against our better judgment. "Everybody does it" is no excuse. We are certainly judged by history; we can expect to be judged by God. 

And we should pray for the willingness and courage to follow the promptings of the Holy Spirit despite many conflicting demands. 

Not many are called to martyrdom and we can hope to die quietly in our own beds, surrounded by family, friends, and the ministrations of the Church. But we must often invoke the Spirit of the martyrs -- the Spirit of the Prophet Jesus -- as we go about our lives. 

Optional Memorial of Saint Bede the Venerable, priest and doctor of the Church

Lectionary: 348

To keep the law is a great oblation,

    and he who observes the 
    commandments sacrifices a peace offering.

There are nearly a dozen words in today’s first reading that assume a deep familiarity with religious language. They include oblation, commandment, sacrifice, peace offering, works of charity, alms, praise, atonement, altar, homage, and tithes. 

The Divine Author teaches us that our religious works must be accompanied by works of charity, especially to the poor, widows, orphans, and aliens. As Jesus would later point out, good deeds done with an expectation of repayment don’t count, nor do those done for appearance sake.

But in a secular society like ours, with fading memories of a religious tradition, we often hear that, “I don’t have to go to church to satisfy God. I do good works for my neighbors.” They forget the religious obligation to pass their faith and beliefs to their children, a generation who must learn of their debt to God. 

The Book of Deuteronomy records Moses's warning and reminder:

However, be on your guard and be very careful not to forget the things your own eyes have seen, nor let them slip from your heart as long as you live, but make them known to your children and to your children’s children....

Humans may have a religious instinct, but it is often satisfied with rites and beliefs that have no connection to God’s revealed truth. These odd religions, built on fables, do not satisfy God, and dreadful consequences must follow. The Truth is a matter of life and death; the worship of idols is fatal.  

Given the atrocities of this and the last century, can anyone suppose that human beings have an instinct for kindness to one another? Or that a godless society will show reverence to one made in God’s image? In my conversations with Veterans I must often define, and explain, and then give examples of words like devotion, piety, and reverence.  Knowing nothing of God’s demands for oblation, atonement, sacrifice, and peace offerings, they feel little obligation to care for others, especially strangers of different families, tribes, and races. Some frankly hate people of a different political party. 

During our first several centuries, the Roman empire tried to erase the memory of Jesus with savage cruelty. The world today has discovered more effective methods: benign neglect, sneering remarks, and consumerism. They promote spirituality over religion and suggest that religions only spawn war. They forget that the Napoleonic wars, the American Civil War, the two World Wars, Korea, the Cold War, and Vietnam were fought not for religion but for vague ideas of freedom. The martyrs who died for the Christian faith knew for Whom they were dying and why! Today’s heroes have no clue.

We have heard the promise in today’s responsorial psalm: Those that offer praise as a sacrifice glorify me; and to those who go the right way I will show the salvation of God. As we offer oblations, sacrifice, peace offerings, and alms we ask God to show us the way. Without that blessed revelation we are clueless.

Memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of the Church

Lectionary: 572A

I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers;

He will strike at your head, while you strike at his heel.”
The man called his wife Eve,   because she became the mother of all the living.

 

After Saint Paul discovered Adam as a type of Christ, Christian scholars combed the Hebrew scriptures for other types, or prefigurements, of Jesus; and there were many.  The Patriarch Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, Moses the Lawgiver, King David: all bear some resemblance to Jesus; along with the prophets, especially Elijah who was taken up into heaven, and Jeremiah who was called before he was born. They soon found types for John the Baptist, Mary, and Joseph also. With this typology, which was a traditional Jewish way of reading the scriptures, the Fathers of the Church demonstrated the roots of our faith in the Jewish religion. Christianity was neither a revolution from, nor a reformation of, Judaism; but its natural blossoming. It was foreseen and foreordained from all eternity. 

The earliest prophecy of Jesus, in Genesis 3:14, might seem vague to modern ears but the Church fathers saw it clearly in the Greek translation of the Hebrew scriptures. Because the word offspring is singular, it must refer to the One who is Mary’s only offspring. The serpent is obviously evil and the Lord is the Holy One of God. When his heel is struck with a poisonous bite he is crucified. But in the same fatal moment, he strikes at the serpent’s head, crushing and killing it. (Director Mel Gibson described it in The Passion of the Christ.)

The enmity between the serpent and the woman appeared brilliantly in the apocalyptic Revelation 12 as the dragon, a flying serpent, pursued the woman who had given birth to one who would rule with an iron rod. She is obviously the Church, but she is also Mary, the Virgin miraculously pregnant. (Miraculous pregnancies like those in Luke 1 are also apocalyptic signs.)

On this Memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of the Church, which follows Pentecost, we honor Mary, “the mother of all the living.” Just as Eve is the mother of all human beings, Mary is mother of all who live in Christ. We are born of her body in the womb of the baptismal font. This is the obvious intent of John 19:27, 

“Then he said to the disciple, “Behold, your mother.” And from that hour the disciple took her into his home.”

This final command of Jesus is more than a last-minute expression of concern for his mother. With it we finally understand the meaning of that much anticipated hour.  When we obey Jesus’s final command and accept her as our Mother, his mission is complete.

His Mother, who is not named in John, and the Beloved Disciple (also unnamed) comprise the new congregation born from the dying body of Jesus with a rush of blood and water. As Eve was born of Adam’s chest, so is the Church born of the Lord on Calvary.

When we gather as Church, whether on the Lord’s Day, in a planning meeting for a church festival, or "when two or three agree on anything," we come to our mother. She is family and we are sisters and brothers. Each one is a beloved disciple. Our assemblies are family reunions; our quarrels are resolved by the necessity of insoluble bonds. If we must wander the earth we find one another and a familiar home in our worship.

Pentecost 2021

Lectionary: 63

As a body is one though it has many parts, and all the parts of the body, though many, are one body, so also Christ. For in one Spirit we were all baptized into one body, whether Jews or Greeks, slaves or free persons, and we were all given to drink of one Spirit.

 

Human language fails as words flail about to describe the mystery of Pentecost: spirit, wind, fire, water, oil, dove, anointing, life, breath, energy, strength, teamwork, esprit de corps, sap, and so forth. As the body without breath so is the Church without the Holy Spirit.

In the passage above, Saint Paul insists upon the unity of the church which comprises all kinds of people, “Jews or Greeks, slaves or free persons.” By the middle of the second century the Church had spread throughout the Roman Empire despite the best efforts of the Roman government. Amid controversy she first claimed the virtue and then the title of Catholic. No heretical sect could make the same claim since their members were invariably a select few, usually of one city or country. While they universally agreed that everyone else is wrong, the Catholic Church maintained a deep unity of doctrine in the face of opposition and martyrdom.

Twenty centuries later, the Catholic Church in the United States embraces Democrats and Republicans who -- so long as they don’t confuse politics and religion – can breathe one Spirit and meet around the Table of our Communion. 

As we celebrate the Holy Spirit and Pentecost Sunday, the so-called birthday of the Church, we should consider the Spirit's role in the Church and its role in the world. This is deep stuff and somewhat beyond my ken, but it's too important not to consider.

I've met more than a few devout men -- Catholics and Protestants -- who nonetheless retain a religious belief in their right to own guns. They don't seem to know that guns and the second amendment are not found in the Bible. Nor do they appreciate Catholic social teaching which says all rights are relative, and none are absolute. 

We should pray for and support legitimate civil authorities of every form of government -- be they communist, fascist, parliamentarian, or democratic. And we may sincerely believe that the Bill of Rights of the American Constitution is inspired by our Christian heritage.

 

But no one should confuse party loyalty with religion. Even a casual study of the history of either major American party shows how readily Democrats and Republicans change positions and flip ideologies for the sake of votes. If the Republican party supported the abolition of slavery, the "Party of Lincoln" doesn't necessarily support get out the vote efforts among African-Americans. And the same Democratic party that once supported Jim Crow segregation might throw today open the gates to welcome legal and illegal immigrants. 

Parties do what parties have to do to gain and retain power. They have no other fealty. Religious people who endorse a certain ethical program and would have their governments adopt them should use parties to gain those ends; and they should be prepared to compromise other moral principles as they do so. One can support, for instance, a party that opposes abortion and supports capital punishment if the former value seems worth the sacrifice of the latter. Or take an opposite position if the Spirit of God so leads them. But no one could accept all of the policies of either party without risking insanity. 

But sanity also requires us to study deeply, to accept, and to appreciate the doctrines and teachings of our Church. To say I disagree with a certain doctrine without examining closely its scriptural roots, theological principles, and historical development is foolish, at best; and might be dangerous. 

The Holy Spirit inspires, guides and instructs those who are willing to do the hard work of being inspired, guided, and instructed. Saint Paul never said it would be easy to create a church out of former slaves and former free persons. 

Saturday of the Seventh Week of Easter

Lectionary: 302

Jesus said to him, “What if I want him to remain until I come? What concern is it of yours? You follow me.”

"Need to know" seems to be an idiom of military culture; meaning, "You will be informed of what you need to know to fulfill your mission." 

Implied: "You will not be informed of everything there is to know; that information belongs to your superiors." Although Jesus, in the same Gospel of Saint John, has said, 

"I no longer call you slaves, because a slave does not know what his master is doing. I have called you friends, because I have told you everything I have heard from my Father."  

he has no intention of revealing to Peter the mission of the unnamed "beloved disciple." Traditional memories of the early Church say that John, the author of the Gospel, outlived the martyred Peter.   

I believe the beloved disciple's actual identity is you, the reader. He is an unremarked, unidentified witness of the Gospel from its first chapter, one of the two disciples of John who followed Jesus. He represents the individual disciple of every age who must see and give testimony to the Lord's ministry, defer to Peter and his authority, and survive -- in a manner of speaking -- as the Word is passed to each generation. 

"Horatio" plays a similar role in Shakespeare's Hamlet. Without his survival no one would be left to tell the story! 

O good Horatio, what a wounded name,

Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me!

If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart

Absent thee from felicity awhile,

And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,

To tell my story.

Your mission and mine is to tell the story of Jesus and, as they are moved by the Holy Spirit they will pass the word along. 

In the meanwhile, our mission is also like Peter's, to follow the Lord. It is enough for each of us to complete our mission in this time and place. No one can predict what the Spirit will demand of future generations. As Saint Francis said toward the end of his life, 

"I have done what was mine to do. May Christ teach you what is yours."

Friday of the Seventh Week of Easter

Lectionary: 301

"His accusers stood around him,
but did not charge him with any of the crimes I suspected. Instead they had some issues with him about their own religion and about a certain Jesus who had died but who Paul claimed was alive."

A 21st century secular society will have sympathy for the Judean procurator, Festus. Like his Roman colleagues, he could not take his state sponsored religion seriously. He conformed to its external rites but it meant nothing to his heart. "So why," he might have wondered, "do these Jews get so upset about their religion and its sects, factions, and parties? So what if some people say a crucified fellow isn't dead after all? How does that change anything? He'll just die again!"

But the Jews and their opponents, the Christians, knew that this question was huge. It was life and death! Or more than that; it was blessed salvation versus eternal damnation. As Saint Paul would say in his letter to the Corinthians, 

If there is no resurrection of the dead, then neither has Christ been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, then empty [too] is our preaching; empty, too, your faith.

And if our faith is empty, we have nothing to live for. As atheist philosophers of the twentieth century would ask, "Why should I not commit suicide?" 

Festus was not given to asking such questions. He busied himself about surviving in the rat race of Roman politics and never asked himself, "Given that I will die anyway, why do I want to live?" 

Many Christians today, including seminarians for the priesthood, wonder the same thing as they study heresies of the early Church. Why did the "Fathers of the Church" pronounce anathema on heretics? Why were some Catholics willing to suffer martyrdom while their heretical opponents stood by and watched? Why was there bloodshed between Arians and Catholics? 

We could answer the Catholics had the Spirit, but that would not satisfy our questioning minds. The Catholic bishops knew that the unity of the Church rested on the Truth as revealed by Jesus Christ, the Holy Spirit, and the Apostolic Tradition. Heretics, freed of obedience and conformity, could believe anything they liked. Their opinions suited their tastes. If they disagreed they agreed to disagree for there was no real truth to believe in the first place. 

But Catholic knew the Gospel demands obedience and a willingness to surrender and submit one's mind, will, and heart. 

The Catholic belief which was, in fact, widely accepted by the apostolic churches from India to Spain, recognized that Jesus must be entirely human and absolutely divine. And he must remain fully human after his resurrection, although we cannot fathom what his glorified body might look like. If he is not human his divine compassion cannot touch our human misery. If he is not divine, he has no authority to speak to our innermost hearts; he can only lord it over us. We will not be saved by someone who dominates us, no matter how friendly they might seem. Our apparent obedience to benevolent oppression will be rank hypocrisy. 

The Holy Spirit moved in those bishops, clergy, and faithful who kept the faith, enabling them both to withstand persecution and to defy the complaisance of heretical Christians.

As the Church today faces a polarized world and condemns racism from the left and abortion from the right; we can expect opposition, contempt, and violence. Some definitions of our human nature do not allow for grace, redemption, and salvation. We cannot condone or ignore those shallow estimates. A human being is not a consumer to fit a consumerist economy, nor a commodity to be used and wasted. Today's controversies are at least as bewildering as those of the ancient past, and we must listen to the Church's Magisterium as we deal with them. 

And always we must keep our attention fixed on Jesus, the Leader and perfecter of our faith. 

Thursday of the Seventh Week of Easter

A tree swallow works
the lake at Mount Saint Francis

Lectionary: 300

Father, they are your gift to me.
I wish that where I am they also may be with me, that they may see my glory that you gave me, because you loved me before the foundation of the world.

I can think of few words more assuring than that first sentence above: "Father, they are your gift to me." 

It's nice when someone pays you a compliment. It's particularly delightful when an influential person  wraps an arm around you and speaks to An Authority saying, "This beautiful friend is dear to me!" 

Jesus spoke this prayer during his Last Supper, on the day of his sacrificial death -- the Jewish day began and ended at sunset -- and everything that happened on Good Friday makes sense only if we have received these words in faith. 

"They are your gift to me!" 

We, in turn, are Jesus's gift to the Father as he enfolds us in himself and surrenders to the Father. Through Baptism and Eucharist we are the Body which is offered to God 

as we find in the Letter to the Hebrews:

For this reason, when he came into the world, he said:

“Sacrifice and offering you did not desire,

but a body you prepared for me;

holocausts and sin offerings you took no delight in.

Then I said, ‘As is written of me in the scroll,

Behold, I come to do your will, O God.’”

"I wish that where I am they also may be with me, that they may see my glory that you gave me, because you loved me before the foundation of the world."

In one of his parables, Jesus tells of the wealthy man who invites his faithful servants to, "Come share your master's joy. As we approach Pentecost and the end of the Easter season we are still singing Alleluia and sharing our Master's joy, and particularly the pleasure he takes in calling us his people.

 

Wednesday of the Seventh Week of Easter

Lectionary: 299

I gave them your word, and the world hated them, because they do not belong to the world any more than I belong to the world.
I do not ask that you take them out of the world but that you keep them from the Evil One.
They do not belong to the world
any more than I belong to the world. Consecrate them in the truth. Your word is truth.

 

While our tradition insists that there is no other name by which we are to be saved, it also recognizes the hostility this belief arouses. That opposition is not necessary or instinctive; it is a choice people make from many possible responses. We hope they will accept the Good News for, as Saint Peter said, we have come to believe and are convinced he is the Holy One of God. With that conviction how could we act differently? How could we not speak of it to loved ones and announce it to strangers?

And we should have some compassion for that hostility for we recognize our own reluctance. The Word of God “comforts the afflicted and afflicts the comfortable,” and each of us can remember more than a few moments when we felt afflicted by the demands of the gospel. Like children we whined, “Do I have to?” And complained, “But they don’t have to, why should I?”  And, “But I don’t want to be different than everybody!” or “But I got to be me and not like everybody else!”

Convicted by the doctrine of Original Sin and recognizing its systemic infiltration of our hearts – which we hoped were pure! -- we hate to make atonement for our personal sins; and are more reluctant to atone for the sins of our ancestors. “Who can repair the damage of ancient crimes? Can’t we just forget it and move on?” We understand the world’s opposition all too well for it starts within our hearts.

The Lord does not require us to repent, repair, or atone before we listen to him. We don’t have to meet certain (impossible) standards before we come to him. First he calls us; and then he consecrates us in truth; and finally he invites us to penance. In great mercy he reveals our sins to us, and we see them in the light of his mercy. We could not bear it otherwise. How sweet it is to be loved by you!

As Saint Peter spoke to the crowds in Jerusalem on that first Christian Pentecost, he had not forgotten his denials in Herod’s courtyard. But neither did he hesitate to remind the citizens of their killing of Jesus. Because the Apostle had sinned and received mercy, he welcomed their turn to the Lord:

He testified with many other arguments, and was exhorting them, “Save yourselves from this corrupt generation.” Those who accepted his message were baptized, and about three thousand persons were added that day.

Tuesday of the Seventh Week of Easter

Lectionary: 298

Now this is eternal life,
that they should know you, the only true God,
and the one whom you sent, Jesus Christ.

 

When we think of eternal life we might do well to keep it as simple as Jesus does in his prayer. Knowing the only true God is eternal life. We exist if we know the Lord.

In the study of the Holy Trinity, we learn that the Father is the father in relation to the Son; without the son is there is no father. And vice versa, the only begotten Son of God is son because of the relationship with the unbegotten Father. They do not have separate existences; their relationship is consubstantial.

Nor do you and I exist apart from the only true God. Severing our relationship with God, or failing to acknowledge our dependence upon God, we risk nonexistence. We become spirits or ghosts or ideas, without substantial existence. Shakespeare described such a non-creature in The Tempest; without an anchoring relationship to Prospero, Ariel can only drift with the wind. Whatever he might want to do, he effects nothing. Dante also imagined the disembodied adulterers, Paolo and Francesca da Rimini; they float like dandelion fluff in an outer circle of Hell. Where they once indulged their bodies' carnal desires, now their disembodied souls attach to nothing.

Eternal life is knowing the only true God. This knowledge is substantial like the consubstantial relationship of the Father and the Son. 

• It entails belonging: "Whether in life or in death, we are the Lord's."  
• Love: "You shall the Lord your God with your heart, soul, mind, and strength." 
• A reverent awareness of God's presence: "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom." 
• And obedience: "You shall love your neighbor as yourself." 

Monday of the Seventh Week of Easter

Lectionary: 297

"Because of this we believe that you came from God.”
Jesus answered them, “Do you believe now?
Behold, the hour is coming and has arrived
when each of you will be scattered to his own home and you will leave me alone. But I am not alone, because the Father is with me.

Scholars tell us that the Gospel of John follows the conventions of Greek drama. It is mostly monologues and dialogues without much action; and dramatic dialogue is nothing if not intense with angry conflicts and comical misunderstandings. 

These last chapters of the Lord's teaching during his Last Supper are especially intense as Jesus prepares his disciples for what is about to happen. Without these teachings they will be overwhelmed by the horror of the Crucifixion. They will not see his love for the Father, and his deep faith. 

But even after hearing his teachings, he prophesies, they will be scattered. They will leave him alone. 

In a culture whose economy depends especially on sheep and shepherding, scattered is equivalent to our train wreck. Sheep owners suffered panic attacks at the thought of their shepherds being struck and their investments scattering before a prowling bear, a pride of lions, or a pack of wolves. The foolish animals are helpless in the wilderness without a clever, alert shepherd to watch and guide them continually. 

Jesus predicts a train wreck: "Each of you will be scattered to his own home." It should remind us of several passages in John:

• Then each of (the Sanhedrin) went home (after refusing to listen to Nicodemus's plea for Jesus. John 7:53); and
• (Peter and the Beloved Disciple) went home after surveying the empty tomb of Jesus. (John 20:10)

In the Gospel of Saint John, going home is what people do when there's nothing more to learn, and nothing more to find. Separated from the community in their insulated homes, they are scattered without conversation, learning, and revelation. 

Although our homes today are hyper-connected with telephones, television, social networking, Skype and Zoom, the situation has not changed. If anything, we spend far more time in our homes than the citizens of ancient cities. Americans are more disconnected, lonely, and scattered than ever before. And some self-described Christians take particular pride in their isolation from church. 

Today's paragraph is Jesus's final word before his prayer to the Father in John 17. He concludes his remarks to his disciples with a gloomy assessment of their spiritual fitness. And yet he is confident because "the Father is with me" and "I have conquered the world." 

And that reminds me of an ancient teaching I made up. You can quote me on this: 

• You cannot know the Lord Jesus unless you belong to his body the Church. Outside the Church ideas and images of Jesus are nothing more than idolatry. We encounter the Lord face to face in the Church.
• But, you cannot remain in the Church unless you have an intense, personal loyalty to Jesus. His abiding, healing, reconciling, atoning presence in you makes fellowship in the Church delightful!

Solemnity of The Ascension of the Lord

Lectionary: 58

So then the Lord Jesus, after he spoke to them,
was taken up into heaven
and took his seat at the right hand of God.
But they went forth and preached everywhere,
while the Lord worked with them
and confirmed the word through accompanying signs.

 

Saint Mark’s Gospel ends with Jesus’s taking his seat at the right hand of God even as he continues to work with the apostles, confirming their words with wonderful signs.

Perhaps we have grown used to the image of Mary’s son, the poor infant born in a manger, sitting at God’s right hand, but we would do well to reflect on that astonishing, heavenly vision. Since the days of King David and King Solomon, the Jews had imagined God as king. He was Lord of lords and King of kings and God of gods if there were other gods.

Despite crushing military defeat, the destruction of Jerusalem, the loss of national autonomy, the diaspora throughout the world, and their near disappearance among the many peoples, Jews believed and insisted that theirs is the only God. There is no other. Jewish psalmists, poets, and philosophers like Jesus ben Sirach and the Author of Job insisted that their Only God had created the entire universe out of nothing. Not even the Greek gods could do that; their philosophers supposed there had always been matter, and gods had added nothing more than form.

Saint Mark expressed the belief of the new Christian minority when he wrote that Jesus now sits at God’s right hand. His throne name, “Lord Jesus,” expresses our faith that he is coequal with the Father, since the word Kyrios (Lord) was the Greek translation of YHWH, the Hebrew name of God.

But – as high and mighty as he is – Jesus is by no means removed from the Earth or the Church. He works with us continually and confirms our word through innumerable signs. The Son of God never forgets the people who loved him.

As a human being, he still loves his mother Mary and his foster father Joseph. He still enjoys the company of his apostles and disciples. He admires the courageous and speaks kindly to the defeated. His heart is still melted with anguish by the sight of hunger, thirst, weariness, sickness, and death. He is still angered by injustice and cruelty. From his throne in heaven he will no more abandon his church than he would remove himself from the cross.

Saturday of the Sixth Week of Easter

Lectionary: 296

“I have told you this in figures of speech.

The hour is coming when I will no longer speak to you in figures but I will tell you clearly about the Father.

On that day you will ask in my name,

and I do not tell you that I will ask the Father for you.

For the Father himself loves you, because you have loved me and have come to believe that I came from God.

A long time ago many of us were given a simple introduction to the mystery of the virgin birth of Jesus. To the Angel's announcement, the Galilean maid asked, "How can this be since I do not know man?" In that sentence the word know includes more than a man's name, weight, and height. It concerns a very intimate and personal relationship. 

Children of the twentieth century had to be reminded by our religion teachers that knowledge is not just what we find in books. It's not the information we learn in conversation, or the data we meet in fire hose amounts on the Internet. 

Mary's knowledge concerns the encounter of mystery in the body/person of another human being. It's the interface of two or more embodied spirits that meet in communion. 

We learned that of Mary's conversation with the Angel; hopefully we began to realize there was more to knowing than a grasp of the facts. 

Facts have their usefulness. Like Lego bricks they can be built into fascinating systems. They can be discovered, accumulated, organized, identified, analyzed, broken down, reassembled, and discarded. They can be used to reveal the truth or hide it; to heal and to hurt, depending on one's intentions. They may be beautiful or not; and, in context, they may be  knowledge to those who know what they mean and what they're good for. 

In today's gospel Jesus tells us we shall know the Father, "I will tell you clearly about the Father." He will not tell us facts; they mean nothing in the encounter with God. God cannot be discovered like facts; God can only be revealed. 

What exactly he will "say" will not translate into words or familiar constructs. This longed-for event, this telling us of the Father, will transpire on Good Friday as the Lord surrenders his life. In the sacrifice of his body and blood we see the Father. In the Eucharist we meet God face to face. 

It is as real, as physical, as any life-changing encounter; as beautiful as Virgin Birth.