Memorial of Saint Jerome, Priest and Doctor of the Church

 Lectionary: 454

Then the angel who spoke with me advanced,
and another angel came out to meet him and said to him,
"Run, tell this to that young man:
People will live in Jerusalem as though in open country,
because of the multitude of men and beasts in her midst.
But I will be for her an encircling wall of fire, says the LORD,
and I will be the glory in her midst."

In the spring of the year, signs appear around the country, "Start seeing motorcycles!" As common as they are, many people still don't expect to see motorcycles, bicycles, golf carts, mechanized wheel chairs, motorized scooters, and other small vehicles on the road. And because they don't expect to see them, they don't; and people die. 

It has something to do with the imagination. We can't imagine something, and so we can't see it when it happens. Who can imagine a former president of the United States tried for four separate criminal indictments despite his running again for the highest office in the land? And possibly being incarcerated? And millions of armed men and women taking to the streets in protest? And the dissolution of the Union? It's too much to imagine; it can't be happening. 

Another example: only extremists in both camps saw the Civil War coming; the great majority of Americans did not believe it could happen. When war broke out, no one expected it to last four years. We realize today it could have lasted into the twentieth century. Our North American rival at the time, Mexico, has yet to recover from its civil wars.   

When Jesus spoke of his being put to death, his disciples thought he was speaking hyperbole. He seemed to be getting a bit carried away by his own wild preaching. They don't crucify people for healing the sick, raising the dead, or walking on water, do they? We're Jews! Of course we argue a lot, but we don't kill our opponents. 

But if people cannot imagine something as dreadful as crucifixion or civil war, they can fear it. There's an unease that causes first anxiety, then anger, and finally violence. 

When the Prophet Zechariah, in today's first reading, describes the future of Jerusalem, he envisions chaos, "a multitude of men and beasts in her midst." Beasts belong in the field, and foreigners can go elsewhere! As Isaiah said, "We have walls and ramparts to protect us!" 

But Zechariah saw "an encircling wall of fire," like that which guided and protected their ancestors in the Sinai desert during their escape from Egypt. You can't imagine it? Believe it! 

We walk by faith and not by sight, as Saint Paul said. More often than not we cannot imagine the blessings God has in store for us; and for that reason we don't believe his Word. But we must and do. 

During these troubled times, when everyone is uneasy and anxious, and many are responding with armed threats and violence, the faithful hear the Lord's promise. They study war no more; they walk the paths of reverence for their God, their enemies, and themselves. They seek God's will as they engage in processes of dialogue, discernment, and peace. 

Feast of Saints Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael, archangels

Lectionary: 647

Thousands upon thousands were ministering to him,
and myriads upon myriads attended him.
The court was convened, and the books were opened.
As the visions during the night continued, I saw
One like a son of man coming,
on the clouds of heaven....

The Little Prince, as nearly everyone remembers, lived on his tiny planet where he maintained his little volcano, keeping it clean and neat and ready. Occasionally, to relieve his loneliness, he'd visit other little princes and princesses on their little planets; and on one occasion visited Earth. 

In Antoine de Saint-Exupéry's fictional universe every planet had at least one little person to maintain order; and there were many such places. 

Our Christian belief in angels is not much different. When we're told there are "billions and billions" of galaxies, each of them comprising thousand or millions of stars, quasars, black holes, and whatnot, we can imagine just as many thousands upon thousands, and myriads upon myriads ministering to him. 

Why should not each supernal planet, star, and solar system have its own superluminary angel to maintain, protect, and express its wonderful being in the presence of Almighty God? If some of these celestial persons and planets seem superfluous, then their existence can be justified like yours and mine -- since our existence is also not really necessary. We humans, along with all creatures great and small, and all the conjectural multiverses do the one thing necessary, and that is praise God with all his angels.

The one thing we cannot imagine is that there is more than one Jesus Christ, the only begotten Son of God. Or that he should undergo multiple crucifixions for as many habitable exoplanets there are among all the multiverses. That's where the science of theology and the science of the cross serve to balance other sciences, calling them back from idle speculation to the useful search for knowledge. 

A zillion infinitely reproduced saviors would be superfluous, for the Son of Man has won salvation once and for all. Death has no more power over him. 

We know that Christ, raised from the dead, dies no more; death no longer has power over him. As to his death, he died to sin once and for all; as to his life, he lives for God. Romans 6: 9-10

As do we, along with the Archangel Saints Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael live for God. How wonderful is that? 

Thursday of the Twenty-fifth Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 452

Thus says the LORD of hosts:
Consider your ways!
Go up into the hill country;
bring timber, and build the house
That I may take pleasure in it
and receive my glory, says the LORD.

Haggai protested the familiar ways of the Jews upon their return to Jerusalem. Familiar in the sense that they'd always done things this way. They had always put themselves and their concerns ahead of the Lord. From the day they'd escaped Egypt to depend upon God's providence of food, drink, clothing, and protection, to the day they'd finally returned to Judah after the Babylonian exile, they'd regarded their own concerns more important than the Lord. 

It was time to build God's house even at the expense of neglecting their own houses. Their restored temple might never resemble the destroyed temple of Solomon, which has been called one of seven wonders of the ancient world. But it was neither right nor just that Jerusalem should thrive as a regional capital in the Persian empire, while the ruins of the ancient temple gathered dust. 

Their bad habit persists among us as we put off prayer until the work is done, and the eating, sleeping, exercise, and entertainment. It is neither right nor just. 

"Thou shalt have no other gods before Me!" we were told as children, and yet certain unseen, unnamed authorities demand that we take care of these matters first. We have to work! We need to eat; we must get our rest; family, neighbors, and strangers expect attention and concern; we should have some entertainment. Doesn't the Bible warn us against prayer when Lazarus is starving at the door? 

The sin is compartmentalizing. We apportion time and energy according to the demands made upon them, forgetting that the LORD has provided for all our needs since before we were born. And will still provide. And our first duty is to know, love, and serve the Lord. We cannot relegate some time and energy to the service of the LORD, because all our time and energy belongs to him. 

The practice of daily prayer -- which must include unmeasured moments of still silence -- helps us maintain the awareness of God's immediate presence. "Here I am!" we say in response to God's "I am!" Here I am before you in this moment and this place, and I repent of those moments when I have forgotten your presence, your authority, and your mercy to me. 

God's temple is certainly a building, a necessary infrastructure for the maintenance of the Church. No community of humans can long exist without investing its resources in a structure which declares its presence in the world. We need churches, shrines, and chapels along with our schools, hospitals, and recreational centers. 

But we also need that temple built in time, as Abraham Joshua Heschel describes in his book, The Sabbath. It is a time that comes to us and finds us, and we dare not fail to cease our restless activities and rest within it. We must stop and know the Lord is here in this place. He has come to us and travels with us, and does not leave us. He provides for us. 

Unless the LORD build the house,

they labor in vain who build.

Unless the LORD guard the city,

in vain does the guard keep watch.

It is vain for you to rise early

and put off your rest at night,

To eat bread earned by hard toil—

all this God gives to his beloved in sleep. Psalm 127

 

Memorial of Saint Vincent de Paul, Priest

 Lectionary: 451

From the time of our fathers even to this day
great has been our guilt,
and for our wicked deeds we have been delivered up,
we and our kings and our priests,
to the will of the kings of foreign lands,
to the sword, to captivity, to pillage, and to disgrace,
as is the case today.
"And now, but a short time ago, mercy came to us from the LORD, our God,

Practicing Catholics who get it enjoy the Sacrament of Penance as an easy way to come to terms with our sinfulness. It might seem too easy to some -- perhaps imprudently dangerous -- but the constant testimony of the Bible gives us little room to boast of our virtue. "We have sinned! We and our ancestors have sinned." So long as we're daily asking God to "forgive us our sins,,,," and admitting, "O my God I am heartily sorry for having sinned against you..." we can approach both our duties and our leisure with some assurance. God gets it too. 

It's when we try to find the long route around that briar patch of confession, that we knock ourselves out trying to prove we are good and just people. If we could only do that we'd have no need for God's mercy. 

But the Sacrament is challenging for more reasons than that. We so often have no particular sins to confess, other than the usual irritability that rises from our weariness at trying to prove we're everything God, our families, our churches, and our neighbors expect and need us to be. We're failing to save ourselves, and we're sure there's something wrong with that. 

I mean, look at how many people are completely successful, prosperous, secure, and happy! If they're managing it, why can't I? I've just got to try harder. 

The Bible repeatedly tells us that we cannot save ourselves. When we're ready to admit that we just can't do it anymore, and never could, the Word of God starts to creep into our hearts. 

We learn a sense of humor about our failings, shortcomings, blind spots, and sins. We start enjoying the people around us, knowing full well that they see what we cannot see and love us anyway. And then we see past their shortcomings and care about them too! We can admire them and thank God for they are vessels of clay and filled with grace. 

Life with the sacrament of penance is so much easier. As the Lord said, "My yoke is easy, and my burden is light." 

Tuesday of the Twenty-fifth Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 450

He said to them in reply, "My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and act on it."

When he was told that his mother and brothers were outside and wished to speak with him, Jesus used the opportunity to speak of obedience to the Word of God. He was busy and could not be interrupted by an unexpected family visit. 

The passage reminds us of a very challenging message in the gospel, 

“If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. (Luke 14:26)

Hate is a strong word in American English; a particularly foul, distasteful word. The Gospels use such language because they don't have to be nice. The word reminds us, "If your religion doesn't make you feel uncomfortable once in a while, it's not from God. It's nothing more than a flattering reflection in your mirror. Get over yourself!"

Jesus lived under obedience to his Father, and he felt the continual presence of the Spirit guiding his thoughts, words, and deeds. He never set out to do this own thing, nor was he subject to the capricious winds of the economy, society, or politics. But when he had important things to do, even the winds and seas obeyed him. 

Today's gospel alludes to Jesus's mother and family, but it directs us to examine our impulses and intentions. Catholics get anxious about any reference to Mary that doesn't praise her. Never mind all that! The question right now is, "Am I acting today on the Word of God?" 

If I am attempting to do well by doing good, I may be at cross purposes to God's plan. And so I pray for guidance. I don't suppose today will be a day of great accomplishments. Which is all the more reason to pay attention to the details of attitudes, moods, and intentions as I navigate the hours.

Monday of the Twenty-fifth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 449

In the first year of Cyrus, king of Persia,
in order to fulfill the word of the LORD spoken by Jeremiah,
the LORD inspired King Cyrus of Persia
to issue this proclamation throughout his kingdom...
 

If it is hard to imagine the Persian Emperor Cyrus issuing a decree admitting that the Jewish God of the Universe had given him rule over "all the kingdoms of the earth," it is equally hard to imagine what actually happened. He did permit  a very large number of Jews to return to their destroyed Holy City. 

He surely had his own reasons for doing so; there was something to be gained by it. But what matters to us is that the Jews did return; the emperor permitted it; and God had a hand in it. Because, as the song says, God is still in charge.

The secular city knows nothing of God's sovereign authority. If they recognize anything, it's that some people believe in a god who is supposed to save them, and they -- the believers -- enjoy the thought of being saved. But, the secular city would insist, that's only an opinion of some people, and there's enough of them that they have buying power in the market, and are a presence in the arts, politics, and society. However, we have more important concerns than salvation, and these so-called believers, for the most part, agree with us. Their belief in a saving god is an option, and no one has to believe it. 

Unfortunately many Christians accept those secular principles. They agree that belief is a private matter, and that Christians should practice their faith in whatever way they feel is right. But no religious expression -- neither the Mass nor a tent revival nor a snake handler's testimony -- is especially favored.  

The Hebrew prophets, with Jesus among them, would not accept that laissez-faire image of God. The LORD they describe is demanding and jealous; he suffers no rivals. His people are called to holiness and have the Spirit to make it happen. As they give to the poor, widowed, orphaned, and aliens, they trust their Providing God will more than compensate their losses. He has proven his strength and benevolence through many Mighty Works. Anyone with a memory of slavery in Egypt or Babylonian exile or the passion and death of Jesus has no excuse for halfhearted generosity 

Should they forget his saving works, as many do, his prophets will remind them. If they ignore the prophets, they will suffer the fate of any nation or people that has never known God. They will disappear. But the Scriptures show that the Lord, despite his threats cannot and will never abandon his chosen people, and a remnant will survive. 

When they do remember and live by God's law they are blessed with security, prosperity, and communion with their LORD. 

Isaiah saw God's promises fulfilled in the ascendance of Cyrus as a tyrant of the Persian empire. Cyrus had new ideas about governance. Rather than taxing his subjects for all they were worth, and draining conquered nations of all their resources, his empire would be a collective of cities engaging in commerce with one another. Taxes would maintain security against foreign aggressors and internal brigands. The roads would be safe; and travelers -- merchants, pilgrims, and tourists -- could move freely and rapidly from place to place. Perhaps he thought a happy empire with reasonable taxes might survive longer than the oppressive regimes of the past. 

When a Jewish delegation from Babylon volunteered to rebuild the city of Jerusalem, restoring its former prosperity and connectivity to other cities, Cyrus saw an opportunity and promoted the project. He almost certainly saw Jerusalem as another buffer against his rival Egypt. Nor would he demand that the Jews worship him or his deities. So long as they paid the tribute and kept the peace he could tolerate their peculiar religion with its strange monotheism. Later empires would not be as generous. 

The prophet Isaiah, the Jewish governor Nehemiah, and the priest Ezra saw God's purposes fulfilled in Cyrus's benevolent rule. The Chosen People had evidently suffered long enough for their sins against the covenant. The Lord was now restoring his holy city and his beloved people, the very people he had justly punished. If rebuilding took time and the results were disappointing, they could be patient. If they could not have the autonomy they'd once enjoyed, they could nonetheless worship their God with all the freedom of a liberated people. So long as God is in heaven, they could live with tyrants in this world. 

They saw the Lord of History guiding human affairs, as he had guided the people out of Egypt, and as he had managed earthquakes, tides, winds, weather, sunrise, and sunset. For Christians the Pax Romana was no accident; it was a grand opportunity to announce the gospel to all the nations! 

Salvation is offered to all people through a historical process as was promised to the Patriarch Abraham:

I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you and curse those who curse you. All the families of the earth will find blessing in you.

And the prediction of Mary: "All nations to come shall call me blessed." 

Today, as billions flee their homelands, we see more and greater opportunities for announcing the Gospel, for God is still in charge.

Twenty-fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 133

For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
nor are your ways my ways, says the LORD.
As high as the heavens are above the earth,
so high are my ways above your ways
and my thoughts above your thoughts.

Now might not be the moment to hear Jesus's parable about the landowner and his dissatisfied workers. Since the last decade of the 19th century, the Church has supported the rights of workers to organize and to demand a living wage, a safe working environment, and opportunity. The Lord's command of charity demands more than handouts of excess wealth to the needy. The entire economy should be retooled to provide a "preferential option for the poor." 

But, to hear today's gospel, we must step away from today's conflicts between labor and management, and excessive wealth and abject poverty. We must hear about God's sovereign authority. We should ponder Isaiah's doctrine, 

As high as the heavens are above the earth,

so high are my ways above your ways

and my thoughts above your thoughts.

Our faith begins with the unexpected good news that God, for reasons of his own, cares for his chosen people and rescues them from their distress. Anyone might argue about God's fairness. They might suppose that God should love everyone equally; and, with the same indifferent laissez-faire.  

But they might as well argue for a different God than the one who has revealed himself as Lord of the Universe and Father of Jesus Christ. The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob was never cool, indifferent, or distant. We have always known our God as deeply invested in human affairs. And the same God has repeatedly told us, "...my ways are above your ways and my thoughts are above your thoughts."

As we study our scriptures more closely, we realize that it's our ways that are not fair. As Ezekiel says: 

You say, “The LORD’s way is not fair!” 

Hear now, house of Israel: Is it my way that is unfair? 

Are not your ways unfair? 

We complain about unfairness when we think we're being treated unfairly. But when injustice falls on someone else, especially far away, we don't suppose their troubles should become ours. 

Poverty, violence, hunger, disease, natural disasters, war, mass migrations : let them stay far away. Stories of bridges collapsing, banks going belly up, or nations going to war are last week's news within a few days. We have our own problems and can’t be bothered. But, should the ripple effects of foreign catastrophes disturb us, we complain it's not fair. 

Today's gospel reminds us that we don't understand God's ways. Anyone who thinks God should at least explain himself --  maybe when we die -- well, take a number, like Michael Keeton in the movie Beetlejuice, but don’t expect me to sit around with you. I’ve got places I want to see and people I want to meet. 

Read today's gospel more closely. As Saint Matthew tells the story, the landowner speaks to only one fellow -- who is apparently neither a union leader nor a shop steward. And he, the landowner, says he can do with his money as he pleases. 

Who can disagree with that?  But he says nothing more to anyone else because he didn't owe anyone even that much explanation, much less the money they demanded. His remark to one fellow is nothing more than an aside. It is a literary device, an explanation for Saint Matthew’s audience but not for the unhappy workers in the parable.

In other words, it's fair because God says it's fair. As long as we're speaking of unfairness, and of what is or is not owed to us, we should remember that our home planet also owes us nothing and cares not a whit for us. The Earth created and destroyed dinosaurs and dodos and Denisovans and Neanderthals and thousands of extinct species long before we came along, and will keep doing so long after we’re gone.

Nor does The Economy care about us. If some fortunate people make themselves wealthy, neither they nor their stock brokers give a flip about you and me.   

But the same God who seems to govern arbitrarily and unfairly by human standards, is also the God who creates, heals, saves, and delivers us from our sinful bondage, and promises eternal life to those who believe in him. He is the same God who gives his only begotten son to death for our salvation. And the same God who lays down his life to save us from death. And the same God who created our beautiful world. And the same God gives us the eyes to see beauty and the ears to hear music even on the darkest, bleakest days. He is the God who walks with us through dark valleys of death.  

We cannot say he owes any of that. He does not need us but he gives us everything, even the gift of his serene presence in our life.    

Today's parable about a cold-hearted employer reminds us that we must rely on our good God alone, for nothing else and no one else cares enough to save us from ourselves. 

Memorial of Saint Padre Pio (Pius of Pietrelcina, Priest)

 Lectionary: 448

And some seed fell on good soil, and when it grew,
it produced fruit a hundredfold."
After saying this, he called out,
"Whoever has ears to hear ought to hear."

As we read the psalms and prophets we often hear of those pagan idols, made of wood, stone, or medal, which have ears but cannot hear, and eyes which cannot feel. The Jews, who would create no image of the unimaginable God, loved to mock their enemies and the wooden insensibility of their idols. 

Isaiah, however, reversed the mockery, turning it upon his own people. They too have eyes that do not see and ears that cannot hear. 

Our secular society confidently believes it has evaded the problems of deafness and blindness with its scientific instruments. Our instruments see invisible colors, microscopic particles, and dark patches on the Sun's brilliant surface. They hear sounds above and below the range of human ears. They are developing instruments to smell and taste, not to mention artificially intelligent machines. 

But many in our sophisticated society cannot see what their sciences tell them. They don't see the dynamic planet which generated human life becoming hostile to human beings. They cannot hear the grief of millions who flee from their homelands due to climate change. Their instruments, methods, and calculations may be more sophisticated than the idols of their ancestors, but they cannot read what their instruments tell them. 

Wisdom comes from God; it is God's gift to those willing to receive it; to those willing to recognize and submit to the Lordship of God. Clever technologies will not save our ecosystem. Compassion for one another, sacrifice, and humility before the Lord will. 

Friday of the Twenty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 447

Jesus journeyed from one town and village to another, preaching and proclaiming the good news of the Kingdom of God. Accompanying him were the Twelve, and some women who had been cured of evil spirits and infirmities....

Today's gospel describes a church on the move, as Jesus led his disciples, a group of apostles and women healed of infirmities and evil spirits. The men seem randomly selected; their only common traits are they are all Jews, chosen by the Lord rather than self-selected, and willing. The women are perhaps more select, as they were all healed by the Lord's mercy. 

Like the Lord who was born in Bethlehem, fled to Egypt, and raised in Nazareth, the group has no abiding home. They model the invitation of the Letter to the Hebrews: 

Let us then go to him outside the camp, bearing the reproach that he bore. For here we have no lasting city, but we seek the one that is to come.

If they seem like an odd society, and strange to our way of thinking, we can surely recognize the reproach they bore with him: they were homeless. The apostles and women had left their homes, families, neighborhoods, and careers to follow Jesus. 

Someday historians might remember the twentieth and twenty-first centuries as the Age of Homelessness. Billions of people are fleeing crime, genocide, religious persecution, war, drought, rising seas, and unbearable heat. Neither natural boundaries like oceans and mountains, nor hi-tech walls, nor weapons of mass destruction can prevent their movement. Political parties might protest while governments pretend to address the problem but its scope is far beyond anyone's management. 

Bible readers should not be unfamiliar with migration. The names of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph evoke a founding story of migration. Moses led a migratory escape from Egypt, through the wilderness, and into the "Promised Land," a land which was not unoccupied. Centuries later, their descendants fled or were transported from Jerusalem in the fifth century before Christ. Only a remnant, as Isaiah had prophesied, returned to Jerusalem. The majority of God's people would never again be located in a single geographical place in this world. 

But they never forget the promise of the Lord: 

On that day...

A remnant will return, the remnant of Jacob,
to the mighty God.
Though your people, O Israel,
were like the sand of the sea,
Only a remnant of them will return;
their destruction is decreed,
as overflowing justice demands. (Is 10:20-22)

Saint Luke describes that surviving remnant as they lean on the Lord in today's gospel. But they are not really homeless; their home is the heart of Jesus. 

Nor were they as homeless as the millions who own a house but feel nonetheless abandoned, rootless, confused, and lost in this world. If their bodies seem anchored in one place, their hearts float like released balloons, or like Didi and Gogo in Samuel Becket's Waiting for Godot. They haunt cities and neighborhoods but live nowhere. 

The Catholic Church provides a spiritual home for billions of migrants. It may be experienced as the Sacred Heart of Jesus or the Immaculate Heart of Mary. It comes with a knowledge of time and place. I know where I am, and where I am going, and to whom I belong. Even in those dark moments when we feel abandoned and lost, we rely on men and women who hold us and keep us among the faithful. 

Given what we see happening all around us, we must hear and heed the invitation of the Lord who promises, 

Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves.
For my yoke is easy, and my burden light. Matt 11:28-30

Feast of Saint Matthew, Apostle and evangelist

 Lectionary: 643

As Jesus passed by,
he saw a man named Matthew sitting at the customs post.
He said to him, "Follow me."
And he got up and followed him.
While he was at table in his house,
many tax collectors and sinners came
and sat with Jesus and his disciples.

There is something comical about Jesus's selection of disciples; it's a comedy that persists in many ways to this day. This motley crew of men and women is neither competent to announce to the whole world the Gospel of Jesus Christ, nor worthy of it. 

But this is a divine comedy where God accomplishes the impossible, implausible, and improbable just to prove the power of our faith in God. As the Angel assured Mary, "All things are possible with God." And as he said, "If you have faith the size of a mustard seed...."

The saints also testify, "With grace the most difficult chores are easily accomplished; but without grace, even the slightest task is beyond our ability." Which of us has never experienced that? 

Saint Paul said as much when he remarked about his companions and himself: "We are vessels of clay." The Lord knows we do the best we can, and if he decides to use earthen pots it's his own fault when we leak like sieves! 

The Apostle had reflected on that great mystery even in his first letter to the Corinthians.

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. It is due to him that you are in Christ Jesus, who became for us wisdom from God, as well as righteousness, sanctification, and redemption, so that, as it is written, “Whoever boasts, should boast in the Lord.” (1:26-31)

But the LORD had set the pattern more than a thousand years before when he chose Abraham to be a blessing to all nations, and then led his descendants into Egyptian slavery. They were never a promising lot of heroes, even when they had built a minor kingdom under David and a modest capital city in Jerusalem. Those accomplishments were washed under history's tides as the empires of Egypt, Assyria, Babylon, Persia, Rome, and Islam spilled over them. They should have been entirely forgotten long ago but God had his own reasons for making them survive another generation, and then another. 

Our lives are God's story. They will be told on God's terms, to whom God speaks. In the meanwhile we thank God for the opportunity to be of some small, inept service. 

Memorial of Saints Andrew Kim Tae-gŏn, Priest, and Paul Chŏng Ha-sang, and Companions, Martyrs

 Lectionary: 445

Undeniably great is the mystery of devotion,
Who was manifested in the flesh,
vindicated in the spirit,
seen by angels,
proclaimed to the Gentiles,
believed in throughout the world,
taken up in glory.

[Let me begin with a "by the way," because I misunderstood this for a long time, and I think a lot of people do. The responsorial psalm is read in a responsive fashion, as the lector or [cantor sings and the congregation responds. It is not a response to the first reading.] 

Our responsorial psalm today celebrates the great works of the Lord. They are too numerous to mention, but the phrase first appears as the freed slaves emerge from the Red Sea and their slavers perish under its flood. Great works continue as the LORD leads his grumbling, suspicious people into the desert where he provides manna, meat, and water, where their clothes do not tatter and their shoes do not wear out despite forty years of wandering. 

"How great are the works of the Lord!" picks up the thrill of our first reading, which is a snatch of a song about Jesus Christ. that "mystery of devotion, who was manifested in the flesh...."

Those six lines are a brief, but exciting recap of the Lord's divine mission among human beings, from his incarnation within the womb of the Virgin to his proclamation throughout the whole world. I am often amazed, as I read the New Testament, at the vision of that early Church which was so certain that their numbers would grow and the entire world would come to know the Lord as they did. They were hardly a blip on the Roman radar -- little more than a ripple in the Jewish world -- and yet they knew God was working a mighty work among them. A mighty work which the entire world would see, welcome, and acclaim. The entire world would be saved by our announcement.

And yet its beginnings are so small and so discouraging. The Lord himself complains, as we hear in today's Gospel, about the poor reception he receives among his own people, the people to whom he is sent. They will not dance when he pipes a jig, nor weep when he sings a dirge. 

They quibble about what the Messiah should look like even as he stands directly in front of them. They're like people who've come to the airport to meet a long lost relative. They're eager to see and greet him, but their photos of him are sixty years old. When an old man approaches them with tears of joy and open arms they push him away since he looks nothing like his pictures.

We should not be surprised if the gospel meets the same reception among self-described Christians today. There are many who hear socialist teaching in phrases like compassion, turn the other cheek and love your enemies. They will neither dance nor weep to the Lord's music.

Only a few, those enlightened by the Holy Spirit, those familiar with the Word of God who know his voice in their hearts even before he appears in the flesh, dance to his jig and weep with his dirge. Only a few recognize his Mighty Career from birth to death to resurrection, ascension, and enthronement at the Father's right hand. 

Tuesday of the Twenty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 444

Beloved, this saying is trustworthy: whoever aspires to the office of bishop desires a noble task.

We might paraphrase Saint Paul's remark about bishops by saying, "...whoever aspires to leadership in the Church desires a noble task." Saint Augustine had this to say about his duty: 

"Where I’m terrified by what I am for you, I am given comfort by what I am with you.  For you I am a bishop, with you, after all, I am a Christian."

Conservative and liberal factions in the Church today argue about what the leadership of the future should look like. Will women ever be ordained? Or married men? Will married couples regain their footing in a turbulent society and send enough of their sons and daughters to leadership positions in the Church. Might insightful elders in the parish, recognizing capable members, take them aside and say, "You should prepare for ordination?"  

As I read again Saint Augustine's remark I recall Masses in the 1980's when a large number of lay ministers gathered with me after the Eucharistic Prayer. As the congregation rose, we joined hands as fellow servants and the entire Church recited the Lord's Prayer with one voice. (Today's fashions isolate me behind the altar, but the solidarity remains as we pray together.) 

Even now, when I invite them to recite the prayer, I let them take the cue and sound the words, "Our Father...." Invariably the group, whether large or small, spontaneously prays together; it's as if the Earth itself knows what to say and speaks through us. 

At that moment, I am not the leader; I am simply a member of the Body of Christ. For just that moment I am relieved of duty; it's a blessed feeling. 

Philosophers say, "We are given the leadership we deserve." But if we get only the leadership we deserve, the Church will wither like a severed branch. We pray that God will show mercy to his Church. 

Monday of the Twenty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 443

First of all, I ask that supplications, prayers,
petitions, and thanksgivings be offered for everyone,
for kings and for all in authority,
that we may lead a quiet and tranquil life
in all devotion and dignity.

As the unimaginable happens and a former president of the United States faces indictment on 41 counts for conspiracy, we hear Saint Paul urging us to pray for "kings and all in authority." Because the US is a representative democracy, we must pray for those voters, congresspersons, and senators who supported the attempted coup and the alleged conspirators. 

The Apostle hoped that with just and reasonable governance, the People of God might "lead a quiet and tranquil life in all devotion and dignity." 

History and philosophy assure us that there was never a time when the governed were entirely powerless over their governors. The Bible testifies to that as we hear prophets fuming against the kings of Judah and Israel. If the majority had been faithful, God-fearing citizens, their rulers would not have gotten away with their abuse of authority. But there were always foreigners living among them who worshiped other gods, and the Jewish majority didn't mind entertaining these false gods when it served their own purposes. They did not seem to understand that the LORD demands outward and inward compliance to justice and mercy. The LORD sees the heart!

But the prophets, despite their religious authority and their oratorical and literary skills, had little real influence on what went on. The crowds, like Herod Antipas, might enjoy their outrageous poetry, but they left their religion in the temple where they'd found it, or in the Jordan River where they'd been baptized. Their widows were still neglected; their orphans, abandoned; and their aliens, despised. Their governments were corrupt because the people were corrupt and their nation suffered the inevitable collapse. 

Only a remnant survived, as God had ordained, to preserve the Word of God and pass it to us. Like them, we still pray that our rulers -- be they autocratic tyrants or democratically elected officials -- will govern with more justice than the people deserve. 

The debacle taking place in several courtrooms in Washington, Florida, Georgia, and New York signal an existential moment for the United States. That is, our existence as a nation is threatened; should the proceedings collapse, we can expect unimaginable chaos. If the most powerful nation on earth, with sufficient military power to destroy all life on the planet, disintegrates there will be no "quiet and tranquil life in all devotion and dignity." Unless God intervenes, there will not be a remnant to tell the tale. 

And so we pray. 

We are sent to the world to pray for our leaders, and for just, merciful, and good government. It matters little what form the government takes. Democracy has shown that it can be as corrupt as any other form. But we are sent to this nation to pray and to testify to the merciful authority of God. 

God would have spared Sodom and Gomorrah had he found ten good men in the city, but there were none. Lot and his seriously dysfunctional family were spared less for their virtue than for God's regard for their Uncle Abraham. The Pax Romana of Saint Paul's time was far more stable than today's Pax Americana, and so we should take the Apostle's advice all the more urgently in the hope that we might yet enjoy a quiet and tranquil life in all devotion and dignity.

 

Twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 130

Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us....

As many times as we recite the Our Father -- and most of us recite it a few times each day -- that many times we declare our willingness to forgive those who betray, cheat, lie, steal, and insult us. We were taught this wonderful prayer -- the Lord's Prayer -- long before we can remember. Children should learn it before the first day of their first grade. 

The prayer is prophetic; meaning it teaches and challenges us. It reminds us of our duty to forgive as God forgives. We are God’s holy people, and God’s kingdom comes when we forgive others their sin as God forgives our sins. The Lord’s Prayer should render us uncomfortable and uneasy when we're holding out or unwilling to surrender grievances against loved ones, strangers, and enemies. 

At the same time, this prayer is the key to happiness and freedom. The worst form of slavery is bondage to one's resentments, hurts, and disappointments. It's like drinking poison and thinking your enemy will get sick. It makes us unhappy, sullen, and oppressed – and tiresome to be around! Nothing is more boring than listening again to someone’s complaint about something that happened fifty years ago. It's a burden on our spirit and on our community. 

No sooner do we begin to laugh, sing, and enjoy than I am reminded that someone -- some mean-spirited, ugly, hateful person -- has done me wrong! And I have a Right to be Angry, to avenge myself, to get even. I don't get mad; I get even. Revenge is a dish best served cold, meaning I'll bide my time and get back at you when you've completely forgotten what you did to me -- if you ever knew in the first place. And, as I said, that can go on for years. 

And does for some people. They think they're free, and insist upon their freedom to be unhappy, sullen, disengaged, distant, moody, and self-centered. They count their enemies like misers counting their money, rubbing and polishing each resentment until it shines like a gold coin, as if the hurt happened yesterday. 

I've not forgotten! I'll never forget! My privilege, my treasure, my delight, and joy. My Precious. 

The Gollum in today's parable was handed over to the torturers until he should pay back the whole debt. It sounds hopeless but the poor wretch is a creepy, unpleasant weasel to start with. He makes sniveling promises he cannot keep. Freed by the master's generosity, he reacts with an absurd sense of elation. He thinks he has successfully talked his way out of an enormous debt. He doesn’t recognize the gift, the grace that has been bestowed on him. He thinks he is free to abuse, ridicule, insult, and punish anyone who owes him a smidgen of what he owed. 

He cannot see what everyone else sees, that he is still deeply in debt to his master for setting him free. He cannot imagine that he is unworthy of the gift; that he deserves nothing but to be 

“be sold, along with his wife, his children, and all his property, in payment of the debt.”

Gollum has an American's sense of freedom, some absurd notion that he is like a weightless body in outer space, belonging nowhere and able to go anywhere. He knows nothing of God and doesn't want to know.

Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us....

The Lord calls us to freedom. As often as we recite the Lord's Prayer, so often do we ask God to set us free from all resentments. Give us that talent, ability, strength, and willingness -- for freedom is a habit which must be practiced daily, and many times a day. It is a decision to shake off the temptation, to despise not one's enemies but one's desire to hold onto resentments. 

Here is what I hate. I hate the unreasonable, ridiculous pride I take in holding grudges against people, and thinking that I'm better than anyone for remembering and not letting go. Dear Lord, set me free. I am a slave to myself and I am sick of it. 

Our prayer, if we hear what we're saying when we recite the Lord's Prayer, sets us free; and we owe nothing to anyone but the bond of charity. And that we must pay daily and many times a day to others, and to our good God. Amen.

Memorial of Saints Cornelius, Pope, and Cyprian, Bishop, Martyrs

 Lectionary: 442

This saying is trustworthy and deserves full acceptance:
Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.
Of these I am the foremost.

Penance is not the most popular of the Church's seven sacraments. Many Catholics avoid it altogether; many admit they're uncomfortable as they approach it. Some will complain that it should not be necessary to recall, identify, tabulate, and name their sins to a fellow human being. They ask, "Isn't it enough that I believe God forgives me? Are we not saved by faith alone?"  

It's uncomfortable, there's no doubt about that. 

When Saint Paul wrote to his protege, the Bishop Timothy, he described himself as the foremost of sinners. Perhaps he exaggerated, but it's more likely that he was gazing fully and directly upon the Cross of Christ and realizing the full extent of both his need for mercy and the Lord's superabundant grace. 

It is by our sins we find ourselves standing with Mary and the Lord, on Calvary, where we must be. There is no other approach. We cannot come as tourists or spectators; the very thought is blasphemy. We cannot come simply as sympathizers, saying, "Oh that poor man." That false piety rankles; it is sickening, treacly, like too much sweetness. 

We enter the mystery of our salvation by confession of our sins. We acquire knowledge of salvation, as Zechariah said, through the forgiveness of our sins, because of the tender mercy of our God. 

Without Penance, our salvation is nothing more than a glittery patina; it flakes off when it's confronted with the least resistance. 

We find ourselves in the cross, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus, in the Body of Christ which is his Church, through the confession of our sins. This is where we belong, as saved sinners. It is a place of deep satisfaction and perfect joy. 

"I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and your joy may be complete."John 15:11

 

Memorial of Our Lady of Sorrows

 Lectionary: 441/639

Standing by the cross of Jesus were his mother
and his mother's sister, Mary the wife of Clopas,
and Mary Magdalene.

Stabat Mater means "the mother standing." Saint John's Gospel describes her place and ours as we attend with her the crucifixion of Jesus. There may be many places we'd rather be, and many more places we could be; but by the cross is where we must be, who belong to the Lord. 

For all its beauty, wonder, and mystery; for all its efficient merit to save humankind and the universe from the ongoing horror of sin, the cross -- the sacrifice of Jesus on that terrible Friday -- is not complete until we are there with him. 

And so we celebrate "the Mother Standing," and our standing with her. We come because he must be there for us. There is no salvation without his crucifixion and death. We become because he is our friend and brother; because he is a man of flesh and blood like us, who deserves our sympathy; because we know that our sins of omission and commission have put him there, and we bitterly regret it. 

We come because he must do this for us, and he does it willingly, without hesitation. We come, like his Virgin Mother, to be with him. Because at this hour we can be nowhere else. 

Christians and Catholics have always contemplated Mary's standing with Jesus on Calvary. We knew his hour was coming, that hour of which he spoke during the wedding feast of Cana. It was the hour of the day of which Amos the Prophet had spoken many centuries before. It was the first hour of the year of favor Isaiah predicted and Jesus announced. 

The hour, day, year, and moment are endless. We must remain with Jesus forever, as he remains with us, in the eternally present. 

It is good, as Saint Peter said, that we are here. He spoke eagerly of the hour when Jesus was transfigured on Mount Tabor. He was hardly aware of what he said; he could not understand the Lord's speaking with Moses and Elijah about the exodus he would accomplish in Jerusalem. Perhaps he spoke too eagerly for when the hour arrived on Calvary, Peter was nowhere to be seen. But his moment arrived not long afterward, on Pentecost; and it was accomplished many years later, when he was crucified in Rome. Still remembering his craven failure, he requested and was given permission to be crucified upside down, because he said he should not be suspended upright like the Lord. 

It is good that we are here with Mary, the martyrs, and all the saints, including Saint Peter. We remember her sorrow; we cannot and dare not take it from her. 

It is enough, as Jesus said. It is accomplished. 

Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross

 Lectionary: 638

For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son,
so that everyone who believes in him might not perish
but might have eternal life.
For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world,
but that the world might be saved through him.

It may be my middle class conceit to complain that life is difficult. I remember the same observation -- without the plaintive note -- among poor widows and jailed young men when I was the pastor of a church. 

If they agreed with me that life is not easy, they also reminded me that it's not supposed to be easy; that indeed the Lord himself found it difficult. And, in fact, he was taking up his cross and insisting that we should carry ours long before that fatal Friday morning. 

It's probably my middle class conceit to wonder if life, which is not easy, is also godless. That is, it has neither purpose nor redemption nor justification; that, "Life is hard and then you die." I might feel that way even amid the leisure of my entitlements; but the same poor widows and jailed youths told me that, 

"God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him."

The exaltation of the cross is core to the Gospel and the Biblical life which we espouse. Anyone who does not get that, who supposes that the game of life can be won with a little bit of luck and a lot of hard work misses the point altogether. 

Idealists -- that is, people who have the leisure time to dream up ideals -- might suppose that "If everyone just did their part it wouldn't be so hard." That theory is yet to be proven. In the best possible world with everyone sharing and sharing alike, the cross would remain, and would still be waiting for you and me to take it up and carry it. 

But that's an idle thought. The fact is the cross is a blessing -- an exulted blessing -- which the Lord in his infinite mercy gives to each person. We have seen how the saints and martyrs insisted upon carrying theirs. If some admitted it took half-a-lifetime or more to learn that lesson, they only urge us not to waste as much time as they did. 

The cross remains for us. Even the Protestant Reformation, for the most part, retained the cross when they eschewed crucifixes. We see crosses stretching from coast to coast as we travel the highways and interstates of our nation. Many enormous statues of Jesus show his arms outstretched as though nailed even when there is no cross behind him. 

Saint Francis described the cross as the fastest, easiest, most direct, efficient, and certain way of living well. Why would anyone want another way?

Memorial of Saint John Chrysostom, Bishop and Doctor of the Church

 Lectionary: 439

If you were raised with Christ, seek what is above,
where Christ is seated at the right hand of God.
Think of what is above, not of what is on earth.
For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.
When Christ your life appears,
then you too will appear with him in glory.

Beginning each day with a prayer that is just as routine as washing one's face and breakfast, we can at least say we "began on the right foot." Things might go awry from there but tomorrow's another day and we'll start that one right too. 

We start each day by seeking "what is above where Christ is seated at the right hand of God." This awareness, renewed daily, shapes our imagination, our planning, and our sense of who we are. I have a dozen other identities -- American, white, Catholic, Franciscan, male, etc -- and they certainly influence my thinking;  but this knowledge of the Lord's sovereign place in the heavens, on earth, and in my being must determine who I am and what I do. 

At the end of the day, when I prayerfully reexamine its passage, I can thank God for how much of that awareness remained dominant, and repent of those moments when something dark and ominous came between myself and heaven. 

The Christian never forgets the Lord's promises and threats. Today's gospel passage clearly spells them out, a balanced number of each:

• Blessed are you who are poor...; but woe to you who are rich;
• Blessed are you who are now hungry...; but woe to you who are filled;
• Blessed are you who are now weeping...; but woe to you who laugh now; and
• Blessed are you when people hate you,...; but woe to you when all speak well of you...

The higher things of God are clearly the lower things so far as our world is concerned. We keep our eyes on the heavens by attending to the lowest things of earth. To those who are under the radar, who are routinely ignored, shunned, and despised. We must care for those who are not even seen by the world.

From the day he was elected pope, our Holy Father Francis has been raising our eyes to see the lowest. He urges us -- the Church, Christians, religious people, and all people -- to see and respond to those who are desperately fleeing war, violence, poverty, and the withering effects of climate change. He wonders how did we become so indifferent.

Human beings have always migrated, as any Bible reader can tell you. And the scriptures have always urged us to care for the poor, the widow, the orphan, and the alien. This is how we seek what is above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God.

What I do on any given day might not make a huge difference, but a billion Catholics heeding the Pope's message, and twelve billion people hearing the Lord's promises and threats daily, can hurl mountains into the sea, and move continents about like sailboats in a harbor.