Feast of Saint Andrew, Apostle

 Lectionary: 684

At once they left their nets and followed him....
He called them, and immediately they left their boat and their father 
and followed him.

 C atechists and preachers occasionally spend much energy imagining and explaining to their congregations what might have happened before Jesus walked along the shore and called Peter, Andrew, James, and John. Perhaps he had spoken in their synagogues and they were impressed by his style, learning, intelligence, knowledge, and confidence. Or, perhaps they had listened to him in the public square. Or, he was already known as a healer, and was said to perform some amazing -- even miraculous -- works. Surely, everybody knew this Jesus of Nazareth was up and coming,  someone to be watched. He was going places and many eager young men wanted to go with him. 

Fortunately, the Evangelists -- Mathew, Mark, Luke, and John -- cannot be bothered by idle speculation and they have no intention of muddying the pure water of the Gospel with theories about Jesus and his disciples. 

The nearest thing to an explanation of the disciples' immediate response is found at the end of the Lord's Eucharistic Discourse in John 6: 

“Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and are convinced that you are the Holy One of God."

Which is followed by the Lord's reply, “Did I not choose you twelve?"

It's as simple as that. He chose, he called, and they followed. And we should keep it simple. 

They really do not know why they are following him, and the Evangelists occasionally testify to their wonder, confusion, and distress as they realize, or fail to realize, where this is going. Saint Mark describes their attitude:

They were on the way, going up to Jerusalem, and Jesus went ahead of them. They were amazed, and those who followed were afraid. (10:32)

Throughout the whole story of the Lord and his disciples before his crucifixion, we are told of their inability to understand what he was about. Whenever he questions them they come up short; and their questions only reveal their obtuseness. If Peter finally declares in an astonishing moment of insight, "You are the Christ!" he immediately tries to impose his own understanding of the Christ upon the Christ! For which he receives a severe rebuke, "Get behind me, Satan! You are thinking not as God thinks but as men!" 

Put simply, we follow the Lord because he called us. Any other explanation is nonsense. We may think we know why, and we can use it to explain it to friends and family and hope they'll see how reasonable it is. But we won't go far before that reason is forgotten and another appears -- if and when it's needed. But if none other appears, we really don't need one. 

We follow the Lord because he chose us. 

"But what about all those others who are not following the Lord?" someone always -- Always! -- asks.
"What concern is it of yours? You follow me!" So said the Lord to Peter. (John 21:21-22)

My concern is to follow the Lord with as much intensity, dedication, and simplicity as my messy, complex brain will tolerate. And to continually push beyond that limit -- because we're going to Jerusalem and I am afraid and I don't like it. My concern for those who are not with us is hypocritical nonsense; it's my way of wheedling out of this terrifying, one-way pilgrimage to Calvary. 

And so we keep our eyes on the Lord and we walk on water. And when we're afraid, we drop what we're doing like the four Apostles in today's gospel, and follow him. 

Friday of the Thirty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 507

Then I saw thrones; those who sat on them were entrusted with judgment.
I also saw the souls of those who had been beheaded
for their witness to Jesus and for the word of God,
and who had not worshiped the beast or its image
nor had accepted its mark on their foreheads or hands.
They came to life and they reigned with Christ for a thousand years. 

 S aint Martin of Tours (316-397 AD) was revered for almost a thousand years as the only universally recognized saint who did not die a martyr's death. If Europeans like Saint Francis of Assisi aspired to sainthood they had to figure out ways to be put to death despite their surroundings in a Christian civilization. Saint Francis went to Egypt for that purpose, and came home disappointed. The Muslims treated him like a saint! However, the pain of his stigmata was so severe that he might be called a martyr.

I am reminded of these two saints who didn't die a martyr's death by the responsibility given to "those who had been beheaded for their witness to Jesus and for the word of God." They not only set the standard for sainthood, they were also "entrusted with judgement," apparently over the rest of us. Disciples of Jesus hope to be accepted among them and worthy of their company. 

Martyrdom is a pretty high standard! It's one thing for sixth graders to imagine themselves defying all the evil people who do bad things. It's something else for those who spend a lifetime of going along to get along, who have been proven wrong on many occasions, and have sometimes hurt others thoughtlessly, accidentally, or with unconscious malice. How do we stand in the company of the beheaded? 

Evil people are not them anymore. The enemy is us, as Porky Pine said. We're the ones who have made a mess of this world; we're the ones who, whether we know it or not, decapitate saints in our desperate search for security, prosperity, success, or status. Nor do our regrets about our checkered past prove our worth. 

With the Solemnity of Christ the King of the Universe behind us, and the First Sunday of Advent ahead; with the elections of 2024 fading into the inaugurations of January 2025, we ask the Lord to overrule the martyrs if necessary, and judge our best effort with forbearance. The Hebrew prophets and scriptures teach us to pray often, saying, "We have sinned, we and our ancestors have sinned." And we remember God's mercy as we pray the twenty-fifth psalm:

Remember your compassion and your mercy, O LORD,

for they are ages old.

Remember no more the sins of my youth;

remember me according to your mercy,

because of your goodness, LORD.

Thanksgiving Day

 Lectionary: 943-947

I give thanks to my God always on your account
for the grace of God bestowed on you in Christ Jesus,
that in him you were enriched in every way,
with all discourse and all knowledge....

 F ollowing the usual formula for letters, in his first letter to the Corinthians, Saint Paul first introduced himself and his companion Sosthenes, and then described his gratitude for them and the blessings they had received. 

That seems a good place to begin our Thanksgiving ceremonies. Before we consider the material gifts, the economic stability and military stability, our opportunities for work, leisure, and recreation, we should thank God for one another. 

And then, for the gifts God has given to others. Sometimes, as we see how the Lord has blessed others, our envy is aroused. "I wish I had their good looks, their money, their intelligence, their family, their friends, their opportunities, their education...." The list could be endless and our fallen nature is very good at reciting and re-reciting everything we don't have, and others do have. We only need eyes to discover how much we don't have. It's a good formula for frustration, disappointment, and unhappiness. 

And misses the Spirit of Thanksgiving entirely. Grace breaks open a sealed door in our selfish hearts to gratitude. Perhaps it comes as a surprise, especially to those unfamiliar with gratitude, who have formed long habits of envy, jealousy, greed, and resentment. 

Grace gives us a graceful, gracious attitude toward others as we learn to admire the many ways in which they are blessed. How lovely it is! And how lovely we become. We might even enjoy ourselves in an unselfish manner as we delight in seeing and admiring the gifts others have been given. So many people have better homes! Better jobs! Better friends! And so forth. How good God is to them! 

I discover this simple formula of gratitude as I reflect on the Mother of Jesus. I cannot envy the sorrows she felt or the trials she faced, but I can admire her acceptance of sorrow and her courage under trial. I can admire and be astonished at her open hearted goodness to sinners like me. Receiving John's hospitality after the crisis of Calvary, she greeted and embraced the rest of the Lord's disciples, including Peter who had denied knowing him. She embraced those who fled while she remained. 

What a poor trade -- the loss of her divine son in exchange for his disciples! But she does not hesitate to see God's grace in us and thank him for it. She is there in the Upper Room with the Twelve as they receive the Spirit she had known since the Lord's conception. She delighted in both the anticipation of that Spirit, and upon its coming. 

Everything about this woman is gracious and delightful, and we thank God for the gifts he gave her. We cannot envy her but we can 

...give thanks to our God always on (her) account
for the grace of God bestowed on (her) in Christ Jesus,
that in him (she was,) and remains enriched in every way,
with all discourse and all knowledge.

 Happy Thanksgiving! 

Wednesday of the Thirty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 505

They will seize and persecute you,
they will hand you over to the synagogues and to prisons,
and they will have you led before kings and governors
because of my name.
It will lead to your giving testimony.

 A World War II Veteran readily told me of the long hours he lay wounded on the banks of the Rhine River, hoping and praying for rescue. Unable to move, he could only watch the battle roaring over his head and hope that the Germans would abandon their positions while the Americans advanced. The Rhine marked the boundary of Germany itself; they would not surrender easily. To the Allied forces, crossing the Rhine was another water to land invasion, and they had already brought massive armies ashore in North Africa, Sicily, Anzio, and France. 

The Veteran said his wife and sister would not listen to his "old war stories," and he appreciated my earnest curiosity. To me, it was a story of God's mercy as he survived, recuperated, and came home to marry, have children, and participate in the American Century. 

Everyone has stories -- innumerable stories -- to tell. But there are two kinds of people, those who tell stories and those who listen to them. The story tellers rarely hear any one else's story; and the story tellers rarely tell their own. And some stories, like war stories and stories of terror, horror, and survival are not easily told. It takes courage to speak of them, and a generous curiosity to hear them. 

Christians face an additional challenge when we speak of our ordeals, survival, and triumph for the concern the hand of God and the wonders he has wrought. They concern mercy, justice, and their mutual victory. 

But, laced into the narrative is an implicit understanding that the listeners' lives might be changed by the story, They are not irrelevant incidents from the past with no bearing on the present or future. They are not idle curios like those we find among the belongings of deceased loved ones. We know why this story is important; it speaks of God. 

Today's first reading celebrates the "the song of Moses, the servant of God, and the song of the Lamb." It is sung by "those who had won the victory over the beast and its image and the number that signified its name." The song is an anthem like La Marseillaise, O Canada, Lift Every Voice and Sing, or The Star Spangled Banner. If the words do not describe one's particular story, they carry nonetheless its import; and they're sung with intense feeling for "this song means everything to me." 

I met a South African fellow who wondered why Americans get so emotional about the flag and our national anthem. It was a passing conversation and I had no time to inform him of the American Revolution, the Civil War, the Great Depression, and two World Wars. 

Catholic anthems include Holy God, We Praise Thy Name and Immaculate Mary. They are more than songs, they are who we are; and you don't know who we are unless you can sing them with us. They are communion with our heart. 

The heavenly song of Revelations 15 recalls the history of God's people from Moses and the Hebrews in the Sinai peninsula through the persecutions Christians suffered. It reminds us that the persecution of God's people did not begin with the Crucifixion and Christian history. The LORD had rescued his people from Egyptian slavery long before Christians faced Roman beheading, flogging, and savage lions. 

As we tell our own stories of suffering, survival, and deliverance through the sacrifice of Jesus, we know they fit into the vast mosaic of Salvation History. It's a very long story by human calculation, but it is very rich and beautiful. And, as we tell our stories, sing them, and hear them again, we believe the Father of Jesus finds them a worthy tribute to his Infinite Goodness. 

Tuesday of the Thirty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 504

“See that you not be deceived,
for many will come in my name, saying,
‘I am he,’ and ‘The time has come.’ 
Do not follow them! 
When you hear of wars and insurrections,
do not be terrified; for such things must happen first,
but it will not immediately be the end.” 

 W hen I was a boy, I somehow acquired a pocket-sized New Testament. I remember walking home from school one day, reading Apocalypse. I was fascinated like schoolboys of countless generations with Saint John's signs and symbols. I knew little of politics in those days; there was no 24/7 news cycle to trouble my days and nights with anxiety. If anything worried me, it was a playground bully or tomorrow's math test. But who remembers yesterday's troubles? They never compare with today's real worries! 

Revelation provides great fun for the young imagination. Apocalyptic imagery comes at children today through comic books, videos, and computer games. I suppose young adults fabricate these mindless AI fantasies, providing epic heroes like Thor, Zeus, and Sauron to their juniors, unaware of their ancient mythological origins and their archetypal meaning. As they grow, the children will dabble in gothic and macabre imagery -- I consumed Edgar Allen Poe's poems and short stories. We can hope they finally discover Shakespeare, Austin, Goethe, and Dostoevsky, to help them understand themselves in our complex adult world. 

But as adults we still need the Bible's Apocalypse to be reminded, "See that you not be deceived;" and "Do not be terrified." Even adults can be confused and anxious by the sheer scope of the world's violence and suffering. The news business -- which is given to entertainment rather than informing -- discovered long ago that consumers buy more stuff when they're anxious. And scary, confusing stories arouse more apocalyptic anxiety than feel-good shaggy dog stories. 

Christian apocalyptic, unlike the garish imagery of today's pagan apocalypse, reassures the faithful. Its message is simple and consistent, "Jesus Christ has triumphed over sin and death. You have nothing to fear." It gives us stories of a young virgin who bears a child and swaddles her firstborn son and lays him in a manger, even as angels announce the Good News to shepherds, and magi travel from afar to see the wonder. 

When evil appears in the story, a dragon disgorging a flood to destroy her, the earth opens its mouth to swallow it while Michael and his angels deliver her to a safe place. Christian apocalyptic draws us away from this world's spectacles and encourages us to wait on the Lord and walk in his Way. 

Just as God transforms deicide into hope, Christian apocalyptic repurposes this world's horror and gives us joy. 

Monday of the Thirty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 503

I heard a sound from heaven
like the sound of rushing water or a loud peal of thunder.
The sound I heard was like that of harpists playing their harps.
They were singing what seemed to be a new hymn before the throne,
before the four living creatures and the elders.
No one could learn this hymn except the hundred and forty-four thousand
who had been ransomed from the earth.

 A nyone who searches the Book of Revelation for some idea of what heaven might be like could suppose that it's one very long and very loud Mass. There will be lots of smoke, and blaring trumpets, with processions and singing, punctuated by earthquakes and falling stars. 

Good grief! It might never end. Not many boys and girls would go for that; and frankly, not many priests. 

Altar frontispiece
Carey Ohio

Revelation is seriously liturgical; it represents the glorious hopes of an oppressed religious minority. Perhaps John of Patmos also remembered the ceremonies once celebrated in the Temple in Jerusalem. (The Roman army destroyed it in 70 AD, leaving "not one stone upon another.") 

If Catholicism could never duplicate John's visions, we have assumed many of his symbols; including the burning torches (candles), incense, albs, stoles, and horns (trumpets, organs, etc.) We still sing many of his songs. And most importantly, the Lamb Who Was Slain appears in statues, mosaics, icons, and paintings. 

John says, "No one could learn this hymn except the hundred and forty-four thousand." We understand twelve times twelve times one thousand to represent the entire Church. That many people would overwhelm the island of Patmos. (Census in 2021: 3,283) 

More importantly the 144,000 are those who have died to themselves, by way of martyrdom or self-sacrificing service to God and his people. They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the lamb. We celebrate that mystery as we  eat his flesh and drink his blood during the Eucharist. 

Visions of Revelation are reassuring promises of our worth in God's presence as we share the joy, satisfaction, and sheer goodness of our God. It is an assurance of fullness far beyond anything we can imagine, and infinitely better than we deserve. Every tear will be wiped away, every injury healed, and every injustice righted. 

Our hope means that we need no more than the promise for it moves us to pursue justice and practice mercy in this world as we celebrate the Eucharist and invite everyone to join us. 

The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

 Lectionary: 161

So Pilate said to him, "Then you are a king?" 
Jesus answered, "You say I am a king. 
For this I was born and for this I came into the world,
to testify to the truth. 
Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice."

W hen the warlord David, son of Jesse, and his gang of debtors, adventurers, and embittered miscreants captured the fortress on Mount Zion, he called upon the twelve tribes of Israel to forget their ancestral rivalries, grudges, and feuds and come together as one nation with himself as their king. Weary of poverty and oppression and realizing that the superpowers in Egypt and

Mesopotamia might finally erase them from the earth, the Hebrews crowned David as their king and formed a single nation with its capital on Mount Zion; that is, Jerusalem.

The nation prospered for a while. David proved himself a reliable administrator and a just judge over disputes. He was also a vigorous husband to his eight wives, with little time for his twenty children. Their bickering eventually led to civil war; and, seventy years after it’s founding, David's Kingdom split into two nations, Israel and Judah, never to be reconciled. However, despite their poverty, the “royal psalms” celebrated David's heirs, the kings of Judah and Jerusalem. For instance, Psalm 2,

Why do the nations protest

and the peoples conspire in vain?

Kings on earth rise up

and princes plot together

against the LORD and against his anointed one:

“Let us break their shackles

and cast off their chains from us!”

The one enthroned in heaven laughs;

the Lord derides them,

Then he speaks to them in his anger,

in his wrath he terrifies them:

“I myself have installed my king

on Zion, my holy mountain.”

Given the size of Judah in comparison to Assyria, Egypt, Persia, or Babylon, these royal psalms are ludicrous. Judah could not field an army to match any of them; Jerusalem was not half so grand as other capital cities, nor was their economy very important. Judah was doomed to be swallowed up by first Assyria, then Babylon, Greece, Rome, Islam, and the British empire before they would again declare independence in 1948.

Given the normal route of history, the beliefs and rituals of Judah should have been lost and forgotten a long time ago, like thousands of other religions of thousands of other nations. Abraham’s singular belief in God had become the national religion of a small, backwater nation.

However, even after Jerusalem was destroyed and its leaders forcibly marched to Babylon; even after the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob had apparently been humiliated by more powerful Babylonian, Persian, Greek, and Roman gods, the Jews believed their God ruled over all the others. If the Holy City was desecrated by foreign gods it was not because their God could not save them; it was because God was punishing their infidelity.

Stop for a moment and consider that. Common sense said, “Our God has failed us; our God is not as powerful as we’d hoped; our God has been vanquished, killed, and buried by more powerful gods – in fact, as Nietzsche said, “God is dead!” 

But the Jewish prophets defied common sense and said, “We have sinned; we and our fathers have sinned.” They chose guilt, shame, remorse, and repentance before they would deny the goodness, mercy, justice, and supreme power of the God they loved. If anything, their suffering proved that the other gods – the gods of Assyria, Babylon, Persia, and Rome didn’t even exist!

As Isaiah the Prophet declared,

Thus says the LORD, Israel’s king,

its redeemer, the LORD of hosts:

I am the first, I am the last;

there is no God but me.

And he believed in the God who would save them:

I am the LORD, there is no other,

there is no God besides me.

It is I who arm you, though you do not know me,

so that all may know, from the rising of the sun

to its setting, that there is none besides me

I am the LORD, there is no other.

I form the light, and create the darkness,

I make weal and create woe;

I, the LORD, do all these things.

This was more than nationalism or patriotism; this was the Holy Spirit speaking to the Children of Abraham, and revealing a secret that no one else could imagine. Despite all the evidence, our God is the only God. He created the universe -- including matter, space, and time -- not out of stuff but out of nothing by the authority of his word. And without him nothing came to be. (John 1:3) 

Which brings us to the story of Jesus. As we read of his life and death, once again, we’re not hearing a story of power, domination, or conquest. We’re seeing helplessness in the face of cruelty, victimization, humiliation, and shameful death on a cross. Although Jesus clearly had power over the wind and the waves; although he healed illness and raised the dead; he had no love for power and preferred to offer himself as a sacrifice for many. 

If the world's powers were aware of him at all, they were amused. Pilate, who was a governor of Judea and never important enough for a personal interview with the Emperor, and his friend Herod Antipas – bureaucrats – were only amused at Jesus. Pilate sarcastically asked, “Are you the King of the Jews?” And Herod hoped Jesus might entertain him with a miracle.

The Romans condemned Jesus because many people hoped he might be the Messiah, the Royal Son of David, the once and future king. They were only taking care of business when they crucified him. They could not humor anyone's absurd notions of a kingdom, neither in this world nor the next. And the disappointed mob in Jerusalem, representing every nation on earth, agreed, “We have no king but Caesar!” 

So here we are, long after the Roman empire has faded away, and history has marched through many centuries of rising empires, war, and collapsing empires. Here we are worshiping Jesus, the Son of God, as our Lord and Savior. We just don’t quit. 

The United States has recently survived another scheduled anxiety attack as we elected our leaders; and we hope to do so again in two years and four years. Both election cycles will probably occur despite the warnings of some pessimists but, in any case, we will still celebrate this Solemnity of Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ the King. 

If by chance, we are invaded by Starwars aliens, we will tell them about Jesus, and wait for their gods to fall down and worship him. Their conquest of our planet will signal their defeat; and they will have come here by God’s guiding hand to meet the One who is also their Lord and Savior – because Jesus of Nazareth, Mary’s son who was wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger, is the King of the Universe.

Saturday of the Thirty-third Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 502

When they stood on their feet, great fear fell on those who saw them.
Then they heard a loud voice from heaven say to them, “Come up here.”
So they went up to heaven in a cloud as their enemies looked on.

 R evelation has been for many centuries a playing field for fools and mischief makers who pretend to interpret its mysterious words and symbols; and few images invite as much speculation as the two martyrs of chapter 11. Were they perhaps historical persons known to Saint John of Patmos and famously killed after a spectacular career of miraculous cures? 

Jesus had sent his disciples out two by two, so perhaps we should not be surprised that the pair are killed together. Some of Jesus's disciples might have encountered fierce opposition even before his triumphal march into Jerusalem. Certainly they did afterward. We remember the arrests, trials, and beatings of Peter and John in Jerusalem, and then Paul and Barnabas meeting much opposition in the synagogues and villages where they preached. 

What's most extraordinary is not the mission of these two witnesses or their brutal death but their reviving and ascension into heaven. For Evangelical Christians that may sound like the rapture; for Catholics it sounds like Mary's Assumption into heaven. 

But there are precedents in the Bible: Enoch and Elijah passed into heaven, but without dying first. 

Enoch walked with God after he begot Methuselah for three hundred years, and he had other sons and daughters. The whole lifetime of Enoch was three hundred and sixty-five years. Enoch walked with God, and he was no longer here, for God took him. (Genesis 5:24)

And every schoolchild remembers Elijah's spectacular departure:  

As they walked on still conversing, a fiery chariot and fiery horses came between the two of them, and Elijah went up to heaven in a whirlwind, and Elisha saw it happen. He cried out, “My father! my father! Israel’s chariot and steeds!” Then he saw him no longer.

These ascensions also remind us of the Lord's warning about the unexpected arrival of the end time when two women will be grinding corn together, "...one will be taken, the other left." Or two men working in the field, "...one will be taken, the other left." We see that sort of thing all the time when a tornado demolishes one home while leaving its neighbor untouched. And highway accidents when one passenger is killed instantly and an unharmed companion walks away. 

But withal, Catholics return to the vision of Jesus's Ascension and Mary's Assumption, and the promise of the Eucharist. Because we are consumed by the Lord as we consume his flesh and blood we shall also enjoy a resurrection of the body not unlike theirs. 

No one can pretend to understand how that might occur; no one can explain how the Risen Lord appeared in the locked and shuttered room of his disciples on the two Sundays after his crucifixion; nor how he appeared walking with two men to Emmaus. How did he travel to Galilee to meet them some time later? Nor are we expected to explain such mysteries. His physical presence among us in the Eucharist is more than enough assurance for us. 

The Lord has demonstrated his presence among us repeatedly, with many wonderful signs and blessings throughout our lives. And we believe in him. 

Memorial of Saint Cecilia, Virgin and Martyr

 Lectionary: 501

And the lord whom you seek will come suddenly to his temple;
The messenger of the covenant whom you desire, see, he is coming! says the LORD of hosts.

 L ong before the Lord entered the temple area and drove out those who were selling things, perhaps in the fifth century before Christ, Malachi had prophesied his coming. "But who can endure the day of his coming? Who can stand firm when he appears?"

Arriving in Jerusalem after a long journey (which began in chapter 9) Jesus entered the temple and immediately purified it as the prophet had warned, 

For he will be like a refiner’s fire,

like fullers’ lye.

He will sit refining and purifying silver,

and he will purify the Levites,

Refining them like gold or silver,

that they may bring offerings to the LORD in righteousness.

Then the offering of Judah and Jerusalem

will please the LORD,

as in ancient days, as in years gone by. 

The "offering" is the sacrifice of himself on Calvary. But it will bless more than the Holy City and its denizens, it will reach all the nations of the world, as Isaiah had prophesied: 

All who keep the sabbath without profaning it

and hold fast to my covenant,

Them I will bring to my holy mountain

and make them joyful in my house of prayer;

Their burnt offerings and their sacrifices

will be acceptable on my altar,

For my house shall be called

a house of prayer for all peoples.

The Evangelists don't seem to agree on why exactly the authorities  conspired to have Jesus crucified. Clearly he had pushed the religious leaders beyond the limits of their patience but what finally triggered their demand that the Roman authorities arrest and neutralize the threat? Was it his one-man riot in the temple, or his raising of Lazarus, or his healing many people, or just the disruption he caused as thousands of pilgrims arrived to celebrate the concurrence of Passover and the Sabbath? Clearly he had been arousing opposition from the outset in Galilee, and he had been warned not to go to Jerusalem. 

But the real reason -- far beyond the politics of that moment and the anxiety of Jewish authorities under Roman oppression -- was the establishment of an entirely new sacrifice which would be for all the people, as the Angel had said to the astonished shepherds,

...for behold, I proclaim to you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. 

This new sacrifice required more than Abraham's son, Isaac. It demanded far more than sheep or heifers or the first fruits of the harvest. Only God himself could make such a sacrifice, and it could only be God's only Son. For that Jesus prepared the temple which, in any case, had become a den of thieves. 

For that Jesus prepares our hearts, which also become dens of iniquity because of our sins. The process is neither easy nor fun, but it is necessary and good. 

Daily and weekly the Church continues to offer the Sacrifice of the Mass, joining our willing hearts to the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of his Mother, to offer the only sacrifice that can save the Earth and all its peoples. We enter the Mass as we ask the Lord to enter our hearts and purify them, that they might live within us,

“Whoever loves me will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our dwelling with him." (John 14:23)

Memorial of the Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary

 Lectionary: 500

If this day you only knew what makes for peace– but now it is hidden from your eyes.
For the days are coming upon you
when your enemies will raise a palisade against you...

Today's gospel passage and the Memorial of Blessed Virgin Mary present a very deep and very troubling mystery of our faith. It's a question we live with and must be somehow reconciled with. How is it that God's Holy City crucified the Son of God? 

The one city on earth which is claimed by the Lord and belongs entirely to the Lord is the site where the Messiah was condemned to death. It is also the city where he was presented as the firstborn son of Mary. He clearly loved the city and was familiar with it from his youth, even making it his home for a day or two while his parents frantically looked for him! Not many years later, he stormed into town complaining that they had made God's temple into a den of thieves. If he was homeless, as he once remarked, he was also a citizen of Jerusalem with all its rights and privileges. 

Today's memorial, coupled with this passage from Luke, reminds us that Jesus' pilgrimage from Galilee is a homecoming for him. And the Church honors Mary as the New Jerusalem. She is the Virgin Church which has been utterly faithful to God, without sin and in purity of heart. 

Saint Matthew represents that same paradox to us with the magi discovering the "newborn King of the Jews" in Mary's arms after failing to find him in Jerusalem. (There is also a legend of a fourth magi finding Jesus on the outstretched arms of the cross, where Jerusalem has left him to die.)

Saint Luke ponders the paradox as he shows the  City's delight at the Child's birth. Zechariah and Elizabeth welcomed him before he was born, and the elderly Simeon and Anna delighted at his first coming to the temple. But Jesus mourns over the City's infidelity and, accurately prophesied its destruction some forty years after he was crucified there. 

The Holy City is the Holy Church is the Holy Mother of God, and is also the city of God's agony and death. And every Christian without exception is implicated in that killing.

Atonement begins with recognizing this paradox. We are God's Holy people. We are unfaithful sinners with treacherous hearts. More tortuous than anything is the human heart, beyond remedy; who can understand it? (Jeremiah 17:9)

In the month of November we anticipate the Joy of Christmas as we should. But we also remember the tragedy of Jerusalem. By Mary's presence the universe has become the holy city, worthy to receive its Savior. And yet it is also the site of tragedy, of deicide. We live with that mysterious irony, aware of our duplicity and our calling. 

Wednesday of the Thirty-third Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 499

A throne was there in heaven, and on the throne sat one
whose appearance sparkled like jasper and carnelian.
Around the throne was a halo as brilliant as an emerald.

 A fter hearing the Lord's dictated messages to the seven church, the visionary John of Patmos is led deeper into the purpose of Revelation. 

I toured the ruins of an ancient fort in Trim, Ireland where the tourists were shown what remained of an upper floor ballroom. The floor had mostly collapsed but we walked around the narrow ridge that remained. The guide told us the local neighbors of the lord would never have seen that room. It was only for the wealthy and the nobility. 

In today's first reading, the seer John of Patmos is shown into the very room where the Lord God of the Universe reigns supreme. It is not unlike that described in the Book of Daniel; and very like a room few ever saw in Rome. It was, in fact, far more splendid than the Roman Emperor's throne room, despite all the fabulous finery they might have amassed for that legendary site. Walls cannot contain God's palatial chamber with its sea of crystal glass, its panoply of kings bowing down before Him, and its rank on rank of angels. Any comparison with the Roman emperor's display must be ludicrous. It's no wonder few ever saw that earthly chamber ; anyone who knows the One whose appearance sparkles like jasper and carnelian would laugh at it. 

Nor can anyone question God's authority. It is beyond anything the powers of earth might devise. Today's gospel alludes to that authority with its story of an unpopular despot who travels to a distant city to receive greater power. Upon his return, after checking on his lieutenants and their management of affairs in his absence, he has his opponents summarily executed. "Business is business," and he does not hesitate to dispose of certain unpleasantries. 

Every day of his life, the Son of God lived and demonstrated his profound gratitude for, and his obedience before, the Lord of Heaven and Earth. His humility demonstrated the patience of the One whom he worshiped. But he could also speak of that Day when Justice will be administered. That will not be simply a leveling day when everyone is made equal in God's sight. No, the lowly, poor, and despised will be raised on high; while the well-fed, prosperous, and universally admired are thrown into desolation. 

As we approach the "Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe" we can look around at the pitiful demonstrations of power the media offers to us. We know too well the staggering power of the world's militaries. They are prepared to kill all life, human and otherwise, for the sake of their ideologies. Each one claims to defend their subject's freedom even as their bureaucracies control and manage every citizen's thought, word, and deed. Each one is like an enormous oil tanker, made of cheap plastic, sailing a stormy sea through narrow straits. Their destruction is not a matter of if but when. 

We do not know how much more they must destroy. But we do know they cannot last into eternity; that has been reserved for the Lord Jesus and those who belong to him. And we will see That Day. 

Tuesday of the Thirty-third Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 498

“I know your works;
I know that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either cold or hot.
So, because you are lukewarm, neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my outh.
For you say, ‘I am rich and affluent and have no need of anything,’
and yet do not realize that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked.

Today's gospel recalls Zacchaeus, despised by many as a government agent, but goodhearted, given to spontaneity, and affluent. He would be one of those who, during an annual fund drive to support the Temple, flouts their wealth with ostentatious donations. 

He can afford to laugh off his detractors as life and luck have not been so good to them. He can suppose that, if that's the way it is, that's the way God intended it in the first place. What good would come of his abandoning his career and connections to join his contemporaries in their poverty? He would gain only their discontent and resentment. If they hate him they admire his wealth and good fortune. Were he to walk away from that, they would hate him all the more for that insane and pointless gesture. 

Does he perhaps suspect that his Jewish piety is lukewarm, or that he is actually "wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked?" Yes, perhaps he does, but he thinks little about it since he sees no alternative. His contemporaries, including the wealthier and the poorer -- up and down the social scale -- are no happier, and no less happy, than himself. His world is flat and no one stands above the crowd. 

Not even Jesus, apparently, because Zacchaeus must climb a tree to get a better look at him. But when they come face to face, the tax collector does see something amazing, fascinating, and eminently desirable. He sees a happy man who laughs with everyone else in the crowd at the fool in the tree, but also calls him by name and wants to dine with him. Joining in the fun, Zacchaeus declares himself an admirer and friend of the Lord. And then, in an astonishing and reckless moment, disavows his wealth and position for discipleship to the Messiah. 

Scholars suggest that we remember his name because he kept his pledge. He remained in the Church throughout the Lord's ordeal and subsequent victory in Jerusalem. His natural glee was affirmed and empowered by the Spirit of Pentecost. Jesus spoke with many people and healed many more, but we remember only a few names. They might not be listed in the Book of Life. Zacchaeus is. 

A hundred years from now, or a thousand, we might wonder if anyone remembers the spectacular wealth, power, security, and accomplishments of the United States. Will it be a fond memory of a grand experiment in democracy, or a disastrous failure? 

The Lord's descriptive words -- wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked -- certainly match the experience of missionaries from impoverished nations, who come to support our Catholic faith. They are astonished by our overstuffed storage lockers, unhappy children, and desperate yearning for security. Why do these people suffer chronic depression, obsessive compulsions, and suicidal impulses? Why are their stadiums full and their churches empty? What happened to the land of the free and the home of the brave?  

Zacchaeus and his new friend invite us to come to our senses and return to our roots in faith. It is too late for many; they are lost. There is still time for us. 

Monday of the Thirty-third Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 497

Blessed is the one who reads aloud
and blessed are those who listen to this prophetic message
and heed what is written in it, for the appointed time is near.

 During these last weekdays of the liturgical year, before the welcome season of Advent, we will hear passages from the last book of the Bible, Revelation. In the introduction we hear the first of seven blessings. It is especially for the lector who reads the book to a congregation. The USCCB website provides the New American Bible Revised Edition, (NABRE), with links to the six other verses: Rev 14:13; 16:15; 19:9; 20:6; 22:7, 14. 

This blessings remind us of the primary purpose of Revelation, and that is comfort. Though the seer is understandably frightened by the vision; and he and his congregation are repeatedly assured, "Do not be afraid." Those who have come to the Lord through the proclamation of the Gospel know that invitation. We have heard angels announce it to Mary, the shepherds of Bethlehem, and the women who saw the Risen Lord. And the Lord personally appeared to Saint Paul with the same message. (Acts 18:9 & 27:24)

Those who read and hear Revelation might see terrible things as the world reacts to the Gospel like a trapped feral animal. Consequently, many Christian churches will be burned, and many Christians will suffer persecution and death. All will experience suspicion and contempt. They live the Good News in a world that fears more than anything else the presence and actions of God. As Jean Paul Sartre said, "If there is a God, there shouldn't be!" 

They do not know that if human beings are not free to receive reassurance, guidance, and rebuke from God, they are not free at all. They severely limit their world to that which is known and familiar. "Better the devil you know," they say, "than the God you don't." Seeing no farther than their own horizons, they cannot see, or intentionally refuse to see, the long-term consequences of their behavior. They expect no more than brief satisfaction, and momentary pleasure is enough. They suppose the end justifies the means, however violent and cruel the means might be. 

In addition to those who read and hear this prophetic message, the seven blessings of Revelation include

• reassurance about the dead; they "find rest from their labor, for their works accompany them.” Rev 14:13; 
• those who expect the Lord wear appropriate wedding garments, Rev 16:15; 
• they share the banquet, especially the Eucharist, Rev 19:9;
• they have died and are reborn through the Sacrament, Rev 20:6;
• they hear the Word of God and do it Rev 22:7,;
• and they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. Rev 22: 14. 

As is typical of apocalyptic literature, the imagery is colorful, graphic, and unforgettable. But the message is not like most apocalyptic. In fact, it is quite different from similar writings of the first century, and the horrific videos, movies, and cartoons of today. Where our entertainment tells us to "Be afraid, be very afraid," Revelation assures the faithful who cling to the Lord. They have nothing to fear. 

We should only stand up and watch, for our salvation is near at hand. As Moses said to his frightened little flock in the face of the most powerful army on earth: 

“Do not fear! Stand your ground and see the victory the LORD will win for you today. For these Egyptians whom you see today you will never see again.
The LORD will fight for you; you have only to keep still.” (Exodus 14:13-14)