Memorial of Saint John Bosco, Priest

 Lectionary: 321

Remember the days past when, after you had been enlightened, 
you endured a great contest of suffering.
.....knowing that you had a better and lasting possession.
Therefore, do not throw away your confidence.

 O ccasionally, when offering spiritual advice, I ask my friend, "Is this the worst thing that's happen to you?" Sometimes it is; more often, it's not. I have found the question helpful as I face my own challenges, and I ask with genuine curiosity, 

Humans have an extraordinary ability to remember the past; not only that which we've personally experienced, but that of others. We remember things that happened within our own years, as few as they might be; and important events that shaped our lives long before we were born. We listen to stories for that purpose, to expand our cache of experience. Everything might be important, nothing should go to waste. (John 6:12) 

Remembering the past during hard times often encourages us. We've been here before; we survived; enjoy the ride. 

Hebrews encourages us to remember the sacrifices we made, and that we were glad to do so. Sacrifice is an easy practice to neglect, put off, forget, and devalue. We can always find reasons not to sacrifice. But the Spirit of the Lord reminds us it is necessary and because it's necessary, it's good. It's right and just; and has its own satisfaction. We go on, we dig in and make the effort, rising to the occasion. We've done this before...

...that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. 

Sure, Tennyson's Ulysses is a bombastic old fool, but we must often be fools for Christ, and we're seeking that eternal rest with the Lord who is our endless delight. 

Thursday of the Third Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 320

Anyone who has ears to hear ought to hear.

 M y Dad sometimes wondered why I had ears; I certainly didn't use them to listen to him!  

Perhaps the Lord wonders the same thing when he asks, "Is a lamp brought in to be placed under a bushel basket or under a bed, and not to be placed on a lamp stand?" 

The point of his Resurrection is not simply that he would not be defeated by death, much less that mortal human beings have immortal souls. He rose from the dead to send us from Jerusalem to continue what he had begun, the proclamation of the Kingdom of God. That was the basic reason why he came to his people and healed, taught, and consoled us; and why he challenged those religious authorities who thought they were God. If they thought his crucifixion would frustrate God's work they obviously knew nothing about their own God.  

The descendants of Abraham and Sarah -- Jew and gentile -- were supposed to live by God's superabundant, providential mercy and demonstrate that same generosity and patient mercy to all the nations. As gentiles experienced that Jewish graciousness they too would invest the whole world in the knowledge of God. 

But when people simply take the gifts of God -- healing from deafness, for instance -- without telling others what the Lord has done for them, they violate their own purpose.
The twelfth step of Alcoholics Anonymous reads, 

"Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs."

Without taking that final step, no one in recovery should expect the freedom from alcohol's baffling, cunning power. It will pursue and overtake them months or years after their unfinished healing.  

I often asked the Veterans in the VA recovery program, "You want freedom from alcohol or drugs -- for what? If you want only the freedom to do what you want to do, that's how you got here in the first place. What is your freedom for?" Only some would say something like, "To be a worthy spouse, child, parent, church member, and citizen." 

Our healing, strength, courage, and freedom are given so that we might hallow God's name and announce the coming of his kingdom. We have ears to hear and mouths to speak and hands to do God's work. We should live as if we know already that God provides for his people, and cannot be outdone in generosity. We own only what we give away. 

Wednesday of the Third Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 319
Every priest stands daily at his ministry, 
offering frequently those same sacrifices 
that can never take away sins.
But this one offered one sacrifice for sins, 
and took his seat forever at the right hand of God; 
now he waits until his enemies are made his footstool.

 I n his book, An Introduction to the Old Testament, Walter Brueggemann speaks of two competing theological traditions, and of how their synchronicity created the Bible. They are the Deuteronomic, which gave us the Book of Deuteronomy and much of the Books of Samuel and Kings; and the Priestly, which shaped especially the writing of Ezekiel.

He confirms a fascinating dimension of Ezekiel's prophecy which gets little attention in our religion. Ezekiel's LORD acts to gather Israel to its homeland because they have become an embarrassment to the LORD. Although his punishment scattered them throughout the world, their diaspora has only brought shame upon the Holy Name of God. He saves them not because they deserve to save, and not even because they have recognized their foolishness and repented after being severely punished, but because the pagans are mocking the people of God and their God. 

This is good news, though it might not feel like it at first. But, if our salvation must be a response to our worthiness and admirable fidelity, it ain't going to happen! We are never going to measure up. We can hope in God's impatience, and that he'll bring us and the whole world to our senses to serve his purpose, and not our own. 

The presence of Jesus among us further demonstrates Ezekiel's hope. Although Mary of Galilee is certainly a worthy Mother of God, it's not as if she earned it. It was given to her in the Immaculate Conception and she was wise enough by that free, unsolicited gift to grow from grace to grace. She became by God's mercy what no one could deserve or expect. 

If no one can claim her merit, we can nonetheless hope for a similar blessing as we grow daily more fascinated and drawn to God. We may someday ask, when a sinful option appears, "Why would I do that? Wild horses cannot drag me from Him! 

When the scriptures and our sacraments do not remind us that we are called to be God's Holy People, the world reminds us. They expect more of Catholics, even if they don't like us. They want us to welcome the alien, feed the hungry, care for the needy, oppose abortion, and denounce suicide in every form. They want us to love God and honor the Holy Name of Jesus, and are rightfully disappointed when we use profanity. If they have license to sin, we do not. 

They know that; we sometimes forget. 

This holiness is the mission of priests, whether they be the Lord Jesus, the ordained clergy, or God's Priestly People. As priests we are the sacred presence of God in the world. The Letters to the Hebrews came to that insight late in the first century, as the Church reflected ever more deeply upon the life, career, death, and resurrection of Mary's Son. 

Reflecting God's holiness, we have only to wait until our enemies are made our footstool.

Memorial of Saint Thomas Aquinas, Priest and Doctor of the Church

 Lectionary: 318

Since the law has only a shadow of the good things to come,
and not the very image of them, it can never make perfect
those who come to worship by the same sacrifices
that they offer continually each year.

 M om used to say of certain people, "They're more Catholic than the pope!" They acted too pious; and tried too hard to demonstrate their right attitudes, correct behavior, and pure, unsullied minds. Ordinary sinners stay out of their way, avoiding their hard words and cutting attitudes. Miss Goody Two Shoes, despite her self-image, offers "only a shadow of the good things to come, and not the very image of them." 

With better insight and a bit more compassion we realize they are frightened, perhaps traumatized, people who desperately hope their guarded behavior will prove their worth in the presence of a demanding, unhappy, insatiable deity. A nation, born by revolution whose history is marked by constant warfare and yet claims to be peace-loving, generates hurting, angry, self-righteous citizens who habitually violate one another. Their peace, founded upon successful wars and military strength, is a shadow vaguely suggesting the promise and hope of salvation. 

I have sometimes counseled people to "Quit trying. Quit trying not to try. Quit quitting." I have sometimes known what the enigmatic expression means and felt closer to actually practicing it. I felt like I had quit trying and actually relied on God's mercy. But then, who knows? The older I get the better I used to be. 

It's important to hear the Father's response when the Son was baptized with ordinary sinners in the muddy Jordan River, "You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.” As Saint Mark tells the story, no one recognized him -- not even John the Baptist -- and no one else heard the Voice. 

We cannot say that Jesus needed to hear that reassuring word. Perhaps his human anxiety never threatened his peace of mind, but it's certainly a good word for those who cling to him. He surely knew how important that word is for poor sinners like you and me. We need to know that our Heavenly Father is more than satisfied with us; he is pleased. 

The Father's pleasure comes with his seeing us through the eyes of Jesus. Mary's son looks at us with the eyes of a child who loves his parents, uncles and aunts, brothers, sisters, cousins, and neighbors. The boy recognizes our effort and admires what little success we achieve. If he sees the hard side of our trying, he recognizes the blind and mute anxiety which drives it. Because he loves, us his Father loves us. 

His pleasure is not born of something we have done. We can let that baggage go; all those silly accomplishments that, in the light of God's promised kingdom, are so pathetic. Forget them. That's easy to do when we study the Gospels and see the Lord in his goodness, courage, and generosity. He is the Kingdom of God incarnate, the presence of the future who lives now. When I see him I remember that my salvation is not about me. 

Fixing our eyes on what is to come, we let go of our comical, mockable self-image and shabby accomplishments. Neither matters very much. The former is a poor seed bearing no fruit, and the latter is "only a shadow of the good things to come." 

Monday of the Third Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 317

Christ is mediator of a new covenant:
since a death has taken place
for deliverance from transgressions under the first covenant,
those who are called may receive the promised eternal inheritance.

 T hings change when a death takes place. A spouse becomes a widow; a child becomes an orphan. Families come together to reestablish their ties and to realign their tacit systems of communication and authority. When the dominant sibling disappears, who leads us now? When the comedienne of the family dies, who cushions our tensions and persuades us to meet again? Some families silently agree to go their separate ways, expecting to gather only at the next funeral. 

Money can change hands when a death has taken place; and that too can change everything, causing joy or distress within a family. 

The Letter to the Hebrews reminds us that, with the death of Jesus, he has become "the mediator of a new covenant." If we have lived under the governance of sin, or suffered the humiliation of scrupulous, self-righteous observance of the Law, we have been delivered now since a death has taken place. We can enjoy the freedom of a new covenant. 

But how do we recognize the full impact of his death? It seems to be little more than a story for most people, an incident of the remote past which, if it ever made a difference, doesn't anymore. It was a rock thrown into a river, but we are far downriver and cannot see on the water's surface any waves or ripples, much less the tsunami it's supposed to be. 

The Catholic Church takes us back to the Lord's beginnings in Bethlehem, to the Holy Family, and especially to his Virgin Mother. We must ponder as she did, "all these things." Saint Luke uses that or a similar phrase several times as he speaks of Mary. We recall the woman who bore, nursed, bathed, dressed, comforted, disciplined, accompanied, and believed in her Son when no one else had the faintest idea who he might be. We can imagine her anxiety as he set out on the Gospel Road for Jerusalem, an anxiety which only grew as she heard of the opposition he met. Knowing Mary as we do, we can enter her experience when his death has taken place. 

The Gospels reveal the dogged loyalty of his uncomprehending disciples as they followed him. They saw the adoring crowds and the marvels that accompanied him, but they also saw the spies, whisperers, and conspirators who seemed to appear on the edges of every crowd. They were well aware of the opposition he'd met in Jerusalem, and yet he insisted on going back. And so they went with him hoping against hope that everything would come out alright. But no one could imagine what should happen, much less what did happen when the death had taken place. 

Like every Catholic who has recited the rosary, I have imagine myself with the Lord on the night before he died. I want to say, "Lord, get out of town! Now! They're coming! You have friends who will hide you until this blows over. They're passionately loyal; they'll risk anything. Go! Now! Get lost! You should choose your battles, but you cannot win this battle! Come back another day." 

But I also have to say, "Lord, don't go. You have to stay. You have to die for me, for us, for the world. You have to stay because if you don't fidelity will mean nothing, courage will be an empty word, sacrifice will be a sham like it's always been for too many hypocrites and fools. Your enemies will be proven right. You have to stay!" 

What should I pray for? What should I want for the Lord as we visit the Mount of Olives? This isn't the Garden of Eden; it's Gethsemane. 

A death has taken place. What does it mean to me? To us? To the world? 

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 69

I too have decided,after investigating everything accurately anew, to write it down in an orderly sequence for you, most excellent Theophilus, so that you may realize the certainty of the teachings you have received.

 C hristians have a significant advantage over critics who say they espouse no organized religion but might buy into one founded upon good principles and credible ideals like democracy, diversity, equity, and inclusion. While we might respect their excellent principles, we have never seen a society or nation which actually practiced them. (Nor, for that matter, have we met many individuals who live that way.) Reality does not treat fantasies very kindly, and has no patience with fantasies. 

We point to the life of Jesus. While we study his principles of forgiveness and love, we are more impressed by his generosity and courage in the face of grim opposition. We can also celebrate his many followers who, throughout the ages, have lived admirably -- if not perfectly -- in his manner. 

But most importantly, we remember that he was put to death for living as he taught; and  that God raised him and revealed him as His Only Son. And, furthermore, that he has intentionally and formally commissioned us to announce  to the whole world his life, death, resurrection, and God-given authority to judge the living and the dead. 

That command is nonnegotiable for us, and simply dismisses anyone's suggestion that we consider a less organized, more idealistic, man-made religion. We tell the story of Jesus to anyone who will listen, to people like Theophilus who was willing to be instructed by Luke. But if they won't listen they will at least know we were here, and offered our wonderful good news to them. We might be willing to discuss Christian ideals and principles but if they only want to argue, we've got better things to do. The Spirit doesn't win souls by arguing; it wins by showing the mercy of God. 

And besides all that: Is there some reason why anyone must be persuaded of God's presence, creation, justice, mercy, and love before they believe in him? Since when is God's existence subject to anyone's rational agreement or approval?  

I am reminded of a familiar passage in Saint Paul's Letter to the Galatians, chapter 3:

O stupid Galatians! Who has bewitched you, before whose eyes Jesus Christ was publicly portrayed as crucified? I want to learn only this from you: did you receive the Spirit from works of the law, or from faith in what you heard? Are you so stupid? After beginning with the Spirit, are you now ending with the flesh? Did you experience so many things in vain?

He complained about their conviction that a believer in God should be circumcised, and he appealed to their experience of knowing the crucified and risen Lord. That direct encounter with God in the person of Jesus should cancel every scruple about the Law of Moses, especially since the Galatians were gentiles and had never been indoctrinated in the customs, beliefs, and traditions of Judaism. 

The Apostle's anger might be directed at today's skeptics who think that God should answer every question, and explain every misunderstanding, every doubt, and every concern no matter how absurd or outlandish before they consent to believe in him. And then and only then, when they are persuaded beyond any possible doubt that might or could arise, or that anyone anywhere might ask, they will then think about believing in him. The Lord of Heaven and Earth might be amused at such nonsense, but he hasn't the time.

With his Gospel, which we will hear on many Sundays this year, Saint Luke presents the Life of Jesus of Nazareth. It begins, of course, with the ancient promises that prophets like Zechariah, Mary of Galilee, Elizabeth, and John the Baptist, have never forgotten. The Messiah would give them forgiveness of their sins, salvation from their enemies, and ”freedom to worship him without fear all the days of their life.” 

We have already heard of his baptism, and today we have heard of his inaugural sermon in his hometown of Nazareth. When he finished, Saint Luke says, 

"Rolling up the scroll, he handed it back to the attendant and sat down, and the eyes of all in the synagogue looked intently at him. He said to them, "Today this Scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing."

We can only imagine the astonishment of the people as they heard Jesus read; and then, while they were still wondering what just happened, he said: "Today this Scripture passage is fulfilled in your midst!" 

As we used to say, he blew their minds -- twice!" 

To hear the Gospel we must be amazed by what we're hearing. It's not enough to understand what he is saying. We must be astonished, stunned, set back on our heels. We must feel that I have never heard this before, even if the words are familiar. And then we will have to ask ourselves, "What changes do I have to make, because clearly everything – the universe – has changed?" 

When the morning arrives we turn off our headlights; when the rain stops, we take down our umbrellas; when the summer comes we put away our winter clothes. When the Lord is raised from the dead and revealed as the Only Begotten Son of the Most High God, it should be obvious that our manner of life along with our attitudes, practices, and beliefs must change. We put off the old and put on the new. That is what Saint Luke's Gospel is about, what really happened, and how we should think, feel, and and do about it. 

I am sure there are people who still think things should be different, just as there are people who say Donald Trump should not have won the 2024 election and the Church should not have selected Pope Francis. What they think should have happened doesn’t matter. The present is too real, too demanding, and too powerful to be ignored, or wish things had worked out differently.  

Likewise, the Resurrection of the Crucified Lord and his command to announce the Good News to every nation are too real to be ignored. Only a fool would try it. And so each one of us asks the Lord at the beginning of our lives and at the beginning of each day, with the words of Saint Paul on the Road to Damascus, 

“What do you wish me to do, Sir?” 

Feast of the Conversion of Saint Paul, Apostle

 Lectionary: 519

“Go into the whole world
and proclaim the Gospel to every creature.
Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved;
whoever does not believe will be condemned.
These signs will accompany those who believe:

 W ith as many as 1.39 billion Catholics in the world, and perhaps 2.4 billion Christians, no one can say the Gospel has utterly failed, unless they're applying another arbitrary standard. But the wars continue unabated, and the chasm that Lazarus could not cross remains. Despite the obvious increase in numbers, and innumerable philosophical, organizational, and technological changes little has changed in two millennia. The song of Bethlehem's angels is only a promise.

Today we celebrate the day when Saint Paul realized the insanity of his beliefs and actions, and immediately repented. It came as a revelation to him -- "a great light from the sky suddenly shone around me" -- he never called it a conversion. He may have been prepared for it by the death of Saint Stephen. As a citizen of the Roman city of Tarsus, he had never seen someone stoned to death. It's a horrible business for victims and tormentors alike, and the urbane young fellow might have been deeply troubled by it. "Is this anyway to promote our faith in God?" Stephen's cheerful equanimity shocked more than a few people. 

And then the young Paul probably found similar equanimity in the people he was harassing. They were following in the bloody footsteps of Jesus, and doing it both calmly and confidently. How did that make sense? How was this devout Jew supposed to understand it? 

So he was ready when the Lord smote him on the road to Damascus. "When the student is ready the teacher will appear.” says the Tao Te Ching. 

The Work of the Gospel requires intense prayer, preparation, dedication, and sacrifice; and then much patience. Anyone can say the Gospel has failed but words like failure and success apparently do not apply. They mean nothing. We take up a project as the Spirit directs us, and stay with it so long as the Spirit remains. The Catholic church has surely seen millions of devotions to innumerable saints, angels, the Virgin, and to the inseparable persons of the Trinity. No one can count them all, much less practice them. We recite those prayers and sing those songs the Lord gives us day by day. 

We follow where the Lord leads our hearts. Very often those who have left the Church return to discover we're not praying like we used to. Had they remained with us throughout, they probably would have moved with us; and they're always welcome to rediscover where we are now. The Church of the 1950's may have been well-organized and prosperous but it supported few food kitchens for street people and shelters for pregnant women. There was less need at the time. There is today. 

We pray that we will hear the Word of God speak to us today as it spoke to Saint Paul on the road to Damascus. Hopefully it will be less dramatic but just as compelling. 

Memorial of Saint Francis de Sales, Bishop and Doctor of the Church

Lectionary: 315

Now our high priest has obtained so much more excellent a ministry
as he is mediator of a better covenant,
enacted on better promises.

 T he Church has believed ever since the days of the Lord's Resurrection, Ascension, and Pentecost that the ministry of Jesus is "so much more excellent" than everything that went before; or that might occur later.

Periodically, new sects appear claiming a new revelation; they describe an unimaginable scenario which should transcend any work of God that we have yet seen. Theirs might be a fair claim since the claims of Catholicism -- their full extant -- are also unimaginable; but when we gaze upon the humanity of Christ we know we are looking into the eyes of God. We know this mystery eternally pleases and satisfies God, and no further sacrifice can be offered. Could the death of God's only Son be surpassed?  

The Covenant -- that is, the Word of God -- has become a human being. And we know in our bones that a human being is forever. When we remember that by his death he has defeated sin and death, we know that he is a human being forever. And there can be no greater revelation than a man who is God. Just as the Word of God endures forever, so does this man. 

Isaiah announced the supremacy of Israel's God doctrine when it appeared that he had been surpassed by the gods of Babylon and Persia, but the Prophet knew those gods were only the bombastic claims of human rulers. Saint Peter, in the tradition of his Jewish ancestors, quoted Isaiah in his first Letter. 

The daily challenge for us is to be amazed in the presence of God. We practice amazement, appreciation, and admiration as we attend our daily prayers. We should bring the same attitude to our families and loved ones, and practice them with colleagues and strangers. Any fool can watch videos and YouTube shorts and be amused by the weird things they throw at us, but grace challenges us to see the Glory of God -- the mighty works of God -- in the everyday events of our life. We can be amazed by the very attitude of delight which appears in our battle-hardened hearts, and thank God for that also! 

Thursday of the Second Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 314

He has no need, as did the high priests, 
to offer sacrifice day after day,
first for his own sins and then for those of the people; 
he did that once for all when he offered himself.
For the law appoints men subject to weakness to be high priests, 
but the word of the oath, which was taken after the law, 
appoints a son, who has been made perfect forever.

T he Roman Catholic Church still "appoints men subject to weakness to be high priests," and with age we only become more aware of our weakness. To make our lives worthwhile, we still need that One who has no need to offer sacrifice day after day, for he has given his life once for all on Calvary. The priestly people, aware of their own weakness, eagerly join that union with the Lord and his sacrifice by attending daily and Sunday masses.

Sacraments, especially that of Reconciliation, enable us to go beyond the sacrifices which were offered in the Old Testament temple. Confessing our sins, priests and people offer the totality of our sinful lives to God. In the sanctuary of the confessional, the Lord sweeps our whole lives up into his, and gives us to the Father.

He is not ashamed to call us his brothers and sisters, but claims us and names us beautiful in his sight. As he does so we forget the poor offering of ourselves; we can make no claim of adequacy for such a moment. We're simply unworthy. But Mary's Son has blown our pathetic excuses aside as he embraces us. "Never mind all that. You are mine and I am the Father's, and He is pleased with us!" 

Reconciliation -- confession, penance, whatever you call it -- is a most joyful sacrifice for we know the Lord is eager to welcome us. Naming our sins may be difficult as they hate to be exposed to the light. We may feel shame, regret, uncertainty, and confusion. But that's all part of the totality which Jesus finds so worthy. We might not even feel the joy which is, in fact, impelling us to speak for it wants to appear. The joy is entirely his and we are swept into the songs of the angels and saints as we offer ourselves once for all with Him. 

Day of Prayer for the Legal Protection of Unborn Children

 Lectionary: 313

There was a man there who had a withered hand; and they watched Jesus closely to see if he would cure him on the sabbath so that they might accuse him.

 A nyone remotely familiar with the scriptures expects trouble. The Christmas angels sang of "peace on earth" but they announced a promise and not a new era in human history. Those who expect to find it anywhere on Earth, in the near future, recent past, or a Lost Horizon in some remote village, see life only as it might be, and not as it is. 

The full impact of things as they are, or the Truth, is never welcome. People might be able to take it in small, manageable doses, but when it comes directly at us and allows neither compromise nor half-measures, it's hard to take. 

When Truth became a human child and lived among us, his demands were enormous. Only a Virgin Mother and her saintly husband could be found up to the task. First they received him as an infant who had to be nursed, fed, kept clean, dry and warm; allowed much sleep; and then caressed, cuddled, and welcomed with with all the rights and privileges of any human being. And then they spirited him beyond the range of evil authorities who sought to kill him in his infancy. As we hear the story we should be astonished at God the Father who trusted a poor, unknown couple with such a responsibility, how much depended on their courage and integrity, and how narrowly the Infant escaped. 

The story reminds us also how much depends upon our defense of human life from conception to natural death. The Culture of Death is powerful, pervasive, demanding, and uncompromising. While it may put on a happy face of Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion, its facade only poses as human values of welcome and empathy. 

Americans, regardless of their positions on controverted issues, largely agree on the value of consumerism; and  they govern America. Some may despise abortion but, to protect their freedom to purchase both necessities and luxuries, they will support the availability of abortion. 

Jesus knew the cost of freedom when he healed the fellow's hand. He knew that his compassion for the poor and his healing of the sick generated a resistance that would finally run him to ground and destroy him. It was a road he chose freely. He could do so because he knew and accepted the inevitability of death, and he did not fear it. If he chose to go to Jerusalem to die there, it was because the citizens of God's Holy City could be counted on to fear and despise the Truth. 

Those who oppose abortion must also expect conflict from their own hearts as God's Coming Kingdom curtails freedoms they take for granted. Some are neither privileges nor rights, but excessive demands with remote and real consequences. 

Memorial of Saint Agnes, Virgin and Martyr

Lectionary: 312 

God is not unjust so as to overlook your work
and the love you have demonstrated for his name
by having served and continuing to serve the holy ones.

 G race comes as an astonishing revelation and often remains incomprehensible to the sincerest Christians. Today's passage from the Letter to the Hebrews begins with a kind of reassurance about grace and one's merits. 

It's not as if the good works we do and our lively concern for one another mean nothing in God's sight. Our best efforts, however, can be blown away by any number of unfortunate accidents. Cynics and skeptics may mock them and we may feel profoundly discouraged by the apparent setback, but they are not forgotten in God's sight. 

We care for the dying, attempting to ease their anxiety, discomfort, and pain. Those sacrifices are remembered in eternity. But when death has its way, we may feel as if it were all for naught. We may say, "Nothing good came of it." That response might betray our true motives. Were they performed with the hope of recognition or accomplishment, rather than in gracious generosity?

As we accept the revelation of God's unrestricted, everlasting love, we discover there's more where that came from. I can give generously of what little I have because there's more where that came from, and it will be there when I need it. 

Waste, of course, is never given that promise; we cannot squander the goodness of good health or sufficient funds upon cheap recreations. Grace belongs to generosity and remains faithfully with those who act in its spirit. 

Generosity acts selflessly. How many times have we encountered men and women in the service of the Church who were just there when we needed them? Something needed to be  done and it was done. It happened not because I thought it was important. 

And if it didn't happen, or if we were disappointed by a lack of support from those we counted on, perhaps the whole project was not founded on God's intentions for it. It may be a good idea before its time, like the temple that King David could not build and Solomon could. We learn to recognize our projects as nothing more than our own vanity when they don't generate a response from others, or when our efforts tire and become, as the Divine Author calls them, "sluggish." They are weeds without roots, seeds planted on rocky soil. It seemed like a good idea, but nothing came of it. Oh well; let it go.

Christians learn to live by and work with the Spirit of the Lord. They are not driven by a desire for success or accomplishment but by the generosity of a generous God. There are no guarantees for the greatest human accomplishments. (Whatever happened to the Tower of Babel? Where is it today?) But, as the young poet John Keats said, "A thing of beauty is a joy forever." 

Monday of the Second Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 311

Son though he was, he learned obedience from what he suffered;
and when he was made perfect,
he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him.

 H aving developed many technologies to address pain and suffering, including therapyf, medicine, and surgery; and having created as many technologies to cause pain, including ghost guns, kamikaze drones, and nuclear bombs; it is typical of our age to wonder why the innocent suffer. An age which questions the existence of God, denies the sacred destiny of our race, and insists that we are creatures of earth like many others, also wonders why life is so uncomfortable. 

Thoughtful people might respond: "Why should the innocent not suffer?" and "Why should life be comfortable?" If humankind has no destiny, if we are only the product of evolutionary processes, why would we not experience life like other inhabitants of this unfortunate planet? 

Where Stoics find an artificial dignity in imagining their clever minds are superior to human suffering, and to humans in general, Christians find our purpose and satisfaction in sharing the sufferings of Christ. We belong here, and want to be here, because Our Lord chose to be here and redeemed us through his passion, death, resurrection, and mission to gather all nations into the Kingdom of God his Father. If he has suffered the crucifixion for us, why would we not suffer with him? 

If he who was not ashamed to call us his brothers and sisters took such delight in our company, why would we not accept both good things and evil from the Lord, as Job said? "The Lord gives, the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord!" 

Jesus learned obedience through his suffering, and so we look for the same wisdom in our sorrows, disappointments, setbacks, humiliation, and pain. We expect it to be there and we find it when we discover that He is walking with us. Stoics and skeptics prefer to walk alone; isolation is a point of pride with them. 

We see the infinite dignity of our human nature in the Lord's willingness to carry his cross, and we recognize it in the faces of those with whom he walks. They might not recognize his presence until we remind them of it, but they too find it reassuring. 

In the face of the world's latest wrong solution -- medically assisted suicide -- the Holy Spirit reminds us that suffering and compassion walk together. If we humbly assist others in their time of need, we are ready to accept the care of others when our time comes. But if anyone secretly or unconsciously regards the needy with contempt even as they assist them, they also despise the help of others and claim a faux right to suicide. 

Life was never supposed to be easy. That should be obvious to anyone who pays attention; it comes both as revelation and reassurance to those who know the Lord. But our suffering is also supposed to be met by the compassion of others. That's why we're here. 

As we celebrate the Lord's victory over sin and death, we ask him for the courage to take up our crosses and follow him. We will not be surprised by the inconveniences, losses, and loneliness that accompany human life and accumulate with old age. We will be ready to offer our compassion to others and receive it with the same generous courage. 

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 66

Jesus did this as the beginning of his signs at Cana in Galilee

and so revealed his glory,

and his disciples began to believe in him.

 T he Gospel of John begins with a head waiter scolding a befuddled groom for serving cheap wine first and saving the best for last. Only an idiot would do that! But neither the head waiter nor the groom know what has happened. Only the servants, the wait staff, who have not been drinking, heard Mary’s command – Do whatever he tells you – and Jesus’s instruction. The wedding guests were happy to have 180 gallons of new wine to drink but, besotted as they were, they could not notice its extraordinary quality; nor could they see what was really happening. 

Today’s gospel is about a wedding but it’s not about a wedding in Cana. It concerns the marriage of God and his people, of Jesus and his Church. We should call this the original wedding, the ur-marriage, for it concerns the impossible union, the astonishing mismatch of God the most holy, most powerful, most supreme with our frail humanity. 

If men are from Mars and women are from Venus, and marriage is always difficult; this marriage of divinity and humanity is unimaginably more impossible; and yet it is very real. It is substantial, solid, and dependable as a rock. Upon this rock, I will build my church. This marriage is beautiful beyond anything in the universe. In the words of the poet John Keats, this “thing of beauty is a joy forever.” 

Jesus, who is God and Man, is an everlasting marriage and he will not be cancelled, divorced, annulled, nor forgotten. He is an everlasting delight – what Saint Francis called perfect joy – to everyone who knows him. We see that amazing joy symbolically in six enormous water jars of extraordinary wine. 

This story of a wedding in Cana is about happiness, gaiety, and laughter. Something wonderful is happening before our eyes. God’s Kingdom appears like the rising sun after a long, murderously cold winter night . It's what every wedding should be, an infallible sign of God's endless and enduring love for his people. 

We remember the relief and ecstatic joy of the Hebrews as they saw the drowned Egyptian army washed up on the shores of the Red Sea. The Song of Moses recalls that elation and is recorded forever in the Book of Exodus. Their children, a generation later, at the end of their wandering in the desert, after they had captured Jerico and were entering the promised land, were eager to renew that covenant – that marriage of God and his people – when Joshua challenged them.

As they stood in ranks before God at the shrine in Shechem, he said,

If it is displeasing to you to serve the LORD, choose today whom you will serve, the gods your ancestors served beyond the River or the gods of the Amorites in whose country you are dwelling. As for me and my household, we will serve the LORD.” 

 

But the people answered, “Far be it from us to forsake the LORD to serve other gods.

For it was the LORD, our God, who brought us and our ancestors up out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery. He performed those great signs before our very eyes and protected us along our entire journey and among all the peoples through whom we passed.

But Joshua said, “You may not be able to serve the LORD, for he is a holy God; he is a passionate God. If you forsake the LORD and serve strange gods, he will do evil to you and destroy you, after having done you good.”

But the people answered Joshua, “No! We will serve the LORD.”

Joshua therefore said to the people, “You are witnesses against yourselves that you have chosen to serve the LORD.” 

They replied, “We are witnesses!” (Joshua 24:15-22)

But the rest of the Bible attests that the marriage of God and his people was not a happy story. They were sometimes enthusiastic for the Lord, but more often disinterested, distracted, and unfaithful. They were more concerned about security, power, pleasure, money, and hating their enemies. They forgot what God had done for them, and they did not teach their children to worship, much less trust and believe in, the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Moses. 

The prophets called their distraction infidelity and adultery. And they swore the Lord would never let them worship other gods. He would always pursue them and call them back; and if they refused to listen he would punish them by letting their enemies exploit, enslave, and abuse them. His love is that of a jealous husband or wife; he does not surrender; he does not forget. And divorce is unthinkable. He says many times, "I will never forget you, my people." And he means it.  

Jesus has come to restore the covenant of God and his people. And this time it will be once and for all. It will be as real as a newborn baby; as unforgettable as a crucified man bursting out of his tomb;  and as permanent as the Most Blessed Sacrament. It will last longer than the pyramids of Egypt and the Great Wall of China. It might be called a new covenant but it is the old one restored to newness. It is the New Garden of Eden, with the perfectly restored marriage of Adam, Eve, and God. It is “ever ancient, and ever new.” 

The Church has faithfully kept this covenant, despite the criminal behaviors of some lay people, priests, and bishops; despite the wars of Christian nations against Christian nations. We have kept this Eucharist, the Mass, from the day the Lord told us to, "Do this in memory of me." 

But the wonder is not our fidelity. Rather, it is God working in us and through us, and continually raising a faithful people who keep his covenant. If you or I betray our faith, we’re lost; but God will not forget his word. As Saint Paul said, “He cannot deny himself.” 

As we set out on this new year, and hear the story of the Wedding Feast of Cana we should feel the enthusiasm, willingness, and courage of the bride and groom on their wedding day. And we should also appreciate the anxious worries of those who weep at weddings; they know how difficult the future will be. Our feelings are mixed, but our hearts are set.  

We never forget the Lord’s words to Saint Peter; “Upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it.” 

The Covenant is as resilient as the marriage of God and his people. It is rock solid and dependable. It is substantial like the transubstantiation of the water and wine to the flesh  and blood of Jesus. It is substantial like the consubstantial union of the Father and the Son. 

Saturday of the First Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 310

The word of God is living and effective,
sharper than any two-edged sword,
penetrating even between soul and spirit,
joints and marrow,
and able to discern reflections and thoughts of the heart.

The Bible is the Word of God, but the Bible does not contain the Word." No book, person, or church can contain (or limit) God or his Word. Rather, we hope and pray that we are contained by God's word. 

And so we approach the Scriptures after asking the Lord to speak to us communally, as Church; and personally, as individuals. I must bring my whole self to the Lord and be at his disposal if I would hear what he will say to me. And I must recognize that...

...the word of God is living and effective,

sharper than any two-edged sword,

penetrating even between soul and spirit,

joints and marrow,

and able to discern reflections and thoughts of the heart.

Half-measures won't do. I cannot bring certain provisos before the Lord and expect to hear or be heard. But I should expect that two-edged sword to touch on some of those topics I'd rather not discuss or recognize. It may discover them, and then cut the sinews and ligaments that bind me. If I think, "I cannot live without this!" I may discover as it penetrates joints and marrow, an unexpected choice: I will either die to it or for it. And I will ask myself, "Is my life worth this attachment?" 

This years theme for the International Week of Prayer for Christian Unity recalls the Lord's challenge of Martha, "Do you believe this?" Upon his late arrival after Lazarus had died, and after Jesus said, "He will rise again:" 

Martha said to him, “I know he will rise, in the resurrection on the last day.”

Jesus told her, “I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?”

Apparently Jesus, the Word made Flesh, was not satisfied with her vague response about "the last day." Perhaps she an additional thought within her own mind, which also appeared on her face, "...if it ever comes." 

Many people say they believe in God, salvation, eternal life, et cetera; but their behavior, words, and attitudes do not reflect these stated beliefs. The two-edged sword separates facts from fable in their minds, and exposes treason in their hearts. Count on it. 

Perhaps we bring the same pusillanimous attitude to Christian Unity. "...as if it might ever happen." As this week of prayer begins we do well to begin with thoughts, words, and deeds of gratitude for the Word we share with a billion other people. Not everyone who claims the title of Christian knows him, but he knows us. And he will bring us together, so that there will be one flock and one shepherd. 

Memorial of Saint Anthony, Abbot

 Lectionary: 309

For in fact we have received the Good News just as our ancestors did.
But the word that they heard did not profit them,
for they were not united in faith with those who listened.

 P erhaps because the Letter to the Hebrews points to the repeated failure of "our ancestors" the epistle is called "...to the Hebrews." In any case, the divine author could use many unfortunate stories to remind new Christians that Baptism is not a one-off guarantee of eternal salvation. 

That dark reminder, however, comes with many stories of those who kept the faith since Abraham and Sarah left their ancestors in Ur to discover the Land God had promised them. We will hear many of their names when we come to Hebrews 10. 

These stories of failure and fidelity remind us that we must strive to enter into God's rest. Just as the Creator worked for six days before taking his rest, so do we apply ourselves continually to the task, with many disappointments only occasional rest. 

If we would be like God we should act like God. Our God proves his worthiness to be our God by continual effort, attention, courage, and heroic sacrifice. The sacrifice of his only begotten son cost more than God could afford, so we should not be surprised when the Lord demands more than we expected or were prepared to surrender. 

Of course, God has no need to prove his worthiness. His sovereignty is total, complete, and unlimited! But in love he chooses to give more, and then to give more again. Nor does he need our sacrifice. If he demands it of us, it's for our own good, and is necessary for our salvation.

I vacationed once with two high school pals. We had kept in touch the many years and enjoyed each others company -- to a point. But that point came and went, and we were still together. When an opportunity came to be alone with one, I complained loudly about the other. "I'm on vacation! I shouldn't have to put up with this!" 
He replied, "There is no vacation from the spiritual life." 

There are moments of consolation just as there are moments of desolation, but there are no vacations. Fuhgeddaboudit! 

"Let us strive to enter into his rest."  

Thursday of the First Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 308

The Holy Spirit says:
"Oh, that today you would hear his voice. Harden not your hearts as at the rebellion in the day of testing in the desert...."

 S pirituality, as it's called today, places great importance upon awareness. "Pay attention!" we're told. And that's a good practice regardless of what's happening or where we're going. We have seen too many people already walk into oncoming cars as they read their smartphones, and others falling over cliffs while they selfed themselves. 

But some spiritualities, perhaps in the name of "diversity, equality, and inclusiveness" don't tell us to what, or to whom, we should pay attention. They suggest it really doesn't matter whether you pay attention to someone, something, no one, or nothing. 

Fortunately, our Good and Gracious God is not so tolerant: "I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery. You shall not have other gods beside me."

Your mother probably said something similar. Mine certainly did. "I don't care what their mothers say, you're my child and you will listen to me!" 
And I did -- for the most part. 

When Catholics practice awareness, we pay attention to the Lord our God. We listen to him; we speak to him. Often, as I read the psalms of our Liturgy of the Hours, I take the position of the voice and announce the words to a congregation in my mind . There is always a you somewhere. The word appears twelve times in today's two readings and responsorial psalm. The you may sometimes be myself speaking to myself. And listening! For it's important to listen.

But you disappear when I am distracted. And there are penalties for that. (Psalm 137:5) I forget you; and that you are here! And so I turn my attention back to you. If I pause to scold myself for being so darned distracted, that only calls attention to myself and that's not why I'm here. I want to be with you. It takes practice and endless patience, and then more practice. 

But we have nothing more important to do, and this self-forgetting will be a vital skill if we're to enter eternity with You. 

Wednesday of the First Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 307

Since the children share in blood and Flesh,
Jesus likewise shared in them,
that through death he might destroy the one
who has the power of death, that is, the Devil,
and free those who through fear of death
had been subject to slavery all their life.

 P eriodically, journalists breathlessly tell us that "scientists" are developing new treatments that might enable us to live forever. They suppose that some people would want to live forever, provided they remain as independent and energetic as they are now. 

Certainly, our life expectancy has grown. Will Rogers, the famous actor-comedienne made a film called, "Life Begins at Forty." Today, many would insist life begins at sixty or seventy. Or, "Sixty is the new Forty." But the older I get, the less interested I become in living forever in this world. I often think I have seen enough change already, and little for the better. 

But Scripture tells us God did not intend death:

Do not court death by your erring way of life,

nor draw to yourselves destruction by the works of your hands.

Because God did not make death,

nor does he rejoice in the destruction of the living.

For he fashioned all things that they might have being,

and the creatures of the world are wholesome.... (Wisdom 1:12-14)

Sickness and death came upon us because of sin. That was certainly the belief of those who wrote the Bible, the Apostolic Church which received it, and the Lord who embodied it. If their sickness was not the direct result of anyone's particular sins, it is nonetheless a part of the punishment we suffer for the sins we have committed. Seeing this dreadful situation, Jesus healed many, and thousands of people flocked to him solely because he could heal them. They wanted life and he gave it.

Our modern imagination, constrained by the doctrines of "scientists," points to a thousand reasons why death is a necessary part of the "life cycle." It has always been that way, they insist. There was never a time when death didn't exist. And so some Christians scramble to reinterpret the Word of God in a way that is compatible with that scrupulously narrow scientific doctrine. But the religious vision is not constrained by their pragmatism. 

The Letter to the Hebrews tells us that Jesus used death to destroy the power of sin and death. 

...that through death he might destroy the one
who has the power of death, that is, the Devil,
and free those who through fear of death
had been subject to slavery all their life.

In Him, death found its purpose! But only the Son of God could discover that usefulness. The scientists can discuss its role in their evolutionary processes but we find our joy and intellectual satisfaction in knowing that Jesus has 1) used death for his own purposes, and 2) destroyed death forever that we might live with him in his eternal presence -- in the company of all the saints and angels, and everything else that God finds salvageable, useful, and beautiful about human life! 

This is a truth we can feed upon. It is a truth that spawns long, breathless, eager sentences like the one above. (They just don't want to end! and Saint Paul was good at them!) On those occasions when I cannot imagine how we'll spend eternity, I have only to recall endless days of summer, and endless conversations with friends and family, and endless moments before the Blessed Sacrament. They must continue forever, and death shall be no more.