Optional Memorial of the First Holy Martyrs of the Holy Roman Church

 Lectionary: 377

Abraham was walking with them, to see them on their way.
The LORD reflected: "Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do,
now that he is to become a great and populous nation,
and all the nations of the earth are to find blessing in him?

 A fter visiting a family in my parish in Jennings, Louisiana one Sunday afternoon, the lady of the house walked with me back to the church and friary. I was mystified and finally asked what she was doing. The young woman explained it was the custom of hosts to accompany their guests back home. Since the advent of automobiles, with neighborhoods disassembled and families scattered, not many remembered that endearing practice. 

After hosting the mysterious trio at Mamre, Abraham accompanied the Lord as they walked toward Sodom and Gomorrah. When "the two men walked on farther toward Sodom, the LORD remained standing before Abraham." Like me in Jennings, God wondered what he should say to the Patriarch, and should he explain his mission. He finally said, 

"The outcry against Sodom and Gomorrah is so great,

and their sin so grave,

that I must go down and see whether or not their actions

fully correspond to the cry against them that comes to me.

I mean to find out."

We can learn a lesson from Abraham: walk with the Lord, listen to him, take seriously what he says, and do not hesitate to share your own concerns. Abraham seems to know already that the sins of Sodom and Gomorrah are very grave; and that justice must destroy every living soul in the region. 

But the future father of nations has family there and, regardless of how deeply Lot might be involved in the culture and ethos of the cities, he is family. Abraham must do what he can to save his nephew, his nephew's wife, and children. He will succeed only partly, as Lot's wife and sons are lost, while his worthless daughters are spared and the old man escapes. (If the story were carefully edited -- without mentioning sodomy and incest -- it might make for great cinema.) 

Many people point to this and other stories to justify their belief that the "Old Testament God" is arbitrarily vindictive and violent. I read the same book and learn of the Lord's patience and restraint. He takes no pleasure in the death of wicked people.

But if the wicked man turns away from all the sins he has committed, if he keeps all my statutes and does what is just and right, he shall surely live. He shall not die!

None of the crimes he has committed shall be remembered against him; he shall live because of the justice he has shown.

Do I find pleasure in the death of the wicked...? Do I not rejoice when they turn from their evil way and live? (Ezekiel 18:21-23)

And: 

The Lord does not delay his promise, as some regard “delay,” but he is patient with you, not wishing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance.

But

...the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a mighty roar and the elements will be dissolved by fire, and the earth and everything done on it will be found out.

This is not a story of God's vindictiveness, but it is a story of common sense. Every five year old child has to learn there are consequences to their behavior, and they will not enjoy the consequences of bad behavior. But terrible consequences often fall upon the children of adulterers, perverts, drunks, and drug abusers to the third and fourth generation. 

We should notice in this story that God's companions went on ahead to Sodom and Gomorrah, while God and Abraham tarried. The Lord has sent his Son and the Holy Spirit into our world to warn us and deliver us from the "Temptation" that is coming.  

As Christians we walk with the Lord who walks with us, and we pray for our loved ones, especially the fools. We remind them that God is patient, compassionate, and forgiving --  but justice must come. 

Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul, Apostles

Mass during the Day
Lectionary: 591

Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah.
For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father.
And so I say to you, you are Peter,
and upon this rock I will build my Church,
and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it.
I will give you the keys to the Kingdom of heaven.
Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven;
and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.

Because I have some unconventional notions I introduce myself as "RBNS;" that is, "religious but not spiritual."  “Spiritual but not religious” recognizes only the authority of God, if that much. But their god does not appear in human affairs as clearly as the Wicked Witch of the West who commanded flying monkeys and sky-wrote “Surrender Dorothy!” with an aerodynamic broomstick. 

Speaking only through prophets, who may be self-appointed wackos, America's god is mostly silent and apparently impotent in human affairs. Anyone can claim to be SBNR -- "spiritual but not religious" -- and be recognized as a harmless crank. Personally, I’ll stick with my religion. 

American Catholics have little use and less patience for SBNR and their silent deity. We recognize the authorities God has given us, especially our Pope, bishops, priests, and deacons. That authority appears especially on Sunday morning when we gather to hear the Gospel proclaimed and to receive the Lord under the form of bread and wine. 

That divine authority is manifested by the faith we place in the priest's words of consecration, and the reverence we give to the Most Blessed Sacrament. It appears also in our confidence upon leaving the confessional. We take the priest at his word when he says, 

"God, the Father of mercies, through the Death and Resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself and poured out the Holy Spirit for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church may God grant you pardon and peace. And I absolve you from your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, ✠ and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."

Hearing that recitation, we abandon the temptations of regret and remorse for past sins. What's done is done; it's in God's hands now. Our penance is confident and joyful as the Holy Spirit gathers us to worship our gracious God and his Son Jesus Christ. That same spiritual authority moves us to perform works of mercy for friends and strangers alike. As we have generously received, so do we generously give. 

"Spiritual but not religious" feels no obligation to anyone, and builds no institutions. I've yet to hear of a "spiritual hospital," although the land is dotted with Catholic hospitals, churches, schools, social services, and food kitchens. The truth is that spirituality is a cop out for the failure to think, speak, and act responsibly. And before SBNR became a thing, there was the credal statement, “I don’t believe in organized religion.” As if there is any other kind.

Catholics are organized; we believe that God himself has given us this organization from the top down, from the Pope to the bishops, priests, deacons, professed religious, secular institutes, and baptized persons. He has also given us marriage with men and women as husbands and wives. When people are wandering like sheep without a shepherd – unable to tell right from wrong, male from female, or left from right –  we turn to our shepherds and find guidance, direction, discipline, and identity. We know who we are; we are God's people.

Christians speak of the Holy Spirit. If we do not own or control God, the word spirit is ours. It’s the root word for spirituality; and in the New Testament, spirit always refers to the Holy Spirit, except in two instances when it concerns an "evil spirit."  So SBNR people not only cop out of responsibility, they have also copped one of our most beautiful words. Our spiritualities include Franciscan, Benedictine, Carmelite, Dominican, Jesuit, and Carthusian, to name a few. So when someone says they're spiritual, a Catholic might say, "Wonderful! Which one?" 

Spiritual but not religious means nothing more than "my opinions and my beliefs." But belief costs you something, and if you’re not paying for your belief, if it doesn’t challenge you, or demand sacrifice; if it causes you no discomfort in your home, school, or office, it’s just an opinion. It’s not belief; it’s not faith. 

We celebrate today the Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul. In today’s gospel, we heard the Lord declare, 

…you are Peter,

and upon this rock I will build my Church,

and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it.

Peter was the spokesman for the Lord’s disciples when he said, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” But did all the disciples agree with that assessment? Did Judas Iscariot support Peter’s response? Or was he speaking out of turn? 

In any case, at that moment, the Lord gave him enormous authority:

I will give you the keys to the Kingdom of heaven.

Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven;

and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.”

When we say we’re Catholic and that we accept the Church’s authority both to tell us about Jesus and to give us moral guidance, we’re not saying we believe in human authority. We believe in God’s authority to give us leaders, and to guide us through his appointed leaders. We’re admitting no one has or should have complete authority or freedom to do whatever he wants to do, or say whatever he wants to say. No one has that much authority; not even the Pope. He can speak on faith and morals; but not on whether we should eat Cheerios or Wheaties, vote Republican or Democrat, use this technology or that weapon system. 

We believe that divine authority passed from Peter to the Bishops of Rome, and has remained with them to this day – in good times and in bad, upon great saints like Pope Leo the Great, and upon some of the worst members of the Medici family. God does not renege on his Word. He remains faithful especially when we betray our faith; for, as Saint Paul said, “he cannot deny himself.”

On the feast of the Saints Peter and Paul, we thank God for the authority he has given to his Church, and especially to the priests and deacons of our church. And his word proves trustworthy in the hearts of each one of us when we remain faithful to the Church. 

It’s not easy to be Catholic; it’s not suppose to be. Some people think they know where the Church is going. They get out ahead of us where they think we should go, and the Lord leads us somewhere else. They’re lost. Others fall behind, saying, “We like it here. We’ll stay here until you get back.” And they are lost. 

Those who avoid all the misguided SBNR nonsense that the world throws at us; who remain with the Roman Catholic church, accepting its teaching, sacramental, and juridical authority remain on the way to Salvation.

Optional Memorial of the Immaculate Heart of the Blessed Virgin Mary

 Lectionary: 376

The centurion said in reply,
"Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof;
only say the word and my servant will be healed.

On this feast of Mary's Immaculate Heart, we hear words that are intensely familiar to every Catholic. Moments before we are to receive the precious Body and Blood of the Lord, we remember and confess our unworthiness "...to have you enter under my roof. Say but the word and my soul will be healed." 

Today's memorial is extraordinary because we remember one woman, one of our own sisters, who was worthy to have him enter her home, her body, and her very self. 

Saint Maximilian Kolbe coined a neologism for her gift, calling it immaculation. That is, she was given an extraordinary gift at the moment of her conception, and continued to grow in innocence and virtue throughout her life. Yes, one can become more perfectly like God; and because God is eternally perfect, good, true, and beautiful, willing human beings like Mary also grow evermore beautiful, gracious, kind, and powerful. 

Their power is in their sublime obedience before Almighty God, as Saint Paul said: 

Three times I begged the Lord about this, that it might leave me, but he said to me,         “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.”

I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me. Therefore, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and constraints, for the sake of Christ; for when I am weak, then I am strong." (2 Cor 12:8-10)

With the contrariness of Jesus, his disciples also eschew power in favor of availability to the mercy and justice of God. Like servants, we carry one another's burdens rather than expect or demand that others carry us. 

Despite her standing as Queen of Heaven and Earth, Mary has never stopped being the immaculate Mother who cares intensely for each of her children. Because she wants only what God wants, and God wants whatever she wants, her petitions on our behalf are immediately accepted by the Lord of Heaven and Earth. 

Solemnity of Most Sacred Heart of Jesus

 Lectionary: 172

I tell you, in just the same way
there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents
than over ninety-nine righteous people who have no need of repentance."

 A lthough she believed in Jesus Christ and studied the New Testament intensely, Simone Weil refused to be baptized. She said that she would take her stand with the ninety-nine whom the Church rejects as hypocrites, unbelievers, and heretics. Because she chose to suffer with those who are deprived of adequate food due to warfare and politics, she also refused to eat enough to live, and apparently died of anorexia. To her philosophical comrades, Weil was known as Mlle Absolute Imperative. 

Recently, I watched Wicked. Set in the Land of Oz prior to Dorothy Gale's arrival from Kansas. The story follows Elphaba, the future Wicked Witch of the West, and her friendship with her classmate Galinda, who becomes "Glinda the Good." I'd give the plot away if I told you that Elphaba chooses to stand with the talking animals who are driven from academia and civilization by the Wizard of Oz. The lovely green child with African-American features is feared by her family and fellow students, and finally chooses to become the Wicked Witch of the West. (Opening scenes of the film also suggests that she is not her father's daughter.) Bad has become mysteriously good, and good is condemned for its safe, suffocating conformity. 

I read Simone Weil's Waiting For God during a Viking cruise on the Rhine River, and watched Wicked on the long flight home. As a Franciscan, I felt ethically conflicted, and was struck by the irony.

Today I read of the Lord's preference for the one lost sheep over the "ninety-nine righteous people who have no need of repentance," Should I stand with righteous loners like Mlle Weil with her Gazans, and Elphaba with her animals, or with the ninety-nine? They seem to be arbitrarily judged as self-righteous and hypocritical. Can anyone live up to Kant's Absolute Imperative and not die of hunger and loneliness? Does salvation require one to remain shun the Church and be found with Jesus? 

Dying in England during World War II, Weil would not learn of the Catholic Church's Second Vatican Council. Although she knew a very kind priest, she never heard of its preferential option for the poor and despised. 

Pope Francis reminded the Church of this challenge as he promoted concern for migrants and climate change. He recognized that exploitation of Earth's people and the Earth's natural resources are one and the same thing, and equally wicked. Although surrounded by splendor, he lived simply. (I trust that Pope Leo, although he has moved into the Apostolic Palace, is equally dedicated to personal simplicity, albeit without Pope Francis' flare.)

So where am I going with this musing? I believe the Lord wants his flock to stay together. Anyone who thinks they know where the Church is or should go, may find themselves lost in the desert; as are those who remain behind where they find a more  comfortable wilderness. Nor does standing outside the Church and judging it help.

Every disciple must personally decide to follow the Lord while remaining within the Communion, despite the risks of Glenda's narcissism and her society's fascist conformity. We must make room for the lost sheep; and sometimes that means we use our elbows amid a crowd of conformists, to clear a space. 

Thursday of the Twelfth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 374

Everyone who listens to these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock. The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and buffeted the house. But it did not collapse; it had been set solidly on rock. 

 O ur faith is built upon a confidence that God speaks to us collectively and personally. As creatures of a dynamic planet whose waters saturate, while the atmosphere envelopes, a rocky core, we must listen to the Word. We do not  know the future, have scant knowledge of the past, and have so little time to figure it out. Even our desires, impulses, and fears, emerging from the interior depths of the soul, mystify us. How can we expect to know what we need to know if we will not listen to the Father who created us from the dust of this dangerous, beautiful Earth? 

Rationality offers few explanations and less defense against constant, furious change. Our post-modern age continues to invest heavily in STEM -- science, technology, engineering, and math. (Adding the letter a to create STEAM offers the "arts" only as a handmaid to the other four.) Without fidelity to the God who reveals himself, rationality gropes like a blind man in a stampede. We have only to witness the titanic struggle of America's two parties to witness how rationality reacts to threats. 

Our faith begins with an obedient, confident response to God's command, 

"Hear O Israel. The Lord is our God, The Lord alone. Therefore, you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and soul, mind and strength."

There is no point in testing the Lord. If his word is not true and his will is deceptive, we have no reason to hope. 

Today we stand at a crossroad between Trump's terror and our traditions of constitutional law. The American experiment in middle class democracy may finally collapse. When our spiritual ancestors paused at the crossroads of Shechem, Joshua commanded them to make their decision, and then he declared, 

As for me and my household, we will serve the LORD.” (Joshua 24:15)

And we responded, 

“We will serve the LORD, our God, and will listen to his voice.” 

 

Wednesday of the Twelfth Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 373

But Abram said,
“O Lord GOD, what good will your gifts be,
if I keep on being childless
and have as my heir the steward of my house, Eliezer?”
Abram continued,
“See, you have given me no offspring,
and so one of my servants will be my heir.”
Then the word of the LORD came to him:
“No, that one shall not be your heir;
your own issue shall be your heir.”

Like his ancestor Adam, Abraham wanted more than God's company. He wanted to share it. Adam would find satisfaction in Eve and her gift of mothering "all the living." Abraham would be satisfied with a son of Sarah, his own wife, and the promise of more descendants than there are stars in the sky -- a number which has grown exponentially in the last few centuries. 

Moses too, wanted more than deliverance from Egypt. He would not be satisfied unless future generations remembered and retold the stories of God's mighty works as he delivered them from Egyptian bondage to the freedom of God's children. Should they forget, they might as well return to Egypt; their slavery to their own desires would be worse than the service of Pharaoh. 

Salvation has always included more than oneself. Why would anyone want to enter eternity without their familiar loved ones? Could the loss of children, siblings, and parents be called bliss? 

But I have met people who said they believed in God but had not introduced their children to that belief. "I let them choose for themselves!" they said, as if they'd also let their children choose what language they spoke, and the options of clothing, shelter, education, and protection. Without the knowledge of God's saving works, their children are doomed to endless frustration. 

Nor is that knowledge "Bible trivia;" it must be assimilated like food and drink, like the flesh and blood of Jesus. If parents want all their children at the table, does not God want all his children to join the feast? 

I can respect atheism, as irrational as it might be; but I have a hard time honoring the intentional incompetence of parents who do not, 

Take to heart these words which I command you today.

Keep repeating them to your children. Recite them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you get up. (Dtr 6:6-7)

 

Solemnity of the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist

 Lectionary: 587

John heralded his coming by proclaiming a baptism of repentance
to all the people of Israel;
and as John was completing his course, he would say,
‘What do you suppose that I am? I am not he.
Behold, one is coming after me;
I am not worthy to unfasten the sandals of his feet.’

 J ohn's call to repentance was more than, "You people have got to get your act straight!" It was, more precisely, his own identity, which he explained as, "...one is coming after me; I am not worthy to unfasten the sandals of his feet."

I have often pondered the call to repentance and wondered how I should respond. I have certainly known regret, shame, and remorse over past deeds; and I have heard much of all three feelings among those who confessed their sins to me. But a sane person doesn't feel that way all the time. Nor do I suppose that's what the Lord expects of anyone. 

The best advice I've been given about penance was, "Being joyful is the best form of penance." A Poor Clare nun assured me of that. Not being a naturally cheerful person like my salesman friend who greets each morning like a new opportunity, I took her suggestion as something wonderful but mysterious. 

Saint Francis was so delighted by his discovery of the easiest, fastest, and most joyful path to salvation -- which was the Poverty of Jesus -- that he introduced his brave little band as "penitents from Assisi." His young disciples would have scorned credit cards, health insurance, and pensions had they existed at the time. 

Saint John's model seems best. Asked if he might be the messiah, he insisted, "I am not he!" No one should claim to be The Messiah; and if they do you know they're not! The Lord commended Peter for discovering his true vocation, but he then spoke of his coming passion and death. Because that fit no one's definition of Messiah, the disciples could only wonder what on earth he was talking about. 

Reinhold Niebuhr explained, 

"Sin is occasioned precisely by the fact that man refuses to admit his "creatureliness" and to acknowledge himself as merely a member of a total unity of life. He pretends to be more than he is."

There in the mud of the Jordan River, the Baptist and his baptized penitents admitted that they were only creatures of the most high God. Regardless of their accomplishments, personal wealth, and creative ingenuity, they knew they were doomed to die like every plant or animal that ever emerged from the stardust of Earth. Only God lives forever, only God is worthy of praise, only God can be trusted with one's total allegiance. 

When we serve one another as the Lord did, beginning with concern and care for the least deserving among us and regarding them as true images of the Crucified God, and do so without expectation of acknowledgement or reward, we begin to follow in his steps. 

Monday of the Twelfth Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 371

The LORD said to Abram:
"Go forth from the land of your kinsfolk
and from your father's house to a land that I will show you.
"I will make of you a great nation,
and I will bless you;
I will make your name great,
so that you will be a blessing.

 If Christian nationalism hasn't become a pejorative term yet, it will soon be. Wikipedia defines it as,

"...a form of religious nationalism that focuses on promoting the Christian views of its followers, in order to achieve prominence or dominance in political, cultural, and social life. In countries with a state church, Christian nationalists seek to preserve the status of a Christian state."

If we add America's impulsive fear of immigrants and genius for creating increasingly savage weapons  to that kind of religion, we come up with something not only strange but dangerous to life on Earth. 

I am reminded of Christian Nationalism as I read the Sacred Scripture and find refugees and immigrants, from Adam and Eve to  the Holy Family in Egypt. Abraham's descendants, driven from one nation to another, offer only the mercy of God to those who welcome them: I will bless those who bless you...." 

and God's hostility to those who don't: 
"...and curse those who curse you."

Christian nationalism clearly falls on the wrong side of Abraham's heritage. 

Human history on this dynamic planet is a story of endless migrations. We were made from the dust of the earth; and drift about like dust. We cannot live very long in one place. Continents move, climates change, deserts encroach and withdraw, sea levels rise and fall, and humans make continual war on one another precisely because no one can stay anywhere very long.

 Everyone wishes change would wait until I am dead, but that's not the way it works. 

Through Abraham and his descendants the Lord tells the human race one message, "I am with you!" And give us one command:  "Love one another." 

Open up the gates

that a righteous nation may enter,

one that keeps faith.

With firm purpose you maintain peace;

in peace, because of our trust in you.”

Trust in the LORD forever!

For the LORD is an eternal Rock. (Is 26:3)

Despite its boasts of fidelity to God and country, Christian Nationalism trusts only in weapons and warriors. It's hospitality resembles, as Vice-President Vance carefully explained, with concentric circles -- and me in the center. 

The Bible tells us we don't have to live that way. 

The Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ

 Lectionary: 169

...the Twelve approached him and said, "Dismiss the crowd
so that they can go to the surrounding villages and farms and find lodging and provisions;for we are in a deserted place here."
He said to them,
"Give them some food yourselves."

It's been almost a year since many thousand Catholics took part in processions toward Indiana, and several thousand arrived in Indianapolis to honor the Most Blessed Sacrament. In that year we have seen a remarkable upsurge of adults entering or re-entering the Catholic Church. I have to suppose the two incidents are not coincidental. If the blood of martyrs is the seed of the Church, the Physical Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist is our nourishment – both food and drink. 

I'll forgo the temptation to "explain" the inexplicable with six-syllable words like transubstantiation. I find all the explanation I need in two sentences: "This is my body!" and "This is my blood." If the Lord says it, I believe it, and I need no explanation. 

We believe that the real presence of Jesus in the blessed Sacrament under the form of bread and wine means that he is physically present with us. This is not just a spiritual presence as he might be with people who pray in his name in City Hall, a classroom, the woods, or on a beach. It means he is with us physically in our church, in the tabernacle and during the Mass. And it means that we must be physically present with him when we celebrate our Sunday mass. Believing in Jesus' real presence means we must be here.

There are dozens of ways to describe today's Brave New World of Crises and Catastrophes, but I will suggest another: our loss of presence. We're so busy being everywhere, attending to everything, and so afraid of missing out, that we can hardly be anywhere or pay attention to anything. People rapt in their smart phones ignore spouses, children, parents, neighbors; and they trip over street corners. Exhausted by the intrusions of 24/7 news and social media, weary people come to Church on Sunday just for peace and quiet. They cannot muster the energy to pay attention, or say Amen to the prayers – much less sing the praises of God. Catholics struggle to look up when a priest commands them to, "Behold the Lamb of God...!"  

When the poet T.S.Eliot, realized he was distracted from distraction by distraction, he began to look more deeply at the world and at his faith in God. He finished his poem, Preludes with:

I am moved by fancies that are curled

Around these images, and cling:

The notion of some infinitely gentle

Infinitely suffering thing.

Jesus takes hold of our hearts, takes us out of this world, and gives us the willing courage to turn our attention to his Real Physical Presence in our world. We, in our turn, must be present – really present! – to the infinitely gentle, Infinitely suffering Body and Blood of Jesus. 

Through our practices of prayer and penance, the Lord cleans the windows of our soul and we become more willing to be with him in this time and in this place. Despite the suspicion, distrust, and fear of many people, we’re here! And we’re glad to be here. Our marches from San Francisco, California, Lake Itasca, Minnesota, New Haven, Connecticut: and Brownsville, Texas showed the nation that we are still here, and we love it here.

Recently I was struck by a reflection of Simone Weil. She wrote: 

The world is the only reality available to us, and if we do not love it in all its terror, we are sure to end up loving the imaginary, our own dreams and self-deceits, or the empty promises of politicians." 

Simone Weil knew God loves the world absolutely, and as it is. God does not look for things to find in the world that are lovable, and ignore the rest. He loves the world entirely, as it is, and us as we are, absolutely, without hesitation, without regret, or reluctance.

Ms. Weil believed in the Blessed Sacrament, and saw it as an enduring proof of God's unrestrained, unrestricted presence. 

And because God is in our world, we can see the world through the clear window of the Sacrament. Our world as it is –  is loved, blessed, beautiful, and – yes – sinful. 

But, like God, we should not be unduly distressed by evil. It's there in the daily news, and we find it in our hearts -- and are no longer surprised by that. The Lord our God has suffered deicide – the killing of God – the worst crime in human history – and he has changed that horror into blessing. He has conquered sin, evil, and death.

Finding that he remains with us in the Eucharist, we rise to the challenge as the Lord rose up to carry his cross. And when he had fallen and could rise no more, he was raised on the cross that we might see him; and through his dying eyes, see God's love for the world in all its terror.

Because our God loves the world, we can condemn its sin while loving its sinners. Our presence here is a testimony to the good in this world as it is, which as Simone Weil said, is the only reality available to us. No matter how passionately loyal the world might be to its dreams and deceits, we still love the world as it is, and hate its sin. 

Even when they call us bigoted, unimaginative, religious hypocrites, we cannot be persuaded to see the world their way. The Truth which we love does not permit us to think as they do. 

Last year’s pilgrimages to Indianapolis reminded Americans that we Catholics have not abandoned our faith despite what academics and entertainers and influencers may think. 

Since that celebration in Indianapolis, thousands of people entered or reentered the Church. Many young men have entered the seminary, and many young men were ordained priests. If the world is undergoing a rebirth of wonder and a reawakened fascination with the Catholic Church, we are eager to welcome them into the presence of God, to kneel with us, pray with us, and approach the altar with us; to eat the food and drink the Cup of Salvation, the Body and the Blood of Jesus Christ.

Memorial of Saint Aloysius Gonzaga, Religious

 Lectionary: 370

Therefore, that I might not become too elated, a thorn in the flesh was given to me, an angel of Satan, to beat me, to keep me from being too elated.
Three times I begged the Lord about this, that it might leave me, but he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.”

If the Lord humbly suffered the contempt of others as he suffered and died, is there some reason I should not be humiliated? 

Would I not stand with my brother,  sister, father, or mother if they were publicly shamed or humiliated? I think anyone who knows the meaning of family understands the obligations that come with belonging to a family. I might not like or approve of what they've done, but I would certainly not turn my back on them. 

When Saint Paul complained to the Lord that he was suffering an intractable hurt -- apparently the persistent humiliation of being contradicted by equally certified Christian missionaries -- he prayed for relief. These loud, irritating, and rude impostors appeared everywhere he went, and often confused the new Christians he'd recently baptized. Their doctrines were ludicrous, but announced with such sincerity that the gullible neophytes believed them. Our Apostle was mortified by their persistence and their profiteering, and begged God for relief. 

And the Lord answered, 

“My grace is sufficient for you,

for power is made perfect in weakness.”

It would appear that the missionary's particular growth in virtue is more important to the Lord than the well being of the world, the Church, and many Christians! Paul had to conclude, "'For who has known the mind of the Lord, so as to counsel him?' But we have the mind of Christ." (1 Cor 2:16)  

For that matter, who has not been challenged by a similar dilemma. We hear today all kinds of nonsense. Many people suppose they're thinking outside the box when they propose an attractive new idea that was recognized as heretical many centuries ago. But they argue we should Keep an Open Mind, as if that is God's first commandment to his Church. 

And so we endure the insults of intelligentsia who think they have found truth in their abstracted theories and concocted facts proven by "Science" -- whoever he, she, they, or what that might be. 

God is still in charge and we are not, as he reminded Peter and Paul and every faithful Christian since Jesus spoke his last words on the Cross. And we're grateful for that! 

Friday of the Eleventh Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 369

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth,
where moth and decay destroy, and thieves break in and steal.
But store up treasures in heaven,
where neither moth nor decay destroys, nor thieves break in and steal.
For where your treasure is, there also will your heart be.

 P eriodically, every Christian is called up short by the cost of discipleship. We set out with good intentions and genuine fervor to follow the Lord and live by the Gospel, and then discover that the sacrifices we've so far made do not suffice. More is required to meet the minimum! As the ailing Saint Francis said toward the end of his life, "Let us now begin for hitherto we've done little."

Never mind the fact that everyone apparently knew him as a living saint, and that his exemplary life had inspired tens of thousands of men and women to takes vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. The Assisan was overwhelmed by the holiness of God , and that knowledge demanded far more of him, and of his admirers. 

While a person's life is invaluable, even that worth pales to nothingness in the light of the Sacrifice on Calvary. If the devout admit that their pious efforts are little, they should never suppose they have given enough for today. 

“Listen, my people, I will speak;

Israel, I will testify against you;

God! Your God, am I!

Not for your sacrifices do I rebuke you,
your burnt offerings are always before me.
I will not take a bullock from your house,
or he-goats from your folds.
For every animal of the forest is mine,
beasts by the thousands on my mountains.
I know every bird in the heights;
whatever moves in the wild is mine.
Were I hungry, I would not tell you,
for mine is the world and all that fills it.
Do I eat the flesh of bulls
or drink the blood of he-goats?
Offer praise as your sacrifice to God;
fulfill your vows to the Most High.
Then call on me on the day of distress;
I will rescue you, and you shall honor me.” (Psalm 50:7-15)

As we "Look at the Humility of God!" we realize how small our best efforts are, and that God is pleased with our sacrifices, but never satisfied.  And we understand that our sin begins with the pretense that we have, or should have, standing in God's sight. Rather, our prayer begins by acknowledging that everything is grace, from the breathing of this moment, the work we have finished, to the appreciation that others may show for our goodness. Even when we accept the gratitude that others might show us, we hope their attention is drawn to the One who gives life itself. 

The Lord did not give until it hurt; he gave until it stopped hurting and others took what remained of him down from the cross. He calls his disciples to do no less. 

Thursday of the Eleventh Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 368

"This is how you are to pray:
'Our Father who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name,
thy Kingdom come....

 Y  ou, in our English language, is both  singular and plural. It applies to me, when someone addresses me; and to us. When the Lord teaches us to pray to Our Father, we learn to pray separately behind closed doors in the privacy of our hearts; and communally, as the People of God. Catholics never pray alone and, should we attempt it, we threaten the integrity of the Church. 

Some adults have entered the Catholic Church without quite getting that message. As Americans, convinced but unaware of the isolating hegemony of individualism, they failed to shed that apartness upon becoming Catholic. Many, I fear, did not learn to recite the prayers of every Catholic: the Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be, Act of Contrition, Apostles Creed, Rosary, etc. They might not have toured any Catholic churches or visited any Catholic shrines. They might not have encountered different races and cultures who share our religion. They might suppose their mumbled, inarticulate invocations of "God" are still sufficient. 

In fact, some may still be thinking as SBNR -- spiritual but not religious. It takes a while to shed all the foolish, futile beliefs of a dominant culture and become Catholic. 

Jesus insists that our prayer begins with words addressed to His Father and Our Father. Whether we're alone or with others, his Father sees and knows us, and is with us in the Holy Spirit. We are never alone except in our sin. And for that we plead mercy. 

As a young, good looking priest fifty years ago, I attracted the attention of older women who regarded me as both a son and a priest. Several shared their misery as they entered menopause. Wise young fellow that I was, I advised them to keep coming to Church despite their inability to pray. "Let us do it!" I said. "Let our prayer flow over, around, beneath, and through you; and just be there in your misery. You don't have to do anything. You don't have to change anything." 
Some found it to be helpful advice. 

Catholicism doesn't just happen; it's an active passivity and a passive activity. We do it and we let it enfold us. And we thank God for teaching us to pray.