Friday of the Thirtieth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 483

...I have great sorrow and constant anguish in my heart.
For I could wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ
for the sake of my own people,
my kindred according to the flesh.

Saint Paul spoke honestly of his sorrow and anguish that his own Jewish people had not embraced the Way of Jesus. He certainly remembered his own history of violent resistance to the Gospel, but he saw the truth of the Gospel so clearly that he desperately wanted his own people to see it as well. He knew the Son of Mary had fulfilled the ancient promise to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; and it was so important that the whole world should come to know it as well. 

His anguish is so intense that he must write extensively about it in the ninth and tenth chapters of his Epistle to the Romans. But, twenty centuries later, it remains a challenge for Christians everywhere. How do we understand our debt to the Jews? How do we understand their mission in the world? 

The Apostle's sorrow and anguish, however, are only the beginning of a long and more complex history of divisiveness, anguish, and sorrow, because it must include our deep disappointment in ourselves. Despite the Lord's prayer during his last supper -- "that all might be one" -- we are not one. And our mission to the Jews is severely compromised by that scandal. If they are believe in Jesus Christ, which flavor should they choose? 

Today we are witnessing a resurgence of Catholic enthusiasm. After the apparent setbacks of the Second Vatican Council, when thousands of career religious -- that is, priests, sisters, brothers, and bishops -- left the ministry (and often, the Church); skepticism about the Eucharist increased, and Sunday attendance plummeted; we are now seeing a return of Catholic enthusiasm. The numbers may be small , but the Spirit is good; and that's important. 

But with enthusiasm comes militarism, an undeserved sense of superiority and unlicensed authority. I have heard that militarism in my own preaching. I have sometimes spoken disparagingly of what I understand about Protestant prayer and worship. It's easy to mock the continual fracturing of Christian denominations. But our response should be sorrow; divisiveness can only be a dreadful disappointment to everyone who looks to the Gospel for salvation. 

Catholics should never adopt an attitude of superiority about Protestant churches, prayer, or practice. The scriptures confront us: 
    "We have sinned like our ancestors; we have done wrong and are guilty." (Psalm 106:6) 

Without the spirit and practice of penance -- as in the Sacrament of Reconciliation -- Catholic churchgoing is not visibly different from any variety of Christian attendance. "You go to church on Sunday morning, and return home again; what's the difference?"

We should feel with Saint Paul, great sorrow and constant anguish in our hearts. For we could wish that we were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of our kindred according to the flesh.

Obviously, being "cut off" would not help; although some, like Simone Weil, choose that manner of protest. Rather, we ask God what responsibility do we have for the separation? And what does true obedience demand of us?

Whenever anyone leaves the Body of Christ, they take a part of the Truth with them. That must be a matter of intense grief. Perhaps the Lord is purifying his Church, and we might feel relief when they depart; but we should also experience Paul's sorrow and anguish. 

Nor can we expect a sudden return. The Old Testament as we have it, is deeply aware of the tragic dispersal of God's people throughout the world. Both Testaments long for a reunification of God's people: Jews and Christians, Protestants and Catholics, and all the separated brethren. 

There can be only one Body of Christ.

I mean that each of you is saying, “I belong to Paul,” or “I belong to Apollos,” or “I belong to Cephas,” or “I belong to Christ.” 

Is Christ divided? (1Cor 1:13)

 

Thursday of the Thirtieth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 482

If God is for us, who can be against us?
He did not spare his own Son
but handed him over for us all,
how will he not also give us everything else along with him?

Setting ourselves to a serious project which will take time, energy, and determination, we might remind ourselves not to get lost in the weeds. Meaning, we will have to be reminded often of the reasons why we set out to do this marvelous work. We will not forget our goals and their promise. We take care of the small stuff without sweating about it. And so, for instance, when I drive to work I won't get upset about some fool driver who passed me like I was standing still. I've got better things to think about. 

Jesus nailed it with his parable about the seeds that are broadcast in the field. We find ourselves in his third example of frustration: 

The seed sown among thorns is the one who hears the word, but then worldly anxiety and the lure of riches choke the word and it bears no fruit. (Mt 13:22)

Few have practiced that concentration on the goal better than Saint Paul. Nor does he mind writing about the distractions he overcame as he cultivated the fields of the Lord.  They include: 

forty lashes minus one. Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was stoned, three times I was shipwrecked, I passed a night and a day on the deep; on frequent journeys, in dangers from rivers, dangers from robbers, dangers from my own race, dangers from Gentiles, dangers in the city, dangers in the wilderness, dangers at sea, dangers among false brothers; in toil and hardship, through many sleepless nights, through hunger and thirst, through frequent fastings, through cold and exposure...

Rather than letting them tear him away from the Lord, he used them as the ties that bound him closer to Christ who had suffered as much and far more. Even as professional torturers practiced their craft on his back, Paul felt the embrace of Him who had been scourged by Roman soldiers. If he might have buckled before his enemy's power, the two of them -- Jesus and Paul -- would not! If he was drowning at sea he took the hand of the man who walked on water. When his own Christian brothers betrayed him he remembered the Iscariot's treason. Nothing could separate him from the love of Christ. 

Where many people endlessly recall their grievances against the government, the Church, the family, the neighbor, and God himself, Paul enjoyed the memory of his sufferings for they were a story of God's power in him. He was a first-century Energizer Bunny. 

The Apostle Paul could do that because he took the time to reflect on the Wonderful Works of God as he learned the stories from his Jewish upbringing and his Christian conversion. He reflected deeply on each incident as he walked from city to town to borough. He saw that the trials of this moment last only a moment, but the triumph lasts forever. 

We live in a world that gives us no time to remember or reflect, but we can still take it. As Christians and Catholics, that is our right and privilege and duty. 

Wednesday of the Thirtieth Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 481

The Spirit comes to the aid of our weakness;
for we do not know how to pray as we ought,
but the Spirit himself intercedes with inexpressible groanings.
And the one who searches hearts
knows what is the intention of the Spirit,
because he intercedes for the holy ones 
according to God’s will.

Saint Paul poured his whole life into the Epistle to the Roman, and the eighth chapter may be its most important. Even the prepositions are fraught with meaning! 

Knowledge of God -- that is, Revelation -- has been given to God and the Church remembers it both as a set of doctrines. Yesterday, in this blog, I reminded myself and my readers that this knowledge comes at a price. The Lord has paid the entire cost but it costs us no less. Like him, we must abandon everything to know these truths. 

To put it differently, we must know the Lord with that kind of personal knowledge to which Mary referred when she asked, "How can this be, since I know not man?" It might be described as physical, experiential, existential, intimate, intense, personal and particular. This knowledge cannot be found in a dictionary, FAQ, or catechism. It may be acquired through an inspired historical process, provided that education is carefully guided, focused, and disciplined by the Wisdom of God. The Holy Spirit chooses the Elect and provides them with a ready receptivity to the Truth.

Following that careful education and intense formation, the one who knows the Lord also claims the relationship and is willing to pay the price. It does come with a price.  

Scripture and tradition remind us to do nothing to offend the Holy Spirit.  (I have used Catholic Cross-Reference for the following list.)

• Mark 8:15
• Luke 12:15
• 1 Cor 16:13
• Philippians 4:7
• I Timothy 6:20
• 2 Timothy 1:12-14
• 2 Peter 3:17
• Hebrews 4:1

This knowledge of God does not come readily, and is virtually unknown in our secular world. The Elect learn to withdraw from the world and to seek the Lord through the Church with its sacraments, traditions, liturgies, and companionship. They also learn the value of solitude, silence, and simplicity.

Saint Francis insisted that poverty is the simplest, easiest, fastest, and surest way to know the Lord. The truly poor rely upon the Lord and do nothing to offend the Holy Spirit as they guard against greed. 

The Lord's Freedom comes freely, but not without sacrifice. It is not, and was never supposed to be, easy. 

Feast of Saints Simon and Jude, Apostles

Lectionary: 666

You are no longer strangers and sojourners,
but you are fellow citizens with the holy ones
and members of the household of God,
built upon the foundation of the Apostles and prophets,
with Christ Jesus himself as the capstone.

Because his ministry of preaching missions to parishes required constant absence from home, I once greeted a friar with, "Hello, Stranger!" To my surprise, he was very upset. I hadn't meant any harm and, as a confirmed homebody, I respected the challenges of his peripatetic way of life. But I guess no one wants to be a stranger.

Saint Paul was also continually on the road. He never mentions his family in his letters although he must have had some. He was also a sojourner, although adept in making himself at home in the Jewish quarters of every major city. He might stay in a single place for a few years, but he would never be family to those whose families had been anchored in a particular town for centuries. 

But he lived by faith and he spoke with that confidence when he insisted, 

"You are no longer strangers and sojourners, but you are fellow citizens with the holy ones." 

He found his home among believers, even as became more estranged to Judaism. His disappointment with his own people was consoled by the enthusiasm of gentiles who opened their homes to him. 

Martha, Mary,  and Lazarus showed the same enthusiastic hospitality to Jesus. He and Martha were so comfortable they could quarrel without fear of unfriending one another. 

Our life and our kinship is "built upon the foundation of the Apostles and prophets." When I am called to preside over a funeral in a Catholic Church, I remind the congregation that the Church's funeral is not just a memorial service. A federal, state, or local government might conduct a memorial service for a respected leader. The military has important ceremonies for their fallen heroes. Police and fire fighters are also known for their very public displays when a respected member dies. 

But the Church celebrates their gift to the Church and our hope for their resurrection. We never lose a member to death. They may seem to be gone to this world, but they belong -- and have belonged -- to the fellowship of the saints. They have taken their place in the cloud of witnesses who surround the Lord. 

"...with Christ Jesus as the capstone." 

On this feast of Simon and Jude, the least known of the Apostles, we celebrate their honored position among the saints. We remember their names as we hope the Lord will remember our names whenever he decides to open our graves and have us rise from them. On that day, when there will be no more wailing or grief, we will know that we were never strangers or sojourners; and that our place was always with him. 

Monday of the Thirtieth Week in Ordinary Time

The Infant reminds the Saint of
his coming passion and death. 

Lectionary: 479

The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit
that we are children of God,
and if children, then heirs,
heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ,
if only we suffer with him
so that we may also be glorified with him.

The Mirror of Perfection, to add to yesterday's reflection, gives the devout a vivid experience of genuine virtue. We see in the Lord Jesus, and in his saints and martyrs an enchanting beauty. Gazing into it arouses a holy admiration for the men and women who have lived so faithfully by the Law of God, even as we sense the disappointing witness of our own lives. But, because our preoccupation remains with the Lord and not ourselves, we often return to it. 

We may respond to Romans 8: 16 with questions, "Does my life bear witness to the Spirit of God in our world? Do people see in me a mirror of perfection?" And it's impossible to not reply, "I don't think so!" 

There is nothing Christians enjoy as much as pointing to our own disappointing self-assessment. We  do it defensively, before our critics come down upon us. And that shuts down the whole conversation like a pork chop at a bar mitzvah. I suppose I could point to whatever success I might have enjoyed recently, or in the past, and say, "Well, I'm not such a bad person! Remember when I...." But that's too much like a small band-aid on a large ulcer. The odor remains, and it's not of sanctity.  

But that too is pointless. Saint Paul has armed us with the best retort, "Stop judging me! I do not even judge myself!" We let God be our judge and gaze once again into the Mirror of His Reflection. 

it seems important to me that we permit the Spirit to bear witness with our spirit that we are children of God. How faithfully we do that is for God to judge; and it's better not to look for success. If people are delighted by what we've done, that's nice. If they're angry, we cannot know if they're angry at our hypocrisy or our fidelity. We should only persist in doing God's will, as best as we can discern it. And if we're wrong, or our motives are less than pure, the Lord in his mercy will show us that too. It's all about God. The rest doesn't matter. 

Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 150

The Pharisee took up his position and spoke this prayer to himself, 'O God, I thank you that I am not like the rest of humanity -- greedy, dishonest, adulterous -- or even like this tax collector.

Saint Clare of Assisi, a young disciple of Saint Francis, often gazed into "The Mirror of Perfection," and she urged her sisters -- whom we know today as the Poor Clare Sisters -- to do the same. 

It's an odd expression for we know that there were no mirrors in monasteries of women or men. Why would they want one, since they worked in their gardens on their farms, spent many hours a day in the convent praying alone or with the community, and had no social life? There was no need to check their appearance in the mirror before they went out, since they never went out. 

But Clare could use that familiar image because mirrors sometimes tell us more than we want to know. Snow White's wicked queen was disappointed when her magic mirror informed her that she was no longer the fairest in the land; that the younger Snow White was more beautiful and more desirable. It happens to the best of us. 

We often use the mirror of other people to check out our own spiritual progress, like the Pharisee in today's parable. He saw himself as religiously superior to the tax collector who stayed in the back of the temple and would not approach the altar. The loudmouthed Pharisee -- "talking to himself," as Saint Luke said --  brazenly reminded God that he fasted twice a week, and paid tithes on his whole income; and he assumed the tax collector did neither. He looked pretty good in the mirror of a total stranger. ! 

It's easy to do that sort of thing and I am sure we all do it periodically. Saint Clare, in a community of younger and older women with many different talents, abilities, dispositions, and affinities knew all about comparing herself to others. She urged us to look elsewhere; in fact, we should gaze into the Mirror of Perfection. 

What is that magic device? Will it tell us how beautiful we are, as the mirror reassured the Wicked Queen before Snow White came along; or will it show us who we are in God's sight. Clare gazed upon the Cross of Jesus Christ. She looked at the cross and remembered that he died for our sins. We can do the same. 

We can also see that, although we love Jesus and care about others, we are not nearly so willing or eager to sacrifice, much less die, for others. As Saint Paul said, 

For Christ, while we were still helpless... Jesus died at the appointed time for the ungodly.

Indeed, only with difficulty does one die for a just person, though perhaps for a good person one might even find courage to die.

But God proves his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us. (Romans 5:7-8)

On the cross we see a man who is utterly without sin, who has worked tirelessly day and night to announce the Kingdom of God, to call sinners to repentance. He has healed the sick and raised the dead. He has shown compassion to everyone, including the least regarded and most unworthy among us. His love for God and his love for others was literally boundless. And if I ever think that I might match his holiness and perfection, my delusion will last about three seconds, if I can hold out that long. 

While we're looking into the Mirror of Perfection we also see Mary, the Mother of the Lord, and his disciples and apostles, and thousands of martyrs and saints who have testified with their blood about the Kingdom of God. And we know we cannot measure up; that in all fairness and truth, we should have no standing with the saints and no right to claim a place in heaven. We are not worthy of their company, and no one could blame the saints if they chose not to associate with us. 

This mirror of perfection tells us the truth about ourselves. But it also teaches us to stay there because it is so beautiful. We must gaze more deeply into it; and see how beautiful, good, and worthy is the Lamb who was slain! We are fascinated by his Goodness; we can hardly take our eyes off him, and his mother, and his saints. 

And then, we forget all about ourselves. What does it matter? Who cares that I am nothing; that I am unworthy; that I should ask for nothing? Look at what I have been given, this vision of immortal beauty beyond all comparison. 

Very often, peeling ourselves away from that beauty we return to the world and our everyday chores; and we find people who are, in fact, better and more worthy than ourselves. They're everywhere! Husbands and wives who sacrifice for their children. Old people who raise their grandchildren and great grandchildren. People who volunteer for thousands of worthy causes in schools, churches, and community organizations. And then we look at our own efforts and realize how small they are, if we're doing anything! And we remember how we have wanted more: more attention, more stuff, more power, more recognition. 

And we grow ashamed of ourselves and decide not to act that way ever again. It’s just not worth it; but God has said I am worth the passion and death of his only begotten Son; and I will never forget that.

So the Mirror of Perfect is both kind and cruel, it shows me my sins and it shows me intoxicating, rapturous beauty. I do not need to see myself in the mirror of other people: neither prettier nor uglier, neither richer nor poorer; neither happier, wealthier, more popular nor more satisfied than myself. I do not need to know if I am the fairest in the land because I gaze upon the Fairest Son of God and his Most Fair Mother. 

Saturday of the Twenty-ninth Week in Ordinary Time

Collect of Mary
Mother of Mercy

Lectionary: 478

Now there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.
For the law of the spirit of life in Christ Jesus
has freed you from the law of sin and death. 

Reading the Bible, and the Old Testament in particular, can be a disturbing experience. Much of what happens in the Bible sounds very familiar; many of its violent stories of punishment, revenge, and utter destruction read like stories out of Gaza, Ukraine, or major cities in the United States. 

The prophet Ezekiel remarked upon these similarities between his prophesies and popular reaction when, speaking to Egypt through Ezekiel, God said:

I will trouble the heart of many peoples when I bring you captive among the nations, to lands you do not know. I will fill many nations with horror; their kings will shudder at you, when I brandish my sword in their faces. They will tremble violently fearing for their lives on the day of your fall. (Ez 32:9-10)

Hearing of divine judgment and wrath, conscious of our sins, and less than reassured of our standing in God's presence, we wonder if disasters like a falling tower in Siloam, or a collapsing bridge in Baltimore Harbor might signify God's anger against the victims, their city, or nation. Autocrats frequently erase opponents and arbitrarily arrest people suspected as terrorists, drug dealers, or illegal immigrants. Can anyone safely assume they will never fall victim to the coming wrath?

In today's Gospel Jesus speaks of natural and man-made catastrophes, reassuring his listeners that the victims were not the worst of sinners and were not punished for whatever wrong they might have done. But then he warns them that something worse might fall upon you "if you do not repent." In this sermon, he does not intend to assure them of anything except that the judgment near is near, so use your time well! 

That tension between divine reassurance and divine threats is a constant in our faith. We do not want to take God for granted but we do want to know God's assuring love. We want to please God continually but we know as C S Lewis said, "God is easily pleased but never satisfied." 

Nor should we be satisfied with what we have done already. Given the talents we have, with the energy and opportunities that were there, we could have done better. I often turn to that old song "Just as I am without one plea except my Lord has died for me."

We come before God with that plea, and that hope and let God be our Savior and our judge.

Friday of the Twenty-ninth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 477

So, then, I discover the principle
that when I want to do right, evil is at hand.
For I take delight in the law of God, in my inner self,
but I see in my members another principle
at war with the law of my mind,
taking me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members.

Which of us has not left the Church on Sunday morning feeling blessed and happy, only to be disappointed as we meet some frustration? Parents bringing their children out of church suddenly yell at them for acting childishly. Drivers curse under their breath as they jockey toward the parking lot exit. It comes in a thousand forms; and if you pray daily, the first thing in the morning, the same downer comes daily, and early. And then we blame them -- whoever they are -- for ruining my prayer! 

Saint Paul spoke for everyone when he complained of another principle at war with the law of my mind. But even that blissful moment of prayer was probably distracted by a thousand idle idolatries that continually drifted through his head as he listened to the sacred words of prayer. 

More tortuous than anything is the human heart,

beyond remedy; who can understand it? 

I, the LORD, explore the mind
and test the heart,
Giving to all according to their ways,
according to the fruit of their deeds. Jeremiah 17:9-10

Saint Paul, prayer, and the Holy Spirit teach us to surrender that anxiety to the Lord. We have so little control of our thoughts, impulses, and urges. But life and prayer teach us patience. Given time for reflection, we remember things of long-ago that seemed important at the time, but we can't remember why they were important. 

Things like my eternal salvation. That too is in God's hands; what can I do about it but surrender it to the God who is so good, and has demonstrated his goodness through good times and bad? God knows I tried to save myself. I tried to sanitize my mind and purify my impulses and direct my needs, and rein my reactions. All for naught! 

God is good. I have a cloud of witnesses to assure me of that, and a lifetime of memories. 

Optional Memorial of Saint John of Capistrano, Franciscan priest

Lectionary: 476

For just as you presented the parts of your bodies as slaves to impurity
and to lawlessness for lawlessness,
so now present them as slaves to righteousness for sanctification.
For when you were slaves of sin, you were free from righteousness.
But what profit did you get then
from the things of which you are now ashamed?

The Jews in Saint John's Gospel loftily disagreed with Jesus when he suggested that they were slaves of sin. "We are children of Abraham and have never been anyone's slaves!" they insisted. They would not be slaves of sin or God or anyone else! 

But he insisted they were oblivious to the obvious. I remember a fellow who always wanted the last word of any conversation, and especially if there was some disagreement. One time I watched him argue with another fellow who also insisted on having the last word. They engaged in a comical duel of last words that went on and on for several minutes. Neither could give up, neither could just let it go. The rest of the party went silent for a few minutes; and, with winks and nods, laughed at them and their sorry plight. 

The worse kind of slavery, and most common, is to one's own self: "I want and must have what I want because I want it." It comes in as many forms as there are human beings, but is best recognized by its obsessiveness, irrationality, and its subtlety. It is not difficult to see it in others, but it takes a divine revelation to see it in myself. I have to be willing, and I am usually not. 

Only a lifetime of practical grace -- that is, grace that is requested, received, and practiced persistently -- can set us free from that absurd, unnecessary bondage. And when we learn to live freely it will seem perfectly natural, as if, "Why would I think or feel or act otherwise?" 

Others might recognize it in us, but they'll usually just take it for granted, as when children assume their parents are endlessly resourceful and generous. Why would we act any differently? We've all heard many stories of heroic interventions followed by the hero's insistence that they did nothing unusual. "Anyone would have done the same thing!" they insist. And they're right, but they're wrong because many people didn't.

Freedom begins when I present my body to the Lord as a slave to righteousness for sanctification.

Optional Memorial of Saint John Paul II, Pope

 Lectionary: 475

...present yourselves to God as raised from the dead to life
and the parts of your bodies to God
as weapons for righteousness.
For sin is not to have any power over you,
since you are not under the law but under grace.

Several years ago a comedian made the nation howl with laughter as he claimed, 'The devil made me do it!" If it weren't true enough to stand up in court, it explained a lot of stupid things we all do. 

"I didn't mean to; it wasn't my fault; I couldn't help it; they set me up; I meant something else; I didn't mean it that way:" and on and on. There are, at last count, a million ways to deny responsibility; and many of them seem plausible at the time. "The devil made me do it" is as good as any other explanation. 

When Saint Paul considers our life in the Spirit of Jesus Christ, he uses a military metaphor; that is, "weapons." If you're handling a weapon, you'd better be very careful, and no one knows that better than the military. When my Dad let his son handle a new BB gun, and I accidentally pointed it toward him -- for only a second -- the United States Marine barked at me, "Don't ever aim a gun at anyone unless you mean to shoot him!" There is never an excuse for mishandling a weapon. 

"...present yourselves to God as raised from the dead to life and the parts of your bodies to God as weapons for righteousness." 

Saint Paul insisted upon the sanctity of our human bodies, especially because we have been incorporated into the Risen Body of Jesus through Baptism and Eucharist: 

"Do you not know that your body is a temple of the holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God, and that you are not your own? For you have been purchased at a price. Therefore, glorify God in your body."

We should be at least as careful about our bodies as a Marine is about his rifle, and a fighter pilot, about his aircraft. It is dangerous, beautiful, powerful, and extraordinarily expensive. And if warriors in retreat are notorious for leaving billions of dollars worth of equipment behind, we should never think of our bodies as expendable. Unlike the soldier's rifle, we cannot abandon our bodies to the enemy. 

Rather, as the Lord Jesus and his martyrs have shown, our risen, battle-scarred bodies -- still bearing the marks of the nails -- testify to who we are and the integrity of the Gospel. We are living proof of the Truth which we declare to the world. 

"For sin is not to have any power over you, since you are not under the law but under grace."

I remember Father Germain -- God rest his soul -- who used to say, "The Holy Spirit took hold of my tongue and I said nothing!" If he had thought of a reply, and wanted to say it, he credited it to the Holy Spirit that nothing came out of his mouth, and no harm was done. 

We pray daily, and many times a day, that our thoughts and feelings -- and especially our impulses -- will be directed by the Holy Spirit, and never by the comedian's devil.

Tuesday of the Twenty-ninth Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 474

For if, by the transgression of the one,
death came to reign through that one,
how much more will those who receive the abundance of grace
and the gift of justification
come to reign in life through the one Jesus Christ.
In conclusion, just as through one transgression condemnation came upon all,
so, through one righteous act
acquittal and life came to all.

Saint Paul reflected deeply upon his own experience of sin and grace. He seemed free of regret about his Pharisaic zeal because he believed the Lord had forgiven him for his misguided intentions. But he was nonetheless convinced of the importance of every human act, both sinful and graceful. 

Adam's sin, by most human standards, did not seem at the time terribly consequential. His foolish disobedience might have been no worse than jaywalking or speeding at midnight on an open highway.  But the Apostle knew that the Lord scrutinizes both our actions and our intentions and that a corrupt heart may appear through the slightest misdeeds. Adam's sin reflected the willfulness of our human nature, and our unwillingness to submit even to the authority of God. 

Adam's sin was egregious despite the fact that he had given no thought to its possible consequences. The Divine Author of Genesis says nothing of his motive. Perhaps it seemed like a good idea at the time. Did he put compliance with his wife ahead of obedience to his God? Was he curious to see what God would do? Was he hungry and let his stomach be his god? 

It doesn't matter. It happened and a deed, once done, cannot be undone. It happened; it's history. Deal with it. 

Only another act of infinitely greater importance could reverse the flow of sin and death that began with Adams' sin. That sweeping historical force of willfulness had to be redirected toward willingness. The punishing tide must turn to blessing. We find hope for God's mercy in his clothing Adam and Eve, his  call of Abraham, the deliverance from Egypt, and the promise of prosperity for those who keep his commandments. These foreshadowed the mysteries of the Incarnation and Redemption, although we did not know what to make of them at the time. 

It was Saint Paul's particular inspiration to connect the dots and see how the sin of Adam was reversed by the sacrifice of Jesus. The practice of Penance, and the rite of auricular confession in particular, helps practicing Catholics to connect Adam's sin to the Lord's passion, death, and resurrection; and then to find one's particular story of sin and mercy. I often ask penitents to "Tell me a story" about a particular sin: how it came about, what actually happened, its consequences, and the reparation and atonement that may have followed. 

Perhaps in remembering, they also experience the superabundant mercy of God which is there in the past and remains in this moment. When we see our personal sins in the light of the Cross, we begin to appreciate the Lord's mercy. Saint Augustine, centuries after Saint Paul's Letter to Rome, would celebrate the happy fault which merited so great a redeemer. We hate and despise sin but we are grateful that through the sacraments, God rewrites the story and transforms it into a gospel. 

Optional Memorial of Saint Paul of the Cross, Priest

St Paul of the Cross
Founder of Passionists 

  Lectionary: 473

Abraham did not doubt God's promise in unbelief;
rather, he was empowered by faith and gave glory to God
and was fully convinced that what God had promised
he was also able to do.

With this sentence from his Letter to the Romans, the Apostle Paul challenges our usual ways of hearing, thinking, and believing. First, he  recalls Abraham's trust in God; and then his belief that God is able to do what he promised to do. 

Many of us remember President Reagan's mantra as he dealt with the Russian Gorbachev, "Trust, but verify." He had more confidence in the Russian premier of his day than most world leaders have in Putin. But, whether he actually trusted him or not, he wanted to hear what the Russian might say, and then check it out with the resources of American intelligence. Do our agencies -- the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), the National Security Agency (NSA), the Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA), and the National Reconnaissance Office (NRO) -- verify what the Russians are saying? 

Given the universal experience of misunderstandings, lies, and betrayals, few adults are eager to trust anyone. We might not have a reason to doubt their words; and we often suppose we've been told the truth because there's no apparent reason for someone telling us a lie. But in religious matters like the existence and authority of God, we're more skeptical. Is this church, this minister, preacher, or stranger on the bus speaking of a credible God? Or are they scamming me? Perhaps they're trying to sell me something, or take advantage of my gullibility. 

And then, given that I believe in the existence of God, I can still wonder about the Goodness of God and his Authority. Is the Father who directed Jesus toward Jerusalem and Calvary trustworthy? Is he able to call him from the grave and bestow upon him the Name above every name? And if he was so good to Jesus, would he treat someone as unworthy as me with the same kindness?

I have seen children who want to swim but cannot get in the water. Every other child runs and jumps right in and shouts for joy as they do so, and this poor fellow stands helplessly on the deck. I unhelpfully pushed a young man into the pool once. He fell in and got wet, but that did not unlock his reluctance to jump in. 

Trust involves me as well as the other person. It's an ability and a decision. Can I trust? Am I willing to do so? How much do I want to? What will it cost me? 

And finally, as we ponder trust in God, we might ask, "Is the Father of Jesus the same who created the Universe? And why would he bother with the comings and goings of this poor, bare, forked animal on Planet Earth? Remember that the Greek philosophers believed that matter has always been; and God, or the gods, had only shaped preexistent matter. But Christians insist that we worship the one God who created ex nihilo, while some atheists say, "Even one is too many." 

This matter of trust is complicated, and the longer I think about it the more complicated it gets! In the end I have to accept the solution offered by Alcoholics Anonymous, KEEP IT SIMPLE. Just do it. Believe and be saved! Because if there is no God, then your life doesn't count anyway, and nothing was lost by your willingness to believe in God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. 

Twenty-ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 147

Remain faithful to what you have learned and believed...
I charge you in the presence of God and of Christ Jesus,
who will judge the living and the dead,
and by his appearing and his kingly power:
proclaim the word...

The scriptures today speak of persistence. We hear of Moses' persistence in prayer as his warriors engaged Amalek in battle. Saint Paul urged his protegee, Saint Timothy, to 

“proclaim the word, be persistent whether it is convenient or inconvenient; convince, reprimand, encourage through all patience and teaching.”

In the Gospel Jesus, urges us to pray with the obnoxious persistence of the widow who pesters a wicked judge. 

Consumers are known for making many demands; they are sometimes obnoxious and unreasonable; but they are not known for their patience. Often, by the time a harried merchant has found precisely what the consumer wants, they've lost interest and the precious merchandise, finally arrived, goes to the dumpster. 

The same consumers have notoriously little patience with crises. Reacting to a worldwide pandemic, they may mask for a month and wash their hands for two months, but that should have taken care of the problem. After that it's somebody else's problem, and someone’s fault, and not the consumers’. A nation of consumers may rush into war, as when the United States was attacked in September 2001; but by the end of the war twenty years later, they could not remember what it was about or why they sent troops to Afghanistan, that notorious graveyard of empires.  

Unfortunately, the spirit of consumerism has entered the Christian and Catholic churches, and we too pray impatiently, expect more than we deserve, and often shop around for the doctrines, rituals, pastors, and churches that suit our political opinions and social concerns. Because they can drive to church, many Catholics ignore parish boundaries and drive across town to find the Church that fits their particular notion of what God should say and how the Mass should be celebrated.

Their religious loyalty is not unlike a consumer’s loyalty to Fall City Beer, Coca-Cola, or Naked Juices. They insist that they are true Catholics although they might support abortion on demand, assisted suicide, and other medical procedures that are neither therapeutic, corrective, or medical. Their religious affiliation does not influence their educational and career choices, their vocations or vacations, their entertainments, or their politics. They might take a cruise in the Bahamas but never a pilgrimage to Mexico City, Medjugorje, or Lourdes. 

The day is coming, and has arrived, when being Catholic costs more than occasional attendance at Mass. We are being warned by random attacks on Catholic churches and shrines all over the country. Recently, several Catholic children in Minnesota were murdered, and several others wounded, by a deranged gunman while attending a weekday Catholic Mass. Can it be purely accidental that well-armed deranged persons attack Catholics? Who armed them and put them up to it? 

How much are you willing to pay for practicing your Catholic faith?  The twentieth century theologian Balthazar described an interview between a hostile government agent and a compromising Catholic: When the Catholic assures the agent that our values are essentially natural values, and that our faith is very human and can fit into any society or culture without conflicts or divisiveness, the agent dismisses him as a harmless crank. That kind of religion is no more dangerous than gardening or bowling. One spouse goes out to watch football at a sports bar while the other goes to bible study and their evenings are not interrupted by Germany’s Gestapo, Russia’s KGB, or America's FBI. 

Being Catholic should cost you something. It might embarrass you once in a while. You might turn on the radio and hear something about Pope Leo, or a cardinal or bishop, and think, “Now what?” or, “I wish he hadn’t said that.” Or better, “I should find out what he really said before I get to work, to school, or see anyone who asks what I think about what they said.” 

The Bible teaches us about perseverance through years of hostility and long difficult times. So long as the Church is in this world and there are people in the Church, we’ve got our backs to the wall. There are moments when we wish God would come immediately with his kingdom of Justice and settle everything once and for all. But the Bible also says the Lord is giving us time to repent of our sins, hear the gospel, atone for the wrongs we have done, and make things right. In other words, we should be glad the kingdom of God has not yet come because we might not be worthy of the company of saints and martyrs. 

Catholics will never be good consumers. We do not shop around to find the church that agrees with our beliefs. Catholics are told what we believe, and discovering that the world has different teachings and that we thought differently, we search for a better understanding of our doctrines. We want to conform our opinions to our beliefs. Only a fool would say, “Well, I don’t believe everything the Church teaches,” without finding out precisely what the Church teaches and what it means. 

But, whatever the Church teaches, you can be sure it will cost you something. Every doctrine invites deep exploration into the mysteries of God, and serious reflection about the world we live in and how we are living in this world. Our doctrines save souls from hell; they’re not glorified opinions about arcane nonsense. Whether it’s the Holy Trinity, the Incarnation, the Blessed Sacrament, or Purgatory, the doctrine challenges you to understand, embrace it with enthusiasm, and pay the price despite the loud complaints of an opinionated, ignorant world around you. 

Hearing that the bishop or pope has made another controversial statement, we look for its meaning, and ask God to give us the courage to speak the truth to our families, friends, neighbors and enemies. We cannot ignore a direct command from the Apostle Paul when that command comes with a most solemn oath:  

I charge you in the presence of God and of Christ Jesus,

who will judge the living and the dead,

and by his appearing and his kingly power:

proclaim the word;

be persistent whether it is convenient or inconvenient;

convince, reprimand, encourage through all patience and teaching.