Memorial of Saint John Bosco, Priest

 Lectionary: 322

He woke up,
rebuked the wind, 
and said to the sea, “Quiet!  Be still!”
The wind ceased and there was great calm.
Then he asked them, “Why are you terrified?
Do you not yet have faith?”

Which of us does not tremble at the thought of eminent death? Perhaps we've all had the experience, or at least realized later how close we came to it. Humans are no less vulnerable than most animals; we can die at any moment, in any place. It can come quite suddenly, and many people "...never knew what hit them." 

We might not manage at all if we didn't believe "It won't happen today." We plan for tomorrow, and next week, and next year with little hesitation. True, things happen; and we all know:

The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men

          Gang aft agley,

An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,

          For promis’d joy! (To a mouse, by Robert Burns)

 But we carry on as if....

In today's gospel the Lord laughs at his disciples for their little faith in him, his mission, and the Father who was directing them. Did they really suppose their purpose and mission might collapse before a tempest at sea? Is it possible that God's plan for the salvation of the world could be permanently, irreparably frustrated by high winds and stormy seas? Are you kidding me? Where is your faith?

We know we will die; it might happen today. And if it does, it will come as neither surprise nor setback to the Lord. So why do we worry? For ourselves? For myself? 
"Build a bridge and get over yourself!" 

Friday of the Third Week of Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 321

With many such parables
he spoke the word to them as they were able to understand it.
Without parables he did not speak to them,
but to his own disciples he explained everything in private.

A fellow asked me recently, "How can we 'glorify God?'" The expression made no sense to him. Can one brighten the light of the sun? I used a homely example: with a hand mirror we can direct sunlight in any direction, and also back toward the sun. With our praise of God we glorify God. He was not satisfied. 

Catholics must live in a pluralistic, multivalent society that speaks a language stripped of subtleties, even as they practice a faith which is anchored by symbols, parables, and supernatural definitions. We often suppose we understand something because we've heard the expression in Church, and yet cannot begin to explain it in other words. When the four-syllable word consubstantial was reinserted in the Nicene Creed, people complained they didn't know what the word meant, although they had never asked about the four syllables of "...one in being with the Father.'  

In my Bible study group, I noticed the jailer in the Acts of the Apostles who asked Saint Paul, "What must I do to be saved?" In my experience as a hospital chaplain, no one ever asked that question. Some old fellows said they were satisfied with their lives. I asked a few in hospice care to "Say hello to my folks!" and they seemed to know what I meant. 

So I asked the Bible group what the jailer meant by the word saved.  "We go to heaven." was the best offering. But what is heaven; how do we imagine it today, given our appreciation of time, history, and politics. Though they often describe restless ghosts who haunt the earth, writers and the entertainment industry show little interest in heaven. It must be a place with no drama, and no stories to tell. 

The Lord's parable about weeds and wheat flew right over the heads of most of his listeners, as they still do today. No matter how pointed they are, they don't get parables. "Sure it's unfortunate what happened to the rich man," they might have said, "but what does the story of Lazarus and Dives have to do with me?" 

In fact, religious questions often have an anxious subtext which points to the jailer's question, "Sirs, what must I do to be saved?" Perhaps he was asking, "Will I be herded like everyone else into the oblivion of eternal emptiness?"

Some people ask, "Will everyone be saved?" Jesus replied, "Strive to enter through the narrow gate."
"But," they persist, "will everyone be saved?"
 "What is it you really want to know? Are you asking what is the minimum standard for your personal salvation? Are you asking about your children who attend no church and have not had your grandchildren baptized? Are you asking if you'll be saved and they will not be? Where is your question coming from? 
Are you suggesting that God's standards are unfair? That He asks too much?
Perhaps he should not have made us in the first place, if his standards are so demanding." 

The saints show us how to walk in faith without asking unanswerable questions. They show us that faith in God means that many of our neighbors, acquaintances, and family will be seriously uncomfortable with us; and that we will not be able to conform to their standards. Fidelity means we're not amused by their entertainment, and their jokes are not funny.  We cannot participate in their gossip nor agree with their politics. 

But we have a responsibility to God and a duty to others to live and demonstrate the challenge of the Gospel. Like Saint Paul, we are prophets who bless what is good in the world, and shun what is below human dignity. But we see where many are blind; and we hear what many cannot hear. Even the silent death of a beggar shouts at us. 

Thursday of the Third Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 320

After Nathan had spoken to King David, 
the king went in and sat before the LORD and said, 
“Who am I, Lord GOD, and who are the members of my house, 
that you have brought me to this point?
Yet even this you see as too little, Lord GOD....

Our first reading this morning from 2 Kings recalls David's reaction upon hearing Nathan's message from the Lord, "Who am I that I should be so blessed?" 

It is a moment of profound wonder and humility which everyone must experience from time to time, and often forget when they need it most. It is hard to think of King David, the most distinguished of the Lord's ancestors, without recalling his unspeakable sins against Uriah and Bathsheba. What was he thinking as he brought a curse upon his descendants, both physical and spiritual, which remains to this day? Obviously, it was not of God. 

And yet David, the poet, songwriter, and minstrel, also introduced penance into the story of our salvation. His 51st Psalm is a game changer which seems to come from the humility he expressed in today's reading. "Who am I that you should bless me?" 

Overcome as he was by remorse, shame, grief, and guilt, his humility took him to a deeper place than he -- or anyone -- had ever known. "Can God forgive even this? Does God have authority even to forgive, heal, and undo the wrong I have done?" Isn't it more than God can deal with?  

Penitents ask these questions as they enter the Sacrament of Penance, especially as we ponder the crucifixion of Jesus.

"Have mercy on us, O Lord, who had no mercy on you!" 

The Good News begins with, "“This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the gospel.” (Mark 1:15)

Our new life begins with David's awareness of blessing and of guilt. It takes us deep into the experience of being human, far deeper than anyone would go willingly unless they had been personally called, had heard, and had responded to a very personal invitation. 

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

 Lectionary: 319

But to those outside everything comes in parables, so that
they may look and see but not perceive,
and hear and listen but not understand,
in order that they may not be converted and be forgiven."

The Lord alludes in his parable about the broadcasting farmer and his remarkably fertile field, to Isaiah's great vision (Is 6) when he saw the God of Heaven and Earth sitting upon his throne in the Temple of Jerusalem, and heard the LORD's call, "Whom shall I send?" 

When the overwhelmed prophet found the courage to speak in the august presence he said, "Here I am! Send me!" But he immediately learned that he had not volunteered for an easy job or a respected position. His vision would be ignored when he spoke of it, and his warnings unheeded. 

The Lord's remarks, "they may see and not perceive; and listen but not understand, allude to Isaiah, and to even older passages in Psalm 115:5-8

They have mouths but do not speak,

eyes but do not see.

They have ears but do not hear,

noses but do not smell.

They have hands but do not feel,

feet but do not walk;

they produce no sound from their throats.

Their makers will be like them,

and anyone who trusts in them.

The Psalmist and his congregation mocked the pagans who created idols of clay, wood, stone, and steel, and then carried them about on raised platforms for the crowds to see, admire, and adore.  

Isaiah describes the making of these idols, again mocking the process and their craftsman:

To whom can you liken God?
With what likeness can you confront him?
An idol? An artisan casts it,
the smith plates it with gold,
fits it with silver chains.
Is mulberry wood the offering?
A skilled artisan picks out
a wood that will not rot,
Seeks to set up for himself
an idol that will not totter.

Do you not know? Have you not heard?
Was it not told you from the beginning?
Have you not understood from the founding of the earth?
The one who is enthroned above the vault of the earth,
its inhabitants like grasshoppers,
Who stretches out the heavens like a veil
and spreads them out like a tent to dwell in.

It is easy to suppose God loves everybody and that it doesn't matter which church you attend, which religion you prefer, or which God you worship. But that's not what the Bible says. Clearly, choices have consequences and bad choices lead to bad acts and severe judgment. 

The faithful, perhaps, should not openly mock idolaters. We must make every effort by example and persuasion to help them abandon foolishness. They should see that we worship the Truth which God has revealed to us. Sincerity is a poor excuse for believing falsehoods; it does not undo the evil consequences of lies. Sincerity can neither explain nor atone for bad ideas and worse attitudes. 

We have been warned and we give warning: Fools suffer the fate of their idols,

Then shall they know that I am the LORD,
when their slain shall lie amid their idols,
all about their altars, on every high hill and mountaintop,
beneath every green tree and leafy oak,
wherever they offered appeasing odors to any of their gods. Ezekiel 6:13

 

Tuesday of the Third Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 318

David went to bring up the ark of God from the house of Obed-edom 
into the City of David amid festivities.
As soon as the bearers of the ark of the LORD had advanced six steps, 
he sacrificed an ox and a fatling.
Then David, girt with a linen apron, 
came dancing before the LORD with abandon, 
as he and all the house of Israel were bringing up the ark of the LORD
with shouts of joy and to the sound of the horn.

When he described a young, pregnant virgin's arrival in Jerusalem, Saint Luke remembered a rather different event, far louder and more public. He alluded to David's bringing the Ark of the Covenant to the city he had captured and would make the capital of his kingdom. 

Elizabeth lived with her husband-priest Zechariah in or near Jerusalem, close enough for him to participate in the functions of the temple and to take his turn at offering incense in the Holy of Holies, the temple's tabernacle. The Litany of Loreto honors Mary as the Ark of the Covenant; and Elizabeth represented Jerusalem when she shouted for joy at the Virgin Mother's arrival:

Most blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.

And how does this happen to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?

For at the moment the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the infant in my womb leaped for joy.

Blessed are you who believed that what was spoken to you by the Lord would be fulfilled.”

In the meanwhile, John the Baptist is dancing like King David for joy at the coming of the Ark and the Messiah. 

We should also notice the Angel's explanation to Mary of her mysterious pregnancy. 

The holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. Therefore the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God.

First Kings and Second Chronicles described a similar overshadowing when King Solomon presided over the consecration of his brand new temple. We'll hear this story soon, on Monday of the Fifth Week of Ordinary Time:

When the priests left the holy place, the cloud filled the house of the LORD so that the priests could no longer minister because of the cloud, since the glory of the LORD had filled the house of the LORD. (1 Kings: 8:10-11) 

The story is also told by the Chronicler:  

When the trumpeters and singers were heard as a single voice praising and giving thanks to the LORD, and when they raised the sound of the trumpets, cymbals, and other musical instruments to “Praise the LORD, who is so good, whose love endures forever,” the cloud filled the house of the LORD. The priests could no longer minister because of the cloud, since the glory of the LORD had filled the house of God. (2 Chronicles 5:13-14)

Finally, as we ponder Saint Matthew's account of the Magi finding Jesus in Bethlehem with Mary his Mother, we understand why we revere her so much. She is the New Jerusalem, and we come into her presence to worship the Lord who abides with her, and is born of her. 

The Evangelists knew that the birth of the Messiah, as unexpected as it was, was not an anomaly. God had planned it from all eternity; and it was foreshadowed a thousand years before as King David repurposed Salem as Jerusalem, the Holy City; and Solomon consecrated his temple. 

In the fullness of time, God revealed his plan to us. We have only to wait.

Memorial of Saints Timothy and Titus, Bishops

 Lectionary: 520/317

I am grateful to God,
whom I worship with a clear conscience as my ancestors did,
as I remember you constantly in my prayers, night and day.
I yearn to see you again, recalling your tears,
so that I may be filled with joy, 
as I recall your sincere faith
that first lived in your grandmother Lois
and in your mother Eunice
and that I am confident lives also in you.

In today's first reading Saint Paul invokes Saint Timothy's upbringing in the devout household of his Jewish grandmother Lois and mother Eunice, and his own sharing of a clear conscience with their ancestors. He is grateful for, and proud of, his heritage among God's chosen people. The Apostle and his protege have been immersed in faith since their earliest days. If he wandered into Pharisaism for a while, he has turned away from that heretical nonsense back to the faith of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. 

Many American Catholics are deeply compromised by the secular myths of upward mobility and individualism, regarding themselves as individuals. While some are obsessively concerned about their "personal salvation," more presume they're saved and should go to heaven because they have not egregiously violated any civil laws. Some go so far as to muse upon the freedom of living in the manner they choose without the ordinary inhibitions of family, neighbors, or strangers. Moving farther from the city, they claim titles to clean air, clean water, police protection, navigable roads, reliable energy and waste disposal. And then they say they are living self-sufficiently. Living that illusion entails a severe compromise of their place among the saints. 

I am delighted by Saint Paul's reference to Lois and Eunice because he recognized how Timothy belonged to a family, and reflected the faith of his family. This knowledge of God is ever ancient, ever new. Blessed by ancestors who obeyed the command of Moses to "keep repeating this to your children," he could promote the faith and keep repeating it to the next generation. And he knows the fullness of faith in the One who had come to fulfill the Law of Moses. 

Saint Paul hoped that neither Timothy nor the church he shepherded would drift back into Pharisaism. It's very hard to be judgmental toward your kin when your blood tells you that you belong to them and can never leave them. Even when you do, someone is likely to ask, "How's your Uncle, you know, the jailbird?" 

Being family is a privilege and an imposition, and we all "bear (a) share of hardship for the Gospel with the strength that comes from God." 

 

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 67

Anguish has taken wing, dispelled is darkness: for there is no gloom where but now there was distress. The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; upon those who dwelt in the land of gloom a light has shone.

Nuclear winter is a severe and prolonged global climatic cooling effect that is hypothesized[1][2] to occur after widespread firestorms following a large-scale nuclear war. Wikipedia

Spiritually, we have been suffering a nuclear winter for a very long time. It covers the earth and billions walk in darkness. In my experience much of the gloom is caused by divorce. It's consequences are manifold: depression, abortion, addictions, alcoholism, sexual adventuring, STDs, gay marriage, gender confusion, suicide. To name a few. And then there are the desperate efforts to normalize these aberrations. They're sanctioned with phony claims of inclusiveness and freedom. 

Some may see other root causes for the distress: racism, consumerism, violence, or the culture of death. In any case, this spiritual "nuclear winter" has gone on so long that many people suppose that darkness is normal. Some hope for a premature end with a true nuclear winter, a man-made end of the world. They don't remember ordinary joys and sorrows; they don't recall a Garden of Eden; and when life happens in the way of birth or death, defeat or success, they lose their bearings completely. 

In today's gospel Saint Matthew presents Jesus as a dawning light to dispel the darkness. He is the star of Bethlehem shining across the land as he calls disciples to follow him. They will be daylight spreading from east to west. In their light -- that is, in the Good News they bring; and in their courtesy, confidence, courage, generosity and joy -- the world will see the Kingdom of Heaven. 

Because they fear the Lord and no one else, they will say yes when they mean yes and no when they mean no. Their marriages will be lifelong for they will regard their own words as seriously as they regard the Word of God. Their modesty will not exaggerate their presence but it will be seen, heard, and felt. The nuclear gloom will lift ever so slightly wherever they go. 

Each year on this Third Sunday of Ordinary Time, in response to the gospel stories about the call of Jesus's first disciples, the Church prays especially for vocations. We ask God to inspire young people to seek ordination to the priesthood or diaconate, or to monasteries, convents, and friaries. We also ask God to guide young people toward the Vocation of Matrimony because devout families stabilize a teetering society. 

The entire Church -- and especially married couples -- "must shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your heavenly Father."

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

 Lectionary: 316 

When his relatives heard of this they set out to seize him, for they said, “He is out of his mind.”
 

Familiar with Saint Mark's "sandwich method" of telling stories, we recognize the brief sentence above as the first part of a two part episode about the Lord's rather complicated relationship with his own family. 

Fr Raymond Brown PSS, the great American scripture scholar, suggested there may have been trouble in the first days of the Church as the Lord's family attempted to wrest control of it from His disciples. Some were there at Pentecost, as we know from Saint Luke's account, but after that we learn only of Mary, this mother; and the faithful "James, brother of the Lord." He is called the first bishop of Jerusalem; and Saint Luke describes how he submitted to Peter's rightful leadership. (Acts 15:13-21)

Despite the interruption in today's story about Jesus' family, it's deserves reflection. First, we notice that, given the confusing, distressing dynamics of many families, some members find it safer to control and limit their time among them. And others, like Jesus, have more important concerns than their family's expectations. They stay in touch, but distantly. That can happen either because the isolated individual is faithful to the Lord, or because they have wandered far from the faith. The latter may prefer more raucous companions and regard their church-going siblings as hypocritically pious. 

We remember the severe teaching of Jesus, 

If any one comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple.

I think we can read the word hate as distance oneself from. In every relationship except that with God, we must maintain both boundaries and barriers. And even with God, reverence and Genesis 3 teach us not to encroach upon His authority. In fact, our respect for God shows us appropriate standards of barriers and boundaries for our relations with other people.

Trusting in God, I do not idolize anyone, neither husband nor wife, child or parent, friend or foe. Each one is a child of God, but no more than that to me. As Saint Francis said, to his father, the bishop of Assisi, and those who'd come out to watch the spectacle of a father's anger, "From this day forward, I have only one father, and that is Our Father in Heaven." As far as we know, they were never reconciled; Pietro Bernadone disappeared from the legends and stories about the Saint. 

It's unfortunate but sometimes it's necessary. We care about our families deeply; we pray for them; we cannot save them. And we can say as Jesus will say to us when we hear the rest of the story, 

"...whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.” Mark 3:35

Friday of the Second Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 315

Jesus went up the mountain and summoned those whom he wanted 
and they came to him.
He appointed Twelve, whom he also named Apostles,
that they might be with him
and he might send them forth to preach 
and to have authority to drive out demons....

A recent TV ad depicts the dilemma of an entrepreneur whose startup company is imperiled when her number one employee resigns to go off in search of himself. 

That may be the epitaph of the 21st century as billions of people search for their misplaced identities. Finding themselves on a dynamic planet, they have only ideologies to cope with artificial intelligence and climate change. All we need is an invasion from outer space to complete the package! 

During these early weeks of the new year, several liturgical signposts point to an answer. In today's gospel Jesus, "summoned those whom he wanted." He appointed and named them apostles. Twenty centuries later, we know who they are, as they knew who they were; and we call them by that name. 

Asked, "Who are you?" Saint John the Baptist spoke clearly, "I am not the Messiah!" and "I am not Elijah." When the Pharisees persisted, he said, "I am the voice of one crying in the desert, 'Make straight the way of the Lord!" He knew what he was not, what he was, and his purpose. 

Jesus, as he set out for Jerusalem and Calvary, would ask his disciples, "Who do men say I am?" Despite the stories and rumors of who he might be, he was satisfied only with Peter's reply, "You are the Christ." But then he went on to redefine their notion of what that title means. 

A name which signifies identity comes with a purpose; it might be called a mission. Many names in the scriptures come with an explanation; like Jesus, "for he shall save his people from their sins." Names should not be something cute to call a child. When the baptizing deacon or priest asks the infant's parents, "What name do you give this child?" he expects the name to mean something. Traditionally, it was a saint's name as the parents invoke a patron saint of their family, nation, or ethnic group. It might be the name of a relative or friend whom they wish to honor. 

Personally, as a priest, I hope the chosen name is not that of a currently popular entertainer. Those names are as shallow as the people they represent; and God gives no one responsibility for an infant for their entertainment. 

Without the Lord's understanding of Christ as the suffering servant of Isaiah's prophecies, Christians have no clue of what Christian means. As his disciples we take up the cross of servant (or slave) with the calls to be (penitent) with him, and witnesses to the truth. We are sent not to be served, but to serve. 

We receive identity and purpose as gifts from God; we do not create them out of current politics, entertainment, or some fantastic notions of who or what we wish to be. 

Day of Prayer for the Legal Protection of Unborn Children

 Lectionary: 516A

For now the LORD has spoken
who formed me as his servant from the womb,
that Jacob may be brought back to him
and Israel gathered to him;
and I am made glorious in the sight of the LORD,
and my God is now my strength!

Stephen Hawkins, in a TV program about the wonders of the universe, admitted that he and his colleagues may be able to explain how the universe came to be; but they cannot say why. It's not within their competence.  

When theologians and philosophers are shut out of the conversation, the question is not raised nor is an answer posited. Because the Mother of all Sciences and the Queen of all Sciences are not permitted to speak to their progeny, the faithful have no reason to believe in a hypothetical multiverse.  

Although any reasonable person might ask why is there existence and what should we expect of it, when the question is banned, explanations of everything else are severely limited to the pragmatic. Bugs exist to feed birds; and birds exist to spread seeds; and raptors exist to kill weaker animals; and so forth. Apparently, someone has figured out why the human gut has an appendix, but they have not answered, "Why are there humans who have appendices?" 

In the meanwhile, the "man in the street" has a personal philosophy and strong opinions about God; but he, obedient to the "scientists," will not tolerate philosophical or theological discussions. 

Within that grand silence, babies are conceived and born. But, to those who never asked why anything exists, the presence of a baby may seem unnecessary, intrusive, and frankly rude. They may have had reasons for conceiving the child, but perhaps they were thinking about something else at the time: pleasure, or power, or escape from loneliness, anxiety, and futility. None of that matters to the babies whose needs are immediate and demanding. 

Practicing Catholics who take their faith seriously know why there is a universe, and why they have a place in the universe. It's for the glory of the LORD who created it through Jesus Christ and in the Holy Spirit. Like Mary, they are handmaids and servants of the Lord. 

They know why they desire sexual intercourse, and why babies are conceived. Their healthy, human desires for love, security, and happiness have a reason and purpose in God's world. They protect, nurture, and cultivate their natural affection for babies. They protect the children God gives them; and abhor ideas of abortion, infanticide, and murder. Their families celebrate the greater honor and glory of God. 

Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam 

Memorial of Saint Agnes, Virgin and Martyr

Lectionary: 313

David put his hand into the bag and took out a stone,
hurled it with the sling,
and struck the Philistine on the forehead.

Clearly, the Lord was with the shepherd boy as he hurled a stone at the giant Philistine, but we should not discount the skill of the slinger. Behind many phalanxes of ancient hoplites was a host of poor men with slings. They were armed with carefully chosen, round stones to hurl at the enemy's front line.

Slingers had learned their skill as shepherds. and knew how to persuade a wolf, bear, or thief to go somewhere else. The stone might even guide the flock as they could land to the left or right of the leading sheep, who'd decide to go the other direction. 

To the Philistine warrior the boy appeared only with a staff, but then he pulled out a stone and hurled it with a force as much as 130mph at the fellow's forehead. That would hurt! 

Today we celebrate the martyr Saint Agnes, whose name means lamb. Like her Shepherd King, she was led to the slaughter, trusting that God would raise her up. 

Sheep, lambs, and shepherds appear often in Christian churches, songs, and prayers. The Lamb of God may be the most common image of the Word Made Flesh, after his appearance as a man or infant. But he is the Lamb who was slain. Unlike the shoppers who prowl the meat department of our supermarkets, ancient men and women were familiar with the bloody work of preparing sheep, heifers, and poultry for market. The Jews had a religious scruple about using the blood for food, but did not hesitate to eat approved meats. 

Like their pagan neighbors, their preparation of a meal could be combined with a religious ritual and called a sacrifice, thus blessing their food. (A sacrifice is not always going without.) 

To those who witnessed the trial, torture, and crucifixion of Jesus, he appeared like a lamb led to slaughter. He made no protest; he offered no defense; he heard his accusers in silence, and suffered everything they wanted to do to him. Professionals, they did not hesitate to make the ordeal as painful as humanly possible. 

Martyrs do not blow themselves up like Muslim murderers. They walk in the footsteps of Jesus and trust God to humiliate his enemies with their holiness. In the safety of our churches and homes, we pray that we will be found worthy of their company. And, very often, their silent witness is more powerful than a warrior's sword. 

Tuesday of the Second Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 312

“The sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath.
That is why the Son of Man is lord even of the sabbath.”

For freedom Christ set us free!" Saint Paul declared in his Letter to the Galatians; and every age struggles to understand what that might mean. 

That understanding certainly must include the authority Jesus gives his disciples to decide for themselves in every situation. We want to know and do the right thing but every situation is unique. There are precedents, of course. Should we deal with this problem today as we dealt with a similar one yesterday? Will yesterday's answer be right today? We may feel confident but we cannot have absolute certainty. Nothing in life is certain. 

Saint Paul's declaration of independence lends itself to reflection on today's teaching about the Son of Man and the Lord of the Sabbath. We have known the latter as the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; and we recognize his authority:

"I am the LORD, there is no other,
there is no God besides me."  (Is 45:6)

With the revelations of the Christian centuries, we profess that God has taken on human life, and we announce that a son of man is the Son of God. 

Here we are twenty centuries later facing the certain coming of "artificial intelligence." Something which has been made by "man," and has already invaded the consciousness of many young people. But AI has no conscience, ethics, or morals. It's only as useful as its data, and we have long ago lost control of its information and misinformation. We don't know what it "thinks." 

Because it lacks a conscience. it speaks with conviction. It does not suffer the doubt "that makes calamity of so long a life." And it may shorten many lives. 

In the face of this invasion, I believe that the Son of Man and the Spirit of God teach us the courage it takes to be human, 

"If I am not taking risks, I am not doing my job." 

AI knows nothing of taking risks. It may, like its creators, be filled with misinformation and informed by lies, but it knows nothing of the faith which has learned by meeting and trusting God. 

Saint Paul never heard of artificial intelligence, but he knew about something quite similar: the "power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the disobedient." He insisted that,  

...our struggle is not with flesh and blood but with the principalities, with the powers, with the world rulers of this present darkness, with the evil spirits in the heavens.

Is the world better off for having artificial intelligence? Or worse? I don't think it changes a thing. So long as we're human we will deal with powers and authorities who are wise and stupid, wicked and righteous; and we will rely on God to guide us in all our affairs. 

Therefore, put on the armor of God, that you may be able to resist on the evil day and, having done everything, to hold your ground.

Monday of the Second Week in Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 311

As long as they have the bridegroom with them they cannot fast.
But the days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them,
and then they will fast on that day.

Fasting appears often in the scriptures, and is used in three different kinds of prayer. It is first a sign of grief. Understandably, those who are afflicted with great sorrow have no appetite for food, and sometimes must be persuaded to eat. 

Secondly, it expresses sorrow for sin, which should be accompanied by a loss of appetite. I knew a fellow who admitted he was obsessed with eating. He said, "Due to my compulsion, I lost my health; I lost my friends; I lost my self-respect. I never lost my appetite." His regret, as real as it might have been, was never that deep. To rid himself of that form of idolatry, he had to eat less and face the unease that would follow.

"Yet even now, says the LORD, return to me with your whole heart, with fasting, and weeping, and mourning...." Joel 2:12

Finally, fasting expresses an individual's and a group's sincere prayer,

"(Paul and Barnabas) appointed presbyters for them in each church and, with prayer and fasting, commended them to the Lord in whom they had put their faith." Acts 14:23

During penitential seasons like Advent and Lent, and on Fridays, the traditional weekdays of fasting, devout Christians might not feel any particular guilt or remorse for their own sins. They might frankly admit that neither their recent past nor their youth was so scandalous as that of some of the greatest saints. But they practice fasting in solidarity with sinners; and they confess their own sinful impulses that might never have (yet) found the evil company which encourages such behavior. 

Baptism necessarily recalls the submersion of Jesus in the Jordan when he became guilty for us. He took upon himself the guilt, shame, and remorse of all humankind. Stepping into the water, was the first step on the long road to Jerusalem and Calvary. We have gone down into the water and set out with him by accepting our baptism. We admit we are "like the rest of men who have no hope." And we express both hope and hopelessness by fasting.  

As we fast and pray, it usually becomes obvious even to the most pious among us that none of us is far removed from the hypocrisy that stalks our consciousness. "We have sinned; we and our fathers have sinned."
Finally, the Lord reminds us that fasting must lead to acts of charity: 

Is this the manner of fasting I would choose,

a day to afflict oneself?

To bow one’s head like a reed,

and lie upon sackcloth and ashes?

Is this what you call a fast,

a day acceptable to the LORD?

Is this not, rather, the fast that I choose:

releasing those bound unjustly,

untying the thongs of the yoke;

Setting free the oppressed,

breaking off every yoke?

Is it not sharing your bread with the hungry,

bringing the afflicted and the homeless into your house;

Clothing the naked when you see them,

and not turning your back on your own flesh?

Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,

and your wound shall quickly be healed;

Your vindication shall go before you,

and the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard.

Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer,

you shall cry for help, and he will say: “Here I am!” (Is 58:5-9)

BTW: If you read my homily of Sunday (1/18/26) yesterday, I posted an updated version at 2:45 pm. I didn't sleep well with the copy that went up at midnight, but I didn't finish the rewrites until 9:45 am, just before I presided at the 10am Mass. 

It took that long to figure out what I was trying to say; and hopefully, what the Lord was trying to say through me.  

Blessings on you.

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 64

John the Baptist saw Jesus coming toward him and said,

“Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world."

The patristic bishops who defined our doctrines during the earliest centuries of the Church, found many prophecies about Jesus throughout the Bible, and especially “The Lamb of God.” After our images of the Word made Flesh as a human being – a baby, a good shepherd, a crucified or risen man – the most important image is the “Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world." We heard John the Baptist pointing him out and the Lamb appears many times in the Book of Revelation. It has innumerable antecedents in the Old Testaments.

The bishops remembered the blood of the Passover Lamb which the Hebrews put on their doorposts so that the Avenging Angel would pass by their homes when he slew all the first born males of men and beasts. 

“...for you the blood will mark the houses where you are. Seeing the blood, I will pass over you; thereby, when I strike the land of Egypt, no destructive blow will come upon you. (Exodus 12:13)

The Prophet Jeremiah (11:19) spoke of his own suffering and we hear words about Jesus:

“Like a trusting lamb, I was led to slaughter, I had not realized that they were hatching plots against me.” 

Isaiah described the manner of Jesus’ death five hundred years before he was led to Calvary, 

“Though he was harshly treated, he submitted and opened not his mouth; Like a lamb led to the slaughter or a sheep before the shearers, he was silent and opened not his mouth. 

Our Mass is a sacrifice which Jesus offers for us as we eat the flesh of the Lamb of God, and drink his blood. During this sacred banquet we give to God what he has given to us: that is, our whole being which now belongs to, and is incorporated in, Him. The Lamb of God enters the Heavenly Sanctuary and brings us with him. 

The sacrifices which we inherited from our Jewish ancestors, stood in sharp contrast to the sacrifices of the pagan neighbors in the Levant. Periodically, they offered human sacrifice to their gods of stone, wood, and precious metals. That seemed far more pious, persuasive, exciting, and even cathartic than ordinary lambs, heifers, pigeons, turtle doves, or a sheaf of wheat. The sacrifice of a captured enemy, a slave, or one’s child: now THAT should please the gods! 

In the ancient world, a word was a real thing; it had weight and meaning. Once spoken it could not be unspoken. A word was good enough for a tyrant, king, or emperor; it should be good enough for a god. But you didn’t have to really mean what you said; your sincerity was not important. Pagan prayers, encantations, and sacrifices worked like magic, like abracadabra and hocus-pocus. You don’t have to mean it or believe it, when you say the word or offer the sacrifice, it’s done. And if you did it perfectly – if it looked perfect – your god has to do what you ask.

But the Bible says, God refuses hypocritical sacrifice. He doesn’t want ostentatious signs of our love. As he said through the prophet Isaiah:

What do I care for the multitude of your sacrifices?

I have had enough of whole-burnt rams and fat of fatlings;

In the blood of calves, lambs, and goats

I find no pleasure.

Even Saint Paul said, “If I should offer my body to be burnt… without love it means nothing.”

The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob wanted more than even the sacrifice of a child – more even than Abraham’s only son Isaac, “whom he loved.” 

He wanted sincere and genuine love – the kind of love God himself had shown continually when he created Adam and Eve, rescued Noah, befriended Abraham, spoke face to face with Moses, and established a covenant with the hapless, homeless descendants of Abraham. We should return a direct, uncomplicated, humble, human love reflecting his divine love like a mirror reflecting the sun, without ostentation or pomposity. 

God never depended upon our human love, but he acted as if he did. He gave his Word. He surrendered his eternal word in the person of Jesus. It was an irrevocable sign of his faithful, eternal love; and he meant it! 

And he wants the same from us. We must know and believe and feel and act as if we depend upon his love -- because we do! We cannot kid ourselves or anyone else about that. 

Our God can be pleased with a simple, sincere gesture like, “O God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” It must be real. Real love and devotion. He is not satisfied with hypocritical displays, no matter how loud, expensive, or ridiculous they might seem. 

And when we offer the Mass, we offer the Lamb of God who offers his own human sacrifice; he offers himself in total, consuming love for us– his people, his own flesh and blood — our God knows it’s the truth, and is pleased. 

We cannot save ourselves or our world. We should have figured that out by now. We cannot create governments that act with both mercy and justice; we cannot concoct medicines to heal our bodies and make us live forever. We will never have the political will to restore the natural balances of soil, water, air, and sunshine. Our sins have made a mess of our lives and our world. There are no man-made remedies, and there never will be. If we’re asking God to help us save the world, it’s not going to happen. It’s as stupid and ridiculous, and will fail just as certainly as King Herod’s attempt to sacrifice Mary’s baby. 

Our salvation must come from God through Jesus Christ or it will never come. And so, in today’s Gospel we hear the prophet John the Baptist announce with enormous pleasure and great excitement, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” 

We are reassured of that, especially by the Apocalypse of John. In that book we hear a countless number of angels with all the patriarchs from Abraham to Moses, and all the Christian martyrs and saints, singing: 

“Worthy is the Lamb that was slain

to receive power and riches, wisdom and strength,

honor and glory and blessing.”

(We hear) every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, everything in the universe, cry out:

“To the one who sits on the throne and to the Lamb

be blessing and honor, glory and might,

forever and ever.”

(We hear) the four living creatures answer, “Amen,” and see the elders fall down and worship.

Memorial of Saint Anthony, Abbot

Image of St Anthony
Fighter of Demons

 Lectionary: 310

“Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners?” 
Jesus heard this and said to them,
“Those who are well do not need a physician, but the sick do.
I did not come to call the righteous but sinners.”

Someone asked a group to share their spiritual goals for 2026. I hoped I'd be no worse by this time next year. 

During our teen years, I suppose, we were all seriously disappointed with the moral state of the Church. We saw and heard things that were not right. Perhaps we quit attending Church and praying daily because it didn't seem "to be working." And we thought we could do better than certain members and most leaders of our peccant Church.

But with time and experience came a measure of wisdom and we realized we were as sinful as anyone else, and then some. We have a record of many -- perhaps innumerable -- instances of willful, unnecessary sins. As I used to say to Veterans in the VA hospital, "If you turn forty years of age and haven't messed up Big Time yet, you ain't even trying!"

I tried. God knows I tried. 

And then I turned back to the Lord and found myself amid that scurvy crowd of tax collectors and sinners. 

And I heard our dear Lord say, "I did not come to call the righteous but sinners.” Is it any wonder that we love him?