We Have (the Holy) Spirit, Yes We Do!!

Sixth Sunday of Easter

            “Be sealed with the Gift of the Holy Spirit.”  These are the words that Fr. Mark said to the 28 people who were confirmed at the Easter Vigil just a few weeks ago.  They are the words that our 8^th and 9^th grade students will hear next school year when Bishop Boyea confirms them.  These are the words that call down the Holy Spirit upon the baptized, just as Sts. Peter and John gave the Holy Spirit to those who had accepted the Word of God in Samaria, after they had been baptized.

            Does this gift of the Holy Spirit change those who receive it?  Does the Holy Spirit matter?  Of course!  By the anointing with the Sacred Chrism and the laying on of hands, those who have been confirmed are united to the Blessed Trinity in a new way!  They are little christs, little anointed ones, just as Christ, the anointed one, was filled with the Spirit.

            Sadly, we can block the many graces that the Spirit wants to give to us, the seven-fold gift of: wisdom, understanding, reverence, knowledge, counsel, right judgment, and wonder and awe in the presence of God.  We can say no to these gifts.  We can say no to the courage, the excitement, the joy that are the gifts that should be poured upon us when we are baptized and confirmed. 

            How often do I see those gifts going unused, like birds that long to fly but are locked in a cage that gives them no room.  How often do I see people come to Sunday Mass as if they are going to a funeral!  How often do I see people coming forward to receive the Eucharist, the Body and Blood of our Lord, Jesus the Christ, the Anointed One, without joy on their faces!  It’s not that we always have to feel happy or have a smile on our face.  That will only happen if we are welcomed into heaven.  But, we can always be joyful that we are able to participate in the anticipation of the Wedding Feast of the Lamb of God, the Antechamber of Heaven.  That’s what we get the opportunity to celebrate each week.  And if we are truly celebrating, then we are not dour, but delighted.  Imagine how much fun the Open Houses that we attend would be if everyone acted their like they do at Mass!  Not much at all! 

            The Holy Spirit gives us life, gives us breath.  It is like the vision of the dry bones from the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel.  Even though the bones are put back together, and the sinews and muscles are all on the bones, they bodies need the Spirit of God breathed into them in order to live.  We need that same Spirit or else we are nothing but a collection of bones, muscle, and organs walking around like zombies.  We need that Spirit!

            We need the Spirit to be able to give an explanation “to anyone who asks…for a reason for [our] hope,” as St. Peter says in our second reading.  The same Spirit that allowed the Apostles, Blessed Mother, and disciples gathered in the upper room at the first Pentecost, to proclaim the Gospel, the Good News, to the Jews gathered in Jerusalem; the same Spirit that sent Philip down to Samaria to preach and baptize those who were willing to accept the Word of God; that same Spirit dwells within us and wants to renew the face of the earth by our testimony and witness to the Gospel of Christ.  It is like the fizz in a shaken pop bottle that is just waiting for the tiniest opening to explode out of us. 

But we have become good at keeping the lid on.  We have become good at quelling the Spirit so that we don’t have to give an explanation for our faith.  We can be like adolescents in the faith.  We don’t know much and we’re afraid of sharing what we have for fear that we are different, that we upset the apple cart.  We may not have joy, but at least we’re comfortable where we’re at, and we don’t want to challenge anyone else, let alone ourselves.  Just like adolescents we don’t want to be different.  We want to the same as everyone else.  But that’s not what the Spirit calls us to.  As St. Paul says in his letter to the Romans, “Do not conform yourselves to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and pleasing and perfect.”  Do not be the same as the world, because if we are, then we do not have the Spirit of God, since, as Jesus says in today’s Gospel, the Advocate, the one who stands up to defend us and gives us words to speak as we proclaim the Good News, that Spirit the world cannot accept, “because it neither sees or knows him.” 

“For God did not give us a spirit of cowardice but rather of power and love.”  If we have the Spirit, we have power.  Not power which dominates, but power that serves by proclaiming the freeing love and redemption that is ours in Christ Jesus.  To show that we have the Holy Spirit do we all have to quit our jobs and go off to Pacific Islands, Saudi Arabia, or unknown jungles in South America to preach conversion?  No, we have plenty of opportunities right here in East Lansing, Okemos, and the entire greater-Lansing area.  There are people who do not know Jesus and who need to.  There are people who know Jesus and have been baptized, but who have not yet received the full inheritance of the Spirit that is their right as children of God in confirmation.  The more we are willing to bring Christ to our work place and even in our own homes (where, sadly, I fear He is sometimes absent!!), the more will we transform this world to be more like the Kingdom of God that Christ instituted by His own presence here on earth. 

The more we pray on a daily basis for the gift to recognize the times when the Spirit is calling us to bring Jesus into a particular conversation or situation; the more we are proud to be Catholics and bring that into the public sector, rather than being ashamed of having different rules and different views that so many others; the more we open ourselves up to the Spirit rather than blocking Him by our fear and our sins, the more we will have that enduring joy and peace that Christ promises to us. 

And so, as we prepare for Pentecost over the next two weeks, may our prayer be an invitation to the Holy Spirit to make His dwelling in us, fill us with His power, and help us to be alive with Him rather than just dry bones rattling along in life. 

Come, Holy Spirit,

Fill the hearts of your faithful

and enkindle in them the fire of your love.

Send forth your Spirit

and they shall be created

and you shall renew the face of the earth.  

Amen.

"VENI SANCTE SPIRITUS REPLE TUORUM CORDA FIDELIUM
COME HOLY SPIRIT FILL THE HEARTS OF YOUR FAITHFUL"
From Monte Cassino Benedictine Abbey, Italy

Cornerstone

Fifth Sunday of Easter

            This past week, and especially Friday night and Saturday evening I was asked a question by a number of parishioners: “Father, is the world going to end?”  And, while we know by faith that one day, God will create a new heaven and a new earth, we also know that this will be the consummation of God’s love for humanity, welcoming into heaven those who have lived as his faithful disciples.  But, about when it will happen, even Jesus, while He was on earth, said we do not know the day nor the hour.  Still, he also tells us in today’s Gospel, “‘Do not let your hearts be troubled.’”  And really, if we are living as disciples of Jesus, then we have nothing to fear.  The only reason to fear the end times is if we are not being good disciples, and if Jesus is not the center, or you might say the cornerstone, of our lives. 

            “‘Behold, I am laying a stone in Zion, a cornerstone, chosen and precious.’”  “‘The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.’”  “‘Like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house.’”  These quotes all come from our second reading today, and focus on minds on construction.  St. Peter tells us that we are in the midst of a great construction effort: the building up of the house of God, with Jesus Christ Himself as the cornerstone.  We are being put together into one large building: the household, the temple of God.

            As we build up our own house, our very selves, we are also contributing to the larger complex, almost as if the overall goal is a condominium complex, made up of many smaller houses.

            What matters most for us and for the complex as a whole is the foundation.  Without a good, strong foundation, the rest of the house, and indeed, the complex, is in danger of collapsing or nothing protecting us from the tornados of life.  What is the base of who we are?  It’s easy to say Christ, because we know that’s supposed to be the right answer.  Besides, when asked a religious question, we have this tendency to think that Jesus is always the right answer.  But, if we’re honest, we may have to pause to take some time and think about it.  If you’re a type A personality like me, too often the temptation is for my plans to be the foundation of my life.  Sure, we can say that Jesus is the cornerstone of my life, but in the day-to-day experiences of life, to whom do I turn more for giving me a solid base?  My plans or God’s plans?  Likely, all of us struggle with this a little.  Or perhaps our struggle is with money being the foundation, or prestige, or power.  Whatever our temptation, there are other stones, better looking stones, that want to be established as the foundation to our house.  But, to have a house which can stand the test, not only of time but also of eternity, Jesus, the stone rejected by the builders, must become our cornerstone.

            Another important fact is to realize that our house is two stories: the basement or earthly floor and the heavenly or first floor.  The foundation that we lay here on earth greatly impacts how the first floor turns out.  Jesus tells us that in His Father’s house there are many dwelling places.  He goes to prepare a place for us.  But, we cooperate in building that level, too.  Jesus has the plan for us of how to construct it, but we have to follow those plans.  Otherwise, we build the basement floor on earth, and, if we get that wrong, we don’t build up towards the heavens, but rather down towards eternal perdition. 

            By our actions while we are building this level of the house, we establish a good foundation upon which a nice, stable first floor can be built, or we weaken the foundation and end up building down.  By every good deed we do in response to God’s grace, we cooperate with the Master Builder to prepare our place in heaven.  But, by every sin that we commit contrary to God’s grace and will, we undermine the very end for which we are striving. 

            Sometimes the construction of our own spiritual house happens quickly.  Reading this Gospel in preparation for the homily, my mind went to the funeral of our own parishioner, Alex Powell, a young man whom we commended to the Lord on May 12^th.  What a short time the Lord gave him for construction.  And yet, the more stories I heard about his own life and response in faith, especially during extreme pain and suffering, the more I came to know about a strong foundation that had been laid in preparation for the first floor.  Sometimes the construction takes longer, not for any lack of virtue, but simply according to the mind of God.  My mind also went to Dave Gagnier, who greatly assisted this Student Center, especially with the Liturgy, during his life.  In either case, what is important is not so much the time it takes, but how strong that foundation is in Christ.

            If Christ, the stone rejected by the builders, the chosen and precious stone, is our foundation for our lives, then we rest secure in the strength of the base of our spiritual homes.  If not, then as long as we have breath we have a chance to strengthen that foundation so that, at the end of our lives our hearts will not be troubled because we will be prepared to allow God to build up for us that first floor heavenly dwelling place.  If Christ is the foundation of our lives then we will look forward to hearing, “‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father.  Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.’”

All of Me

Fourth Sunday of Easter

            As Americans, we tend to be very practical people.  After a salesman has told us all the benefits of their new product, all the great things it will do for us, the wonderful way that it will compliment our lifestyle, whatever the product may be, it always comes down to one simple question: how much?

            In today’s first reading, we hear St. Peter speak on behalf of the other Apostles, and proclaim, “‘Let the whole house of Israel know for certain that God has made both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified.’”  Then the reading skips ahead of the main body of his argument, 22 verses, in fact, and gets to the response of the Jews who were hearing him: “‘What are we to do, my brothers?’”  Apparently, the Jews who were hearing St. Peter were practical, too.  They wanted to know what they had to do to be saved.

            Some 2,000 years later, we’re still asking the same question: what do I really have to do?  What’s it cost me?  The answer is quite simple: nothing…and everything.

            Salvation costs us nothing because it is the free gift of God, the gift given to us by Jesus, Lord and Christ, the Greek way of expressing the Hebrew understanding of God and Messiah, at Easter.  This Jesus whom we crucified, to paraphrase St. Peter from the first reading, has, in turn, given us salvation.  And to continue to St. Peter’s words from the second reading, by Jesus’ wounds we are healed.  Even though we have wondered away like sheep, Jesus Christ has brought us back to Himself because He is our shepherd and the guardian of our souls.  Even though we freely chose sin, individual acts and lifestyles that are contrary to Divine Will, natural law, and reason, to use St. Thomas’ definition of sin, acts and lifestyles which draw us away from the eternal destiny of our souls to be in heaven with God, Jesus rescued us from sin and death so that, following His example, we could be happy with Jesus forever in heaven, the whole reason for our being.  And rather than having us pay the cost, Jesus paid the price for our sins with His blood.  We are free to say yes to the great gift of salvation offered to us by Christ.

Sheep grazing in Israel

            And yet, salvation costs us everything.  Because, as Jesus tells us today in the Gospel, He is the gate for the sheep, and anyone who tries to enter by any other means is a thief and a robber, who come only to steal, slaughter, and destroy.  But Jesus, the Good Shepherd, came so that we might have life, and have it more abundantly.  But to come through Jesus the Sheepgate means that we try to get in through no other means.  That we can only go through Him.  And Jesus doesn’t just want one hour from us every week.  He doesn’t just want the times that we’re at home before a meal praying.  He wants us all.  He wants our love, our attention, our actions.  He wants us when we’re children, when we’re teens, when we’re adults, and when we’re seniors.  He wants our friendships, our relationships, the totality of who we are as persons.  He wants our work and He wants our vacations.  He wants our health and our sickness.  All of it, Jesus tells us, must go through Him.  And if it cannot go through Him, then it is only stealing from us, slaughtering us, destroying us.

            For our God is a loving God, yes, but as we hear so many times from the Old Testament, our God is also a jealous God.  He does not want us flirting with sin, in any of its forms.  He wants all of our love and affection to be directed to Him.  God is jealous for us because He knows that the only way that we can truly be happy is by going through Him and uniting everything to him. 

            In our times there are so many temptations to leave God outside and to try to find happiness and joy through other gates.  We see and hear about many prominent Catholics who have not given everything to Jesus, but who have tried to separate aspects of their life and get them in by another route.  Too many prominent Catholics or Catholics we know personally will say or tell us by their actions that when it comes to marriage and the relationships therein, the Church, the Body of Christ, has no authority.  “It’s my body, and I’ll do as I please.”  Too many Catholics consider their first allegiance the Church when they enter the pew, but when they enter the polling place or the Legislative chambers that allegiance disappears.  Now, let me be clear, the Church endorses no candidate and no party.  But, we do promote the Gospel and ask Catholics to vote for those, according to a properly-formed conscience, who can best bring about the teachings of the Gospel, the teachings which bring us life, true liberty, and true happiness, especially for those who are marginalized in our society: infants in the womb, the poor, the elderly, and so many others, as well as Catholic Legislators to promote those Gospel values in their work of forming laws for the State and the country.

            We are all of us practical people.  We want to know the cost of salvation.  It is nothing and everything.  It is a free gift, offered to us in Christ that gives us true joy and true freedom.  It is a gift which, to accept it, means that we are constantly working at making sure that all of who we are passes through Christ, the Sheepgate.  If it cannot pass through Him, it will not bring joy or freedom, but sorrow and slavery.  Christ wants all of us.  Bishop Mengeling is well-known for using older songs in his homilies and talks, and, while I won’t sing the song, I think that our desire, our prayer could be expressed in the opening words of the oldie, but goodie, “All of Me.”  Because we should be saying to Christ, “All of me, why not take all of me?  Can’t you see I’m no good without you.”  Or, to use an even older version, we can use the words of St. Ignatius of Loyola’s Suscipe prayer:

                                                

                                                Receive, O Lord, all my liberty.

                                                Take my memory, my understanding, and my entire will.

                                                Whatsoever I have or posses Thou hast bestowed upon me;

                                                I give it all back to Thee

                                                and surrender it wholly to be governed by Thy Will.

                                                Give me love for Thee alone along with Thy grace,

                                                and I am rich enough and ask for nothing more.

Mass is Boring!!

Third Sunday of Easter

            Sometimes, talking with the students, either at our parish school, St. Thomas Aquinas, or Lansing Catholic high school, I hear a phrase that I’m sure kids have been saying for a while.  I know I at least thought it, if not said it out loud: “Father, Mass is boring!”

            Certainly, there can be parts of the Mass that are not as involved.  Whereas good preaching can really lift up a heart to a deeper practice of the faith and a deeper relationship with God, bad preaching can often stagnate the faith and close people off to the graces that God wants to give them in the Mass.  I think part of the reason that people stop going to Mass is that there is not enough dynamic preaching: preaching the Gospel with real intensity, with real passion, in a way that people can understand.

            But, lest all the burden rest on the priests and deacons, I think it is also hard for people to really enter into Mass because entertainment is such a huge part of our lives, and we expect the same from Mass.  We used to having the newest, coolest things coming at us at every minute of every day.  There’s always a new YouTube video that we can’t help but watch, always a new song we need to download, and new level of Angry Birds to play.  And as we enter into the Church to prepare for Mass, we expect the same new, quick, flashy stimuli, just like the outside world gives us.   So it can be hard for us because the Mass is, more or less, the same every week.  Sure, the readings change and the homily changes (we hope!), but the big chunk of the Mass, the Eucharistic prayer, is always the same.

            In some ways, we can be like the two disciples on the road to Emmaus.  Notice that they are actually talking about Jesus as they walk from Jerusalem to Emmaus.  They’re not just chatting about the weather, or the newest toga style, or the Roman government.  They’re talking about what has happened to Jesus in the past few days.  And yet, even though they were talking about Him, they fail to recognize Him as He walks with them on the road.

            It is only after Jesus opens the Word of God to them and breaks bread that they recognize that they had been talking to Jesus all along.  It is only after the Word and Eucharist that they are able to recognize how Jesus was made present to them.  And it is at that moment, when they realize who is at table with them, that Jesus’ glorified body disappears.

            We may not be hanging our heads in sorrow every time we come to Mass, but if we come waiting for the newest thing, then we are like the two disciples on the road.  We are not prepared for Jesus to manifest Himself to us.  The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass is specifically a time for rest from the busyness of the outside world.  It is a time to relax with Jesus and see how He manifests Himself to us.  If we enter in wanting the music to be our favorite every time, or wanting some funny joke in the homily every time, in general, wanting to be entertained, then we are going to miss Jesus as He makes Himself known to us.

            Because in each and every Mass, Christ opens the Word for us as the Scriptures are read aloud.  We come to understand how the Son of Man had to suffer, die, and then rise from the dead by reading from the Pentateuch, the first five books of the Bible, the Prophets, the Wisdom literature like the Psalms, the letters of Sts. Paul, Peter, James, and John, and the true story of Jesus’ life in the Gospel accounts.  That is Jesus making Himself present to us, fully present, in His Word. 

            But Jesus doesn’t stop there.  He also makes Himself sacramentally, yet truly, present in the Most Holy Sacrament of the Eucharist.  We see, under the accidents, the appearance, of bread and wine, our God, risen from the dead.  He comes to us physically to be with us and nourish us so that we might have strength for the pilgrimage of life.  But if we only want to get in and out of Mass as quickly as possible, or if we want some new hit to wow us, then we miss the ordinary ways that Jesus presents Himself to us.

            It truly takes effort to notice Jesus.  It takes effort to celebrate Mass; not just for me, but for all of us.  As we enter in, it should not just be the standing, sitting, standing, sitting, standing, kneeling, standing, sitting, and standing that tire our bodies out, but if we are truly trying to see Jesus and know of His presence with us, our full attention has to be paid to the words that are proclaimed from the Scriptures, trying to get a peak at Jesus, as did Zacchaeus when he climbed that tree; our ears should be open to hear how Christ is made present to us in the breaking of the bread, as Christ gives Himself to us to consume; our hearts should be lifted up with joy to know that we are entering into the sacred re-presentation of the suffering and death of Jesus on the cross on Calvary, as well as the resurrection and ascension of Jesus, who conquered sin and death and sits at the right hand of God the Father. 

            Do priests need to preach to the best of their ability, making sure that the message of the Gospel is made accessible to new generations with new joys and sorrows, new quests for knowledge and truth?  Certainly.  But if we come to Mass expecting to passively receive, then Mass will be boring for us, because we are not putting in the effort required to see Jesus as He makes Himself present to us in this community, in His priest, in His Word, and in the Sacrament of His Body and Blood.  If we are putting forth effort to see and hear Jesus, then Mass will be tiring, not for lack of activity, but for all the activity we are putting in. 

            I’ll close today with the words of St. Augustine of Hippo, one of the great doctors of the Church, who realized that he could not see Jesus at first in his youth, because he didn’t make the effort to find the Lord, even though Jesus was right there in front of him:

“Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved you!  You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you.  In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things which you created.  You were with me, but I was not with you.  Created things kept me from you; yet if they had not been in you they would have not been at all.  You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness.  You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness.  You breathed your fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you.  I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more.  You touched me, and I burned for your peace.”