How Can I Be More like Jesus?

Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

            How can I be more like Jesus?  It’s a pretty straightforward question, and one that hopefully we are asking ourselves at least each week, if not every day.  How can I be more like Jesus?  When we talk about becoming more like Christ, we are talking about acting more like Christ in the way we respond to others.  To paraphrase St. Paul from our second reading, we are talking about having the same attitude that Christ Jesus had.

            The sacred authors present two main virtues that we can work on, with the necessary help of God’s grace, that will make us more like Christ: humility and obedience.  Humility is a tough word.  Many of us tend to think of humility as denying gifts that we have, or at least playing them down.  But this is not the humility of Jesus, and it is not truly humility.  Humility is the recognition of the truth before God.  Of course, before God we have to admit our total poverty.  By that I mean that everything we have is a gift from God, and if it weren’t for God, we would have nothing, not even existence.  But we also stand before the Father as beloved sons and daughters in the Son of God.  We are the only creation on earth that God willed for its own sake as the Vatican II document Gaudium et spes states.  No plants, no animals, not even pets, exist in such a way. 

            But what we see in Jesus is that humility is the gift of the entire self to the Father and trusting in Him to return that back in full.  In Greek the word is kenosis, or self-emptying.  We see it in Jesus as the one who, “though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped.  Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human likeness…becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.”  Jesus does not deny that He is divine.  In fact, He asserts it all throughout Scripture, which is why Jesus was condemned for blasphemy.  But he does not cling to His divinity.  He gives all that He is to the Father, who does not abandon Him to the power of death, but “greatly [exalts] him and [bestows] on him the name above every name.” 

            In the Gospel passage today, Jesus extols the virtue of obedience.  Obedience is a virtue that many consider a vice today.  We want control.  We want to be independent.  We want to be self-governing.  We want to be our own masters and have no one over us.  Perhaps we even come close (though we would never admit it) to the words that Milton puts on Satan’s lips: “Better to reign in Hell, than to serve in Heaven,” so keen are we to be in charge.  But Christ sets before us obedience as virtue.  He doesn’t eliminate our ability to freely choose, but puts forward that the right thing to do is to use that freedom to obey our Father, who calls us to work in His vineyard.  Even if we don’t respond positively at first, like the first son, who at first is disobedient, we can still use our free will to choose obedience.  And Jesus tells us that obedience is one of the ways that we prepare ourselves for heaven, where this is no democracy, no voting on which values to promote or which goods to pursue, but where we are all subjects of God who is King of Kings and Lord of Lords.  In fact, if we are being humble, then part of pouring ourselves out to the Father is even pouring out our free will so that it can be used by the Father for good.  Obedience is almost a corollary of humility.

            How do we see humility and obedience in action?  We see kenosis in a unique way in marriage, though everyone is called to self-emptying.  We see kenosis in the love that a man pours out on his wife, that the wife freely receives, and that the wife pours out on her husband, and that he fully receives.  We see kenosis in the many sacrifices that a married couple makes for each other: from something as simple as putting the toilet seat down, to the great sacrifice of giving up one’s physical life in order to protect the spouse, and many ways in-between those two extremes.  We see kenosis in the many ways that a man and woman have to give up their own preferences, their own desires, for the good of the couple, who are no longer two, but one flesh.  We see it in the many sacrifices parents make for their children, the fruit of that one-flesh union.    And even outside of marriage in the many ways that people sacrifice to help family members, friends, neighbors, and sometimes even strangers.  And while we might be afraid to pour ourselves out for another, we see that Jesus, who poured our even His very life for His spouse, the Church, lost nothing of who He is, but gained everything because of the great trust He had in His Father.

            Obedience in a Catholic context is often associated with priests and religious because priests make a promise of obedience to the bishop, and religious make vows of obedience to their superiors.  But often, obedience has the connotation of a tyrant lording it over another.  In my experience of obedience, that is farthest from the truth.  Obedience is communicating between the superior and the inferior.  I tell the bishop what I believe to be important: what gifts God has given me, where I would like to serve, what responsibilities I would enjoy having.  He listens to those and takes them to heart.  And then he decides, for example, where I am assigned, based upon his understanding of the needs of the parish and the diocese.  And in trust and filial love, I respond with the free and full assent of my will.  That obedience gave me that great blessing of being sent here to serve.  That relationship between a priest and his bishop is also meant to inform the relationship between each layperson and God, and the legitimate authorities that God has established in His Church.  Communication is part of obedience; it is part of kenosis, the self-emptying, from which obedience comes.  But once the time to give our own thoughts has passed, it means freely choosing the will of God over our own wills, using our freedom to obey.  And in that obedience, we find true happiness, because God has created us for obedience.

            It is difficult to be like Christ.  It is difficult, at times, to be humble, to pour ourselves out totally to the Father, abandoning ourselves entirely to His will.  It is difficult, at times, to be obedient, to use our God-given freedom to freely subject ourselves to the will of God.  Our temptation, the result of original sin, is always to cling for dear life to our own will and our own good.  But what we see in Christ is that true happiness and glorification are the fruits of true humility and obedience.  And the more we become like Christ, humble and obedient, the more God sees in us the image of His Beloved Son.  Pour yourself out to God; you will not be lacking anything but will instead gain everything.  Freely choose to serve God; your freedom will not be limited, but will instead flower into the freedom to choose what is good and right.

The Real Lesson of 9/11: Forgiveness

Twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

            There are times in each of our lives, I believe, when God confirms in a very real way that He is in charge.  These are the moments when, without our planning, everything falls into place and a great blessing is bestowed or a great lesson is learned.  In these moments we experience wonder and awe in the presence of God who is the Lord of all History, to Whom all time belongs.

            Ten years ago, our country was attacked in a horrible way.  Innocent civilians lost their lives because of terrorists who chose hatred and death.  In those moments, it was very easy to wonder where God was.  As a senior in high school, and likely for many of you, for me it was a time of real fear at the evil that was unleashed by sinful men.

            And yet, here we are today, with readings that were chosen in the 1970s for the twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time, chosen by men, guided by the Hand of God, about forgiveness.  There was no way that those men could have known what was going to happen on September 11, 2001.  There was no way for them to know that ten years after that event, September 11 would fall on a Sunday, the twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time.  And yet, here we are, with God confirming in a very real way in our midst the lesson of forgiveness that He wants us to embrace on the anniversary of a day that we as a country were sinned against.  We should have wonder and awe in the presence of God that all of these variables lined up just so.  As Pope Bl. John Paul II said, in Divine Providence, there are no such things as coincidence.

            Our lesson on forgiveness from the Divine Teacher begins with the first reading: “Wrath and anger are hateful things, yet the sinner hugs them tight.  The vengeful will suffer the LORD’s vengeance, for he remembers their sins in detail.  Forgive your neighbor’s injustice; then when you pray, your own sins will be forgiven.  Could anyone nourish anger against another and expect healing from the LORD?  Could anyone refuse mercy to another like himself, can he seek pardon for his own sins?”  The words from the Book of Sirach are very challenging, but they are truth.  As the Letter to the Hebrews says, “The word of God is living and effective, sharper than any two-edged sword…able to discern reflections and thoughts of the heart.”  Where are we in forgiving those who attacked us ten years ago?  Where are we in forgiving those who have hurt us since then, not only terrorists, but also neighbors, family, friends, co-workers?  “But Father, you don’t understand what they did!  I just cannot forgive them!  The pain they caused is too great!!”  Forgiveness is certainly difficult, especially when the offense comes from someone who is close to us.  And yet, we hear God in His inspired word saying that if we are holding on to wrath and anger, than we can count ourselves among the sinful.  If we do not forgive others, we will not be forgiven by God.  As Jesus says, “the measure which we measure out to others will in turned be measured out to us.”  The level at which we forgive is the level at which we can hope to be forgiven.  If we cannot forgive, then neither can we hope to be forgiven.

            Now, to be clear, forgiveness does not mean being a doormat.  Forgiveness does not mean ignoring past actions.  It does not mean that we do not guard our nation carefully.  It does not mean that we forgo screenings at airports.  It does not mean that we blithely trust someone who has betrayed our trust, especially in a major way.  But it does mean that we pray that God will extend His mercy towards them, and heal them of the evil that has grown in their heart, and that they will convert and be blessed by God with His love. 

            It is easy to hold on to hatred.  It is easy to carry a grudge.  It takes almost no effort at all.  The hatred and the wrath seem to bubble up naturally.  It takes real power, though, to forgive.  It takes real strength to be the bigger man, the bigger woman, to not hold on to past offenses.  When we see a person who has been wronged hating another, it almost seems commonplace.  When we see a person who has been wronged forgiving another, we are moved by that person’s soul.  Think of a mother who has lost her child to murder.  It is not newsworthy when she spews out more hatred toward the murderer.  It is newsworthy when that mother, in the midst of her real pain and sorrow, has the strength of soul to say to that murderer, “I forgive you.”  Does the murderer still go to jail?  Certainly.  But the mother is no longer imprisoned by her hatred, but has been set free by forgiveness.

            How many times do we forgive terrorists?  How many times do we forgive a spouse who has betrayed the spousal trust?  How many times do we forgive a friend who hurt us?  How many times do we forgive the stranger who changed the lives of so many by acts of violence and hatred?  Jesus tells us that we forgive them always, so that when we need forgiveness, maybe in small ways, maybe in big ways, our hearts are prepared to receive the forgiveness of God.  If we do not forgive, then our hearts are not open to receive the forgiveness that God wants to bestow upon us.

            “But what about justice, Father?  What about paying the price for your crimes?”  If you insist on justice, then let me lead you to the cross.  Let me lead you to Calvary, because that is where justice leads.  That is where justice led Jesus, who suffered for us, innocent as He was, so that we could have eternal life.  That is where He who shared our human nature died, fulfilling the justice that original sin required, so that we who share that human nature with Jesus could also rise with Him to glory.  We should be careful about insisting on justice, or asking that the “fires of [God’s] justice burn,” because we might just receive that justice, and the wages of sin is death, as St. Paul says.  Justice for sins brings death.  Forgiveness and love bring life.

Fr. Mychal Judge being carried out
by NY Emergency Personnel after the
South Tower collapsed

            What we saw on September 11, ten years ago, was that hatred only brings destruction and death.  Hatred led those terrorists to end the lives of so many innocent people in the World Trade Center buildings, at the Pentagon, and on United Flight 93.  Love, which is at the root of forgiveness, led Fr. Mychal Judge to care for the souls of those who were in the Twin Towers and to pray for them even as the South Tower collapsed.  Love led the many heroes of the police and fire department personnel to risk their lives to try to save others who were in and around the Twin Towers.  Love won that day.  Love builds us up to be more human, to be more in the image and likeness of God. 

We mourn those who lost their lives that fateful day.  We protect ourselves now from future attacks.  In the midst of it all, we pray for forgiveness.  “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.  And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”  Amen.

Awkward Moments

Twenty-third Sunday of Ordinary Time

            There are many awkward moments in life: moments when you realize your shirt is inside out…and backwards; moments when you start laughing at something which everyone else considers quite serious; moments when you’re at your friend’s house and your friend gets yelled at by his mom and/or dad; moments when someone says something embarrassing about you at work.  These are not fun moments to be in.  Perhaps another awkward moment is having to correct someone, especially someone to whom you’re close.

            And yet, both our first reading and Gospel give us a handbook of what to do when we see our brother or sister doing wrong, especially to us.  In the first reading, God is telling the prophet Ezekiel what the expectations are for being a prophet.  Ezekiel is to tell the wicked when they’re doing wrong.  Otherwise, not only the wicked person will die for his sins, but also Ezekiel will be responsible for his death because he did not warn the wicked person.  Some of us might be thinking right now, ‘Phew!  It’s tough being a prophet!  I’m glad I don’t have that responsibility!!’  But, the reality is that we are all called to be prophets, that is, those who speak for God in the world.  ‘I never signed up for this!’ you might be saying.  But, just as you and your parents and godparents heard at your baptism, you were anointed with sacred Chrism and joined, in your own way, into the prophetic office of Jesus Christ.  We are all called to speak for God.  Of course, we better make sure that we know that it’s God’s message that we are spreading, not our own.  But we are all prophets because of our baptism.

            This is the point where well-meaning pious people say, “But Jesus said not to judge!”  And that’s true.  Jesus said, “‘Judge not, lest you be judged.’”  But what the Church has understood that to mean is that we cannot judge motives for actions.  But we can judge actions themselves.  Otherwise why would Jesus have given St. Peter and the apostles the power to bind and loose on earth?  We can tell people that they’re doing wrong, and, in fact, as we hear from the prophet Ezekiel, we have a duty to do so.  But we can’t say that they’re horrible, rotten people, or that they are fully culpable for what they do.  Only God judges motives and guilt of conscience, not us.

            Of course, as St. Paul reminds us, love is the fulfillment of the law.  And so, even when we’re correcting others, we must do so out of charity.  Tattling, where we just get someone in trouble because we don’t like them, or without any real concern for their conversion, is not responding to the duty that we have as prophets of God.  It’s simply being petty. 

            Luckily, Jesus gives us some parameters to make sure that our correction of each other is connected with charity.  He tells us to first talk to the person who has sinned against us if we have a problem with them.  Don’t tell your friends, your family, strangers, or anyone else until you have talked to that person who wronged you, and let them know that they have wronged you and that you are concerned that their action doesn’t reflect Jesus’ teachings.  Of course, and this bears repeating, this has to be done in charity, in love.  A lot of times when we are wronged, we get angry (the soul’s response to justice), but we tend to go overboard in responding to that injustice.  So it’s often better to cool down a bit first, whenever possible.  But go to that person first. 

            Then, if he or she will not listen to you, involve some others, maybe others who were present to see the fault take place, or who know well the person who sinned against you.  And let them hear your complaint to the person.  Sometimes it takes hearing something from a few people to realize that it is truly a problem.  And, those who are not directly connected can sometimes have a better perspective because they’re not involved in the same way.

            Then, and only then, do the authorities and the Church, get involved.  Only when the person who sinned is so obstinate that he or she will not listen to reason does the offense become pretty public.  Only then do you call in those who have authority over those who, in the faith, are equals.  And if they don’t listen to the Church, then all that is left is to pray for their conversion (which should be happening all along as a sign that the correction is based in love, not vengeance).

            Of course, to correct someone, we have to believe that there are things that are wrong, and not just the major things: murder, adultery, stealing, and perjury.  We live in a very relativistic culture which basically holds, “if you’re ok, I’m ok” as a way of operating.  We don’t like to challenge people to live holy lives because it’s awkward.  And it’s especially awkward because we are likely afraid that if we tell someone else that they are not living a holy life, then they might respond in the same way with us.  And who likes to be told to change?  No one.  And yet, Jesus didn’t come saying, “You’re all basically good people, so just keep up the good work, and maybe tweak it a little.”  Instead, he said, “‘Repent!  For the Kingdom of heaven is near!’”  He challenged people to a life of radical trust in God, radical following of the law of love, even if it means laying down your own life, and thus radical holiness. 

            Whether we like it or not, if we are baptized God has called us to be prophets, to speak for him to His people, each according to our level of responsibility.  Do not be afraid to speak the truth in love, even when it’s awkward, even when it means correcting someone.  Do not be afraid to challenge others, and be challenged ourselves, to live lives of radical holiness.  This is our vocation as prophets.  This is what it means to be a disciple of Christ.