How's Your Sight?

Fourth Sunday of Lent—Second Scrutiny

            I remember the night pretty clearly: I was driving back to Sacred Heart Major Seminary from St. John the Evangelist parish in Fenton, where I was assigned as a transitional deacon.  It was dark out, and a steady rain began as I merged onto MI-10, the Lodge.  I suddenly noticed that, even just driving 57 miles per hour (with everyone flying by me, I might add) I couldn’t see the lines that separated each lane.  I didn’t want to slow down and get run over, but I certainly wanted to stay in my own lane so I didn’t cause or get in an accident. 

            At that time of my life, I was the only one of my parents and my two sisters who didn’t have corrective lenses.  But, when I finally made it safely home, I knew that I needed to at least get my eyes checked.  When I went to the optometrist, and she started to put those different lenses over my eyes for the reading chart, I suddenly realized how fuzzy the world had been, and how I hadn’t really been able to see.

            Our first reading and Gospel today give us an insight as to how God sees.  When Samuel goes to anoint a new king, after Saul had disobeyed the Lord, Samuel is directed to Jesse’s sons.  Samuel sees Eliab, the one he is sure is supposed to be king.  But the Spirit of God tells him that Eliab is not God’s choice.  And then Samuel goes through seven sons, but God does not choose any of them.  Finally, the youngest, David, is called in from the fields and is anointed as the new king of Israel (though he doesn’t formally become king for quite a while).  When Samuel wants to know why it was not Eliab, and likely why it was not the other sons, God tells Samuel, “‘Not as man sees does God see, because man sees the appearance, but the LORD looks into the heart.’”

            In our Gospel today, there’s a lot of seeing going on, but not all of it is true sight.  We begin with the disciples who see a man blind from birth.  When they look at him, they see a sinner, or at least the son of sinners.  But then Jesus looks at the man, and sees, not sinfulness, but a man whose cure of blindness at the hands of Jesus will make manifest the work of God.  Then the Pharisees see the man born blind, and they ask him about Jesus, whom they had also seen before.  The Pharisees see the man, now cured, and still see a sinner.  They look at Jesus as a horrible sinner who does work on the Sabbath.  And the man himself, though his sight is given to him at once, gradually sees who Jesus is, as he first calls Jesus a man, and then a prophet, and then the Son of Man and Lord.

            How easy it is to look upon failure or a lack of something as a curse.  As Catholics we’re particularly proficient at seeing something bad happen and figure that God is somehow punishing us.  Whether its an illness like cancer, or the loss of a job, or a troubled marriage, or whatever curse we feel we’re under, it’s easier to assume that God is, for one reason or another, punishing us for something we did, even if it was a long time ago. 

            And while there are sometimes bad consequences that follow from our bad choices, Jesus reminds us that what seems like a curse can truly be a way for the glory of God to shine forth.  For years the man born blind and maybe his parents assumed they had done something wrong; many people saw it that way, including the Pharisees.  But Jesus says that the man’s blindness was there so that he could be healed by Jesus and give glory to God.  Sometimes, our maladies or negative circumstances are ways that we can draw closer to God and reorder our lives properly.  Ironically, sometimes the bad stuff that happens can actually be a great blessing.

            These elect that we have with us today: those who will be baptized, confirmed, and make their first Holy Communion, have been on a path from spiritual blindness to sight, a pilgrimage we’re all on in different ways, but a path for them which is leading to be able to see with the eyes of God.  They began by inquiring about the faith, learning more about this man Jesus and His Body the Church, and why so many have joy who know Him.  Then they were accepted as catechumens, those who are seeking to be joined to Jesus in a certain way, and to know and love Him better as they open the Word and see it active in their lives as Jesus who is The Prophet speaks for God as His Word.  Then Bishop Boyea, in the name of Christ, chose them for the Easter Sacraments.  As they  continue today through the scrutinies where they are prayed for in a special way in these last weeks before Easter, they come to the sacraments so that they can profess Jesus as Lord, as God.  They are like the man born blind who, after he was healed, spoke about Jesus as a man; who when questioned by the Pharisees called Jesus a prophet; and when asked by Jesus, professed Him as Lord, which is the title used for God. 

            These Elect challenge us to see with the eyes of God, as they are growing to do.  They challenge us to approach the world with the sight of God, rather than putting people in the boxes that make us most comfortable and either accepting or rejecting them based on our criteria.  What a tragedy and a true scandal it would be for those who have been baptized, who have been enlightened by Christ, to not see with the eyes of faith that we received in baptism.  Look at other people, work, relaxation, and world situations with the eyes of God, so that we can look at what the world considers darkness, and bring the light of Christ.

"Baby, Don't Hurt Me..."

Within certain age groups, if a person introduces the phrase, “What is love?” and then pauses, the response of those listening will be, whether out loud or in silence, “Baby don’t hurt me,” following the lyrics of the song by Haddaway.  They may even do a headshake gesture.  But this song betrays a real question in modern culture today: what is love?

            We talk about love in a variety of ways, while using the same word.  We love our family.  We love our boyfriend or girlfriend or spouse.  We love our pets.  We love TV shows.  We love songs.  We love particular foods.  Each of these examples of love shows different ways that we apply the word love to different persons or objects.  The temptation is that all of these meanings get blended into one, so that when we say we love a particular band, that meaning of love also seeps into what is meant when talking about a family member.

            In our Gospel today, we hear the oft-quoted, oft-displayed passage John 3:16: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life.”  Most everyone can quote it, the passage is so ubiquitous.  And yet, as we delve into the meaning, we see something profound about God and about love.

            What this passage expresses about God is pretty clear: God loves us enough that He is willing to send His only Son so that we can have eternal life, rather than eternal damnation.  That’s a very strong love!  God is willing to do everything He can, even humbling Himself to take on human nature and join it to His own divine nature, so that the God who, in His divinity could not be looked at or touched, could not be present to us, face to face, and could cry, could stub His toe, and could bleed.  The God who created the universe and whom the whole universe cannot contain, spends nine months in the womb of the Blessed Mother, and then lives among us with all the limits of human nature, except sin.  That is a powerful love.

            What we learn about love, then, is that it’s not just a feeling.  It’s not simply an emotion.  And love means sacrifice.  Because when Jesus, the Eternal Logos, became incarnate of the Virgin Mary and became man, the cross immediately overshadowed him.  Yes, the Jews could have freely accepted Jesus, and some certainly did, but God knew from all eternity, because all time is as the present to Him, that the Chosen People, His People, would for the most part reject Him.  Most of His people rejected the light when it came into the world, because they “preferred darkness to light, because their works were evil.”  These are tough words, but they are no less true than what John tells us about God loving the world.

            God’s love for us shows us that to truly love means to sacrifice.  God’s love means pouring oneself out for another, as Jesus does eternally for us.  He pours Himself out for us in the Incarnation as He did not grasp at His divinity, but emptied Himself and took on human flesh.  Jesus pours Himself out for us on the cross as He gives all that He is, the God-Man, to atone for our sins.  Jesus pours Himself out eternally for us in heaven, pleading for us at the right hand of the Father.  Jesus is forever sacrificing Himself for us to the Father, not that he dies any longer, but that His very life, even after the resurrection, is still a continuous gift in whole to the Father. 

            That is the true meaning of love: sacrifice.   We see it in so many ways, big and small: we see sacrificial love in realizing that your spouse or children may be glued to the couch during the month of March, watching NCAA basketball, and then going out of your way to pick up the slack so that they can enjoy watching March Madness; we see it in choosing to go to a movie that you know you hate but that you also know your friend or spouse loves.  Love as sacrifice is lived out in caring of a sick family member or friend at all hours of the day or night without any thought of self.  We see it in the love that remains faithful to the marriage covenant, even when one person is not being faithful, or maybe has even left.  There are so many other examples, too, of sacrifices of many other kinds that people make for each other, joining Jesus on that cross on Calvary.

            The danger for us is that in a culture where love is used for the union between a man and a woman in holy matrimony, as well as the union of mouth with hot, greasy, delicious pizza, the meanings can meld together.  Our love of pizza, as good as it is, does not entail sacrifice.  We ought not to do anything for pizza.  We ought to be willing, at least, to give up everything for a spouse or a family member.  We use the same word, but the meanings are as different as night and day.  And if we’re not careful, they meld together, so that love becomes: what can you do for me?  How can you bring pleasure to my life?  Of course, love will bring pleasure and benefits.  But those come as the result of sacrifice, not instead of sacrifice, just as the eternal reward of heaven is made possible not instead of the crucifixion, but only through the crucifixion. 

            Our beloved patron, St. John the Evangelist, could tell us about love which entails sacrifice because, though he at first ran away, he came back to the foot of the cross to see just how far God’s love was willing to go.  He knew and could write that true love means giving all of yourself to another, because He was there when God’s love gave up everything in Jesus, even His own life, so that we could return to friendship with God.  What is love?  Love is the full gift of your very self: all that you are, all that you treasure, all that is dear to you for the other.  To other persons, yes, but first and foremost to the God who is love.

Izzone? How about Godzone?

Third Sunday of Lent

            For what are we zealous?  We heard in our Gospel today that, when Jesus was throwing out the moneychangers and those who sold oxen, sheep, and doves, his disciples recalled the words of Psalm 69, “Zeal for your house will consume me.”  The abuse of the sacred house of God made Jesus zealous.  What makes us zealous?

            As I thought about a more modern example of what ignites zeal in the hearts of people, the first thing that came to mind was the Izzone.  I have been very blessed this year to be able to attend a handful of games at the Breslin Center to watch the Spartan men play basketball.  And at every game there was the ring of the Izzone, supporting their team, and ensuring future business for audiologists in the greater-Lansing area. 

            Those students who make up the Izzone are zealous.  They are zealous about the Spartan men’s basketball team.  They know each player by name and face, and loudly cheer them on when they make a clutch 3-point shot, get an “and-one” call, or have a nice ally-oop or dunk to show off MSU swag.  They cry foul when they are convinced that one of the players is being hacked on his way up for a lay-up, but the official does not see or call the foul.  Their hearts are set on one thing alone: helping MSU to win by cheering them on to victory.

            Do we have the same zeal for this sacred place as the Izzone has for the men’s basketball team?  Are our hearts as focused while we are here on entering into the Mass with our hearts, minds, and voices, as the students are on entering into the rites of basketball?  Now, let me be clear: I’m not advocating that any of the men start coming to Mass shirtless with a big, green cross painted on their chest.  I’m not advocating that we get a jumbotron to show me coming out of the sacristy, as the crowd cheers loudly and music plays.  I’m not advocating that when we have a guest presider from outside the parish, the assembly responds: “Who cares?”  And certainly some of the language that certain members of the Izzone use is inappropriate for Church, let alone in regular polite conversation.

            Are we zealous for this sacred space and this sacred time?  But notice, St. John the Evangelist, our beloved patron, also says that Jesus talks not so much about the stone and mortar that held the temple in Jerusalem together, but about His body.  So our zeal cannot be limited to this physical space, as important as it is that we set aside certain places for the worship of God.  We must be zealous for Jesus and His Body.

            We talk about Jesus’ Body usually in two ways: His People and His Church.  St. Paul calls us individual members of the Mystical Body of Christ.  And so our zeal has to be for each other: for supporting each other in tough times; for educating each other in the teachings of Jesus; for lifting up each other in prayer.  If you are a student, do you give of your time, as precious as it is, to help others with a class that maybe is harder for one than it is for another?  Do you invite others, whom you know are Catholic, to come to Mass with you?  Do you spend time with the less socially adept students to support them and make them feel loved and a part of this community?  Do you stand up for each other when others are using a particular person as an emotional punching bag?  Do you help to keep each other away from illegal activity, and social events that can be harmful because there is drug or alcohol abuse, or sexual or violent crimes that could easily take place?  Of course, this also goes for non-students as well, but in the workplace and with friends rather than on campus.  Are we zealous for each other, helping to build each other up in virtue and support each other in living a holy life, focusing our minds, hearts, and souls on God in all we do, not just in the time we spend here at Mass?

            Our zeal also has to be for the Mystical Body of Christ, the Church.  Are we zealous in learning what and why our Church teaches what it does, or are we happy having the knowledge of our faith comparable with a fifth-grader?  It always saddens me that, after confirmation, so many think and act as if they’re done with learning about what the Church teaches about the Trinity, the Sacraments, Scripture, morality, and so much more.  There’s an old adage: you can’t give what you don’t have, and the reality is that if we don’t have a mature, adult understanding of the faith, then we can’t pass on that faith to the next generation, and allow them to share in the joy of knowing Jesus Christ while on earth, so that they are prepared to rejoice with Him forever in heaven.  And if we don’t know the faith, then we can’t live the faith. 

            We are engaged in a battle against the world, the flesh, and the devil.  All three of those would love to see us stay infants in the faith.  All three would love to have us be ignorant and keep our religion to ourselves, except for when we go to Church on Sunday.  That way, when good is called bad, and virtue called vice, we don’t know enough and we don’t care enough to take a stand and push back against the powers of the world, the flesh, and the devil and stand up for what is true, not just for Christians, but for all people, since truth is, by its very nature, true for all, not just for some.

            I have never been a doomsday prophet.  I have never wanted to see or say that the Catholic Church is being besieged.  For most of my life, I have felt that we could engage in dialogue with the culture, and that we could live in peace in the world.  But when we are openly mocked in ways that are never acceptable for any other religious group for the teaching of Jesus through His Church; when our defense of the teachings of our faith in public is called bigotry and hate speech; when we are told to reject our consciences as the price we pay to live in a democratic society, then I must sound the warning.  If the current trends continue as regards the treatment of the Catholic Church, both her institutions and her people, then ours will once more be a Church of the Catacombs.  Ours will be a persecuted Church.  As His Eminence, Francis Cardinal George, the Archbishop of Chicago has been quoted recently, “I expect to die in bed.  I expect my successor to die in jail.  I expect his successor to die as a martyr in the public square.”  And for those who do not have zeal for Jesus, the cost will be too much.  And if forced to choose between Jesus and getting by, they will get by, while also endangering their eternal salvation.

            Do we have zeal for Jesus?  Do we have zeal for supporting each other, especially the household of God, to grow in knowledge and love of Jesus?  Do we have zeal for standing up for the teachings of Jesus through His Church?  Wouldn’t it be a blessing if, when we stand united to defend each other and the beliefs that Jesus handed on to us through His apostles in public, others would think of Psalm 69 when they see us and say, Zeal for your house will consume me?

The Sacrifice of the Beloved Son: From Mount Moriah to Mount Calvary

Second Sunday of Lent

            Have you ever been at a movie theater, you’ve got your popcorn and pop that you’re enjoying during the movie, and then, at what you know will be a key part of the movie, you feel like you have to go to the bathroom?  You squirm a little, hoping you can remain in the theater until the end.  But then sometimes you just can’t wait.  So you leave the movie, only to get back, and you wonder, “What did I miss?!?”

            Well, today’s first reading leaves some very important parts out, and if we didn’t read the whole thing, we might miss what the Word of God is trying to tell us in this passage.  So, let me fill in some of the blanks.  Abraham and Isaac are about to go up the mountain where, unbeknownst to Isaac, Abraham has been given a command to sacrifice Isaac (a command which sounds very weird to us, but to the people of Abraham’s time was sadly not uncommon).  It reads,

Thereupon Abraham took the wood for the holocaust and laid it on his son Isaac’s shoulders…As the two walked on together, Isaac spoke to his father Abraham: “Father!” he said.  “Yes son,” he replied.  Isaac continued, “Here…[is] the wood, but where is the sheep for the holocaust?”  “Son,” Abraham answered, “God himself will provide the sheep for the holocaust.”  […]When they came to the place of which God had told him, Abraham built an altar there an arranged the wood on it.  Next he tied up his son Isaac, and put him on top of the wood on the altar.

Then our passage continues, when the angel stops Abraham from killing Isaac.  Now, a lot is going on in this passage.  This is the great test of Abraham’s faith, as St. Paul recalls in the Letter to the Romans, and by which Abraham was justified, or made right in the eyes of God.  But, listen to the details again, this time paraphrased: We have a father who sends his son, his beloved son, up Mount Moriah, carrying wood on his back that will be used for the sacrifice of that same son.  The son is then fastened to the wood for the sacrifice to begin.

            This should remind us of Jesus’ sacrifice.  Jesus, the Beloved Son of the Father takes the wood of the cross, the instrument of His one, salvific sacrifice, upon His back, carries it up Mount Calvary, and is fastened to the wood of the cross for the sacrifice.  Except this time, instead of being stopped by an angel, Jesus dies on the cross, of His own free will, and brings us salvation.  We cannot miss this point of the passage, and we need to read this passage in light of Jesus’ sacrifice.  Otherwise, we end up thinking that God can command us to do some horrible things.  And, as Pope Benedict commented in his first year as pope when trying to dialogue with the Muslim community, God cannot command us to do that which is evil.  Did God ask Abraham to sacrifice Isaac?  Yes, we have that in Scripture.  But seeing that Abraham’s faith was so strong that it would even be willing to sacrifice his son, God stopped Abraham before it actually happened, because God never wants us to kill an innocent person, either someone else or ourselves, especially not in His Name.  Instead, God used the sacred author to communicate in this story that God loves us so much, that He prefigures in this passage the death of His own Beloved Son, who was not prevented from dying, as was Isaac, but freely chose to give Himself over “for us men and for our salvation,” using the words of our Creed.

            But the darkness of the cross which looms over this story for us for whom the veil has been lifted, is not the end.  Isaac was saved from death, and found life.  Jesus, though He truly died, was also saved from death through the resurrection, and given a glorified body.  And it was a foretaste of that glory which Peter, James, and John saw on another mountain, Mount Tabor.  On that mountain, God the Father reaffirms what was said at Jesus’ baptism, that Jesus is the Beloved Son, and Jesus gives those three chosen apostles the great gift of seeing what was in store for Jesus and all His faithful disciples after death.  But, of course, Peter, James, and John didn’t understand what was going on, and it wasn’t until after the resurrection that they understood what a great gift Jesus had given them in letting them see the end of the story with the effects of the resurrection.

            But, to get to that glory of which Jesus gives us a foretaste in the Transfiguration, we cannot escape the sacrifice and death that comes before.  Resurrection is only possible for those who have died.  The glory of Mount Tabor is only available to those who are willing to sacrifice all on Mount Moriah.  So, the question for us is, what are we willing to give up?  What is God asking us to sacrifice?  Now, again, God is not asking us to sacrifice our children or any other innocent.  But God does ask us to give our best to Him, just as He gave His best, His Only-Begotten, Beloved Son, for us.

            I can hear you thinking, “Oh great!  Here comes the money talk again!  Time for Fr. Anthony to tell us to give of our time, talent, and treasure, but especially our treasure!”  And, with this being our DSA kickoff weekend, I certainly do want to encourage you to prayerfully consider how much you’re giving both to DSA and to our parish.  It’s tough.  Money’s tight.  It’s no different for me.  I have things that I want to do, vacations that I would like to take, and giving more would certainly get in the way of that.  But can I die to myself and be generous with the money with which God has already blessed me?  That’s a question we all have to ask ourselves.  For some, the answer is certainly yes.  For others, there’s no more else to give without endangering the basic goods of life. 

            But, let’s be honest: for some of us, money is all too easy to give.  It’s just a few more dollars, without any real commitment of mind, heart, and soul.  For you, consider what it is you really don’t want to give up.  It was tough for Abraham even to take his son up that mountain.  But, each slow step, Abraham reaffirmed his faith in God who had called him to leave his family behind in Iraq, and now was asking him to sacrifice the very son who was supposed to be answer to God’s promise to make of Abraham a great nation, more numerous than the stars in the sky.

            So what is it that God has called us to give up?  Not just candy, or gum, or chocolate, but things that really are precious to us, but that we don’t need.  What do we need to sacrifice to reaffirm that we trust that God who calls us His sons and daughters will never abandon us and will not let us want for any good thing?  Is God calling us to sacrifice more of our time to spend with Him in prayer?  Is God asking us to make more of an effort to learn about Jesus so that we can love Him better?  Is God asking us to take the time to learn about the teachings of the Church?  If we can sacrifice what is precious to us, truly give it up, then the shadow of Mount Moriah does not have to be the end of the story, but we can continue on to Mount Tabor, and to the glory which is to come in the resurrection for those who were willing to give all they had to God and hold nothing back.