A Bag of Chips

Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

            It seems like every time I open a bag of chips, there is more and more air, and fewer and fewer chips.  The bag always looks good from the outside: full of shape, sometimes with a little window at the bottom, enticing you as to how many chips are in there, feeling full as you take it in your hands and pull it off the shelf.  And then you open it up, and it’s like someone just popped your balloon, which is a pretty fitting metaphor, seeing as how as soon as you open it up, all the air goes out of the inflated bag.  I have to imagine that I am not the only one who is disappointed at how little actual food is in a bag of chips.

            Today’s Gospel is all about the right attitude of prayer.  On the one hand we have the Pharisee who is full of himself and basically spends all his time reminding God how great he is.  On the other hand we have the tax collector, who is so ashamed of himself that he won’t even approach the front of the temple, and won’t even raise his eyes to heaven.  Instead, he simply asks for the mercy of God, not because of any merit of his own, but simply out of God’s goodness. 

            The Pharisee is like a bag of chips.  It looks good from the outside, but on the inside it’s nothing but hot air.  The Pharisee is so full of himself that there’s almost no room for anything substantial.  He is so full of himself, that there is no room for God, which is why the tax collector goes home justified, that is, put into a right relationship with God, and not the Pharisee.  The tax collector knew he only had a little, and could do a much better job with what he did have.  So he begs God to fill him up.  God wanted to fill up the Pharisee with His grace, but there was no room.

            How often are we more air than substance?  The sin of pride, of vainglory, can be so tempting.  We think we know it all.  We think we’re all good with God.  But the reality is that often we are simply full of ourselves.  Our culture certainly wants us to be sure of ourselves.  To admit that you need something or someone is a weakness, and should not be tolerated.  But when we are full of ourselves, we have no room for God to fill us up.  God loves us enough and respects our free will, such that He will not force Himself on us.  If we think we can do it ourselves and don’t need Him, He’s not going to try to cram more chips into a bag that’s already filled with air.

            The temptation to be full of ourselves is particularly dangerous in an academic, affluent community like ours.  We have professors who are at the top of their field.  We have coaches who are among the best in the nation.  We have CEOs and CFOs and leaders of industry who are used to being in control and having all the answers.  And certainly, just because you are the best or at the top of what you do doesn’t make you the Pharisee.  But it does mean that the temptation to think and act like the Pharisee from today’s Gospel is always there.  When we’re the best at what we do, the temptation that Satan likes to entice us with is to think that we have it all together, that we know best in everything, and that we are self-sufficient.  And the Evil One tries to convince us of the greatness of ourselves so that we don’t make room for God to fill us up.

            But when we recognize just how poor we are without Jesus, that we cannot do it on our own, then we let out the air, and allow for more chips to be poured into our bag.  When we recognize that we may be the best in our field, but that there is more to life than an academic discipline, a sport, or a company, then we allow God to work in us and to make sure we are not simply rich and content in the eyes of the world, but that we are rich in what truly matters to God.  If we want to compete well, to finish the race, to keep the faith, as St. Paul says in our second reading, so that we can receive the crown of righteousness, then we have to open our hands to receive from another, which means that we don’t have it all under control and we can’t provide it all for ourselves.

            When we pour ourselves out like a libation, like a liquid sacrifice, we don’t lose anything that we truly need, because we rely on God to keep us full.  May we not be like the bags of chips you find at a grocery or convenience store, full of nothing substantial, but may we recognize how much we need God, and let Him fill us up, not with the hot air of an over-inflated ego, but with His grace and love which put us in a right relationship with God, and prepare us for the crown that God wants to place on our head, the crown of righteousness in the Kingdom of Heaven.

Ty! Yw!!

Twenty-eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time

            There is a new language developing right in our very midst.  I’m not a philologist, but I’m sure those who study languages are having a field day with this new language.  I wouldn’t say that I speak this language fluently, but I am conversational in it, though, to be honest, it’s not a spoken language, but only a written one.  I don’t know if there’s a name for it, but I’m going to call it English Text Language.

           

It’s a very efficient language, because it seeks to eliminate the excess characters you have to put into a text, or even in a tweet, where you are limited to 140 characters to express a thought.  Some of the words and phrases in English Text Language are easy.  The word “be” is simply the letter b, just like the word “are” is just the letter r.  You get rid of the English rules about your (y-o-u-r) and you’re (y-o-u-‘-r-e) by just writing u-r, unless you want to say you are, in which case you can separate the letters u and r.  But it does get a bit more complicated.  Common phrases are often abbreviated: s-m-h is shaking my head; w-d-y-m is what do you mean; I-d-k is I don’t know, and I-d-c is I don’t care.  Another ubiquitous abbreviation is n-p: no problem, which is often the response when someone texts “thank you,” which would of course be written, t-y.

            There are obviously some benefits to this system if you’re texting or tweeting.  But it strikes me that the response n-p can have s a negative effect on our appreciation for a person or an act for which we should be grateful.  Rather than acknowledging the person or the thing that was done, it’s written off, minimized, because it was no problem.  The person who is being thanked is basically saying, though perhaps not with this intention, there’s no reason to thank me, because what I did wasn’t that much or wasn’t that important.  And this message, over time, can erode a culture of gratitude that is so important, and about which our first reading and Gospel speak today.

            In the first reading, Naaman wants to thank Elisha because Naaman had been a leper, but had followed the advice of Elisha and washed in the Jordan, and was cured.  Now, at first, maybe it seems like Elisha just tells Naaman, n-p, because he will not accept Naaman’s gift.  But what is really happening is that Elisha is refusing to take credit, because it was God who healed Naaman, not Elisha.  And Naaman, after some arguing back and forth, gets the point, because he ends up taking dirt so he can worship the true God, rather than his pagan gods.  Naaman wants to give thanks to God by offering a sacrifice.

            In the Gospel, it can be very easy to moralize this story of the ten lepers.  How many times have parents used it to teach children to say thank you?  And that certainly is part of the message.  But we shouldn’t want to say thank you simply because there’s a rule.  Whenever we receive a gift, thanksgiving should exude from us quite naturally.  Yes, Jesus wondered why the other nine lepers did not return to give thanks (though it should be noted that He never told them to return).  But he does wonder, that is, He is impressed, that thanksgiving is the natural response of the leper, a Samaritan, back to Jesus.  And this Samaritan has some faith that Jesus is God, as Jesus says, “‘your faith has saved you.’”  Jesus accepts what Elisha cannot, because Jesus is the same God who healed Naaman centuries before.

            How often are we thankful, and how often do we give God thanks for the many blessings He has given us?  We are meant to give thanks each time we come to Mass, because even the work Eucharist comes from Greek which mean “to give thanks well.”  We offer thanks to God the Father through Jesus the Son in the power of the Holy Spirit first and foremost for the gift of new life that was made possible by the death and resurrection of Jesus.  But we should also give thanks to God for all the other great gifts He has given us: life; our talents; love; perhaps financial stability; perhaps a good education; friends; faith; the list can go on and on.  I want to challenge you to spend 3 minutes before each Mass thanking God.  I know that a lot of us talk to our friends when we’re here in the nave of the church.  Catching up with friends is a great thing, but spend 3 minutes before Mass here in the pews thanking your best friend, God, who has given you the other friends to whom you can speak.  Talk with your other friends earlier before Mass or after Mass in the vestibule, so that everyone can take time in silence to thank God for the many blessings.

            And, the next time you do something kind for someone, and they say “thank you” (because they were taught good manners), don’t say, “no problem,” or text n-p, but say you’re welcome, and accept the gratitude that the other person is sharing with you, no matter how big or how small you think the gift or favor was.  In this way we’ll build up a culture of gratitude, which will certainly make the world a better and holier place.  T-t-y-l.

"If you're going through hell, keep on going"

Twenty-seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

            “Is anybody there?”  This is the question the Prophet Habakkuk asks God in the first reading.  He is frustrated by the evil that is all around him, how violence and wickedness seem to be everywhere.  And yet God, who is supposed to be the source of justice, the one who punishes the wicked, seems absent from the situation.  The wrongs are not being righted.  The oppressed are not being liberated.  The wicked are not being punished.  Where is God in this situation?

            “Is anybody there?”  This is probably a question that we have asked God from time to time.  “Don’t you care what’s going on in my life?  Don’t you care how bad things are?”  Maybe it’s not violence like the Prophet Habakkuk is frustrated by.  Maybe you’re a senior citizen and no one comes to visit you and you feel alone.  Maybe you’re married, yet the spark of love seems to have died, and all you seem to do is fight with your spouse.  Maybe you’re divorced and feel alienated.  Maybe you’re a college student and the pressure of midterms is weighing heavily upon you and you feel like you’re drowning in your classes.  Maybe you’re a child and nothing seems to be going right with friends, family, or school.  Maybe someone you love has just died and you don’t know how to live without him or her.  No matter what the scenario, many people have dark times in their life.  And what makes it particularly dark is when God doesn’t seem to care, and when the answer to prayer that we want, the thing we are sure will fix the whole situation, doesn’t come. 

            But in our first reading, God responds.  He does not leave Habakkuk in silence.  He says, “Write down the vision clearly upon the tablets…For the vision still has its time…if it delays, wait for it, it will surely come, it will not be late.”  In essence, God tells the prophet, “Just wait.  I am going to work things out in my own time.”  That’s probably not the answer we want to hear when we feel like everything is going wrong.  But God doesn’t answer our prayers exactly the way we want.  He loves us too much to give us only what we want.  He loves us so much, that He knows how and when to give us what we need.  But to persevere through the tough times takes trust and faith in God.

            It’s easy to say with St. Paul, “All things work for the good of those who love God,” when we’ve just won the lottery, when we feel on top of the world, when everything seems to be going well.  It is much harder to say that same phrase when loss and darkness seem to be the norm.  But the gift of faith gives us the strength to trust that all things are working for our good if we love God, and to say with Job, “The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.  Blessed be the name of the Lord!”  With faith, great things are possible.

            Certainly this is the point of what Jesus said to the apostles in today’s Gospel.  Jesus wasn’t talking about landscaping when he said you could move mulberry trees if you have faith.  In some sense, that’s quite easy.  How much harder is it to trust in God when everything seems to be working against us!  And how much more impressive is it to continue to remain faithful to God and persevere than just to move a tree!  In one sense, moving a tree with faith is easy.  Remaining faithful to God and continuing to trust in Him when your heart and your will tell you just to give up is much more of a miracle.  And that is possible if we have faith the size of a mustard seed.  That’s not a lot of faith.  Mustard seeds are not big.  If I were to hold a mustard seed between my finger and thumb, no one could see it, unless you’re Clark Kent.

           

But we were all given the gift of faith in Baptism.  All of us received that precious gift when we became an adopted son or daughter of God.  Sometimes people will say to me, “Father, I don’t have any faith!”  Well, if you were baptized, then you do, even if you don’t feel it.  St. Paul, speaking to St. Timothy in the second reading, reminds St. Timothy to stir into flame the gift of God that he received through the imposition of hands.  St. Paul is talking here about the ordination of St. Timothy, and stirring into flame that gift of the Sacrament of Holy Order.  But the same could be said for the gift of baptism.  We have to stir into flame that gift of the Sacrament of Baptism, the gift of faith, so that we do not fall into the spirit of cowardice or apathy or despair.  We have to exercise that gift of faith, especially when it is tough. 

            Think of a few, small, burning embers in a fire that was burning the night before.  All it takes is some paper and small twigs, some gentle breaths of oxygen, and that fire can start burning once again the next morning and can return to the greatness of the night before.  The same is true with our faith: even when we feel our faith is nothing but a small ember, a small remnant of what it was before, with the proper fuel, our faith can once again be a roaring fire.  How does this happen?  Through reading the Word of God, either alone or in a Bible Study; by sharing with others the little bit of faith we have through Small Faith Sharing Groups; by taking time for prayer, especially before the Blessed Sacrament in Adoration; by removing any obstacles to faith through the Sacrament of Penance.  In that way we nurture the mustard seed of faith, until it grows into a large tree that provides home and comfort for others.

            In a country song, Rodney Atkins sings, “If you’re going through hell, keep on going.”  By the gift of faith we can persevere through all the trials of life, even when we feel like it’s going through hell, knowing that God never abandons us, but sometimes asks us to wait to receive the best things that He has in store for us in the way and the time that He wants to give it.  “If it delays, wait for it, it will surely come, it will not be late.”

Right in front of our Face

Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

            Have you ever had a time when you really needed to get something done, or when you really wanted to get something, so much so that you miss a lot of the things that are right in front of you?  I know I have!  It’s so easy to become fixated on one thing or on a task to be done and to not be effected by anything else.  Sometimes it’s a positive: for example, most times when I’m celebrating Mass, I’m so focused that I don’t notice the babies screaming.  Many times parents come up to apologize for how loud they felt their child was, but it honestly didn’t bother me because I was focused on the celebration (and, for the record, screaming babies are a blessing to our church, because they remind us of new life, so don’t be giving dirty looks to parents who have screaming babies!!).  Sometimes it’s negative, like when we’re so focused on a task, we forget the people who are also involved.

            Perhaps the rich man from our Gospel today was such a person: determined, focused, wanting to get something done.  Maybe he was focused on nothing else but gaining more riches.  But what he missed was obvious: Lazarus, the poor man.  After all, Lazarus was at his doorstep, which means that every time the rich man left the house, he should have seen Lazarus.  And more than just seeing him, the rich man should have taken pity on him, and helped him out.  But he did not, and this neglect was to his own eternal peril.

            We’ve all heard this parable, probably countless times.  But who are the people who we don’t see because we’re so focused on something or someone else?  Who are the people that we step over, whether physically, emotionally, or spiritually, to get to our own goals?  The US Bishops have asked priests to talk a bit about the situation of immigrants in our country.  Now, let me preface this by saying that immigration policy is a complicated thing; if it weren’t we probably would have solved the problems already.  But what I can say with clarity is that we are obliged to treat immigrants with human dignity and respect, not step over them because they are nuisances.  When we think about how we think immigration should be handled, are we first and foremost thinking, “Is this they way I would treat Jesus?”  Because, especially the immigrants who come from Mexico, Central America, and Iraq, though not limited to them, are members of the household of faith!  Most of them are brother and sister Catholics!  And even those who are not still have human dignity and still are created in the image and likeness of God!

           

Our country has struggled with immigration for a long time because, while anyone who is not a Native American was an immigrant to these shores, after a few generations it can be hard to remember that.  On my mother’s side of the family, I only have to go back to my maternal grandmother to find a first generation American.  Many of us probably only have to go back 3 or 4 generations to find an immigrant in our family.  But we can forget that fact, and act like those, especially during the mid-nineteenth century from the Know Nothing party, or any of its variants, that wanted to make sure that the Catholics coming in droves, especially from Ireland and Germany, knew that they were not welcome here.  Again, the Church is not saying that we cannot have legal ways to enter the country, and penalties for doing so illegally, but as we form policy, as you write your Congressman and Senator, is your opinion formed by treating that person with the respect that comes simply from being a member of the human race?

            Even beyond the issue of immigration, the way we treat each other is part of the criteria upon which we will be judged.  The rich man suffers because he neglected Lazarus at his front door, while God noticed Lazarus, who suffered so greatly during his life, and rewarded him accordingly. 

And the best part of this whole story is the twist at the end.  The rich man begs Abraham to send Lazarus back from the dead to warn his brothers about what will happen if they neglect others.  Abraham tells them, “‘“They have Moses and the prophets.  Let them listen to them.” [The rich man] said, “Oh no, father Abraham, but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.”  Then Abraham said, “If they will not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded if someone should rise from the dead.”’”  For nearly 1500 years, the Jews had been told about the importance of caring for the widow, orphan, and poor.  But somehow, according to the rich man, that wasn’t enough.  Of course, standing from our perspective, we can see the humor and irony in Jesus telling this story, that some will not believe even when a person rises from the dead.  But then it begs a very sober question for us: does Jesus rising from the dead compel us to act differently?  Does it open our eyes and broaden our horizons so that we are not fixated in a negative way on just the things we want, or the tasks we are trying to accomplish, but sees those in need around us?  And we don’t have to look to Africa, Asia, or South America to find those in need; they are right here in East Lansing.

Sometimes we need to be focused on one thing alone.  But let’s not make that our rule of life, so we ignore and neglect Lazarus sitting at our front door, and risk eternal suffering because we did not help relieve that suffering in others right in front of us.