A Different Side of Jesus

Twenty-fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

            If you only see me at weekend Masses, your idea of my interests is probably a little skewed.  That’s not any condemnation of you or me, just probably a good presumption.  It’s not that I’m being disingenuous during Mass.  But the Mass is a formalized ritual: it has structure, a certain rhythm to it, and rules that are supposed to be followed.  And in formal situations, I embrace the formal.  Not just to be formal, but because the formal expresses a certain reality, that is an important part of our relationship with God.  The ritual nature of the Mass allows us not to wonder about what’s new this week, but allows us to go deeper into what we are celebrating.  If the Mass were noticeably different each week, we wouldn’t have the opportunity to go below what is perceived by our senses, and go to the things to which the sensible realities point.

            But I’m not always formal.  And that’s why, those who only see me at weekend Masses, are often very surprised to see me in boat shoes during the summer, or listening to country music (neither of which, I don’t think, could be categorized as formal).  The boat shoes are simply relaxing and cool me off during the warms months.  The country music moves my soul, and to me sounds more like life as I’ve experienced it (though I have not done everything you hear in country songs!).  There’s something about country that helps me enjoy a beautiful day while singing “Cruise” by Florida Georgia Line, or even helps me commiserate during sad times in life while singing “I Drive Your Truck” by Lee Brice.  Those who see me chant at solemn Masses would probably be surprised to see me enjoying a cold, adult beverage and singing at the top of my lungs at an Alabama or Scotty McCreery concert.

            Sometimes we can also get overly focused on only one perspective of Jesus.  This isn’t a bad thing in itself, but it’s important to recognize that Jesus has revealed Himself in many lights.  What do I mean?  I mean as we look at the Gospel, we see Jesus who welcomes the children, and the same Jesus calling the Pharisees and scribes a brood of vipers and whitewashed tombs.  As we look at the Gospel we see Jesus the just-judge reminding us that as we did to the least of our brothers and sisters, so we did to Him, and the same Jesus telling the woman caught in adultery that she is forgiven and only needs to go and sin no more.  Most people probably focus on one of those aspects (merciful or just, welcoming or challenging), when in fact, we miss who Jesus is if we do not acknowledge the other aspects of Jesus that do not come naturally to us.

            For example, we might think of Jesus as the perfectly fair one.  And there are times in Scripture where Jesus advocates giving each his due.  However, in today’s Gospel, His generosity is accentuated.  Jesus reminds us that God is generous with His love, which we cannot earn, and it doesn’t matter how long we’ve been at this disciple thing: God will continue to shower His love on us.  The workers who worked more expected more (which would be fair).  But Jesus’ teaches us about God’s generosity even to those who have not earned it.  For the first to be last and the last to be first does not quite seem fair.  But in this passage, Jesus emphasizes God’s generosity, not His fairness.

            The attributes of God that we tend to focus on also tend to be the things we want.  For one who knows he or she is not worthy of God’s love, the mercy of God is probably the sweetest part of the Gospel.  For one who wants the world to follow the plan of God and has worked hard to follow that plan, the consequences of sin is the best part of the Gospel.  Or, the attributes of God that we tend to focus on are a reflection of ourselves.  God just tends to look like a better version of us that legitimizes our own view points.  Someone once said that Jesus’ mission was to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.  Maybe that doesn’t quite do it justice, but the Gospel is meant to challenge all of us because while we can know who God is, we can never exhaust who God is.  There is always a way in which each of us needs to be challenged by God to grow in certain areas, and to be comforted by God to rest in Him in certain areas.  As long as we live, we are never done being challenged by God; we are never done being comforted by God. 

            That is why the Prophet Isaiah reminds us in our first reading: “Seek the Lord while he may be found.”  If we only look for God in the ways we are expecting, we will miss the many blessings and challenges that the Lord has in store for us to help us to grow in relationship with Him.  When I was in high school, I had a crush on a girl, and wanted a way to talk to her.  I found out she liked country music, and started to listen to it on my own.  My crush went away, but my love of country didn’t.  Because I was willing to try something new out of the desire for a deeper relationship, I was able to appreciate what is, in my opinion, the best form of music on the radio.  If we are willing to try something new for God–a Bible study, a new form of service, serving at Mass, joining the Knights of Columbus or CCW or the choir–who knows the truly great things that God has in store for us?!? 

            God has revealed Himself in Jesus, and we can truly know who God is, though we can never exhaust that knowledge.  Stretch yourself; get to know God in a way that you haven’t before.  Pray in a new way.  Seek the Lord while He may be found.  Call on Him while He is near.

Anchored to the Cross

Feast of the Triumph of the Holy Cross

            Just a couple of weeks ago my parents moved to a different house for the first time since 1988.  They didn’t move too far, only from Williamston, on the east side of Lansing, to DeWitt, on the west side of Lansing, but moving, no matter how far, is always an ordeal.  In early August we celebrated the August and September birthdays as the last time we were going to be at the old house as a family.  Some of the stuff was moved already, pictures were taken down, and there were lots of boxes.  Little things became more pronounced, knowing that I would probably never see this house again.

           

When we’ve been in one place a long time, we can overlook some of the real treasures that are right in front of us, because it’s always been there.  Take, for example, the stained glass window just east of the niche for the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe.  There’s a cross there.  I noticed that the first time I came in the church and was looking around at how beautiful everything is.  What I missed, and maybe you have too, is that the cross is on an island, and the waves are rolling around it, and there is an anchor attached to that cross.  I just noticed it earlier this week as I was preparing for this homily.

            The anchor is an ancient Christian symbol.  When the Christians were being persecuted, they didn’t want to give away who they were.  The anchor was a perfect way to show they were Christians, without giving it away to those who didn’t know.  The anchor has the cross in it, so they were professing that they were followers of Jesus, the crucified and risen one, but with a common symbol in use at the time. 

            The anchor was also a symbol of hope.  This may have been based on the Letter to the Hebrews that states, “This [hope] we have as an anchor of the soul, sure and firm.”  The anchor was also the hope for those who were sailing that they would remain where they were, where they knew they were safe, and not be tossed into shallow waters where they might run aground, or into deeper, uncharted waters, without any idea of where they were.

            It is fitting then, that the anchor is attached to the cross, because the cross is where we find our hope, and if we are attached firmly to the cross, then we do not need to worry about running aground and sinking, or getting lost on the wide-open seas.  Our goal, as Christians, is to be firmly holding on to the cross.  Now, that might seem odd to say.  Why would we say that the instrument of Jesus’ horrible death be our hope?  For the same reason that we call the Friday of the Lord’s Passion Good Friday: the cross, and Jesus attached to it, became the way that God made salvation available to us.  The curse (or malediction) of being nailed to the cross (as Deuteronomy 21 states), the curse that belonged by right to us, became the blessing (or benediction) of eternal life won for us by God-made-Man.  In the first reading, seraph serpents were the curse for the Israelites grumbling, but the bronze serpent lifted high for all to see became the way that the Israelites were healed.  Jesus alluded to that in the Gospel today, saying that the Son of Man was to become the new bronze serpent, lifted high for all to see.  Though killing God, deicide, which we continue to bring about by our sins, deserves the worst punishment of all, Jesus took our sins upon Himself, and, lifted for all to see, is the means of our reward.  We should have been damned to Hell for killing God, and yet we were offered eternal life in heaven instead.

            For us to gain that reward, we have to be anchored to Jesus.  Today we will baptize two infants.  We might wonder why we should make such a powerful choice for two persons who cannot speak for themselves.  Shouldn’t we wait to adulthood?  Shouldn’t they choose for themselves?  Many of our Protestant brothers and sisters do wait until the child is old enough to speak for itself.  We all know, too well, I would guess, the waves that want to throw us around on the sea of life.  We are tempted to greed and worship of money; to think that we are the center of the universe in pride; to tear down others with our words or actions; to misuse our gift of sexuality outside of marriage; and so many other temptations.  If we do not have an anchor, we will sink, or be thrown out into deep, uncharted waters.  If these children are not anchored to the cross, it will be so much more likely that they will be lost.  But, as an act of love, their parents are connecting them to Jesus by this Sacrament, and by the solemn promise they make to God and in our presence, that they will help their children to continue to cling to Christ by bringing them to Mass every week, by living a Christ-centered life, and by works of charity.  They are promising to strengthen the rope, with God’s grace, which is the connection between the cross and the anchor.  If the children and their parents stay close to Jesus, then the children will be ready for the Sacraments of Confirmation and the Eucharist, to which Baptism is also oriented. 

            We who have been fully initiated, who are striving to live that Christ-centered life, are also reminded of how we need to be anchored to the cross.  Maybe we have not fulfilled the promises at our baptism.  Maybe we’re not coming to Mass each week.  Maybe we’re greedy or prideful.  Maybe we tear down others with our words and actions.  Maybe we misuse our sexuality outside of marriage.  Maybe we don’t live our faith outside of the walls of this church.  The Sacrament of Penance, which we offer each week, is where Jesus Himself re-anchors us to the cross, so that we can be safe in His love.   Maybe, because we have grown up with Catholicism, we have forgotten the treasures that we have.  I invite you to re-anchor yourself to the cross, and find not condemnation and death, but blessing and life!

Power and Responsibility

Twenty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time

           

On 28 August, I had the chance to attend Bishop Raica’s ordination as the fifth bishop of Gaylord.  It was a beautiful (and long) Mass with so many symbols of Christ’s abiding presence with us, especially in His Body and Blood, but also in the person of Bishop Raica, who now acts in the Person of Christ the High Priest and as a successor to the apostles with authority govern, sanctify, and teach. 

            I think we can get caught up with power and authority.  We want power, and we want it badly.  We want to control our own lives, our own destinies, and we want to be able to not have others exact that power over us.  No matter whether you have very little power or a lot, I think we all want to have more and more power.  When we look at the issue of power and authority in the Church, the scene is often expressed as a battlefield with the priests and the bishops on one side, and the laity on the other, trying to fight for control of power in the Church.  So often, when the question of why the Church cannot ordain women comes up, the argument quickly turns to power: power to teach the faith (as if we just make it up as we go along); power to decide where the money goes; power to administer the sacraments.  The question, not just from women, is often, “Why should an old man (though Bishops Boyea and Raica I’m sure would not think of themselves as old) be able to tell me how to live my life?”

            But our first reading reminds us that being named a watchman or shepherd is not about getting a cushy job.  True, there are fewer earthly concerns that I have to worry about: I have a house provided for me, a food allowance, and a certain job security.  But, Ezekiel tells us in the first reading that the shepherds that God has appointed have to worry about the lives of the sheep.  I may not have to worry about a roof over my head, but I have to worry about whether or not I am sufficiently helping people to grow in a relationship with God and to choose good and avoid evil.  St. Joseph is a relatively small parish in the Diocese of Lansing (673 parishioners or so on the books), but that’s a lot of people to care for!!  Ezekiel, prophesying in the Name of God, reminds the shepherds of Israel, the religious leaders, that if they do not warn the people to follow God, to choose good and avoid evil, then they, too, will perish for the sins the people commit, against which they were not warned.  The same holds true for me: if I do not, by my life and preaching, help you to grow closer to God, to choose good and avoid evil, then I will suffer punishment, too. 

            Bishop Raica, on his ordination card, quoted St. Augustine, who took up a similar theme.  And while St. Augustine was talking about being a bishop, the same could be said for a parish priest:

From the moment this burden, about which such a difficult account has to be rendered, was placed on my shoulders, anxiety about the honor shown to me has always haunted me. What is to be dreaded about the office I hold, if not that I may take more pleasure (which is so dangerous) in the honor shown to me than in what bears fruit in your salvation? Whenever I am terrified by what I am for you, I am given comfort by what I am with you. For you I am a bishop, but with you I am, after all, a Christian. The former signifies an office undertaken, the latter, grace; the former is a name for danger, the latter a name for salvation.



Being a priest is not about having a job with honors placed upon it; it is about helping you to gain salvation.  And for those who are only concerned about honor, a terrifying judgment awaits!

            But, Jesus reminds us in the Gospel that it is not only priests who have responsibility for each other.  All of us are called to help each other on the pilgrimage to heaven.  No longer are we to say, with Cain, “Am I my brother’s keeper?”  When someone sins against us, we are encouraged to deal with the issue ourselves, not as if we are judge and jury, but so that we might be able to bring reconciliation to the relationship.  We start just between the involved parties, then bring in witnesses if there is still no healing, and then, and only then, bring in the Church, to apply the wisdom of the entire Mystical Body of Christ so that reconciliation can be obtained.  I’m not in this alone.  Yes, I have certain responsibility as a priest to help guide you in living a Christ-centered life, but we all have a responsibility to help each other live that same Christ-centered life.  If it’s just me, I know I will fail.  But if we work together to encourage one another, and even to hold each other accountable, then the Kingdom of God can be proclaimed more effectively and with vigor in the great unity of our one faith, and the diversity of the People of God.

            I love being a priest!  I love being able to serve you, and hopefully drawing you closer to God.  Are there great responsibilities?  Yes.  To paraphrase Jesus, to whom much has been given, much will be expected.  But I wouldn’t trade it for the whole world!!  Do I love being a priest because of the power and authority?  No.  I love it because it is the way God has called me to serve Him, and, in serving Him, to serve you.  For you I am a priest.  With you I am a Christian.

Bing Crosby and Suffering

Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

           

“You’ve got to accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative.”  That’s what Bing Crosby told millions of people in song in the 1940s.  And I’m sure, during the Depression and World War II, looking at the little good things in life was a key just to keeping morale up.  But apparently Jesus never heard the song.  Because in today’s Gospel, He’s not very positive.  He not only foretells his own passion–His own suffering and persecution and gruesome death–but He quickly follows that by saying that all His disciples have to be prepared to suffer–to carry their own crosses daily.  That’s not the way you tend to get people to join in a cause.

            We can imagine, then, why it was so hard for St. Peter to accept what Jesus was saying.  If Bishop Boyea told me today that in a few years he was going to be led before a firing squad and shot, I would probably do everything I could to stop that from happening!  He’s a good man, a good bishop, and, as far as I know, hasn’t done anything to deserve being put to death.  Peter was in a similar situation with Jesus.  And yet, Jesus affirmed that His mission was to die, but also to be raised from the dead, neither of which the apostles really understood.

            We would probably all want to prevent someone we greatly admired and loved from suffering.  We don’t see suffering as a good thing, and we try to prevent it as much as possible in our own lives, and in the lives of others.  And yet, Jesus tells St. Peter that his desire to keep Jesus from suffering is not the way that God approaches the world, but is the way a human approaches the world.  So does God love to make people suffer?

            Of course not!  And yet, God’s perspective on suffering, as we see in Jesus, is different, even from the Chosen People’s understanding of suffering.  The Book of Job is the Jews trying to come to grips with the problem of suffering–the dilemma of how a good God could let innocent people suffer.  We’re all too ready to accept that suffering comes from doing wrong, the bad consequence of a bad action, but how could it happen to someone good?  Even the disciples ask Jesus in the Gospel according to John whether the man born blind sinned or his parents.  Suffering is a tough question, especially when it comes to the suffering of the innocent.  We avoid it as much as possible.  But Jesus embraced it as the means to salvation for the whole human race.  So is suffering good?

            The short answer is no.  Suffering only entered the world when sin did.  It is a result of the Fall of Adam and Eve.  The long answer is no, but yes.  Suffering is always bad, but it can become good.  How can bad become good?  I don’t fully know.  But God does it all the time.  St. Paul says that where sin abounds, grace abounds all the more.  God can change the bad in our life into good for ourselves or for others.  God is that powerful!! 

            But while we don’t know exactly how, we do know how we can participate in God changing bad into good: we unite our suffering with Jesus on the cross.  I think we all avoid suffering because we know, perhaps innately, how wrong suffering is.  But, when we unite our suffering with Jesus on the cross, the suffering is not just a deprivation of the good in our lives, but becomes a participation in the life of Jesus.  We more fully unite with Jesus when we suffer, because He came precisely to suffer, die, and be raised.  And the more we share in Jesus’ death, the more we share in His resurrection. 

How do we unite ourselves with Jesus?  It’s as easy as saying, “Jesus, I unite my suffering with you.”  That’s all we have to do.  We can use other words, other prayers, but at the heart, all we have to do is unite our suffering to Jesus.  And Jesus, who is no stranger to suffering–one of His chosen best friends betrayed Him; another denied Him; almost all of them abandoned Him in His hour of need–receives that, and, as God, changes it from bad to good.  A few years back I buried a 51-yr-old father of seven who lost his long battle with cancer; I have buried an infant; I have prayed with a woman who has given so much of her life to support the church as she learned she had breast cancer; those are major forms of suffering that we can unite with Jesus.  Or maybe you have a broken heart as your boyfriend or girlfriend dumps you; you have to start school again (as a student, or a teacher); you didn’t make the team or band you wanted; you feel like everything is going wrong; you stubbed your toe or hit your funny bone; all of those are sufferings that we can unite with Jesus, as well as everything in-between the major and minor.

We can also unite our suffering with Jesus in the bread and wine we offer at Mass.  We may sometimes feel like we are the heads of grain that have been pulverized to make wheat or like the grapes which were pressed to make wine.  Unite that in silence with the words of the Eucharistic prayer which I pray on your behalf to the Father.  And just as miraculous as God changing bad to good, God changes that bread and wine into the Body and Blood of His Son, Jesus Christ.  How many opportunities do we miss each day because we forget to unite our suffering with Jesus!?!  I know it’s true for me; I bet it’s true for you.

Suffering is not good.  We are not encouraged to seek it out (it will certainly come to us without looking for it!).  But neither do we preach a Gospel of prosperity: just because you love God does not mean you are going to have an easy life.  But our God loves us so much, that He knows what it means to suffer.  Our God loves us so much that He changes bad into good.  Take a minute or two after my homily (and each day) and think about the suffering that you have had to endure, no matter how big or how small, and unite it with the bread and the wine, and receive back the Body and Blood of Jesus, which give us strength in our suffering.