21 August 2015

Eating with your Feet

Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Pope Francis and Bishop Boyea have been speaking a fair amount about being welcoming people and parishes as part of the New Evangelization.  And it makes sense.  Who wants to come to a church where you are new, or just visiting, and as you are sitting in your pew, quietly praying and waiting for Mass to begin, a person comes up to you and says, “You’re in my seat!”?  Or who would want to join a parish where your family, which includes young children, gets horrible glares when the kids are being a little noisy, or even where someone says to you, “Can’t you control your own children and keep them quiet?!?”?  I wouldn’t want to join that parish!  
There are numerous groups that also feel like they’re not welcome in the Catholic Church.  We are called to be a welcoming community, and to welcome all people to a deeper relationship with Jesus.  More often than not, people are drawn to a relationship with Jesus when they know that others want them to be there, and will support them in living their life according to the Gospel.  It is especially helpful to note that none of us can get on our high horse, because we are all sinners of various kinds, all in need of God’s mercy.  Yes, some sins are more serious than others, but we should always recognize that all of us are in need of deeper conversion–of conforming our lives to that of Jesus.
But, being welcoming is not the end all, be all.  Parents: I’m sure you’ve all had times where your children wanted to have their friends over for dinner and you’ve agreed.  You welcome your children’s friends to your house to eat with you.  You are glad that they are there.  But then, at dinner, as they’re sitting at the dinner table, your children’s friends decide they’re going to eat with their bare feet (kids, don’t try this at home!).  What would you do?  
You would probably tell them to stop (hopefully in kind, yet firm, words).  While your children’s friends are welcome at your house, there are certain rules that exist for the health and well-being of the household, even with honored guests.  And sometimes that means holding firm on certain issues.  We see that with Jesus in the Gospels that we have been hearing over the past few weeks from John chapter 6.  No one would accuse Jesus of not being welcoming.  He drew in so many people who felt ostracized from Judaism and general society to follow Him.  And yet, when it comes to His teaching on the Eucharist, He seems very stubborn.  
Two weeks ago, as I’m sure you all remember, the Jews followed Jesus across the sea.  Jesus didn’t say: “It’s so nice to see you!”  He said, “‘Amen, amen, I say to you, you are not looking for me because you saw signs but because you ate the loaves and were filled.  Do not work for food that perishes but for food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you.’”  That doesn’t sound very welcoming.  
Last week we heard about how the Jews started murmuring as Jesus continue His teaching that He is the bread that came down from heaven.  They said, “‘Is this not Jesus, the son of Joseph?  Do we not know his father and mother?  Then how can he say, “I have come down from heaven”?’”  Jesus doesn’t respond with, “Oh, you just don’t understand what I’m saying and where I come from.”  Jesus says, “Stop murmuring….No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draw him….Everyone who listens to my Father and learns from him comes to me.’”
This week, Jesus continues to say that He is the living bread come down from heaven, and whoever eats this bread, His flesh, will live forever.  That really sends the Jews into a tizzy: “‘How can this man give us his flesh to eat?’”  But Jesus doesn’t say, “You misunderstand me; I’m talking about my Flesh under sacramental signs in the Eucharist, not as in cannibalism.”  Instead, he solemnly doubles down on his previous statements: “‘Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you.’”  Is Jesus not being welcoming?  Why would we follow a God who is not welcoming?
Jesus, of course, is always welcoming, especially to sinners.  But His welcome of them is to His way, His life, His truth.  Jesus was not concerned about winning the largest congregation award.  He was not concerned about converting everybody there, no matter what it takes, though He does desire all to be saved.  Jesus’ welcome is always paired with the truth.

If we are to be a parish formed after the heart of Jesus, then we, too have to hold those two things in tension: welcome and truth.  We have to be kind, understanding, and loving to those we meet, and encourage them to follow Jesus and strive to be like Him, as we try to do.  But that only happens when we also hold firm on what Jesus hold firms to: the truth.  Welcoming others does not mean watering down our faith.  It means lovingly welcoming others to conform their lives to Jesus, as we attempt to do the same thing.  Being welcoming does not mean anything goes.  It does not mean you can eat with your feet.  Being welcoming means embracing anyone with our words and deeds, and walking with them to become more like Jesus.  

11 August 2015

Fruit, Not Chocolate, Please

Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Many people are surprised to hear that I’m not the biggest fan of chocolate.  I’ll eat the occasional Snickers bar, but for the most part I stay away from almost anything chocolate.  It all stems from a time in 3rd grade where I ate way too much chocolate in one sitting and almost got sick.  My last pastor. Fr. Mark Inglot, who said Mass here in November, would tell me from time to time that he would tell people that I loved to receive chocolate for Christmas and Easter, just so he could eat whatever the parishioners would give me.  Instead, I love fruit.  Berries and cherries are my favorite, but I’ll eat almost any kind of fruit, with the exception of papaya: yuck!!
What we eat effects us in many different ways.  Runners tend to eat a lot of carbs before they run long distances.  Apparently it helps give the body what it needs before a run.  Cross country teams often have pasta parties the night before a meet.  Some people don’t eat meat, others only certain kinds of meat for health reasons or other reasons.  But food changes us in one way or another. 
In our first reading, the angel tells Elijah that he has to eat the bread, “‘else the journey will be too long for you!’”  Elijah needs the energy that the bread is going to give him to continue his prophetic mission from God.  That bread gave him the strength to walk forty days and forty nights to the mountain of God, Horeb, also know as Mt. Sinai.  
Whenever we hear bread in the Old Testament, we, as Catholics, should be reminded of the Eucharist, the bread that is not bread.  And Jesus speaks about that today in the Gospel.  He teaches the Jews that He is the bread of life, and that while the Jews in the desert ate manna and died, whoever eats the bread of life, that is, whoever eats Jesus’ Flesh, will not die, but will live forever.   
That is why the Church teaches, in fidelity to what Jesus taught, that the Eucharist is not merely a symbol of the Body and Blood of Christ, but truly is the Body and Blood of Christ.  We are not merely reminded about Jesus when we celebrate the Eucharist, but Jesus’ glorified Body and Blood becomes present in our midst under the appearance of bread and wine.  But substantially, what makes a thing what it is, we are not eating bread and drinking wine; we are eating the Body of Jesus and drinking the Blood of Jesus.  And this is the way that we can have eternal life.
The Body and Blood of Jesus, as supernatural food, is supposed to change us and change the way we live our lives because it conforms us to Christ.  St. Paul reminds us in the second reading that, for us who have received Jesus into our very bodies, there should be no more “bitterness, fury, anger, shouting, and reviling,” and that we are to be “kind to one another, compassionate, [and] forgiving one another as God has forgiven [us] in Christ.”  The Body and Blood of Jesus are meant to change us to become more like Him.  
We fast for 1 hour before Holy Communion from all food and drink except medicine and water because we don’t want to confuse the earthly food–which becomes part of us–with the heavenly food, which makes us part of Jesus.  We are called by St. Paul to discern the Body of Christ and whether we are in a state of grace–that is to say, unaware of any grave or mortal sins–so that we are not joining our grave or mortal sins, where we radically say no to God, with the Body and Blood of Jesus, which is always about making us more like God.  We need to go to confession first if we have grave or mortal sins before receiving the Eucharist so we don’t join our “no” to God with Jesus’ “yes” to God.  If we do receive the Eucharist in an unworthy state, not only do we not become more like Jesus, but we add the sin of sacrilege to whatever other grave or mortal sins we have committed by receiving Jesus unworthily.
That might not seem very welcoming to tell people they can’t come to Holy Communion.  And Pope Francis has reminded us how we are to welcome others.  Yet, we welcoming others is always at the service of giving people the opportunity to encounter Jesus.  To encounter Jesus means that we change for Him, not that He changes for us.  

So when we come to Mass, we should ask ourselves if we are aware of any major ways in which we need to change to conform our life with Jesus’ life and teachings, both in Scripture and through the Church’s teaching office.  If there are major gaps, then we should go to confession, or set up an appointment with me to discuss the situation and what we can do to remedy it, before receiving Jesus in the Eucharist.  I can promise you that I’ll do all that I can to provide God’s healing for whatever ways that are lives are not following Jesus.  That way, having dealt with those obstacles, when we receive the Eucharist, it will truly make us more like Jesus and give us the strength that we need to live as disciples of our Lord.

05 August 2015

The Good Ole Days

Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Summer is the time of year when many of us take vacation time.  Whether it’s a little trip down to Cedar Point in Sandusky, a trip to Lake Michigan or Lake Huron, or maybe we have a place somewhere, summer in Michigan always feels like a good time to get away from home.  And yet, as good as vacation is, it is always good to be back home.  I know I was very ready to come back home from my summer classes.  There’s something about sleeping in your own house that is different from sleeping elsewhere, no matter how nice it is.  
Perhaps we can better understand the Jews’ frustration, then, because they were leaving their home (they had been in Egypt for over 400 years!) for a place they have never been, which was to become their new home.  They were not familiar with where they were going, and they were wandering around in a desert.  I think many, if not all, of us would grumble a little if we were put in a similar situation.  
But, their grumbling (and our grumbling, too) reveals how much we trust God.  Do we have faith that God will take care of us?  Or do we idolize the past, even though it had its own challenges.  How silly we probably think it sounds for the Israelites to say, “‘Would that we had died at the Lord’s hand in the land of Egypt, as we sat by our fleshpots and ate our fill of bread!’”  They were basically saying, “I’d rather be a slave in Egypt and have died there than travel here, because at least I had food in my stomach!”  God had promised to send them to a land flowing with milk and honey, with the basic necessities (milk) and with the sweet things of life (honey), but they weren’t there yet, and so they preferred their past, even though it meant slavery.
In our Gospel, the same thing happens, except in a different way.  Instead of wanting to go back to Egypt, they want regular bread.  Jesus gave them a great sign, a miracle, when He fed the 5,000.  But the miracle was not intended merely for their bellies: it was intended to reveal who Jesus is: the Son of God.  But the people, who are excited about a new way of getting food, follow Jesus to get more.  Jesus understands their hearts, and says, “‘Amen, amen, I say to you, you are looking for me not because you saw signs but because you ate the loaves and were filled.’”  But then Jesus promises them food, “food that endures for eternal life.”  How do they respond?  They go back to the past, they go back to “the good ole’ days” with Moses in the desert and manna and quail.  
But Jesus isn’t promising them manna and quail.  Jesus is promising what manna pointed to: the Eucharist.  Jesus is giving them bread which is not bread, but which is flesh.  And we get a hint of that at the end of the Gospel when Jesus says, “‘I am the bread of life.’”  
We, too, have that tendency to look backwards and pine for “the good ole’ days.”  When exactly those are varies from person to person.  Maybe it was two years ago.  Maybe it was 20 years ago.  Maybe it was the ‘50s.  Whenever it was, it can be hard to leave what is familiar to us and go on pilgrimage to where God leads us.  It means change, which is almost always hard.  It means going towards the unknown, because none of us know exactly what will happen in the future (if you do, let me know, and I’ll start playing the lottery).  But we can’t go back, any more than the Israelites could go back to Egypt.  That was their past; God was moving them into their future.

Maybe this present isn’t the future you imagined 5 years ago.  Maybe your health is not as good as you hoped it would be.  Maybe the culture is not what you hoped it would be.  Maybe there have been unexpected deaths that have shaken your very foundation.  Maybe the Church isn’t what you hoped it would be.  But, I can promise you this: if we follow God and trust in Him, He has nothing but our good in mind.  God did not lead the Israelites from Egypt to Sodom and Gomorrah.  Jesus did not feed the 5,000 and then given them little crackers that would rot after each day.  God led the Israelites to the Promised Land; Jesus gave His Bride, the Church, the Eucharist.  God is leading us somewhere, both as a parish and as individuals.  We’ve never been there before, and the unknown can be scary.  But if we trust in God and trust that He will never lead us where His love cannot surround us, then we don’t need to be afraid, because that place, too, will become our home: the place to which we long to return.