"Lord, help me get one more"

Solemnity of the Nativity of the Lord

One of the questions I am commonly asked is what I do on my days off.  And when I get the chance, I like to see a good movie (when there are good movies out).  In early November I saw a movie called “Hacksaw Ridge.”  It’s based on a true story about a Seventh-Day Adventist, Pfc. Desmond T. Doss, who wants to be a medic in the Army during World War II.  Unfortunately, the Army makes a mistake (even though, as one character states, the Army doesn’t make mistakes), and he is assigned to an infantry division.  I don’t want to ruin the movie for you, but I will say that at one point during the movie, as Private Doss is stationed at a Pacific island, his division tries to take an elevated position, Hacksaw Ridge, which the Japanese have held on to despite multiple sorties.  As the healthy soldiers evacuate after being pushed back, again, by the Japanese, Doss states, at the top of that ridge, “Lord, help me get one more.”  And he rushes back, into enemy territory, to try to save injured members of his division.  He pulls them back, one at a time, and lowers them down the ridge, and then always goes back to find another soldier while saying, “Lord, help me get one more.”  

Now, it might seem odd to talk about a war movie on Christmas Eve/Day.  And this movie is certainly not a Christmas movie.  It’s Rated R for good reason: it’s one of the bloodiest movies I’ve seen in a while.  Children should not see it.  But that line has stuck with me since I saw it: “Lord, help me get one more.”

The Letter to the Hebrews states that, “In times past, God spoke in partial and various ways to our ancestors through the prophets; in these last days, he has spoken to us through the Son.”  All of the Old Testament was a story about God seeking His people, who had fled Him because of their sins, and the people seeking God, who was no longer able to walk among them because of their sins.  All of the Old Testament pointed to God ending this separation by sending His Son, Jesus Christ, the Word through whom all things were made, as St. John says in the Prologue of his account of the Gospel.  It is as if Jesus, God-made-man, God-with-us, was saying about us to His heavenly Father, “Lord, help me get one more.”  We were not injured in a pitched battle, but were beat up by our sins and Satan, who enticed us into evil, but then accused us after we gave into temptation.  We could not save ourselves, and we were dying in the battlefield of the world.  So Jesus came to us to save us.  He came for all of us, but we can also say He came for each one of us individually.  We are the one more Jesus came to help.  

Jesus helped us by being the light to those who walked in darkness, by destroying the yoke of sin and death which enslaved us, by being born as a defenseless child in a part of the world that no one cared about.  Seeing how wretched we were, how lost we were, how injured we were, Jesus could not help but enter our world of sin and sorrow, though He had no sin Himself, and give us the healing, without which our souls would perish eternally.

“Lord, help me get one more,” was fulfilled in the Blessed Virgin Mary, in Joseph, Jesus’ foster-father, in Zechariah, in Elizabeth, in the shepherds, in the magi, and in all those who came into contact with Jesus.  Jesus, whether as an infant at His Nativity, or as a man in His earthly ministry, or hanging on the cross in the sacrifice that put an end to sin and death, came to offer every person the gift of eternal salvation.  Jesus came to rescue us from Hacksaw Ridge.

But Jesus offering to help us didn’t end when He ascended into heaven.  Jesus established a Church to continue His saving work, by the power of the Holy Spirit.  He gave His apostles, who gave to their successors, the bishops, and their assistants, the priests, the authority to act in His name.  They are the ones now who are called to live out, “Lord, help me get one more.”  As long as there is a human on earth who has not come into contact with Jesus, Jesus remains on Hacksaw Ridge to help one more.

Tonight/Today, as at every Mass, Jesus comes to us under the appearance of bread and wine, which are truly the Body and Blood of Jesus.  Every time Mass is celebrated, Jesus becomes flesh once more, and so says to the Father, “Lord, help me get one more.”  He offers to heal our wounds through sacramental confession, and then gives us the food that strengthens us, because we are allowed to partake of Jesus’ own divinity, and puts us on the road to heaven, where there is no more battle, no more Hacksaw Ridge.  

If you’re here tonight/today as a Catholic who attends Mass every week, Jesus is here to heal you and strengthen you; He is here to save you.  If you’re here tonight/today as a Catholic who has been away from the Church or doesn’t come that often, Jesus loves you no less, and wants to heal you through the Sacrament of Penance, and strengthen you through the Eucharist; He is here to save you.  If you’re here tonight/today as a visitor who is not one with us in our Catholic faith, Jesus loves you no less, and is still seeking you on the battlefield to bring you into a full relationship with Him, and heal and strengthen you; He is here to save you.  Tonight/today, Jesus says to our heavenly Father about each and every one of us: “Lord, help me get one more.”

One of Those Days

Third Sunday of Advent

Have you ever had one of those days?  You know, the day when your car won’t start; or you overslept, and while racing into work get pulled over for speeding; or when you forget about a test that you have today; or when you end up wearing the delicious lunch that you were so proud you brought to work; or just when everything seems to be working against you in general?

Life can be rough sometimes.  We try to do our best, but sometimes our best is not enough, is not appreciated, or simply doesn’t work out at all.  I think we all have those days.  Misery loves company, and so today we can commiserate (at least a little) with St. John the Baptist.  There he was, just preaching God’s word, preparing the way for the Messiah, baptizing people in the Jordan, and then, because he was preaching against the immoral marriage of King Herod and Herodias, gets locked up in jail: no trial, no chance to plead his cause, just locked up indefinitely.  He doesn’t know it, but at some point in the future, he will become the victim of a hastily-made promise in response to a dance by King Herod’s step-daughter, Salome.  Life was not dealing St. John the Baptist good cards.

We can understand his questioning.  Nothing seems to be happening the way he thought it should.  So he sends messengers to Jesus, just to make sure that his second cousin is really the Messiah.  The floor has seemed to come out from under St. John the Baptist, and he’s grasping for some solid footing.  

But Jesus rarely answers questions with a simple yes or no.  There is always more to His answers than an everyday affirmation or negation.  So Jesus says, “the blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have the good news proclaimed to them.”  Jesus’ ministry is confirmed not simply by word, but by what Jesus does.  Jesus’ own actions testify that Jesus is the Messiah, and even more than that, is God Himself.  But then Jesus has that curious line: “And blessed is the one who takes no offense at me.”  In other words, blessed is the one who can accept God’s plan for salvation, even when it’s different from our plans.

The kingdom of heaven is still at hand.  It is still present in embryonic form on earth, and is still coming in its fulness with Jesus’ return.  Somedays, especially on one of those days, we may think, ‘God, can’t you just make things work the way they’re supposed to?  Isn’t it time for all of this brokenness and messed-up reality to come to an end?’  But St. James reminds us that it will happen in God’s way and in God’s time.  He reminds us in the second reading to be patient, and be stout-hearted.  Just as the prophets in the Old Testament kept waiting and waiting for the Messiah to come; just as they preached God’s word without often seeing the fruits of their own preaching, so we are called to wait and let God establish His kingdom in His way, which is often not our way.  If it were up to us, the kingdom of God would likely have come in shock and awe years or even decades ago.  But then, if God were doing it our way, the kingdom of God may have come in its fulness centuries ago, and we would not even exist.  

Today we rejoice, because we are more than halfway to Christmas.  We rejoice because our waiting for the celebration of the Nativity of our Lord is close to an end.  We rejoice because our salvation is nearer now than it was years or decades ago.  But we are not there yet.

Still, God is faithful to His promise, and He is preparing, in His time and His way, a new kingdom where there is life even in the desert; where glory and splendor will be the norm; where feeble hands, weak knees, and frightened hearts will be strengthened.  Isaiah prophesied that the kingdom of God would include the blind seeing, the deaf hearing, the lame leaping, and the mute singing.  Jesus was affirming to St. John the Baptist in His response that the kingdom of God had already begun, and that even though it was not present for St. John in its fulness, it was present in its fulness in Jesus.

If we have Jesus, it doesn’t mean that our life will be easy and carefree.  The gospel of prosperity and a happy-go-lucky life is not the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  But the Gospel of Jesus Christ is that we have take hold of the kingdom of God in the midst of brokenness and error, and that the darkness, though it surrounds us, cannot conquer the light of Christ.  And that should cause us to rejoice.  Because even on one of those days; even on the days when everything seems to go wrong, we have Jesus, especially in the Eucharist, and spending time with Him and receiving Him gives us the strength to persevere in our hope and our faith until Jesus returns again, and ushers in the fulness of the kingdom of God at the end of time, when God will be all in all, when God will put a definitive end to sin and suffering, and when perfect happiness will be the reality for all those who persevered with Christ on this earth in the new heaven and new earth.

'Twas the Night of Little Giants

Second Sunday of Advent

Two weeks ago we ended our Extraordinary Jubilee Year of Mercy.  Maybe after hearing today’s Gospel we feel like we have begun the Year of Divine Wrath!  St. John the Baptist certainly did not pull any punches.  To those who were open to him, he was preaching, “‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!’”  To those who weren’t open to him, the Pharisees and the Sadducees, he was even harsher: “‘You brood of vipers!  Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath?  Produce good fruit as evidence as your repentance.  […] His winnowing fan is in his hand.  He will clear his threshing floor and gather his wheat into his barn, but the chaff he will burn in unquenchable fire.”

An icon of St. John the Baptist
from outside Ein Kerem, Israel

I often wonder about how St. John the Baptist drew so many people.  He definitely had positive things to say, but a lot of what he said was somewhat harsh and critical.  Who gathers to hear the message: you are sinners and you need to shape up!?  And yet we hear about the large crowds who came to him to be baptized.  I remember walking back from the MSU-Notre Dame game (the famous one with the Little Giants play), and there was a street preacher along one of the sidewalks yelling at people to repent from their sexual immorality, their drinking, and their sinfulness in general.  I was in my collar, and as I looked at him, he said, “And don’t think you are safe because you work in the church!” or some such thing.  But people weren’t lining up to listen to him; in fact, they just walked on by. 

St. Matthew tells us that St. John the Baptist was the one who was preparing the way for the Lord.  God prepares the way for the public ministry of His Son, Jesus, by having a guy who eats locusts and honey tell people that they are sinners.  Hmmm…not the first approach I would think of if I wanted to get ready for the Messiah.

But, as Isaiah says elsewhere, God’s ways are not our ways.  And if we stop to think about it, it actually makes sense (except for the locust and honey part; I’m still not sure I get that).  We did just end the Year of Mercy, and we were rightly focused on God’s generous love which forgives us.  But love cannot be forced or faked.  God does not force His love on us (nor His mercy), and God does not give His forgiveness to those who are not sorry.  And so as odd as we may feel it is, the call to repentance is an important one.

Certainly, God’s grace starts the process.  We cannot be sorry without God enlightening us about our sins and the ways we have separated ourselves from Him.  But then we have to take the second step and acknowledge that we are wrong.  It’s one thing to think, “Maybe I shouldn’t have done X;” it’s another thing altogether to say, “I sinned when I did X.”  And it is only after we say “I sinned when I did X” and are sorry for whatever X is and make a resolution to not do X again that God can forgive us, because it is only after recognizing our sinfulness and our need for being forgiven that we will be open enough to receive God’s forgiveness.

The call to repentance and to admitting we have sinned is vitally important, of eternal importance, because only when we admit we have sinned and repent are we able to be forgiven.  Without someone to remind us that we are not perfect, that we don’t have everything figured out in our life, that we are sinners, we are not in a disposition to receive the mercy of God which we just focused on for the past year.  We need people in our life like St. John the Baptist to tell us we are sinners, not to beat us up, not to make us despair, but to prepare the road that Jesus wants to take to our hearts.  

Is it hard to admit that we’re wrong?  I’m a perfectionist, and it’s hard for me.  But it’s the truth.  I am a sinner.  And I don’t have to be Hitler or Stalin to accuse myself of sin.  We are all sinners, and we all need to repent.  We all have things in our life that are not of God and which have damaged or even severed our relationship with God.  Maybe we are afraid of guilt; maybe we don’t like that feeling.  But feeling guilty is a sign that our conscience, the voice of God in our hearts, is working properly and is properly formed by the Word of God and the teaching of the Church.  I don’t worry about the kid who cries after being caught doing something wrong in our school; I worry about the kid who feels nothing after being caught doing something wrong.

But God does not intend for us to remain in our guilt.  Guilt is meant to move us to repentance and the Sacrament of Penance.  How long has it been since you confessed your sins in the Sacrament of Penance, the way Jesus taught us to receive His forgiveness?  A month? Six months? A year? Five years? Ten years? Twenty years?  No matter how long it has been, do not let it last one more month.  God wants to shower His mercy upon you, and is waiting for you to respond to His grace to go to the Sacrament.  I’ll be glad to help you through the process if you’ve forgotten how to celebrate the sacrament or your Act of Contrition.  Or we’ll have other priests here on Sunday, 18 December at 3 p.m. to hear your confession.  The Year of Mercy is over, but God’s mercy endure for ever.  “‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!’”

Not Christmas Yet

First Sunday of Advent

Here we are: the first Sunday of Advent.  We lit at the beginning of Mass the Advent wreath with its first candle.  But every store around us is decorated with Christmas decorations.  So what is the Church doing?  We’re not decorated for Christmas yet.  There weren’t even any readings about “little baby Jesus” (to quote the movie “Talladega Nights”).  

One of my struggles as a new pastor here, is that I don’t know what the other priests have preached on, so maybe some of what I say today will be a review; don’t fall asleep.  But Advent comes from the Latin word adveniens which simply means “coming.”  Advent is our time of preparation.  But we are not simply preparing for Christmas.  We are first and foremost preparing for the second coming, or the second Advent of Christ.  That’s why a lot of our readings still have an “end times” theme.  Isaiah prophesies the day when all of God’s people will approach the mountain of the Lord, which any Jew would have recognized as Jerusalem (it’s like saying “the capital” in Michigan; we don’t have to say Lansing).  St. Paul talks about now being the time to wake up from our drowsiness, now is the time to convert from our sinfulness, because Jesus is coming.  And Jesus in our Gospel talks about being prepared for the end, when He will return, and not to be caught off-guard.

In fact, the first Gospel that we have that talks about the time immediately before Jesus was born, will come on the fourth Sunday of Advent.  Until then, we’ll continue to hear about preparing for the Jesus to return, or preparing for Jesus in general (like when John the Baptist will preach about Jesus).  We will speak about Jesus’ first coming, His first Advent, especially one week before Christmas, but until then our Masses and readings focus on Jesus’ second coming at the end of time.

But our church building does have a primary sign of waiting for Jesus: our Advent wreath.  The evergreens of the wreath remind us that Jesus offers us new life that never dies.  Now, to be fair, trees that drop their leaves don’t die during the winter; but they sure look like they do!  Any deciduous tree looks like it’s barren.  But the evergreens stay green all year round, like the popular song “O Christmas Tree” says.  We also have four candles on our Advent wreath, and we light one for each week of Advent that we are in.  In one sense, we might say a light is a light, and it doesn’t make a difference between electric light and candle light.  But candles play a prominent role in our Church.  We have candles around the altar, where the Eucharistic sacrifice occurs, and around the ambo, where the Word of God is proclaimed.  Each Easter Vigil we begin by lighting the Paschal or Easter Candle, which reminds us that Christ is the Light of the World.  Candles provide a different kind of light, as anyone can tell you who has lost power and relied on candlelight, or for anyone who has tried to host or go to a romantic dinner: candlelight provides a different atmosphere than just electric lights.  And candles also have a scent to them (not just Yankee Candle Company).  Candlelight is also alive, in a metaphorical sense.  The flames seem to dance on the wick, and almost takes on a life of its own.  In any case, our Advent wreath helps us remember Jesus Christ, the life and light of the world, who will come again.  And as we get closer to celebrating Jesus’ first Advent in Bethlehem, we will have more candlelight from more of the candles being lit.

So our challenge over the next four weeks of Advent is to be ready and not to rush.  In very few circumstances are people truly ready when they rush.  Whether it’s a kid stuffing all his clothes and toys in the closet so that no one sees them at the Christmas party; rushing to cook the special meals we have during the holidays; rushing to get everywhere we need to be.  Rushing to something is not generally connected with truly being ready.  In the midst of our hustle and bustle of this short season, I encourage all of us to take time to prepare for Jesus first and second Advent, by making time and space for Jesus’ third Advent, His coming into our hearts.  Take some extra time for silence and prayer.  Maybe spend time with Jesus in Adoration on 16 December; maybe come to Mass 5 minutes earlier to pray before the introduction begins; maybe turn off the radio in the car for the drive or part of the drive into work; maybe even turning off the cell phone for a little.  In whatever way you choose, be ready for Jesus to come, “for at an hour you do not expect, the Son of Man will come.”

The King of Glory

Solemnity of our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe

I think it would be safe to say that the secretary at my last parish was borderline obsessed with British royalty.  I did her wedding not long after I arrived at St. Joseph in Adrian, and one of her hymns was the same one that was used at the royal wedding.  She would often try to find less expensive versions of dresses that Katherine wears, and when the value of the British pound dropped after Brexit, she and her husband started to make plans to visit.

But America’s love of royalty is not limited to her.  For six years millions of Americans watched “Downton Abbey,” about a British noble family and their servants.  The final season finale drew 9.6 million viewers, so clearly there are a good number of people who like royalty and nobility.  And America even “created” it’s own royal family in John and Jackie Kennedy.  But what do we love about it?  Is it the fancy clothes?  Is the crowns and swords and ceremonial uniforms?  Is it the tradition?  Is it the power?

Today we celebrate the Solemnity of our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe.  Even just after our presidential election, we are celebrating a King.  We heard in our first reading a little about the best example of a Jewish king, King David.  King David was the model for all kings who followed, even though David himself wasn’t a perfect king (remember that story about Bathsheba, and how got her pregnant, even though she was someone else’s wife, and then eventually killed her husband to cover up the adultery?).  In fact, when the Archangel Gabriel appears to Mary to tell her that she will be the Mother of God, Gabriel says, “‘He will be great and will be called Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give him the throne of David his father, and he will rule over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.’”  

But in the rest of the Gospels, Jesus shies away from this heritage, of being a king in the line of David.  In John 6, the people want to make Jesus king after he feeds them miraculously.  But Jesus hides away, and does not let them.  The closest Jesus comes to accepting the fulfillment of the Davidic prophecy of a great king is on Palm Sunday, when Jesus receives the praise from the people that we heard in our Alleluia verse: “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!  Blessed is the kingdom of our father David that is to come!”

So why is Jesus so hesitant to be cast as a king in the line of David during His earthly ministry?  If He is a king, why not accept the recognition by the people that He is a king?

Jesus is a king unlike any other, and He does not accept earthly kingship from His own people because their idea of kingship was different than God’s.  Jesus was not concerned with the fancy clothes, the crowns and swords and ceremonial uniforms.  And He was certainly not concerned with power, though all power in heaven and earth belonged to Him.  Our Gospel today shows us what the kingship of Jesus is like: a suffering kingship, that does not seek power, but empties itself out for the good of His people.  Jesus on earth does not rule from a throne of gold, but from the throne of the cross.  In Orthodox churches, their large crucifixes do not have INRI above them like ours (INRI is an abbreviation for Iesus Nazarenus Rex Iudaeorum, which is Latin for Jesus the Nazarene, King of the Jews).  Instead, the inscription reads: The King of Glory, to remind them how Christ was glorified, and how we are to be glorified: through the cross.

Can we accept Jesus as our king on the cross?  Sometimes Protestants accuse us of wanting to crucify Jesus again and again because we give such a prominent place to Jesus on the cross, what we commonly call a crucifix, in our churches.  But that is our constant reminder of how Jesus reigns: on the cross.  As our preface before the Eucharistic prayer says, Jesus’ kingdom is “an eternal and universal kingdom, a kingdom of truth and life, a kingdom of holiness and grace, and kingdom of justice, love and peace.”  

Jesus has all power, and yet He, the Lord of Lords, does not lord His power over us.  He invites us to accept His reign, but He does not force it upon us.  There will come a day, at the end of time, when His kingdom will be the only kingdom.  There will be no more lies and death, no more sin and sorrow, no more injustice, hatred, and war.  And at that time, we will be recognized as a part of that kingdom based on how we accepted that kingdom while here on earth.  Instead of being a part of a kingdom because of where we are born, we become a part of Christ’s kingdom by the rebirth of baptism, and we remain a part of that kingdom by being faithful in word and deed throughout the rest of our life.  May we be obsessed, in the best sense of the word, not with British royalty, but with being subjects of our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe.

The End is Near

Thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time

Four years ago, there were people, no small amount, who did not think that we would be here, because the Mayans stopped updating their calendar and didn’t have a date past 21 December 2012.  By this time in 1999, the world was freaking out (that’s a scientific term).  Computers weren’t supposed to be able to handle the year 2000, and it was supposed to create a worldwide disaster, which could signal at least a return to the dark ages for Western civilization, or maybe even the end of the world.  In 1831, William Miller and 100,000 of his closest friends, were convinced Jesus was going to return in 1843, until that didn’t happen, and the date was revised for a year later, which also, obviously, didn’t happen.  In 1524, a respected German mathematician and astrologer predicted there would be a world-covering flood, because all of the planets were aligning under the zodiac sign Pisces; it did rain lightly on the predicted day of the flood.  In 476, as the barbarians crushed what was left of the Western Roman Empire, the same empire that had legalized and then endorsed Christianity, it was thought that the world was coming to an end.  And though I hesitate to mention it, there are a number of people in our country who feel like the world is going to end because of our recent elections.

But here we are.  Now, as Catholics, we know that Jesus will return and usher in the end of the world.  We profess that every solemnity in our creed.  But I’m not here to give you a date for that return.  We don’t know when it will happen.  But it will happen.  The signs that Jesus describes in our Gospel today–wars, insurrections, false prophets and messiahs, earthquakes, famines, and plagues–all of these have happened over and over again.  Still, we are still here, for now.

When many preachers talk about the end times, they make it quite scary.  And Jesus does talk about how it will be trying times.  But as Catholics, we should not be afraid of the end.  Nor should we put our faith in magnificent buildings or large numbers.  One of the great joys of my life has been to study in Rome for 5 months.  I was able to see amazing churches, especially the Basilica of St. Peter, the Basilica of St. John Lateran, the Basilica of St. Paul Outside the Walls, and the Basilica of Santa Maria sopra Minerva.  It would create such an ache in my heart if I found out that any of those churches, or any others, were destroyed by nature or by humans.  But my faith is not in buildings.  We survived and thrived as a church for about 300 years without a Basilica of St. Peter, and the current basilica is only from the 17th century (in Roman terms, in a city founded in 753 BC, it’s just a baby basilica).

Our faith cannot be in the passing world.  So many of the things in this world we assume will always be here; we cannot imagine life without them.  But they are passing things; only Jesus is eternal.  Each day that we live, we are getting closer and closer to the second coming of Jesus, the end of this world, and the beginning of the new heaven and new earth.  In that sense, we can say the end is near.  It’s certainly closer to happening now than it was 1000 years ago.  

Does this freak us out (again, a very scientific term)?  The end of the things that we take for granted as always being a part of our life should only cause us to be alarmed if our life is not anchored in Jesus, who will outlast all the passing reality.  The end of the world should only make us worry if we do not live as Jesus taught us, because God tells us through Malachi in our first reading that evildoers will be stubble, burnt in a field.  When we think of evildoers we often think of people like Hitler and Stalin.  But to be a doer of evil simply means that we act contrary to God’s will in a grave way as expressed through Scripture or through the Church.  So if we steal from our company; if we make false gods for ourselves out of our possessions; if we condone or support racism; if our first allegiance is not to our God but to our own wills or to any other organization; if we call good evil, and call evil good; then we should be worried.  Then Jesus’ return will not be a happy day for us.  “But for you who fear [God’s] name, there will arise the sun of justice with its healing rays.”

For almost two full millennia, during her liturgies in most churches, all of the people, including the priest, faced a unified direction for the Eucharistic prayer, not so that the priest didn’t have to look at the people, but so that the entire church could be focused on Jesus, the Sun rising from the East, the sun of justice.  The posture of the people was such that they knew that they had to be focused on Jesus, waiting for His return, rather than turning in on itself.  Turning towards Jesus meant turning away from all those things that distracted them from Him.  Even today in most Catholic cemeteries, including New Calvary, all the bodies who are buried in the ground are facing east.  I’m not saying I’m going to start celebrating Mass ad orientem, but we are invited in today’s readings to turn away from sin, turn away from our fallen selves, turn away from all the passing things that we consider so permanent, so that we can turn to Jesus, who “is the same yesterday, today, and forever,” and whose kingdom will have no end.

Maybe the homily seems a little dour today.  Maybe it feels a little fire and brimstone-ish.  Brothers and sisters, the good news today is that, while we still have breath, we can turn towards the Lord Jesus, the sun of justice who will rise from the east, and ask forgiveness.  We don’t know when the world will end, but if we live each day as if it could end any moment, then we will be ready for Christ to return in glory, and that time of the end will be a day of rejoicing.  

Chocolate, Puppies, and Belinda Carlisle

Thirty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time

What is heaven like?  People have many different ideas.  Some people believe heaven is an unending chocolate fountain of goodness, but the chocolate has no calories.  Some people think heaven is a world full of puppies, except you never have to clean up after them and they obey your every command.  Some people consider heaven to be a tropical island with bottomless piña coladas and cuba libres.  In 1987, Belinda Carlisle told us heaven is a place on earth.

In all of these situations, heaven is simply a better version of earth.  The Sadducees in our Gospel today also took that approach.  They felt that heaven was merely a continuation of earth.  So, they plan to trick Jesus, by showing how problematic even believing in heaven truly is.  They set a trap where a woman in heaven would have seven different husbands, and try to see how Jesus would squirm out of this problem.  But rather than granting their premise that heaven is merely a continuation of earth, maybe with a little less pain, Jesus tells them that they have missed the point entirely.  Heaven is not a better continuation of earth, but is radically different.  In heaven there is no marriage or giving in marriage, because marriage is for earth.  Marriage, at least between two baptized Christians, is a visible symbol of the invisible reality of Christ for His Church, which not only reminds us of Jesus, but communicates His grace.  In heaven, we don’t need physical realities that communicate God’s grace to us, because we have the direct vision of God.  

Heaven is the place where God’s reign comes in its fulness, as compared to what we have today.  We hear about that in our first reading.  This passage tells us of when Jewish brothers and their mother were remaining faithful to God’s law, even though the government, run by pagan Greeks, tried to get them to abandon God’s law.  The brothers knew that God would accept their sacrifice, and would right the wrongs that had been inflicted upon them by giving them new life.  

Heaven is not just earth 2.0.  Heaven is not just earth without any more elections, without any more war, without suffering and pain.  Heaven is as different from our current way of life as our life is different from an ant’s.  The Book of Revelation reminds us that heaven is the place where there are no more wrongs to be righted, and where we see God face to face.  Heaven is the place where there are no more tears or suffering or sorrow, for the old order has passed away.  Heaven is perfect happiness, not to our fallen human nature, but to our human nature perfected by Christ.  And to get there, we have to cooperate with God’s perfection of our nature in this life.  If we work against God’s will by our actions in this life, then we won’t be going to heaven in the life to come.  

The Book of Revelation also describes heaven as an eternal liturgy, an eternal Mass.  Now, before you think to yourself: ‘Heaven is like a never-ending Mass?  I don’t wanna go there!’, there won’t be boring homilies in heaven.  We won’t have to wait for bread and wine to be transubstantiated into the Eucharist in heaven, because we won’t need a sacrament of Jesus’ Body and Blood; Jesus’ Body and Blood will be present for us immediately. 

But if you have ever read the Book of Revelation, and not just the snippets about weird animals and the number 666, then you will recognize that it describes what goes on as worship of God, which is what we do at Mass.  The elders (in Greek, 𝛑𝛒𝛆𝛔𝛃𝛖𝛕𝛆𝛒𝛐𝛓, from which we get the word presbyter or priest) are around the throne of the Lamb, Jesus, throwing down their crowns (I don’t get any crowns) as they worship God.  They are also surrounded by the four living creatures, the Ox, Man, Lion, and Eagle, representing the four evangelists or Gospels, with the Cherubim singing “‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God.’”  The scroll with the Word of God is digested (like we’re supposed to do in the homily), and the elders and the angels and all those who are in heaven sing hymns to the Lord, praising God for what He has done.  And all of this is done over the place where the martyrs are, which is why, since the earliest days of Christianity, altars have been built over the site of martyrdom, or relics have been placed in altars.  If you want to read a good book on this, Scott Hahn’s book “The Lamb’s Supper,” is a great read.  

The Mass is supposed to give us a foretaste of what heaven is like.  It’s not meant to be the same as every day life.  It’s not supposed to be earthly.  It is patterned upon the worship of God in Scripture, and as the Church has developed the Mass throughout the centuries to emphasize what we believe.  While using earthly things, everything about our Mass is supposed to transport our senses, minds, and hearts to the heavenly Jerusalem through the symbols that make that reality present, and the signs that remind us of that reality.  

Heaven is not a mere continuation of our earthly existence.  It’s not earth without mosquitos.  Heaven is not a place on earth, with all due respect to Belinda Carlisle.  Heaven is the place of perfect fulfillment, where we will be who God created us to be.  May we all receive the many graces God gives us, especially through the Mass and confession, so that we will be found worthy of dwelling with God in that place of perfect light, happiness, and peace.

Shopping on an Empty Stomach

Thirty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time

People say that is bad to go grocery shopping on an empty stomach.  The reason for this is that some types of food, which on a full stomach you might not have considered purchasing, suddenly seem more enticing.  I know grocery shopping when I’m hungry is definitely dangerous.  This past Thursday I went shopping on an empty stomach.  I originally had planned only to pick up a pumpkin to carve for Halloween, some carrots, potatoes, and celery for a pot roast I was cooking that day, and some apples.  But then I saw the caramel, and imagined how tasty that would be with apple slices.  And then I saw sour gummy worms, and could almost taste the sweet and sour candy in my mouth.  Needless to say, I ended up picking up a few more things than I originally had intended.

Our Gospel today begins by saying that Jesus intended to pass through the town of Jericho.  Jesus must have been hungry for souls, because a crowd quickly forms, and Jesus, through this crowd, sees a soul who is hungering for Jesus, even as Jesus hungers for his soul.  Zacchaeus had to climb up a tree (and there is a tree in Jericho today which alleges to be the sycamore tree Zacchaeus climbed) to see Jesus.  But Jesus notices Zacchaeus, and invites Himself over to dinner at Zacchaeus’ house.

The Zacchaeus Sycamore Tree in Jericho

 

Do we hunger for Jesus?  What would we do to see Jesus?  Recently a few new Chick-fil-As opened in Michigan.  The first one hundred people at the new stores received one free meal per week for a year from Chick-fil-A.  I know that people camp out, sometimes for days, just to have a chance to win some free, tasty chicken for a year.  It’s interesting, though, that some of us are content to show up for Mass 10-15 minutes late.  Or think about how early most people arrive at a stadium to either tailgate or watch a game.  Most people are quite upset if they miss kick-off.  And yet we can put off prayer, our time to be with Jesus and talk and listen to Him, quite easily.  

If we do show up to Mass on time, stay for all the Mass, and set aside time daily to pray, then we need to ask ourselves if we’re as hungry to bring others to Jesus as Jesus was.  Again, Jesus intended to pass through Jericho.  But, noticing Zacchaeus’ hunger for Him, Jesus spent time there, and even had dinner with Zacchaeus.  Do we want to bring others to Jesus?  Last week Deacon Dave preached about our Evangelization Plan, of how we can bring others, especially fallen-away Catholics back to the practice of their faith.  Have we filled it out?  Did we even take one home?  Or do just sit back and figure if people want to come to church again, they will?  

Imagine for a second that the Apostles, after Pentecost, waited for people to come to the upper room.  Would thousands of people have been baptized on that very day?  And would the faith have spread?  Would the world have been changed for the better by the Gospel?  The answer is obvious: of course not.  And yet, we can often have the mentality that we’ll just wait for people to come back to church, or join the church, without any work on our part.  By our baptism, we have each become a member of the Church, and by our confirmation, we have each been sent out to help people know the truth and love of Jesus, which will make them happy and will help them on the road to heaven, which God desires for every person.  At our confirmation we were given a mission to work to bring as many people into a relationship with Jesus, even as we continue to work on our own relationship with Jesus.  It is not only the work of priests, deacons, and religious.  In fact, the transformation of the world by preaching the Gospel is really the work of the laity; at least that’s what Vatican II emphasized.  

Vatican II says, in its Constitution on the Church that the laity are called to “make Christ known to others, especially by the testimony of a life resplendent in faith, hope and charity (n. 31).”  In the Vatican II decree on the apostolate, or work of spreading the Gospel, we read, “The apostolate of the laity derives from their Christian vocation and the Church can never be without it. […] The Church was founded for the purpose of spreading the kingdom of Christ throughout the earth for the glory of God the Father, to enable all men to share in His saving redemption, and that through them the whole world might enter into a relationship with Christ (nn. 1, 2).”

Christ is hungry for us and our love.  Are we hungry for others to know Jesus Christ?  Jesus, and so many fallen-away Catholics are waiting for us to be hungry to help others know Jesus and His Church.  Would we have them starve?

"What was Jesus' Problem?"

Twenty-eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time

“What was Jesus’ problem?”  That was the way one homily I heard in seminary on this Gospel passage begin.  Sitting in Sacred Heart Major Seminary, the Tudor Gothic building, at a 7 a.m. Mass, this first phase certainly got my attention.  “What was Jesus’ problem?” Fr. Muller asked.  The 9 other lepers did exactly as Jesus told them: they went to show the priest that they were no longer lepers, which was exactly what lepers were supposed to do according to the Book of Leviticus.  And yet, Jesus seems quite perturbed that only 1 leper had returned to say, “Thank you.”  In fact, the one leper who did return was being directly disobedient to Jesus; he didn’t go and show the priest.  

In fact, Jesus was praising the faith of the one who realized who the Person was who healed Him.  And what was remarkable was that it was a Samaritan, someone who was not part of the Chosen People.  In fact, the Samaritans were the people who had mixed Judaism with the surrounding pagan religions.  It was this pagan who had recognized that it was Jesus Himself who had healed him.  This was different from our first reading because Elisha never cured the man, but God cured the man.  Elisha was just the one who told the foreigner how God would cure him.

Saying thank you is a basic part of how we are raised, or at least it should be.  When a gift is received, or when someone holds the door for us, or when someone simply does anything kind for us, we are trained, and should be, to say, “Thank you.”  But sometimes we need a reminder.  Just the other day I was sitting at the corner of Utley and Corunna, and there was no traffic in either direction as I was trying to turn left onto Corunna.  It dawned on me that I should say thank you to God, and I did, because that is often a wicked intersection at which to turn left.  Now, we probably don’t often think about thanking God for those little things, but everything we receive from God is a gift, for which we owe God thanks.

But, if we really think about it, when we say that everything we receive from God, we also have to include the trials and tribulations that God allows us to undergo.  God doesn’t send us evil, but sometimes he allows us to go through evil for some greater good.  It’s easy to thank God that we have a choir singing at Mass again; it’s much harder to thank God for the month that felt like an eternity without the choir.  I thank God that I’m able to be involved almost daily with our wonderful Catholic schools: St. Pius X and Powers.  It’s a little harder to thank God for a broken thumb one received while spending time with said students.  But I know that God is teaching me patience as I go through the six more weeks of not having full use of my thumb.  

It may seem like it’s weird to thank God even for horrible stuff that happened.  And yet, that’s what we do every Sunday and Holyday, and each time we assemble for Mass.  Each time the Mass is celebrated we give thanks.  The word Eucharist comes from two Greek words, 𝛆𝛖-, which means well, and 𝛘𝛂𝛒𝛊𝛓, which means to give thanks.  Each time we are here for Mass, we give thanks to God.  For what do we give thanks?  The crucifixion of Jesus.  Each Mass Calvary is re-presented for us, and we are able to share in the fruits of our redemption.  While the Mass draws us in to the entire Paschal Mystery, the Death, Resurrection, and Ascension of Jesus, the Eucharist connects us more specifically to the Death of Jesus on the cross, which is why the crucifix is so important for us as Catholics.  We give thanks for God’s death in a horribly brutal way.  

At the Easter Vigil, the Exultet, an old hymn about the very special night, says, “O happy fault that earned so great, so glorious a Redeemer!”  We even give thanks for the Fall of Adam and Eve, because that Fall made possible a life more glorious than the Garden of Eden when Jesus died on the cross.  

It’s easy to give thanks when something goes well, or when we get something we want.  Do we give thanks to God even for the things we don't want: an illness; a delay; a broken bone; a boring homily; a new priest who isn’t as good as the old one; a bad grade; a lost job.  Certainly those things are crosses in our life, and God never sends us evil.  But maybe there’s a reason God allowed the evil to enter our life, a way that we can become more of the saint He called us to be in baptism.

We’ve heard it a million times: say please and thank you.  But the Lord is inviting us to give Him everything we’ve experienced since the last time we received the Eucharist: the good, the bad, and the ugly.  Unite it with the bread and wine which will be offered to God.  In giving thanks to God for all of it, and uniting it with the perfect sacrifice of thanksgiving of Jesus on the cross, God promises to transform it, if we allow Him, and give it back to us transformed into something which draws us closer to Him.  As St. Paul says in his first letter to the Thessalonians: “In all circumstances give thanks, for this is the will of God for you in Christ Jesus.”

Signs of Fall

Twenty-seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

There are some tell-tale signs that we are in the Fall: Friday night high school football, college football Saturdays, less daylight each day, cooler evenings and mornings, young ladies are starting to break out their uggs and ordering pumpkin spice everything.  Fall is upon us!  And it can be tough with less darker mornings and evenings.  Even during the days, it seems like there is more and more dreariness.

It can also feel darker and darker sometimes in terms of our city.  As you might have guessed, when I told people I was going to Flint, most people quickly responded with, “Don’t drink the water.”  Our water crisis, though we have started to address it, rages on.  As of April 2015, the unemployment rate in Flint was still 9.7%; city-data.com still lists Flint as a high crime area.  It seems like there is little good news for us!

In spite of this, the Word of God gives us some encouragement.  The Book of the Prophet Habakkuk, written likely in the 7th century BC, is written shortly before the Babylonians sack Jerusalem and exile the Chosen People to modern-day Iraq.  There was not very much good news for them, either.  In fact, the prophet says, “How long, O Lord?  I cry for help but you do not listen!  […] Why do you let me see ruin; why must I look at misery?”  Perhaps this is our prayer as well.  But the Lord does not remain silent.  He responds, “the vision still has its time, presses on to fulfillment, and will not disappoint; if it delays, wait for it, it will surely come, it will not be late.”  God promises not to abandon his people, even if things look very dark.  What are the people to do in the meantime?  “The just one,” Habakkuk writes, “because of his faith, shall live.”  

Faith is hard, because, as the Letter to the Hebrews states, it is the “evidence of things not seen.”  We see darkness around us.  The light is not visible to our eyes.  It takes faith to trust that the dawn will break forth and scatter the darkness.  When our experience is negative, it’s hard to know there is any positive at all.  And we can sometimes rationalize not having faith by saying that we’re realists.  

But if we wish to see better times, then faith is necessary.  And we don’t need a large amount of faith, but only the size of a mustard seed, one of the smallest seeds around.  If we have faith that small, then we can command trees to move to their death, and they will do it.  Now, I’m pretty sure the Lord is not telling us to have faith that so we can landscape differently.  But he is saying that if we have a little bit of faith, anything can happen.

Having faith has made a difference in my life.  When I was a parochial vicar in East Lansing, there was a young man I knew who was attending Michigan State.  I had taught him a little at Lansing Catholic High School.  One day he contacted me and asked for prayers because his bike, which was locked on a bike rack, was stolen, and the police had very little hope of getting it back.  He relied on the bike to make it to class and to football practice.  I prayed, through the intercession of St. Anthony and St. Dominic, and had faith that God would answer my prayers according to His will.  I pleaded with God that this young man needed his bike to be a good student, and that getting his bike back would strengthen his faith.  A day after I prayed, the bike was found and returned to its owner.   This definitely did help to increase that young man’s faith.  This young man had been sure that he would never see his bike again.  The police were sure he was right.  Faith made the impossible happen.  

If we have faith, what we see is not what will always be.  That’s true for our spiritual lives: the struggles we have, if united to Jesus, can one day lead to glory in heaven.  It’s true for our city: I see signs of hope that Flint is coming back, and if we follow God’s will we can once more have a thriving city.  And I am excited to be a part of that renewal right here in our parish.  If we have faith in God’s will, and trust in God, we can be major contributors to the flourishing of Flint.  Things may still look bleak, but the Lord invites us to follow Him and trust in Him.  “For the vision still has its time, presses on to fulfillment, and will not disappoint; if it delays, wait for it, it will surely come, it will not be late.”  Trust that being obedient to God’s will will give us things that we never thought could be.  Have faith!

Team Work

Solemnity of the Anniversary of the Dedication of St. Pius X Church

One of the fun parts of being a parish priest is the different events to which I get to go: football, basketball, and soccer games, just to name a few.  This past Wednesday I had the opportunity to watch our 7th and 8th grade girls basketball team play basketball.  We didn’t get the result we wanted (that is to say, we lost), but it was great watching our girls play.  They work well as a team, passing the ball, shooting when they have the shot, and getting back to play defense.  Each of them has to work together; none of them can do it all by herself.  Jaelynn relies on a trusts her teammates like Layla to pass to, Ari can support Emily and set a pick, and Mimi, Lauren, Sierra, and Emma have to support each other in the plays they run and in the constant back and forth of basketball.     

I also have attended some of the Powers boys soccer games this season.  I played soccer for 9 years when I was younger, and it’s fun to be involved with it again.  Soccer is definitely a sport, like basketball, where each person has to contribute in a particular way; no one person can do it all by himself.  If a defender like Trevor or Connor decides on his own to try to play offense and score a goal, it can lead to big trouble; if mid-fielders like Mason or Dominic don't adjust to the flow of the game, pushing up when the team is on offense, and falling back when the team is on defense, the team is likely to lose; even if the forwards, whose primary job is to provide offense and score goals, like Drew or Brian or Blase, don’t occasionally look up to see if someone else has a better shot, the team may not score as many goals as they could have.

Today we celebrate the Anniversary of the Dedication of St. Pius X Church.  On 23 September 1956, this building, a grouping of bricks and mortar, was dedicated to God as a place to worship Him.  This place was set aside as a pre-eminent place to call on God, and where God promised that He would always be present, especially in the Sacrament of the Eucharist in the Tabernacle.  Experiencing God here is different than praying in our rooms, or in nature, because this place is set-aside from the rest of the world to be a special place where we can encounter God and worship Him in spirit and truth.  Here God’s covenant with us in the Precious Blood of Jesus is re-presented, made present to us again, in a way that happens no where else.  That’s why Catholics are generally required to get married in a church building.  As they make their covenant with God and each other, they are in the presence of the covenant God has made with us.

This church building, too, is a sign to us of what we are called to be as members of the Body of Christ.  Each brick plays its own important role; each piece of the window does its part to let the light of the sun in; each piece of liturgical furniture works together to allow God to become present through His People assembled as one, through His Word proclaimed, through the Priest acting in the Person of Christ the Head, and especially in the Body and Blood of Jesus in the Eucharist.  So, too, we each have our role in the church.  We each contribute to making up the parish of St. Pius X.  As your pastor, my primary role is to provide you with God’s grace, especially through the Sacraments of the Eucharist and Penance, and to oversee the work of the parish.  Some of you help in proclaiming God’s Word; some of you are Extraordinary Ministers of Holy Communion and help bring Jesus in the Eucharist to those who are here and those who are not able to join us at Mass; some of you work on staff; others volunteer in a variety of ways and in different organizations; some of you are already so busy with taking care of your family that your role is joining us for Mass, helping to provide for the parish by your stewardship of money, and helping to spread the Gospel in your daily lives through word and deed.

Like our girls basketball team or the Powers soccer team, we have to work together.  We cannot do everything ourselves.  We work together to achieve our goals as a parish.  Imagine if the roof decided it didn’t like providing cover from the direct sun, the rain, and the snow.  If it doesn’t perform it’s important, though perhaps not glamorous, duty, we’d be sunburned or wet.  Imagine if the doors wanted to be closer to the tabernacle, so they moved into the sanctuary.  We’d have no way to welcome parishioners and visitors in, nor ways to keep vandals and thieves out.  If our girls basketball team members decided that they each wanted to score every basket, or only wanted to play defense, we wouldn’t win a game.  If the Powers soccer team decided they weren’t going to play their positions and support each other, we’d be last in the Saginaw Valley League.  Today as we celebrate the 60th Anniversary of the Dedication of St. Pius X Church, we are invited to work together in our diverse and unified roles to help build up the Body of Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Birth Order

Twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Various studies have shown that there is a general trend about the personality of a child based upon their birth order.  Of course, I’m sure there are exceptions to the rule, but, speaking for myself, I have found most of the attributes to be true.  Parents.com says the following (and it’s on the internet so it must be true!): “As the leader of the pack, firstborns often tend to be: reliable; conscientious; structured; cautious; controlling; achievers.  Firstborns bask in their parents’ presence, which may explain why they sometimes act like mini-adults.  Firstborns are diligent and want to be the best at everything they do.”  As a firstborn, I would say most of those are true, though I would use the word administrative rather than controlling.  I think firstborns, but also others, certainly want to be the best at everything we do.  We, as with others, can tend to be perfectionists.  

The challenge for any perfectionist, whether firstborn or not, is that when we mess up, we can take it very personally.  Perfectionists are certainly tough on others, but are, more often than not, tough on themselves.  And so, in our spiritual lives, when we sin, as all people do (even the firstborn, perfect child), it can be hard to accept the Lord’s mercy.  Pope Francis once said that the Lord is sometimes more willing to forgive us than we are ourselves, and that can certainly be true.  We fall, like the Israelites in the first reading, and we can feel like God should start over with someone else.  In those moments, we need to trust in the Lord, and remember that He does want to have mercy on us.  He does not want to destroy us.  In the first reading, God was seeing how Moses would respond to God’s justice (for turning away from God the Israelites did deserve death), and God was pleased that Moses was becoming more like God and asking for mercy for the Chosen People.  We, too, should be like Moses when it comes to others and even to ourselves.  We should not beat ourselves up, but acknowledge our sin (pretending we didn’t sin does not solve anything), and then ask God for his mercy in the Sacrament of Penance.

The other challenge with firstborns and other, as we heard in our Gospel today, is to hold others’ faults over their heads.  The firstborn, and others, strive to please God, and work hard to stay on the straight and narrow.  But without a sense of God’s mercy, that desire for perfection can become hardhearted and lead to looking down on others who don’t succeed.  It can, as in the Gospel, lead to disdain when others are merciful to them.  We don’t want Jesus to go after the lost sheep; we don’t want Him to find the lost coin; and we certainly don’t want Him to throw a feast for those who wasted their spiritual inheritance on the fleeting pleasures of life.  We want justice.  Being merciful will only show others that it’s ok to do all those bad things; they need to be held accountable!

God, instead, invites us to be like Him, and show mercy to others.  Certainly, God cannot be fooled by fake contrition.  If we are not truly sorry, God will not forgive us.  When God gives His mercy, it is meant to lead to a change of heart, a conversion.  The Prodigal Son truly was going to change, and that change was made possible by the father’s love.  Even the worst people can change, and our mercy to them can help them experience God the Father’s love.

Who knows if the birth order/personality traits correlation is right.  But this week the Lord invites us to know ourselves, and see how ready we are to be like Him, to be merciful to those we meet.  Knowing ourselves is not always easy.  It is often easier to concentrate on someone else’s faults than our own, because we don’t have to deal with the pain and sorrow when we’re not focusing on our own failings.  As St. Basil the Great says, “In truth, to know oneself seems to be the hardest of all things.  Not only our eye, which observes external objects, does not use the sense of sight upon itself, but even our mind, which contemplates intently another’s sin, is slow in the recognition of its own defects.”  

But knowledge of our own failings is not for the sake of beating ourselves up.  Rather, it is meant to push us towards God, the all-merciful, who gives us the grace to change our lives.  No matter what our birth order, the Lord invites us to receive His mercy so that we can be more like Him, we can be divinized.  And, if we strive with all our hearts to accept God’s transforming and divinizing grace, then at the end of our life, we can hope for God the Father to run out to meet us, clothe us in the white garment of the saints, and welcome us into the great celebration of the wedding feast of the Lamb of God.

To Restore All Things In Christ

Solemnity of Pope St. Pius X

“For who can fail to see that society is at the present time, more than in any past age, suffering from a terrible and deep-rooted malady, which, developing every day and eating into its inmost being, is dragging it to destruction?”  This was not a quote from a political commercial.  This is a quote from our patron, Pope St. Pius X’s first Enclycical, E supremi, published on 4 October 1903.  The more things change, the more they stay the same.  We might likely say the same thing about our own times, how, more than in any past age, we are suffering from a sickness in our society, which seems to be dragging us down to destruction.  Widespread poverty, the breakdown of family life, terrorism at a global level: all these things seem like a sickness that weighs at our soul; at least, it weighs heavily on my soul!

So what do we do?  What medicine can we provide for this “malady,” this sickness?  I believe our patron, whose solemn feast we celebrate today, gives us a clue.  His papal motto was Instaurare omnia in Christo, or To restore or renew all things in Christ.  The only way we can cure this illness is to renew all things in Christ.  We cannot do it without Him.  If we try, we are certain to fail.  

But how do we renew all things in Christ?  Pope St. Pius X helps us here, too.  Much of Pope St. Pius X’s pontificate was spent promoting the liturgy, the Mass.  In fact, the motto of the Liturgical Institute where I studied was also Instaurare omnia in Christo.  Our participation in Calvary, the very way we were saved, renews us.  The Second Vatican Council called the Eucharist, given to us in the Mass, as the source of the Christian life.  It is the font from which we draw our strength to live as Christians.  If we wish to be renewed, then we have to be connected to God.  And what better way to be connected, than by receiving worthily the Body and Blood of our Lord?  We are like wells of God’s love.  If we are not connected to the spring to feed the well, then we will dry up, and no one’s thirst will be quenched.  But if we are connected, especially through the Mass, to Jesus, the wellspring of salvation, then others will find Christ through us, and they will also be renewed.  Pope St. Pius X understood the importance of receiving strength from the Eucharist, and so allowed children to make their first Holy Communion at age 7 (it had previously been 12).  He is fittingly called the Pope of the Blessed Sacrament.  

How else do we renew all things in Christ?  Our Gospel gives us another clue: we love Jesus.  Now, that may sound easy.  I mean, very few people say that they don’t love Jesus.  But do we see it in their actions?  Jesus asks Peter, “Do you love me?”, and after Peter says He does, Jesus gives him a mission (“Feed my lambs,” “Tend my sheep,” “Feed my sheep.”).  Love, true love, is always shown in what we do.  Love cannot remain only a feeling or an emotion.  If it’s true love, then we act on it, as St. Peter would do as the first pope, the first predecessor of Pope St. Pius X.

It also means acknowledging that we’re wrong.  Was it a coincidence that St. Peter was asked three times if he loved Jesus?  I don’t think so.  Peter, who had said he didn’t even know Jesus three times, was given a chance to say he was sorry, and make up for his denial.  We have a chance, through the Sacrament of Penance to admit that we’re wrong, and that we need God’s forgiveness, just like St. Peter needed it.  I would love to offer, and to need to offer, more times for this beautiful sacrament!  Not because I want you all to be sinners.  You are already, just like I am!  But because of the need to add more time because we recognize that we are sinners, and in need of God’s mercy.  I try to go to confession every two to four weeks because, as some of you are all too well aware, I sin.  There is nothing wrong in admitting we’re wrong.  In fact, it helps to renew us.  The real danger is when we think we’re fine, because then we are most certainly not.  If you want other times for the Sacrament of Penance, please let me know, and I will be happy to add them.

To renew all things in Christ is not complicated.  You do not have to be pope to do it.  The basic building blocks are regular confession and going to Mass every Sunday and holyday.  For my part, I promise to pray for you, and, to paraphrase St. Paul, to share with you not only the gospel of God, but my very self as well, so dearly beloved have you become to me.  But I cannot renew all things in Christ by myself.  In fact, I can do very little of it.  But if you join with me, then we can transform this world, and Christ, the Divine Physician, can cure it of this “terrible and deep-rooted malady which…is dragging it to destruction.”  Pope St. Pius X, help us, by your intercession, to be renewed by the sacramental life of the Church, and then to renew the world with your love which we receive, especially in the most Holy Sacrament of the Eucharist.