How to Survive the Storms

Fourth Sunday after Epiphany
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Years after a major council, there are still disagreements about how to implement it.  Parishioners from a major church participating in idol worship.  Sexual immorality at which even pagans would blush.  People trying to buy influence in the Church.  A well-known archbishop telling the pope he’s wrong.  Believers claiming they have access to what Jesus really meant.  Faithful bishops being killed.  Heretics infiltrating dioceses and claiming to speak with apostolic authority. 
    You might think I’m talking about the Church after the Second Vatican Council.  Instead, I’m talking about the apostolic days of the Church.  In our mind, we easily think that the first days of the Church were easy and trouble free.  We often like to think of them as the golden age of Catholicism.  And certainly God blessed His Church abundantly in the days of the apostles first spreading the Gospel.  But Paul talks about how not everyone agreed with the Council of Jerusalem, which said that Greeks did not have to become Jews and obey the Mosaic law to be a follower of Jesus.  People were buying meat sacrificed to idols.  Paul condemns those in Corinth who are practicing immorality and tells them to be cut off for a time for their own good.  Peter flip-flopping on whether or not he would eat with Gentiles.  The early beginnings of gnosticism, claiming a secret knowledge of the true teachings of Jesus.  Apostles being martyred at an alarming rate.  Circumcisers saying that they are super-apostles, and that others should listen to them, not Paul.  This was the early Church; not exactly a bed of roses.
    In the State Police, each Trooper Recruit School feels like it was the last truly difficult recruit school, and that all the others that came after are easy in comparison.  Inversely, we tend to think that our suffering is the worst, whether personal, economic, or ecclesiastical, and no one has had it as hard as we have.  Do we have it hard?  Certainly.  There is still disagreement about the implementation of the Second Vatican Council, or some even doubt if it’s a real council (in case you’re wondering, it is).  Pachamama.  We are definitely reaping the fruits as a society of the sexual revolution.  Economic scandals and worse are in the Church.  Bishops arguing with each other and the Pope.  Faithful Catholics of all states of life being martyred.  Confusion about who speaks with authority in the Church.  The waves are certainly crashing around the barque of Peter.

    Whether in the Church, or in our own personal or business life, we might feel like the apostles in the boat.  We’re doing all we can, using our best knowledge and skills to keep the boat afloat, and it seems like the Lord doesn’t care; He’s asleep.  We’re taking on water, we’re afraid of capsizing.  So we call out to the Lord to save us.
    Did you notice in the Gospel that Christ’s first course of action is not to calm the waves.  The first thing our Lord does is question the faith of the apostles.  Why are you afraid?  Why are you doubting?  Then He commands the storm to be still, and it is.  We keep calling out to the Savior, but maybe we feel like he’s not doing what we want Him to do.
    Psalm 107 (106 in the Douay-Reims), verses 27-29 says
 

They reeled, staggered like drunkards; their skill was of no avail.  In their distress they cried to the Lord, who brought them out of their peril; He hushed the storm to silence, the waves of the sea were stilled.

Christ, in calming the sea, was proving that He was God.  He was proving His command over the  waters, which were the ancient symbol of chaos and disorder.  
    But often times, we think that we should take the place of God and handle things ourselves.  Again, this can be in our personal, work, or church life.  Maybe we’re struggling with a family member, and rather than turning to prayer and the guidance of the Holy Spirit, we make a plan of action without consulting the Almighty.  Or perhaps a fellow employee is not doing his or her job, and we feel upset that we are working hard, while the other person is not.  Do we immediately “turn him or her in”, or do we pray for guidance and seek to understand if maybe that person has some other issues outside of work which are affecting his or her ability to do the job.  Perhaps maybe we can even assist that person and help resolve what is going on, rather than simply seeking termination for him or her. 
    I know that many are upset with the recent suggested restrictions on the Extraordinary Form from Pope Francis and the Congregation for Divine Worship and Discipline of the Sacraments.  Even though Bishop Boyea has been quite generous in continuing this Mass and the access to sacraments celebrated in the usus antiquior, I also know that some have considered going to Masses celebrated by the Society of St. Pius X if they don’t have the access they desire.  That approach isn’t staying in the boat and waiting for our Lord to help.  That approach is jumping ship into a dinghy that is partially tethered to the boat.  When there is no other option to celebrate the sacraments validly within a 30-60 minute drive, then yes, the Church does allow for sacramental participation in schismatic groups, like SSPX and even the Orthodox (if they allow it).  But outside of that scenario, which does not exist currently here, participating in the sacramental life of a schismatic church is a sin against the unity of the Church, and I would advise, in the strongest way possible, not even entertaining that sinful attitude. 
    Is Christ no longer God?  Has His promise to protect His Church suddenly failed?  Can He who stilled the storm and waves not ensure the safety of His Bride, our holy Mother, the Church?  If we leave, even for a day, we are implicitly saying that Christ cannot provide for us, that Christ cannot protect us, and that we must turn to those who have rejected union with Rome for the sure path.  But those who have rejected Rome have never been the sure path, not even in the darkest days of the Church throughout the centuries. 
    Our current times may seem like the worst ever.  For us, they may be.  But it is not the end.  Christ promise that the gates of hell will not prevail against His Church is not unfulfilled.  Yes, the storms rage around us.  Yes, the waves are breaking over the ship, and we are, in some ways, taking on water.  But if we stay in the boat in Jesus, then we need not fear, we need not doubt.  If we leave, we can be sure that Christ will say to us, “Why do you fear, O you of little faith?”  But if we remain, connected to the perennial truths of the faith which cannot change in the Church which always remains the Bride of Christ, we can merit to hear, “Well done, good and faithful servant.  Come, share your Master’s joy!”

Becoming Like Obi-Wan Kenobi

Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time
    While the Star Wars purists here might lose some respect for me, I’m actually a fan of Episodes II and III, which deal with Anakin Skywalker, and his transition to Darth Vader.  Every time I watch the movies I am drawn in by how good Anakin was, how he was driven by good motives, but then those motives get twisted when he sees a vision of his wife, Padmé, dying in childbirth (which, ironically, he helps cause to happen).  I particularly enjoy Episode III and a final battle between Anakin and his mentor, Obi-Wan

Kenobi.  Obi-Wan is trying, however futilely, to show Anakin the error of his ways, and mentions the great hope that Obi-Wan had for Anakin.  But Anakin is set in his dark path, so Obi-Wan has to kill Anakin to prevent future evil from thriving.  Obi-Wan still cares for Anakin, and so bemoans that Anakin turned to the dark side, despite his potential to do so much good.  As Anakin, his legs amputated by Obi-Wan’s light saber and the rest of his body slowly burning from lava-laced ground, looks at Obi-Wan leaving him to die, he yells out, “I hate you!”
    The people of Israel, and we, the members of the Church, can sometimes be like Anakin Skywalker: we have such great potential to do good and bring light, but so often we turn to the dark.  Rather than continuing as Anakin Skywalker, a great Jedi who can accomplish so much good, our desires and our hearts are twisted and perverted to become Darth Vader, a Sith who sews darkness.
    The prophets are like Obi-Wan Kenobi.  They are meant to train us in goodness and holiness, and remind us of the will of God.  Jeremiah, in our first reading, spoke to the people of Judah, the southern kingdom of Israel, to tell them that they had wandered away from God.  They no longer walked in the light, but caused darkness by their oppression of the poor, widows, and orphans, their worship of foreign gods, and their trust in the building of the temple, rather than trusting in the One who made the temple holy: God.  For this, Jeremiah eventually is arrested and thrown into a cistern, until what Jeremiah prophesied comes to pass, and the temple is destroyed and the people are exiled to Babylon.  
    Jesus, too, is a prophet, but not just a prophet, but the Prophet, and the source of all prophecy.  He speaks for God, which is the role of every prophet, and while some are drawn to that proclamation, others are enraged by it.  The members of his hometown wonder how He could claim to speak with such authority, as He had just proclaimed that the passage from Isaiah was fulfilled in their hearing, which we heard last week.  So Jesus calls them out, and for this they drive Him out of town, and try to push Him off the brow of the hill, but He passes through them without any harm.
    Last week I mentioned how our mission is the same as Jesus’ mission.  We are called to be prophets.  But as we proclaim God’s Word (and we should make sure that we’re spreading God’s word, not our own), we should not fool ourselves and think that everyone will warmly accept our message.  As we challenge people to live according to God’s plan, people may start yelling at us, “I hate you!”
    Part of proclaiming that message is doing so with love.  So often we operate out the philosophy that what is loving is what people will readily embrace.  But St. Paul reminds us that love is not a feeling, but is actions.  In fact, in the English we say “Love is patient,” and basically use descriptors for love.  But in the original Greek, when St. Paul describes love, the word that we consider describing love is actually a verb.  Instead of saying, “Love is patient,” we might say, “Love patients.”  Importantly, too, love “does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices in the truth.”  Anything that God has revealed is wrong, or anything that God has revealed as false is not loving.  
    This is where most people get upset, because there are many things in today’s culture that people think are loving, but because they are contrary to what God has revealed in Sacred Scripture or through the Church, they are not truly loving.  Like Anakin, there is the desire to do good, but it easily gets twisted and changes to evil because a person’s emotions or desires get the better of him or her.  
    What is obvious in the Scriptures is that people, even well-intentioned people, prefer doing evil to good, because evil often feels so much better and gives quicker gratification.  Doing good sometimes doesn’t feel good, and sometimes you don’t feel gratified immediately.  Or sometimes we convince ourselves, contrary to the ancient maxim, that we can do this evil thing because it will achieve a good result.  Evil never leads to good; it only perpetuates evil.
    We are all called to be prophets through our baptism, which means that we are all called to proclaim God’s message by word and by deed.  As prophets, though, we should prepare ourselves that not everyone will always be open to God’s message, no matter how we package it, and that it may, like Jeremiah and Jesus, lead to real struggles.  But, if we speak the message in the love of God, we know that we, grounded in love, can bear all things, hope all things, and endure all things.

If You Want Something Done Right, Ask for God's Help

Third Sunday after Epiphany
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.  I can’t tell you how many times I have operated under that saying.  In the long run it may help to explain things to others and have them assist you with your task, but in a crunch, it’s so much easier to do what you know needs to be done, and to make sure it’s done in a correct way.
    While this approach can be helpful in daily tasks at home or at work, it is poison to our faith.  St. Paul tells us, “do not be wise in your own estimation.”  The apostle talks not only about head knowledge, but also about thinking that we can take care of ourselves when it comes to our needs.  When something goes wrong, we figure out a way to fix it.  When we need something done, we do it.  We maybe even think that the phrase, “God helps those who help themselves” is a phrase from the Scriptures or at least uttered by a saint, when, in fact, it likely originated in pagan Greece. 

    Our Gospel tells us the approach that we should take, and does so twice over.  We heard about the leper and about the centurion.  Both demonstrated how to live the spiritual life: go to Jesus.  The leper certainly wanted health.  He wanted to be reunited with the rest of the community of Israel, and to be able to worship God in the temple.  But he couldn’t give himself what he wanted most.  He couldn’t do it himself.  So he went to our Lord and said, “‘Lord, if you wish, you can make me clean.’”  He relied on the Lord and on the Lord’s good will, and did not presume that the Lord would even grant his request.  But he had faith that Christ could heal him, and heal him Christ did.
    The centurion wanted health for his slave.  He wanted the paralysis to end.  But he did not consider himself worthy to have our Lord even come to his house to do the miracle.  He simply had faith that Christ could heal, even from afar.  Maybe the centurion had tried doctors to cure the paralysis.  Maybe he had tried to take of the matter himself.  But to no avail. 
    It is also important to note that slaves were property.  Yet the centurion did not treat his slave as property.  If you have a horse that is lame, you euthanize it and put it out of its misery, because it is no longer good for anything, just using up supplies.  If a tree is no longer producing fruit, you cut it down so that something else can be planted that will produce food.  Countless Romans had likely dispatched their slaves because they were no longer able to help with the work that the estate required.  Yet the centurion had not killed his slave, but asked for healing.  And he trusted that the Lord could heal.
    When we trust only ourselves to advance spiritually, we are doomed to failure.  When we figure that we have gotten ourselves into a mess, and so we have to get ourselves out, we will not succeed.  Only with God’s help can we find the healing that we need.  Only with God’s help will we find progress in the spiritual life.  Only with God’s help can we find freedom from the messes in which we so often find ourselves.
    It is so easy to become Pelagians.  Pelagius was a British layman who taught that we have to reach out to God first, to do some good first, which God will then approve.  Pelagius denied original sin, and said that we could be holy without the assistance of grace.  This was declared heretical by the local Council of Carthage in 411, and was vehemently opposed by St. Augustine of Hippo.

      If anyone could understand that merely willing the good was not enough, St. Augustine certainly did.  He had tried almost every philosophy, every seductive way of living, including fathering a child out of wedlock.  Even after his mind began to believe in the truth of Catholicism, his will could not seem to follow.  Then, one day, at his wits end from the frustration of not being able to do what he wanted, he heard a voice call out, “Tolle, lege,” "Take, read," opened up St. Paul’s epistle to the Romans, and was “knocked over” by God’s grace, which allowed him to live as he desired, according to the law of Christ and His Church. 
    But how often do we think that we are somehow more privileged than St. Augustine, that we can do it by ourselves?  We have a virtue in our life, and so we decide to achieve it, not asking for God’s help, or only doing so as a second thought.  God has to be the beginning, the middle, and the end of achieving any virtue.  We cannot start a virtue on our own, continue a virtue on our own, or achieve a virtue on our own.  The only thing we can do on our own is sin.  The rest is made possible by God’s grace.
    Or, perhaps there is a sin that we are fighting.  Perhaps we have been fighting it for some time, and we do not find any progress.  I try to give some helpful advice in the confessional, especially if I am not pressed for time, for ways that we can respond to God’s grace and cooperate with it.  But so often we forget that those practical pointers are meant to accompany prayer and asking for divine help, rather than pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps. 
    Do we need to cooperate with God’s grace?  Certainly.  Can we be passive in our own conversion?  Certainly not.  But how often do we try to be wise in our own estimation and create plans which are not based in the will of God, and then find ourselves shocked that it didn’t work on our own?
    When it comes to the spiritual life, a better adage would be: if you want something done right, let God start the work.  Or: God helps those who ask for it.  Or, to quote the Psalms, “Unless the Lord build the house, in vain do its builders labor.”  In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Jesus' Mission–And Ours

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time
    The analogy that St. Paul uses of the Mystical Body of Christ, the Church, being like a human body is pretty accessible.  We think about the different parts of the body, and how they all work together.  And if a part is not working, it can pretty easily lead to problems.  Even something as simply as a foot falling asleep can be quite problematic.  The brain may want it to work, the lungs may be getting enough oxygen for the foot to work, but if there is no blood flow, the muscles can’t respond like they’re supposed to and walk.   
    But the Church isn’t about walking.  The Church’s mission is the exact same mission that Jesus outlined in today’s Gospel.  We have been anointed “to bring glad tidings to the poor…to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind,…and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord.”  Maybe you’re thinking that you didn’t sign up for that, but you did, when you were baptized, or when your parents had you baptized.  By being configured to Christ through baptism, your mission became the same as the Lord’s, as Isaiah prophesied in the Old Testament. 
    Of course, we need to go beyond the literal meaning of the words, and go to the deeper, spiritual meaning.  What does it mean to bring glad tidings to the poor?  How do we proclaim liberty to captives?  Is there any way that we can give sight to the blind?  What is an acceptable year to the Lord, and how do we proclaim it?
    First, let’s look at bringing glad tidings to the poor.  Who are the poor?  We tend to think of them as those who do not have enough money or resources, for a variety of reasons.  But as we go beyond the economic definition of the poor, we can look to those who are spiritually poor.  Those who are spiritually poor are those who don’t have enough of what they need, but instead of focusing on money, they don’t have enough of the Lord.  We are each made for God, and, as St. Augustine says, “our hearts are restless until they rest in [God].”  So when a person doesn’t have that connection to God, they are spiritually

hungry and thirsty, and need that sustenance.  Bringing glad tidings to the poor means connecting people to God.  It may be a co-worker who is bemoaning a difficult decision in life, or a family member for whom nothing seems to go right.  If we are to continue the mission to bring glad tidings to the poor, we need to tell that co-worker about Jesus, and about how He can give us wisdom to make the right decision according to what will make us truly happy.  Or we can ask the family member if we can pray with them and for them about the bad situations they are experiencing.  That is how we bring glad tidings to the poor.
    When it comes to proclaiming liberty to captives, we’re not talking about letting people out of jail, which is generally a bad idea.  The captivity that binds us all is sin, as Jesus says in the Gospels, and St. Paul reaffirms in some of his epistles.  To proclaim liberty is to let people know that there is a way to unload their burden of sin, and find the freedom they want.  It may mean inviting someone to go to confession with us.  Or it may mean being an accountability partner for someone who is stuck in a cycle of addition.  But Jesus charges us with the task of letting people know that they do not have to continue in slavery to sin, but can find the freedom that they desire, the freedom of the children of God.
    In the Gospel according to John, Jesus calls the Pharisees blind because they are unaware of their sin, even while they are condemning the man who was born blind but whom Jesus healed.  The physically blind cannot see the physical world, which creates unique challenges to life.  The spiritually blind cannot see the spiritual world, which creates challenges both in the spiritual and the physical world.  If a person believes that this life is all there is, that there is no God, they will stumble through a world that God created according to His plan.  If a person does not acknowledge what God has revealed to make them happy, then they will be miserable.  So our duty as people on the mission is to help them see how the world truly works, not from an earthly point of view, but from a spiritual point of view.  We do this by encouraging those who can work to do so, to build up the society in which they live, rather than simply taking from a government program.  We encourage the virtue of chastity, especially, but not only, to the youth in our families, because the vice of lust leads people to trip and fall over many pitfalls that God does not want for their lives.  We invite people to come to Mass with us on Sunday, not because it’s easy or we always feel we get something out of it, but because God has made us to praise Him, and when we don’t, we’re lacking the ability to hear how God wants to most easily speak to us.
    Last, but not least, to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord.  The acceptable year of the Lord was the jubilee, the celebration every 7 years, and especially in the 50th year, of a rest granted by the Lord.  Our words and our actions should point to heaven, which is the eternal rest to which the jubilee year pointed.  But we get there by the narrow path, not by the wide road.  So proclaiming that acceptable year means reminding people that this life is not all there is, and that heaven is what God wants for us, but we have to accept that gift of eternal life by the daily decisions that we make.  We tell others about Jesus’ Resurrection, and how that ensures for us the possibility of eternal life, where we will eternally worship God in the wedding feast of the Lamb. 
    When we were baptized, we were anointed with the Sacred Chrism which made us little christs, little anointed ones.  At that moment, the mission that Isaiah proclaimed, and that Jesus said was fulfilled in the hearing in the synagogue, became our mission, too.  Today, the Lord invites us to recommit ourselves to the mission: “to bring glad tidings to the poor,…to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind,…and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord.”

From the Natural to the Supernatural

 Second Sunday after Epiphany

Sanctuary of the Church in Cana

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  It is no accident that our Lord’s first miracle–or sign, as St. John calls it–is at a wedding.  When we talk about vocations, we often think of the call to priesthood or religious life, and those are certainly beautiful vocations that show forth for us the beauty of the heavenly life, even while here on earth.  But holy matrimony is also a beautiful vocation, and our Lord not only blessed a wedding with His presence, but also made sure that the bride and the groom were not embarrassed by running out of wine.  
    The idea of a marriage permeates the Old Testament.  We start salvation history with Adam and Eve, the first husband and wife.  The prophets use the image of a husband and wife to describe God and His relationship with Israel.  The prophet Ezekiel in particular talks about choosing Israel, though she was left to die on the side of the road, and making her His own.  But, Ezekiel points out, Israel was unfaithful, and sought other lovers who had not cared for her.  Hosea, too, is called to take a wife, but his wife is a harlot, which God uses to show Israel’s infidelity to Him.  But, God takes Israel back, despite her infidelity, and continues to love her.  The Song of Songs, Jewish romantic poetry, also talks about the love between a woman and a man, and the Church Fathers see in this book the love between God and His People.  
    I preached at Christmas of how, in Christ, divinity was wedded to humanity, never to be divorced, and eternity was wedded to time.  So as we continue to unpack the mystery of Christmas and Epiphany, it is fitting that we look to the wedding at Cana.
    And what we see is that Christ makes every wedding better.  Symbolically, we see this in the water that becomes wine.  Christ takes what is natural (water) and raises it to the level of the supernatural (wine).  This is certainly true of marriage.  Marriage is a natural institution.  Many people who are not Catholic, or not even baptized, get married, and as long as there are no impediments to marriage, the Church sees these marriages as valid.  But marriages between the baptized are raised to a supernatural level and become sacraments–efficacious signs of God’s grace, based in the Paschal Mystery, which call for and cause grace.  And because of the supernatural dignity of marriages between the baptized, they need to happen in a church building, as the place where God dwells in a particular way with us.  In fact, when a Catholic does not get married in a church, according to the rites of the Church (unless the bishop gives permission), that marriage does not take place, and a couple would be living in the state of fornication, until they remedied their situation in the Church.
    Most of you are married or will become married at some point.  Yours is not a second-rate vocation, but a beautiful, sacramental call to witness the love that Christ has for His Church.  You not only receive God’s grace to live in a marriage that is faithful, lifelong, for each other’s good, and open to children, but by living in such a way, actually become a conduit of God’s grace to the world, in a similar way as water that communicates God’s grace in the sacrament of baptism.  By living as husband and wife according to God’s plan, God’s grace can flow through you.  This is the beauty of marriage, the wine that was transformed from the water of natural marriage.
    Living the vocation of marriage is not always easy.  And that is why the presence of Christ, not only at the wedding but throughout the entire marriage, is so necessary.  It’s not enough to invite Jesus, his Blessed Mother, and disciples to the wedding.  They want to be a part of your entire married life.  So each day, invite them by prayer to be a part of your married life.  Whenever possible, pray together as a couple.      I know a priest who told a story about his mom and his dad.  This priest said that, when the door to mom and dad’s bedroom was closed at night, no one was to enter, and, as one of many children, he later could guess why this rule existed.  But when he was a young child, he broke the rule once, and peeked in to see mom and dad after he was supposed to be in bed.  When he looked in through the crack in the door, he saw his parents, kneeling together at the side of the bed, praying the rosary together.  What a beautiful witness of inviting our Lord and Lady to the marriage!  But whatever the prayer, whether a full rosary, or a decade, or maybe simply some brief prayers from memory or from the heart, it is a way to help you be the vehicle of God’s grace that marriage is meant to be.
    But both for married and non-married people, Christ wants to make life better for all, and does so through those who are united to Christ in baptism.  When we are living to the call of our baptism, we fulfill what St. Paul talked about in the epistle.  When we are living as Christians, we are called to hate that which is evil, and cling to that which is good.  We are called to love each other with mutual affection, and honor each other.  We serve the Lord through rejoicing in hope, being patient in trials, and persevering in prayer.  When we follow the Lord, we are able to increase the natural joys with the supernatural joy of Christ.  When we follow the Lord, we are able to weep with those who are sad, but help them to see that God’s plan, even if not clear, and even when it includes the allowance of suffering, leads to a glory that cannot be compared with any earthly happiness.  We, too, are called to continue that presence of Christ, and help change the natural into the supernatural.  Maybe we won’t change water into wine (a gift that many of us would like to have, I’m sure), but will do greater signs than changing the substance of a liquid, by convincing sinners to be saints, and storming heaven with those who want the salvation that Christ offers.
    Christ is not satisfied with the natural good that we experience.  He draws us through passing things to the things that endure forever.  He lifts up, perfects, and transforms what is naturally good to make it supernaturally good.  And that is no truer than in the Eucharist, the bread that becomes the Body of Christ and the wine that becomes the Blood of Christ.  Through our worthy reception, may we be drawn into that to which marriage points, the eternal union of the Trinity: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Being a Holy Family

 First Sunday after Epiphany-Holy Family

   In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  I think when many think about the Holy Family, they go immediately to Jesus, Mary, and Joseph; and rightly so.  I love my family dearly, but, I’ll be honest, I never really considered my family a holy family.  That’s not to say we were pagans or reprobate.  But when you’re used to the fights between siblings, the tension that exists between adolescent children who want more freedom and caring parents who want their kids to make smart decisions and keep children safe (sometimes you could cut that tension with a knife), the cruel words and fighting over which TV show to watch, you don’t tend to think of yourselves as holy.  We did go to Mass every Sunday (never a question of if, but when) and Holyday; we abstained from meat on Fridays of Lent; we prayed a family rosary on long car-rides for summer vacation or the rare trip to Disney World; we had a Advent wreath, and contributed to the Rice Bowl collections during Lent.  So it’s not like we were a horrible family, but, growing up, I never really thought about us as a holy family.
    We are blessed with many families here, families that are often growing in size or new generations.  And yes, as a confessor, I hear about family fights, arguments between parents and children, or even spouses.  But what’s the norm for being a holy family?  Does it entail that two of the members of a family out of three are sinless?  If that’s the bar, then we’re all in for disappointment.  I would suggest, though, that our readings on this first Sunday after Epiphany, as we celebrate the Holy Family, gives us some clues.  
    I’ll start with our Lord.  Mary and Joseph find Christ in the temple, after He decided to stay behind (without letting them know).  Of course, our Lord never sinned, but I would not suggest that staying anywhere, even at church, without letting your parents know is a recipe for holiness for anyone else.  But our Savior was, as we would say, at church.  And that is key to being a holy family: go to church.  I realize I’m preaching to the choir.  But as we share the Gospel, and talk with other Catholic and Christian families, we can share with them that one of the basic ingredients of a holy family is going to church every Sunday and Holyday.  I am, of course, excluding the times when you are sick; please don’t come when you are ill, especially if it’s contagious and serious, like the flu or COVID.  The church dispenses you during illness, or even if you can’t make it because you’re caring for a sick family member and can’t make it.  But otherwise, go to Mass.  That’s a basic part of being a holy family.
    Secondly, and also from our Gospel, be open to the will of God, even when it doesn’t necessarily make sense.  Mary and Joseph were worried about the Lord, but they embraced His decision to be in His Father’s house, once He explained that He was supposed to be there.  That wasn’t easy for the Blessed Mother and St. Joseph.  But they accepted it as the will of God.  We like it when the will of God happens to coincide with our will, but sometimes it doesn’t; how do we respond in those instances?  This is certainly a harder part of being a holy family, especially when God allows very difficult things to happen to us.  
    St. Paul also outlines ways to be a holy family.  The first one I want to mention is forgiveness.  This is, perhaps, another difficult part of being a holy family.  It’s so easy to hold on to grudges, to stew about old wounds, to hit back when a sibling hits us first, or rip that thing out of their hand that we wanted.  It’s so easy to act on our passions and respond with retribution.  But that’s not the way of the holy family.  Forgive others, St. Paul says, as Christ has forgiven us.  Even if the other person isn’t sorry, forgive him or her.  Family slights are often small, and often easily forgiven because we love the other and want to move on and have family harmony.  But even in bigger offenses, we are called to forgive.
    This doesn’t mean that parents can’t discipline their children.  Forgiveness doesn’t mean ignoring a chance to help a child, of whatever age, learn an important lesson in virtue.  Even the Scriptures say that the Lord loves those whom He disciplines.  But the Lord doesn’t keep coming back to that past fault or failing.  Once forgiven, it’s gone; erased from any consideration of who we are.  And that’s the goal for which we should strive.  
    Humility is another important virtue for family life.  When we think that we are more than we are, we usually get into trouble as families.  Whether it’s comparing virtue, or who’s left in charge when mom and dad are gone, or even based upon achievements in school, work, or life, it’s easy to get puffed up with pride.  But pride is not the way of the Gospel, and not the way of a holy family.  Humility does not hide one’s gift, but uses it for the good of the other, and recognizes that any gift is not given to be kept to the self or to put others down, but to raise everyone up and help everyone succeed.  This, too, can be tough to live out, but it is a key to success.  
    And, above all these, put on love, says St. Paul.  Love is something that we often associate with family.  It is the greatest blessing of family life, and the way that we first encounter God as a child: through the love of our family.  The love of God is not based upon what we have done, but is given simply because we belong to Him.  So with the family, love is not something that family members should have to earn, but should be given simply because we are family.  I love Bishop Barron’s definition of love: willing the good of the other.  It’s not merely an emotion or a good feeling.  True love is exercised even when the feelings and emotions are not there.  But it is doing what is best for the other, even if the other doesn’t recognize what is best.  Love is sometimes saying no; setting curfews; assigning chores; kissing wounds; embracing a heart-broken family member; applauding good work, correcting bad behavior, and much more.  Love is at the heart, if you’ll pardon the pun, of being a holy family, just like the love that was shared among the Sacred Heart of Jesus, the Immaculate Heart of Mary (pierced by a sword), and the Chaste Heart of St. Joseph.  Love is key to being a holy family.
    Even if you don’t consider yourself a holy family, do those things that I have mentioned, and you’ll be on your way.  It may not always seem like it, and you won’t do it perfectly (nor does anyone else), but following though on what we heard in the Scriptures today will help you be the holy family that you are called to be by God the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Connected to God

 Feast of the Baptism of the Lord
    I greatly appreciate all of your prayers, emails, messages, posts, and offers to help when I was in quarantine due to COVID.  It is a beautiful thing to have a parish family come together in prayer and assistance when another member of the family is struggling.  I know that we have some parishioners who are still going through COVID, some with very strong strains, so let’s make sure that we’re keeping them in prayer and doing what we can to help them, as well.
    I was very happy that my case of COVID was very mild, and I never lost my sense of taste.  The hardest part for me, though, was being on my own, without the usual face-to-face contact with the outside world.  I was well-stocked with food, but a few parishioners dropped off food after a reception at St. Matthew for Fr. Jeff’s Mass of Thanksgiving, or a funeral luncheon that took place at St. Pius X.  It was a beautiful thing even just to see their faces through a door or window.  You would think, living on my own, that I would be used to alone time.  But most of my vocation is dealing with others, and having personal contact with others, which is something of which I was deprived, for the health and safety of others, during my time of quarantine.

    As we celebrate the Baptism of the Lord, we look to our own baptisms, quite naturally.  Do you know the date of your baptism?  Do you know where you were baptized?  Baptism washes us clean of original sin, and makes us sons and daughters in the Son of God, which also makes us members of the Church.  By baptism, we are connected to God by a bond which not even death can sever.  By baptism, we are sealed as belonging to God, and will be baptized no matter where we go after death.  
    But we are connected to God through Baptism.  And so, even in the midst of our physical separation from others, we are always connected to God, and, therefore, always connected to everyone else connected to God.  Because of baptism, God carries us in His arms, like a shepherd, and can feed us, not by dropping off food at our front door, but with His love and His grace, which is truly His life.
    This is part of the “kindness and generous love of God our savior,” that St. Paul talks about in the second reading from his letter to Titus.  And it is, “Not because of any righteous deeds we had done but because of his mercy.”  God does not need us.  God lacks nothing without us, or without any part of His Creation.  And yet He chooses to connect us to Himself through baptism and shower His love, His grace, His truth, His life down upon us so that we can truly be happy, so that we might be “a people as his own.”
    And if we are God’s people, then our response to such a love is “to reject godless ways and worldly desires and to live temperately, justly, and devoutly in this age, as we await the blessed hope, the appearance of the glory of our…savior Jesus Christ.”  If God has held nothing back from us, not even His Only-Begotten Son, then what can we hold back from God?  If, when we were baptized, the Holy Spirit came upon us and made us adopted sons and daughters in the “beloved Son” of God, then our response is to do our best to live in a way that shows that we belong to God.  
    I talk a lot about sharing the Gospel with others, and we need to.  Words matter.  Words about Jesus matter.  Others need to hear the Gospel, and withholding that from them is not acting in accord with who we are as children of God, who want others to have the same connection to God that we have through baptism.  
    At the same time, people should know that we are Catholic by the way that we live our life.  What we say, how we drive, how we treat people, where we spend our money: all of that should show that we are connected to God.  That’s one of the things that has always attracted people to Catholicism throughout the centuries.  The early Romans saw how women and children, and slaves were not treated as property by Catholics, but brothers and sisters.  Barbarians noted the peace that Catholics had even in the midst of great trials and sufferings.  Pagans would see how Catholics would care for the poor, without expecting anything in return.  And even in our recent times, we can think about how much difference St. Theresa of Calcutta made by caring for those who were untouchables, those whom society had thrown off as garbage.      Through baptism we are connected to God, not as slaves, but as adopted children.  Through baptism, God claims us as His own.  Let’s make it our aim to strengthen those bonds each day through prayer, and let others see, by what we say and do, that we belong, that we are connected, to God.