Offered and Offering

 Fourth Sunday in Lent

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  In the Church of the Multiplication of the Loaves in Tabgha in the Holy Land, which was itself founded around AD 350, there is an ancient mosaic dating from around the year 480 in front of the altar where there are two fish and four loaves.  Now, if you were listening carefully to the Gospel, you would know that the multiplication of the loaves and fish involved “five barley loaves.”  So what’s with this ancient mosaic?  Did they simply run out of space?  Was the ancient artist ignorant of the account?  
    In reality, the ancient artist not only knew his Bible, but also knew his theology.  There are four loaves in the mosaic because the fifth loaf is the one on the altar, being consecrated into the Body of Christ.  St. John the Evangelist had this connection between the multiplication of the loaves and the Eucharist as the rest of John chapter 6 goes on to contain the preaching of our Lord about how He is the Bread of Life, and that we need to eat His flesh and drink His blood in order to have life.  
    The Eucharist is the new covenant that our Lord established between Him and us so that we could have salvation and be in right relationship with God.  This is made clear in the words of institution over the chalice: “Take this, all of you, and drink from it.  For this is the chalice of my Blood, the Blood of the New and Eternal Covenant: the mystery of faith: which will be poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins.”  God promises to be our God, and we promise to be His People, in this Sacrament of Sacraments, which itself points to Good Friday, as Christ shed His Blood on the Cross.
    St. Paul takes up this idea of covenants in the epistle as he sees an allegorical interpretation of Genesis and the stories of Isaac and Ishmael.  Ishmael, as the son of the slave Hagar, represents the old covenant, the Law, while Isaac, the son of the free-woman, Sarah, is the new covenant of the Lord.  
    Does St. Paul mean that God has abandoned the Jews and the covenant He made with them?  No.  The Apostle, after spending chapters explaining how the law does not save, writes in his Epistle to the Romans: “I ask then, has God rejected his people?  Of course not!  […] For the gifts and the call of God are irrevocable.”  Even though the law does not save, God does not reject His People, His Chosen Ones.  
    But God has fulfilled what the Old Covenant was meant to prepare for: salvation through Christ.   And that salvation is made present for us in the Eucharist each time we come to Mass.  Christ offered Himself once for all on the cross, but wanted us to have access to the power of the sacrifice, just as the Jews had opportunity to connect themselves to their sacrificial offerings that were made in the Temple.  When a Jew would offer sacrifice, certain parts of the animal offerings were for God, to be burned up on the altar, while others were reserved for the priest, and still others were given back to the people.  So when Christ offered Himself in sacrifice to the Father, the priest (that is I) receives a portion from the bread and wine you have offered, and you also receive a portion of your sacrifice that God gives back to you.  But unlike the old covenant where the sacrifice remains the same, the bread and wine that we offer to God through my hands is transformed by God into the Body and Blood of Christ so that you and I receive better than what we offered.  
    But it is not simply bread and wine that we offer to God.  The boy gave five loaves and two fish to Christ in the Gospel, which was all that he had.  We, too, are called to offer all that we have to God in this Mass, and unite it to the bread on the corporal and the wine in the chalice.  Sacrosanctum concilium, the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy of the Second Vatican Council teaches, “But in order that the liturgy may be able to produce its full effects, it is necessary that the faithful come to it with proper dispositions, that their minds should be attuned to their voices, and that they should cooperate with divine grace lest they receive it in vain.”  Lumen gentium, the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church of the Second Vatican Council expands on this idea of the laity’s participation in Mass when it states:
 

[Christ] also gives them a sharing in His priestly function of offering spiritual worship for the glory of God and the salvation of men.  […] For all their works, prayers and apostolic endeavors, their ordinary married and family life, their daily occupations, their physical and mental relaxation, if carried out in the Spirit, and even the hardships of life, if patiently borne–all these become “spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Christ Christ”.  Together with the offering of the Lord’s body, they are most fittingly offered in the celebration of the Eucharist.

Even in this pre-conciliar form for the celebration of the Mass, you are called to bring to the Apostles, and their assistants, the presbyters (i.e., me) what you have so that it maybe offered to God for the salvation of you and of all.  Any reading of the best minds of the Liturgical Movement before the Council also bears witness to this.  
    So what are you bringing to this Mass?  What are you offering with me, in addition to the bread and the wine?  As I am saying the Canon silently, are you offering to God what has happened since the last time you came to Mass?  Are you giving God the joys your family brings you, and/or the frustrations you experience when they push your buttons?  Are you offering the “atta-boy” or “atta-girl” that your boss gave you for accomplishing a task excellently, and/or the lack of drive and fulfillment in the job which pays the bills but does not utilize your gifts and talents?  Are you praying silently to God thanking Him for the game that you won, and/or giving him your broken heart that was torn when your young love dumped you?  
    These parts of life, and many more that I did not mention, are all part of the sacrifice that God desires.  These ups and downs are meant to be spiritually united to the oblation that I offer, which is itself united to the one, acceptable, perfect offering of Christ on the Cross, re-presented for us in an unbloody way on this altar.  As we continue our pilgrimage this Lent, as we walk with our Lord toward Good Friday, may the joys and sorrows of our life be fitting gifts to God, so that may not only share in the Death, but also the Resurrection of Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with God the Father in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God for ever and ever.  Amen. 

Sin-Conversion-Forgiveness

 Fourth Sunday of Lent

    Right now we’re in the midst of the NCAA basketball tournament, often called March Madness.  The hard work of 68 teams throughout the regular season is put to the test, as they compete against the best teams in the nation, not just in their conferences.  In the end, one team will hold up the trophy, the physical sign that they are the best in the country.  It would certainly be easier if a team didn’t have to win the six games of the tournament to be crowned champion, but that trophy would mean a lot less, because it would not have come through hard work, good execution, and sometimes a little bit of luck.
    Just as there is a progression through March Madness, so there is a progression that we hear in the Gospel today about forgiveness as we heard the all-too-familiar parable of the Prodigal Son.  The main point of the parable is the mercy of the father, which Jesus uses to teach us about the mercy of our Heavenly Father.  But we also see how this whole process of sin, conversion, and forgiveness takes place, until the celebration in the father’s house at the son’s return.  
    Of course, the first part of this story is sin.  The son demands what is “his,” which isn’t really his yet.  He doesn’t want to depend on the father for what he needs.  When we sin, we don’t rely on our heavenly Father.  We take what we feel is ours, and we spend it on “dissipation.”  We think that we can make it on our own without God’s help.  In fact, when we separate ourselves from God, we notice how little we have, and how much like a famine it is.  If we don’t recognize how bad things are, we go from bad to worse, until we are surrounded by the mud of sin upon sin, and even hungry for the scraps that the pigs are eating, which is bad enough from our point of view, but even worse from the point of view of a Jew, to whom pigs are ritually unclean animals.
    The next part of the process in conversion is sometimes the hardest part: we recognize how bad things are.  Alcoholics Anonymous will talk about the necessity of hitting bottom before one can truly find sobriety.  The same is true with sin.  We can only truly seek conversion if we realize that we need help, and that we cannot take care of ourselves.  In the parable, Jesus refers to it as the son “coming to his senses.”  With so many sins, we tell ourselves it’s not so bad, it’s not really doing a lot of harm, and so we continue on.  Of course, when we do that, we keep ourselves away from the Father’s house.  We don’t find the way home, and we don’t really move much to get there.
    But if we do recognize the evil of our sins and the horrible effects they have on us, then we start back towards the Father.  Both the recognition of sin, and then the movement back to the Father are only possible because of God’s grace, to which we start to open ourselves.  Nothing that we can do that is good happens without God first making it possible.  As we open ourselves to being sorry for our sins, and leaving them behind, we start back to the Father’s house.  
    Part of this is being open and honest about our sins: that we chose them.  As a society, we are good at making excuses.  We’re never guilty for anything; it was always someone’s else’s fault.  Maybe it was our upbringing, or some external factor, or really anything, as long as we don’t have to take responsibility.  We don’t even know how to take responsibility in our apologies: “If I hurt you, then I’m sorry.”  A true contrition acknowledges that we have sinned, that we have done wrong, and that we have disobeyed and offended our heavenly Father.  In order to truly have the conversion that will heal us, we need to acknowledge our own role in sinning.  
    But, having come to our senses, recognized how bad things are, and started back to the Father to apologize for our sins, our loving Father runs out to meet us.  God doesn’t dangle forgiveness at the end of a line for us to try and catch, like the tricks we play with dogs and their toys as we hide it behind our backs, or keep swinging it back and forth, just out of the grasp of their mouths.  God runs to us to embrace us in love.  In the days of Jesus, no man would have run, not only because it showed a lack of dignity, but also because it was physically hard to do in sandals and a tunic.  And yet, that is what God does for us.  He cannot contain Himself and His love for us.  He cannot wait even the few extra minutes it will take for us to get to Him.  He runs to us.  

    And as He embraces us, He makes us His sons and daughters, though we are not deserving of that title.  We wasted our filial dignity, and spent it away.  But God gives it back to us, and then celebrates for and with us.  And he spares no expense.  He puts a robe around us, which is his love and our protection from the outside elements; a ring on our finger, which symbolizes our authority in the house of our Father again; and sandals on our feet to keep the dirt of sin from attaching itself to us.  
    The celebration is worth it.  But there are no shortcuts to forgiveness.  We cannot find the celebration at coming back to the Father’s house if we stay in the mire and the mud of our sins.  We cannot receive the robe, ring, sandals, and fattened calf if we do not acknowledge that we had earlier squandered our inheritance of eternal life and offended our Father, whose only desire for us is that we stay in His house and enjoy what He has set before us.  If we do wander away, though, the good news is that the love of the Father will welcome us back when we have repented and started back to Him.  If we don’t have the good sense of staying in the Father’s house, let’s at least have the good sense to come back after we’ve been away.

Which Kingdom?

 Third Sunday in Lent
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  At the end of the day, there are only two kingdoms: the kingdom of God, and the kingdom of the devil.  The Kingdom of God has and will win.  The kingdom of the devil has and will lose.  The question for us is: to which kingdom do we wish to belong?
    The easy answer is, of course, the kingdom of God.  We’re here, after all, so we must put some faith in God and want to be with him.  But we often find ourselves as divided, as some of us wants God, and some of us wants the devil.  We would likely never say it that way with our lips, but our actions tell a different story.  Every time we sin, especially, but not limited to, mortal sin, we choose the kingdom of the devil.  Every time we respond to God’s grace, we choose the kingdom of God.  
    Our Lenten pilgrimage is meant to help purify us to choose God more frequently than we choose the devil.  By denying ourselves certain things, or maybe doing extra things, we are trying to train ourselves to choose God.  As our Lord says elsewhere, we cannot serve two masters.  We will either love one and hate the other, or hate one and love the other.  
    St. Paul outlines ways that the people of the Church in Ephesus chose the devil: by saying obscene or silly or suggestive things, or participating in immorality, impurity, and greed, which the Apostle calls idolatry.  And certainly, when we do those things, we give our attention to something other than God.  Instead, we are told to be thankful.  Thanksgiving might seem to fit as an antidote to greed, but what does it have to do with immorality and impurity?  I suggest that we give thanks to God for the gift of our sexuality, but also for knowing how to use it properly.
    Our sexual passions often become false gods.  They so often want to demand total obedience.  But they are a hunger which is never satisfied.  They keep wanting more.  They’re like the old commercials for Lays Potato chips: bet you can’t have just one.  It’s not enough to see one impure image; once one is seen the desire for another, or something more enticing, grows.  The passions that arise from physical expressions of affection, too, seem to want to keep ramping up and escalating.  But God has revealed ways that humans can express physical affection, but without becoming slaves of them.  He tells us that certain expressions of love are only fit within the confines of marriage, where man and woman can give themselves fully to the other, open to life, as an expression of love between a husband and wife.  If those three requirements are not met, then a couple would be falling into the immorality which St. Paul says can exclude us from the kingdom of God.  Even and husband and a wife could need to abstain from physical intimacy if those three requirements for holy sexual activity are not present, so that they do not use each other simply for pleasure.
    In my work as a chaplain for the Michigan State Police, I too often see where people have let their passions, both sexual and other passions, run free, and how much it ruins their lives.  God does not desire ruin for us.  He desires the fulfillment of our human nature, which God reveals to us.  Yes, it sometimes means saying no to our desires, but that no is a sign that we are free.  If we only can say yes to something, then we are a slave.  If we have the ability to say no, then we are governing ourselves.  The devil, on the other hand, desires our ruin.  He never paints it that way, but he encourages us to give in to our desires every time they pop up.  But in doing so we enslave ourselves to the prince of lies.

St. Irenaeus

    Christ, by His Passion, Death, and Resurrection, has tied up the strong man.  As St. Irenaeus says:
 

For when Satan is bound, man is set free;…the Word bound [Satan] securely….And justly indeed is [Satan] led captive, who had led men unjustly into bondage; while man, who had been led captive in times past, was rescued from the grasp of his possessor, according to the tender mercy of God the Father, who had compassion on His own handiwork, and gave to it salvation, restoring it by means of the Word–that is, by Christ.

This time of Lent is the perfect time to re-welcome the kingdom of God in our lives, and ask Christ to bind up the enemy, so that we might no longer be in slavery to him.  
    So the question for us is: to which kingdom do we want to belong?  To the kingdom of the devil, which often brings immediate pleasure but later suffering and death?  Or to the kingdom of God, which does have us deny ourselves at times in the present, but which leads to the eternal joy of heaven, where we see God face-to-face: the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Being Transfigured

  [The parts in Italics were used only at the Extraordinary Form Mass]

Second Sunday of/in Lent
    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.]. When I talk about going on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, I talk about how visiting the Holy Land makes it so that you never read the Gospel the same way, because you see in your mind the places where these things happened.  This is certainly true for the Transfiguration.  I remember the first time I went to the Holy Land, as a seminarian.  We stayed with the Franciscan friars at the top of Mt. Tabor.  To get up there, there are shuttles you have to take for large groups; the big travel busses can’t handle the snake-back roads.  While waiting for the shuttle, I decided I was going to climb up the mountain, and hopefully save some time.  So, with my Birkenstock sandals on, on a warm, May day, I started walking up the side of Mt. Tabor.  It was not as easy as I thought, with all the thorns and bushes.  Sometimes the stones were a little loose, and I lost my footing.  But I made it to the top, quite sweaty and hot, probably a little dehydrated, but proud at my accomplishment.

    I had another experience at Mt. Tabor, as I went inside the church.  There is a beautiful mosaic of the transfiguration in the apse of the church, and as I was praying, the sun shone just perfectly so that it hit the image of Jesus, and illumined Him.  I remember thinking that this must have been something like the apostles saw when our Lord was transfigured.  Combining those two days, it’s even more amazing when Christ was transfigured, as He and the apostles would also have likely been hot and sweaty, and yet Christ’s clothes became as white as light.
    That’s all well and good to understand some very realistic background, but what, we may ask, does the Transfiguration have to do with us?  How does the Transfiguration change my life?  Well, as with so many aspects of our Lord’s life, what He showed us is what He desires to happen to us.  We are supposed to be transfigured as well.  We are supposed to go from earthly dirty, sweaty, and tired, to clean, bright, and glorified.
    That process started for us in baptism.  At our baptism, the voice of the Father may not have been heard, but He said that we are His beloved.  We became configured to Christ for the first time (but hopefully, not the last!).  And from that moment on, we were destined for glory, the glory that Christ shone forth as a foretaste at the Transfiguration.  We call this divinization, or deification.
    God wants us to be like Him.  We cannot be the same nature of God (as we are limited and He is infinite), but He wants us to be transformed so that we are images of Him.  This is the whole idea of the Christian life.  From baptism until death, we are called to become more and more like Christ, the new Adam, and less and less like the first Adam.  St. Paul will talk about this using the terms “old man” and “new man.”  
    How does this happen?  Some of it happens through the sacraments.  I already mentioned baptism, but the Sacrament of Penance helps us be more like God through having our fallen actions (sins) washed away by the Blood of Christ.  Confirmation empowers us to act like Christ in public.  The Eucharist is meant to transform us from the inside out, so that as we receive Christ in the Eucharist, we become more like Him in what we do because we have Him inside us.    Marriage helps us to live for the other, as Christ did for His Bride, the Church.  Holy Orders allows one to act in the name and person of Christ the Head.  Anointing of the Sick strengthens us in illness to trust in God, even in difficult circumstances.  So when we receive the sacraments, it’s not meant to be coming up to receive some thing, like a prize for the just, but is meant to be a way of receiving God so that we can become more like God.  Which is why those in mortal sin have to go to confession first, because, among other reasons, you cannot become like God if you have separated yourself from Him.  Each time we receive sacramental grace, God wants us to utilize that grace to act more like Him in daily life.  
    Also, askesis, asceticism, is meant to help us be more like God.  We say no to things that we don’t need to rely more on the One whom we really need: God.  Especially in Lent, it can be easy to see penitential practices we do as something that we’re required to do, but only extrinsic practices.  Instead, in the Catholic spiritual tradition, our penitential practices are the practical ways that we say no to our fallen nature, and yes to Christ’s divine nature.  Do we see our Lenten penances that way?  Did we choose penances that will help us transform into the people God wants us to be, people more like Himself?  Or is it just “I gave up chocolate or beer for Lent because I would like to lose weight, but I’m going to go right back to it, and maybe even more, once Easter comes.”  It is so easy to pick a penance, and not get to the deeper reality of that penance, or what the penance is supposed to do.  
    Daily prayer is also a great means of divinization or deification.  Our Lord was always in contact with His heavenly Father, and would take specific time away from His preaching and miracles to be alone in prayer.  Is prayer just something that we check off to get it done for the day?  Or do we see it as our privileged time of speaking to and listening to the Father, so that He can change us to be more like Christ?      [Lastly, St. Paul in today’s epistle talks about how even the gift of our sexuality is meant to be transfigured by Christ.  Specifically, he talks about how to find a spouse in a Christian manner, not a pagan manner.  The Christian seeks someone whom they can help go to heaven, not just someone who looks good and satisfies bodily desires and lust.  In Christian marriage, personal happiness is not the goal; the holiness and happiness of the other is the goal.  Again, this is different from a pagan or secular point of view, which views the other as a means to the end of personal pleasure.  The way that we utilize our God-given gift of sexuality changes because of our relationship with Christ, whether we are single, married, in consecrated life, or ordained.  God wants to divinize all of us, not just parts of us.]
    Life is tiring, sweaty, and sometimes a hot mess.  We may always feel like we’re climbing, but never reaching the top of the mountain.  But if we allow God’s grace to be active in us; if we are open to the sacramental graces that we receive on such a regular basis; if we do penances that help us die to our old, fallen self; if we take time to really speak our heart to God and listen for what His heart says to us, then we will arrive at the top of the mountain, and find that God has transfigured us as well, to be a reflection of the glory of His Son, [who with the Father and the Holy Spirit is Lord, for ever and ever.  Amen.] 

Fighting Temptations and Healing Wounds

 First Sunday of/in Lent
    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.]. Last week I did my taxes, and because I started to work partially in the City of Flint last calendar year (when I became pastor at St. Matthew), I have file taxes for Flint.  But, because I only worked part of the day in Flint last year, I had to see how many days I worked, and then how many of those days I worked in the City of Flint, to see how much of my wages Flint could tax.  As I looked through the year, week-by-week, I saw some of the highlights of the year, and also some of the lowlights.  My calendar connected me to memories, some of which were delightful, some of which were not so delightful.
    Many of those painful memories from last year were due to my own sinfulness and wounds that I have developed throughout my life, and the reactions that can sometimes happen when those wounds become irritated by the everyday happenings of life.  Some of my own wounds are the fear of abandonment, the desire to be wanted, and the desire to be successful.  You may have the same, or maybe very different, wounds and sins.  But we all have them.

Mount of Temptations in Israel

    As our Lord entered into His time of temptation in the desert, He took upon Himself, not His wounds or sins, because He didn’t have any, but He did take our wounds, sins, and temptations.   The three that He underwent might be categorized as temptations related to physical appetites, amazing feats, and power.  But Christ enters the desert to do battle with the devil, but also show us how to battle the devil with using the same tactics our Lord used.  
    Just as Jesus was in the desert for 40 days, so our 40 day Lenten pilgrimage allows us to grow closer to God and work on our sins and wounds.  As St. Paul says, now is the acceptable time for entering into this battle with our fallen self and with the devil, because now is the time of salvation.  Each day that we put off dealing with our wounds and sins is another day that the infection grows deeper, and becomes more painful when we want to debride the wound.
    So what does Christ show us?  First, He shows us that fighting wounds, temptations, and sins should be rooted in who we are.  Satan begins his temptations with: “If you are the Son of God.”  The enemy seeks to call into question who we are.  In order to fight our wounds, we need to recognize that we are the beloved children of God in the one Son of God, Jesus Christ.  When we operate out of that identity, we are less likely to seek our identity in lesser goods.  How easy it is for us to root our identity in who seems to want us, or what we have accomplished.  But those things are fleeting.  Friends can fall away; our achievements, especially if they are not rooted in God, can come crumbling down.  But God is the sure foundation upon Whom we can build our house and base our worth.  
    Secondly, Christ shows us that we should go to Scripture to fight against attacks of the devil.  Yes, Satan does quote Scripture in the passage we heard today, but Christ uses Scripture to show how Satan’s quotations of the Word of God is off.  Sometimes we are afraid of the Scriptures, and sometimes they are not readily clear or intelligible, or their meaning needs some unpacking by the Church’s magisterium, or teaching office.  But the Word of God is always a good place to go to fight off temptations, and you can reference the passages in the Catechism if you have questions about the deeper meaning.  Our psalm/gradual and tract from today, talks about how God will protect His servants.  That is what God does for us.  Our guardian angels want to fight off the temptations with us, and attack any of the fallen spirits that seek to do us harm.  Not even a lion or a dragon could stand a chance if we stay close to the Lord and trust in His power to keep us safe.  
    To resist sin and temptation, and to have our wounds healed, we need only ask God, and He will come to our aid.  God wants us to be holy and whole.  He knows how easy it is for us to operate out of false identities, not rooted in Christ, which then lead us to give in to temptation and fall into sin.  He knows beforehand what we often only find out after the fact: that giving in to temptation, sinning, and letting our wounds rule us is self-destructive and does not bring us happiness, even if it sometimes brings us passing pleasure.  
    Take advantage of this season of Lent.  Make this the acceptable time to be healed of sin and wounds through the Sacrament of Penance.  Ask God to help you to see where and why you hurt, and where and why you so easily fall into particular sins.  Those sins and wounds do not define you.  You are the beloved child of the Father, who with the Son and Holy Spirit live and reign for ever and ever.  Amen.