Needing Jesus

 Solemnity of St. Matthew
    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.].  You all are probably aware that I’m a big fan of country music.  And I would argue that the first couple of country music right now are Tim McGraw and Faith Hill.  In 2007 they released a song together called, “I Need You.”  And the refrain goes, “So I need you. // Like a needle needs a vein / Like my Uncle Joe in Oklahoma needs the rain / I need you. / Like a lighthouse on the coast /…I need you.”

    Do we need Jesus?  As we celebrate our parish patron, that is the question that our Lord asks of us today, and which St. Matthew exemplifies.  What was it that made Matthew drop everything to follow Christ?  What allowed Matthew to put on a dinner in his home for our Lord?  He realized that He needed Jesus.
    No doubt, St. Matthew had tried to fill up his life with other things.  He was a tax collector for an occupying government, which probably meant that he didn’t have a lot of Jewish friends, at least not the kind that went to synagogue.  Perhaps Matthew thought that, as long as he had to be under an oppressive government, he would at least get a little ahead by working for them.  Recall, too, that tax collectors generally made their money from charging more than the taxes, so they could pocket the difference.  But that money did not satisfy him fully.
    We don’t know if St. Matthew was married, but, by tradition, only John was unmarried.  Let’s hope that Matthew had a happy marriage, maybe even had a few kids.  But he knew that even those goods of family life could not fully satisfy him.
    Matthew was a man in need of a savior.  He knew it, even if he couldn’t put his finger on what would satisfy that need until our Lord came and called him.  But once Christ did call Matthew, everything was changed, and Matthew had to leave behind everything else and follow our Lord.
    Christ said today that He did not come to call the just, but sinners.  What is it about the just that tends to leave them outside the call of Christ?  They don’t feel they need Him.  Does that mean that Christ did not come for the holy?  How can one be holy without God’s help?  Those who are convinced of their own righteousness do not look for a savior, because they feel they have saved themselves by their own good deeds.  Those who are models of holiness, the saints, always recognized their need for God, and that they could not be holy without Him.  They mourned even their venial sins because they recognized how even those small sins hurt God.  The saints knew throughout their lives that they needed a savior, even as they advanced in their relationship with God.  
    The fulfillment of the realization that Matthew needed a savior was so powerful that Matthew wrote a Gospel about the God-Man who changed his life by a simple call.  He wrote down the stories that we have learned from childhood: the visit of the Magi; the Sermon on the Mount; the call of St. Peter to be the first pope; part of the words of Institution in the Mass; the great commission to “Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”  He organized his account of the Gospel in a way that people would see in the Lord the fulfillment of the promise of Moses that God would raise up another prophet, to whom the Chosen People needed to listen.  Indeed, it seems to be divided into five parts, just like the Pentateuch, the first five books of the Tanakh, the Jewish scriptures.
    That fulfillment that St. Matthew found also made his passion and martyrdom worth the price.  Nothing was more precious than the gift of a savior that Matthew had found in our Lord.  Everything else, to use the words of his fellow apostle, Saint Paul, was as rubbish when compared with the treasure Matthew had found in Christ.  
    So, do we need a savior?  No matter what our virtues or the ways we say yes to God, do we still recognize that we need Him?  Do we still cry out to Him for mercy that justifies us, that puts us in right relationship with God?  Or do we feel like we can handle things on our own without God?  
    Do our hearts still yearn for a deeper relationship with God to fill the holes in our hearts that no material goods can satisfy?  When our Lord calls us in our custom’s post, are we ready to respond because we know we need Him?  
    And as we find that fulfillment, do we then respond by sharing that good news, that evangelium, with others?  Is the joy in our heart from knowing Christ so great that we can’t help but share it with those we meet?  Or do we keep our light under a bushel basket, and allow our salt to grow tepid?  Would we be willing to give up our lives for our Lord, or do we serve other lesser gods in our life?  Do we need Jesus?  If so, then together, as a parish, let us follow Him, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit reign, unto the ages of the ages.  Amen. 

Two Sides of the Coin

 Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  The cliché phrase is: there are two sides to every coin.  Some use this phrase to talk about how there are different points of view.  Others use the phrase as some Manichean view that good and evil are balanced.  The first is an important consideration.  The second is just wrong.  But I want to use this phrase as the two ways to approach growth in holiness and preparation for heaven.

    The one side of the coin, we’ll call this one tails, is the things that we shouldn’t do.  We might call it a via negativa.  St. Paul outlines these in his epistle to the Galatians today.  He is basically saying, “Don’t be immoral, impure, licentious, worship false gods, do sorcery, hate others, encourage rivalry, jealousy, or fury, be selfish, divide others, envy others, drink too much, etc.”  He’s telling us all the things we shouldn’t do.  And he makes clear the reason for what he warns us against: “those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.”  So this is pretty serious stuff.  
    This via negativa is important, and is one valid way of approaching holiness.  We need to know the things that we shouldn’t do because they are contrary to God’s law, natural law, or legitimate human law.  Think about it like driving: you need to know that you can’t drive through an intersection at a red light or at a stop sign, or you can’t drive the wrong way down the road.  Such things will get you (and others) injured or maybe even killed.  It’s not like we just tell 16 year olds to drive safely, and then give them the keys to the car without letting them know there are things they should not do.  A world without the word no while driving is like driving in Flint sometimes, where some people just run red lights and stop signs or speed because they do whatever they feel like.
    Or, think about it with the image of food.  We teach children what to eat and what not to eat, not merely in a dietary sense (eat healthy foods, avoid junk food), but even in the sense of foods that might do you harm.  We don’t simply say, “Just make sure you’re eating the right types of food,” and then let a kid chomp down on some raw chicken, or let the child figure out that bread which looks like it’s growing green fur is not a good thing to eat.  We tell that person there are things which should not be eaten at all, and things which need to be cooked before we can eat them.  The no that we teach kids and young adults when it comes to food can end up saving their lives.  
    But let’s say that you’ve handled the negatives well.  You stop at red lights and you don’t eat moldy bread.  Still, you feel like there is more.  That’s because there is.  The other side of the coin, we’ll call it heads, is the positive things that we do.  St. Paul talks about these, too: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.”  You might say that you don’t struggle with sexual sins, or bouts of rage, or seeking to divide people, or worshiping false gods.  Good!  How are you at loving others, especially those who don’t treat you well?  Can you maintain peace and joy when things don’t go your way, and you cant’s understand the customer service agent on the other end of the phone?  How do you give to others, whether your time, talent, or treasure?  
    These things to which we say yes are important, too.  There is an ease to driving when we know how, beyond simply the “don’t do these things.”  It can become enjoyable, even relaxing, in the right context.  Or a good cook can go beyond not eating raw chicken or moldy bread.  He or she knows how to combine different flavors, how long to cook the meat to keep the flavor but avoid sickness, and how to provide not only sustenance, but enjoyment in dining.  This past Friday I buried a Polish woman who loved to cook traditional Polish foods.  As her child and grandchildren got older, they wanted to know how to make the food she did.  But the struggle was that the amount of spices she used were not measured by spoons or cups, but by shakes and pinches.  The dough was ready when it felt a certain way between her fingers.  She had moved beyond the restrictions of what not to do, to making those foods without much consideration because she knew how to in the core of her being.
    We priests can often preach about what not to do, and that’s important, especially for those who are young in the faith.  But as we mature in the faith, we also need to emphasize the things to do, the ways that we can say yes to God, not simply no to sin.  
    And this can even be seen in our Lord’s teaching on worrying.  He tells us not to worry about what we are to eat, drink, or wear.  God, He tells us, will take care of us.  The no, in this case, is no to worrying.  The yes in this case is to seeking the will of God.  But contained within those are other things to avoid and things to pursue.  Don’t buy a new toy, when you haven’t paid for your basic necessities according to your vocation.  Do pray to God when you want to make a big purchase.  Don’t become a penny-pincher whose only concern is material stability, where money or mammon becomes a false god.  Do trust in God with your life and security, and have confidence in giving to those who are in need.  Christ knew when to walk through fields of grain, and He knew when to go to Martha and Mary’s house for a good meal.  The Apostles kept a small money bag for their needs, but also trusted that God would somehow provide at the feeding of the 5,000.  
    Lastly, the negatives don’t go away because we are advancing in the positives.  Some things are always wrong, no matter how much we’re progressing in our relationship with God.  It’s not like we can say that we’ve progressed so far in kindness, that we can be as divisive as possible on occasion.  Or that we so love God that a few times of adultery won’t make a difference.  We need both no and yes in order to live holy lives.  
    Consider today where you are at in your relationship with God.  Do you still need to focus on what not to do?  Or can you focus on what to do and doing that better each day?  That probably depends on the area of your life, as you will have some where you simply focus on what not do, while in other areas you can grow more deeply in what to do.  And don’t try to do it by yourself.  All of this is made possibly only by the grace of the Holy Spirit, who with the Father and the Son live and reign for ever and ever.  Amen. 

How God Offers Mercy

 Twenty-Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time
    There is a kind of parable told about a man whose house was in the path of a flood.  The waters were starting to cover the roads, and a patrol car came by to take him to safety.  “No thanks,” he said, “God will save me!”  The water kept rising, until it was up to his porch.  A rescue boat came by to take him to safety.  “No thanks,” he said, “God will save me!”  The waters kept rising, until it was up to his roof.  A helicopter hovered over his house and offered to take him to safety.  “No thanks,” he said, “God will save me!”  The waters kept rising, and the man drowned.  Standing before the judgment seat of God, the man asked the Almighty why He didn’t do anything to save him.  God said, “I sent you the patrol car, the rescue boat, and the helicopter to save you.  You didn’t want my help.”  
    God is merciful.  We hear it again and again in our readings.  Our first reading mentions the mercy of God after Moses pleads for the people.  The verses of our responsorial psalm is the prayer King David wrote after he realized he had sinned greatly by committing adultery with Bathsheba and then having her husband, Uriah, killed in battle.  St. Paul recounts in our second reading how God treated him mercifully, even though he was a blasphemer and arrogant.  And in our Gospel, Jesus speaks about how the mercy of God goes out, seeking the lost to return him to wholeness, in three parables of His own.
    God is merciful.  But do we accept how He sends His mercy?  God’s mercy was shown in a most perfect way in the Incarnation.  Jesus revealed the mercy of God.  And yet, we rejected Him.  The very people God had chosen to be His own; the people who had the prophets, telling the people about the savior God would send them; the people who knew God’s revelation from Genesis to Malachi; many could not accept God’s merciful presence in the Incarnation because it was not the way they wanted to receive God’s mercy.  And so Mercy Incarnate took upon Himself the justice that should have been meted out to us because of our sins.  As Isaiah prophesied about Jesus: “He was spurned and avoided by men, a man of suffering, knowing pain, Like one from whom you turn your face, spurned, and we held him in no esteem.  […] We thought of him as stricken, struck down by God and afflicted.”

    How does God offer us His mercy?  He offers it through the Sacrament of Penance.  This is the ordinary way that God forgives sins.  Can He forgive in other ways?  Certainly; He is God.  But God told His apostles that they would have the power to loose and bind, the power to release people from their sins.  Why would God give a power if He didn’t intend that power to be exercised?  
    The Church has discerned two ways in which a person may be sorry: perfect and imperfect contrition.  Perfect contrition is when sorrow for sin “arises from a love by which God is loved above all else.”  That is, we recognize how our sins have offended our God and our relationship with Him, not because of any effects it may have on us, but simply because it is contrary to who God is, and “breaks the heart” of the Beloved.  Imperfect contrition is when sorrow for sin is “born of the consideration of sin’s ugliness or the fear of eternal damnation and the other penalties threatening the sinner.”  In other words, imperfect contrition is more so the sorrow that comes from knowing that we will, eventually, get caught, and have to pay the price for our sins.  As I reflect on my life I would like to hope that I am moving towards perfect contrition when I sin, but I am often at least partially sorry simply because I don’t want to suffer the consequences of my sins.
    In the Sacrament of Penance, God transforms our imperfect contrition into perfect contrition so that we might be forgiven.  But through the Sacrament of Penance, God also reconciles us with the Church and with each other, which is why confession to a priest is necessary.  Standing alone in our home or in the woods, we can certainly ask God for forgiveness.  But each sin, no matter how private or personal, also affects the other members of the Body of Christ, to whom we are connected by Baptism.  So we also need to ask forgiveness from them, and the priest is authorized by God to act in the name of the entire Body, including the head (Jesus Christ, who, as God, is the only one who can forgive sins) and the other members.  
    This way of receiving God’s mercy is not as popular now as it has been.  But do we seek this ordinary way of being forgiven by God?  Or do we reject it like some of the Chosen People rejected the Incarnation?  God is seeking us out through the Sacrament of Penance.  He is looking for us while we are still a long way out, so that He can run to us and restore us to our status and sons and daughters in the Son of God.  But are we like the man in the parable at the beginning of the homily today: convinced God will save us, but not open to the way that He wants to do so?  If it’s been a while since you’ve been to confession: do not be afraid.  The confession of your sins is merely the means by which God conveys His mercy.  Let God save you in the way He has chosen.

"Thank God Ahead of Time"

 Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Bl. Solanus Casey

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  “Thank God ahead of time!”  This was a phrase that I had heard Bl. Solanus Casey used in counseling others.  When I looked it up on the Internet, just to make sure I was getting it correct, I found a story that accompanied the phrase from the Capuchins Vocations Director.  Bl. Solanus said this phrase to the parents of a sixteen-month-old girl, Elizabeth, who was dying of leukemia.  I don’t know what I would think or say if a priest, no matter how holy he was supposed to be, told me, as I presented my dying one-year-old, to him.  And yet, the girl got better once she got home, with no trace of leukemia.
    Thank God ahead of time.  It’s easy to thank God when we get something we want.  I would dare say that most of us are probably the type of people who, when we get something we want, say thank you, especially to God.  It’s a lesson we learn with others, too, from a young age: when someone gives us something, we say thank you.  The Samaritan leper in today’s Gospel certainly was grateful and returned to Jesus to express that gratitude.
    But can we thank God ahead of time, when we don’t know what will happen, or when we don’t get what we want?  That is much harder.  This Friday is my birthday, but my best friend is working, so we had made plans to spend Wednesday afternoon together.  I had it all planned out (as we planners tend to do): he’d come to Mass, then we’d grab a bite to eat, then watch a minor league baseball game.  A fun time.  Then, two Fridays ago, my friend told me that he had been unexpectedly scheduled to work on Wednesday, and wouldn’t be free until 5 or 6.  Thanking God was not on my mind or in my heart.
    That afternoon is really not all that important.  There are certainly things much more grave and important than having a good time with a friend to celebrate a birthday.  But I still found it hard to thank God, because I felt like something had been taken away from me that I deserved.  
    Perhaps that’s what makes thanking God so hard when it’s not what we want: we feel we deserve better, or are being cheated.  And when that’s the case, there’s very little room in our hearts for gratitude.  That mentality can still be present when we get what we want: we deserve this blessing; we earned this good thing that God allowed for us.  Perhaps that’s what the other nine lepers were thinking: I put my faith in Jesus, I have confidence that He can heal me, so when I am healed, it’s exactly as I planned.  When we receive good things from God, things we want, that mentality may even creep into our minds: I go to Mass every Sunday (maybe even some weekdays); I donate time, talent, and treasure to the Church; I pray my daily devotions and my rosary; I deserve good things from God.
    Contrast that mentality with the mentality of another saint, St. Thomas More.  He wrote these words to his daughter Margaret from his cell in the Tower of London, and, soon after writing this, witnessed to the faith by his death:
 

Although I know well, Margaret, that because of my past wickedness I deserve to be abandoned by God, I cannot but trust in his merciful goodness.  His grace has strengthened me until now and made me content to lose goods, land, and life as well, rather than to swear against my conscience. […] And, therefore, my own good daughter, do not let your mind be troubled over anything that shall happen to me in this world.  Nothing can come but what God wills.  And I am very sure that whatever that be, however bad it may seem, it shall indeed be the best.

Here was a man who was falsely imprisoned, who had lost material stability, as well as personal access to his family, and was facing death, and yet he could say that whatever God wills is for the best.  This was not a man who thought he deserved anything, except for abandonment by God because of past sins.  And yet, he could stay faithful to God and thank Him for whatever occurred.

St. Thomas More

    I’m clearly not a model of this virtue, and no saint.  But I suppose that what helps me is to try to abandon the belief that I am owed anything by God, other than His love, and even love cannot, we could say, be owed; it must be freely given or not be love.  Yet God does love us, and He does give us many blessings, but also allows certain difficulties.  But anything that God even allows, somehow is meant to work for our good, the good of our salvation.  And if it is for our good, then perhaps we can, even begrudgingly, thank God for it, even ahead of time.
    Saying thank you to God usually happens after something happens to us, usually for the better.  But, in order to grow in this virtue of gratitude, in order to embrace thanking God ahead of time, we should start the practice each day, as part of our morning offering or morning prayers and devotions, to thank God for whatever will happen to us during that upcoming day.  Even the simple phrase, “Thank you God for whatever will happen today” can put us in the mindset that whatever happens, “however bad it may seem, it shall indeed be the best,” as St. Thomas More said.  Or perhaps you can make as your own the phrase of our beloved Michigan saint, Bl. Solanus Casey: “Thank God ahead of time!”: the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Doing It On Our Own?

 Twenty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

    A year or so I bought a grill for a young couple with whom I am friends who had expressed some interest in getting a combination grill/smoker.  I did some shopping, found what I wanted at a Lowe's in Brighton, and bought the grill.  When it came time to load it into my Jeep, I realized it was going to be a bit of a struggle, as it was much heavier than I expected.  Luckily, an off-duty State Trooper I know just happened to be coming into the Lowe's when I about ready to load it in, so he was able to help me.  This should have been my first clue that putting this grill together was going to require more than one person, given that even simply loading it into my vehicle required two of us.
    I got home, and, when I had a day off, I decided I was going to put it together.  I quickly learned that it was meant to be a two- to three-person job, because some of the parts were supposed to be held as bolts were tightened.  But, stubborn as I am, I found a way, somehow, to put it together.  With the help of another friend, I delivered it, only to notice that some of the screws I had tightened were a bit loose, due, no doubt, to the fact that I tried to assemble the grill/smoker myself.
    When it comes to salvation, we might take the same approach: I can do it myself.  And maybe even today’s Gospel seems to back us up.  After all, Jesus says, “‘Which of you wishing to construct a tower doe snot first sit down and calculate the cost to see if there is enough for its completion?’”  In other words, we may interpret Jesus to be saying, “Do you have enough to follow me?”  
    But, the fact is, we cannot follow Jesus without Jesus.  That may seem quite obvious when stated that way.  But how many times do we attempt to be our own savior, only to get frustrated when it doesn’t work?  We figure that we simply have to muscle through being a disciple, and then God will be pleased with us and we’ll go to heaven.  When we meet failure (as we most certainly will at some point), it then forces a decision: do we try to muscle through even harder (we failed because we weren’t trying hard enough)?  Or do we just give up because following Jesus is too hard?
    Of course, the better option is to allow Jesus to work within us, rather than trying to save ourselves.  If humanity could save itself, then Jesus and the Incarnation is altogether unnecessary.  If humanity could save itself, then certainly Abraham, or Moses, or David, or one of the prophets would have figured it out.  But, of course, they didn’t.  Not one of the patriarchs, kings, or prophets, no matter how good they attempted to be, could save themselves and follow God perfectly.  They all needed help from above.
    And we cannot follow Jesus without Him.  In fact, He does most of the work, and our job is to cooperate with that work and not get in the way.  When we do fail, it’s usually because we have gotten in the way.  “But Fr. Anthony,” you may say, “Jesus today said that if we do not carry our own cross and follow Him, we cannot be His disciple.”  That is what Jesus said.  But we are not meant to carry our cross by ourselves.  Jesus Himself received the assistance, albeit coerced by the Romans, of Simon of Cyrene to carry the Cross that brought us salvation.  So if even the Master receives assistance in carrying His literal cross, then why do we think that we can do it without any assistance?
    Trying to be our own savior and carrying our cross without Jesus can look very similar to someone who is allowing Jesus to be the savior and allowing Jesus to help carry our cross.  From the externals, it may be exactly the same: we pray, we make time for God, we talk to others about Jesus, we do works of charity for others, etc.  But what is different is the interior disposition.  The person who wants to save him or herself; the person who decides to carry the cross on his or her own, prays, but only because it is required.  That person makes time for God, but only out of fear that if we don’t give God some minimal amount of time, then He won’t let us into heaven.  That person talks about God, but only to increase the size of the parish by adding another member or two.  That person gives money to the poor or to organizations because it’s a nice tax write-off, or he or she likes seeing the name in a donor list.
    On the other hand, the person who allows Jesus to be the savior and help carry our cross prays because it is a chance to spend time with the Beloved, who wants to hear what is going on in our life, and wants to communicate a path forward.  That person makes time for God because that is the number one priority, and the other priorities fall into place after Him.  That person speaks to others about Jesus as a friend or spouse talks about their beloved, and wants others to know that same joy and love.  That person sees Jesus in the poor and the suffering and so does what he or she can to alleviate that suffering in the least of the brothers and sisters of Jesus.  The acts might be the same, but the motivation is totally different.
    You cannot save yourself.  You cannot carry your cross alone.  You cannot earn heaven by anything you could ever do, even in a million years.  Allow Christ to be your Savior.  Let Him work in you, and cooperate with that work, not trying to earn the love of God, but responding to it.  When we do respond to God’s love because of the love He has first shown us, then we will be the disciples that God calls us to be.