Charlie Brown and the Meaning of Christmas

 Solemnity of the Nativity of the Lord

    I’m pretty sure my mom’s favorite Christmas show is  “A Charlie Brown Christmas.”  I’m sure we’re all familiar with the story: Charlie Brown wants a great Christmas, there’s a school Christmas play, Snoopy has decorated his dog house over the top, and the tree that Charlie Brown picks is a small, pitiful tree that barely has any needles left on it.  The play is falling apart, Lucy is being her usual self, and nothing seems to be going right.  Enter Linus, who, responding to Charlie Brown’s query if anyone knows what Christmas is about, says:
 

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.  And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.  And the angel said unto them, “Fear not: for behold, I bring unto you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.  For unto you is born this day in the City of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.  And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.”  And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God, and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.”

There is so much that goes on at Christmas, so many things that we prepare for, so many parties to attend, presents to buy, houses to clean, that sometimes we forget what Christmas is all about.  And we’ve celebrated it so many times, that perhaps it has lost some of its newness and power.  Perhaps we have become numb to the real meaning of Christmas, what Christmas is all about.
    To properly understand the real meaning of Christmas, we have to start at the beginning.  Adam and Eve had offended God by disobeying Him and seeking to be God on their own terms.  They were sorry.  God accepted the apology, and sought humanity out time and time again, but humanity kept distancing itself more and more away from God.
    Christmas, then, is about God making the ultimate move of reconciliation.  We could not approach God on our own.  We were hopeless that anything could be done to fully restore what we had broken.  And knowing that we had caused the pain, knowing that we had done wrong, we stayed to ourselves.  But God didn’t leave us to ourselves.  He sent us someone who could reconcile us to Himself, and someone who could do so without shaming us.  Christ was and is one like us, but without sin.  He took on our human flesh so that we could be comfortable in the presence of God again.  God became man so that man might become God.  Rather than seeing us continually suffer by our separation from Him, He came to us so that we could be healed.
    And He came in a way that utterly disarmed us.  The Incarnation was like the Trojan Horse, because how could we not accept one so tiny and fragile?  How could we not smile at a cute baby, whose face looked like ours, but was truly the face of God?  It would be like being estranged from a dear friend or family member, not knowing if we could ever be amicable with them again because of the pain that we caused, but then that dear friend sends us a little gift, something that we treasure, as a way of restoring that relationship.  We certainly did not earn that gift, and would never have expected it, but that friend sent it anyway, and the healing could commence.  

    The real meaning of Christmas is God’s love and mercy for us doing the unthinkable: lowering Himself beyond all expectation, just so that we could be reunited with Him.  The snow is beautiful (though you may think otherwise having driven in it to get here); the glimmering trees and the presents that often are under them give us passing happiness; the favorite and timeless songs that we sing give our hearts a certain levity.  But all those things will pass, and will be put away for another twelve months.  The love and mercy of God will remain, long after the snow has melted, after the trees have dropped all their needles and the presents are forgotten or broken, after you can only find Christmas songs on YouTube or Spotify.  
    Are we willing to embrace that mercy?  Are we willing to accept the love of God offered to us to restore us to friendship with God?  It seems like a silly question, but sometimes, after we know we have done something wrong, we fear even accepting an offer of mercy and love, because we so define ourselves by our faults and failing.  We think that the broken relationship cannot be made whole again.  Or we are afraid that, having restored that friendship, we will break it off again once more.  
    As the angel said to the shepherds in the field at Bethlehem, “Be not afraid.”  We are not the sum of our failings, as Pope St. John Paul II once said.  God can make what is broken whole again.  And yes, we may offend God again, but God, through Christ, will reach out His hand again when we turn back in sorrow for our sins, and will not reject any who come to Him, even if our sins were like scarlet.  And he will not do so begrudgingly, but with great haste and intention, because He would rather lower Himself and take on human frailty; He would rather die than have one of His beloved be separated from Him.  So great is the love of God that He will go to any lengths He can to save us.
    That is what we see at Christmas.  That is what we experience in the Incarnation.  That is what we celebrate today, every Sunday, and even every day as the priest, and the people united with him interiorly, offer the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.  God loves you so much that He became like you.  Accept that great gift of love and mercy, and allow it to transform your life today, tomorrow, and all the tomorrows that you will have.  We broke off our friendship with God, but God has given us the opportunity to be His adopted sons and daughters in the Incarnate Son of God.  That is the real meaning of Christmas.  That is what Christmas is all about.

The Gospel CAD

 Fourth Sunday of Advent

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  As a way of helping police officers understand the calls to which dispatchers send them, there is a system called Computer-Assisted Dispatch, or CAD.  The CAD gives us important details on the in-car laptops like the nature of the call (what we are going to), the name and contact info of the person who called 911, the time that the call was received, and any notes associated with this call that help the law enforcement officers respond.
    St. Luke obviously didn’t have a CAD when he composed his Gospel account.  But today he sets the scene and gives important details about the time of the Redeemer.  One might think that this is the beginning of St. Luke’s account, but it’s actually chapter 3, as the first two chapters dealt with the conception of St. John, the conception of our Lord, and the Visitation, as well as our Lord’s Nativity and youth.  This chapter begins the preaching of John at the Jordan, right before the Savior began His public ministry.
    But even though this passage is after what we think about when we think about preparing for Christmas, it presents a good point for us on which to meditate: God enters into our time and our lives.  In the pagan world, the gods and goddesses were usually either totally transcendent (they were too important to be involved in the affairs of mere mortals), or they were utterly immanent (they were often just more powerful versions of humans).  But the Scriptures paint God as both transcendent and immanent, as He is other-worldly (no one can see God and live after the Fall, and God sometimes seems far off), but He also directly involves Himself in the lives of His Chosen People (calling Abraham to be a people; directing Abraham’s descendants; freeing the Chosen People from slavery in Egypt; choosing kings; sending prophets to proclaim His message and way of life; allowing the people to experience the effects of their sins; saving them from utter destruction).  
    The ministry of our Lord happens in a very particular time, to quote Charles Dickens, “the best of times” and “the worst of times.”  Luke mentions Tiberius Caesar as the emperor, and Pontius Pilate as governor.  Tiberius was the stepson of Augustus, and the second emperor of Rome.  Tiberius inherited and maintained the pax romana, the Roman peace, which, ironically, had been brought about by no small amount of violence and war, but during which time there was relative peace and prosperity in the Roman Empire.  At the same time, Pontius Pilate, Tiberius’ governor in Judea, probably was not sent there for good behavior or as a reward.  Judea did not want Roman rule, and there were regular riots and skirmishes with the far-advanced Roman army.  
    Herod, while not Roman, only had authority because of Rome.  He was not respected among the Jews, and John the Baptist rightly criticized him for marrying the wife of his half-brother.  Because his rule was dependent on Rome, he likely enjoy the favor neither of Rome (because he wasn’t Roman) nor the Jews (because Rome gave him power).  St. Luke also mentions the religious leaders, Annas and Caiaphas, who will be named again in our Lord’s Passion, and who do not come off looking so good.  So, the time in which our Lord preached could be good or bad, depending on who you were and where you lived.
    God enters into this period, the good, the bad, and the ugly.  And that should give us the hope to which Advent pushes us.  Because our lives are often a mix of the good, the bad, and the ugly.  Sometimes our lives have peace, and sometimes we won that peace by interior fighting (hopefully not exterior fighting).  But that peace can also be very secular, and disconnected from our religious life.  There is a peace of God, which comes from following His will, and then there is a worldly peace, which comes from doing what we want and then doing everything we can to silence our conscience (which will eventually speak out, as the voice of God always does when we veer from His ways).  
    Sometimes we are like Herod and fool ourselves and try to make deals with our fallen human nature, and think that that it will give us power, and then we can simply appease our religious side with devotions, even if our life is not the way it should be, and not in according with God’s will.  We bristle at the prophets who tell us to repent, even as we are intrigued by them as well.  Like Herod, we want to listen to God’s word, but if something delightful demands our obedience, we cut off the head of the prophet because we lack the courage to do what is right.
    Sometimes externally we are very religious, but inside we are dead.  Christ often rebuked the Pharisees for this, for crossing their Ts and dotting their Is, but failing to truly live in a way that God called them.  They have the audacity to think that they can stand in judgement of God’s Messiah, and then make shallow gestures of religious rage when our Lord affirms that He is who He says He is.  Do we fall into that same trap of deciding that our way is the best instead of God’s, or that God has to fit into our standards, rather than fitting ourselves into His?
    But sometimes we are following God’s will, doing our best to live according to His Gospel, to allow His peace to transform our lives, and allowing our outside practices to be a reflection of our interior relationship with God.  Even then, we can always work and making more and more straight the pathways that lead, even in these last days of Advent, to God: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

John, Pumbaa, and a Street Preacher

 Third Sunday of Advent

    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.]. For the first week of Advent I focused on waiting.  Last week I focused on preparing.  This week I’d like to focus on St. John the Baptist, who, as I mentioned last week, prepares the way for the Lord’s coming.
    Honestly, I always get the timeline with St. John the Baptist messed up in my head.  Because we hear about the Baptizer so much in Advent, I always picture him preaching at the Jordan before Christ was even born.  Of course, the Scriptures are clear that John was about six months older than our Lord.  So John’s preaching in the wilderness happens sometime around the Year of our Lord 30.  
    The Precursor, as he is also called, demonstrated an extreme care for doing God’s will, even others did not experience that care as normal.  John preached and baptized in the northern part of the Promised Land (the modern-day site is in Jordan and Israel, with the Jordan River acting as a natural border).  He wore camel-hair clothing and ate locusts (I’m sure Pumbaa would chime in that they’re delicious and nutritious and taste just like chicken).  
    People were drawn to this fire-brand in the wilderness.  The Forerunner (another way of referring to St. John the Baptist) drew many to his message.  Average people came to see him and hear him preach repentance, which they did, and many sought baptism.  Even soldiers (those would have been Roman soldiers) went to hear his message.  As, as the Gospel of John relates, this attracted the priests and Pharisees to examine who this character was.  They wondered if he might be Elijah (prophesied by Malachi to come before the Messiah), or even the Prophet that Moses spoke about in Deuteronomy.  But John simply identifies himself as the fulfillment of the prophecy of Isaiah, the voice of one crying in the wilderness to prepare the way of the Lord.
    I often tend to think of John like a street preacher.  I can’t say that I find street preachers usually an example of attracting people to the Gospel.  I remember one street preacher who was preaching as I was walking back from an MSU football game when I was a priest in East Lansing.  He was telling people to repent from their drunkenness and debauchery.  Yelling is probably a more accurate word than telling.  As I walked past I looked at him, and he must have noticed my glance, because he then said something to the effect of, “And don’t think your collar will save you from the fires of hell!”  Perhaps needless to say, I walked on by him, as everyone else did the same.

Statue of St. John the Baptist in Ein Kerem

    Whatever that street preacher lacked, John certainly didn’t.  Even with his strange clothing and diet, people knew that they were not living they way they should, and his message encouraged many to repent and be baptized.  This baptism wasn’t for the forgiveness of sins, but prepared for the baptism of Christ, a baptism the Precursor himself described of the Holy Spirit and fire.  
    I think the question for us as we rejoice while celebrating Gaudete Sunday (that Advent is more than half over), is how we prepare others to receive Christ.  John basically set the table for our Lord, and when the Savior appeared on the scene, John faded away, as he noted, referring to Christ, “He must increase, I must decrease.”  Yes, we hear about him with some disciples while he is in prison, under the watchful eye of King Herod, but John’s importance is only to prepare for Jesus’ coming and manifestation.  
    One of the struggles when trying to bring others to Christ is to make it about us.  I’m obviously not opposed to personal stories that hopefully help connect you to the Gospel.  But I try to make sure that, by what I do and what I say, you can grow closer to Christ.  It’s not about me; it’s all about Him.  We are drawn to certain personalities more than others, and to the extent that they bring us closer to Christ, praise God!  But how it easy can it be to leave people only connected to ourselves, rather than moving them to the Redeemer.
    All of us are called to draw others to Christ, to prepare them to receive the Lord.  It’s not just the jobs of priests, deacons, and consecrated men and women.  In many ways, the witness of the lay faithful can bear more fruit, because your life mirrors other laypersons.  It could be the person at work, the members of your family, or even strangers on the road or in the grocery store.  Does the way you act and the words you say prepare them to hear the Gospel?  Or does it lead to scratching of heads because others know that we’re Catholic, but we’re not acting too saintly?  Are we patient with the waitress who is overworked and taking a little longer to get our food, or maybe even messing up the order?  Do we snap at the customer service representative on the phone, or give the one-finger salute to a bad driver on the road?
    Parents, in particular, have the special vocation of preparing others for Christ by demonstrating what it means to live the faith by the way they treat each other as spouses, and their children.  Do you make time for daily prayer?  Do you speak with respect to your spouse, and build him or her up?  Is discipline, which is necessary, done out of anger or out of love, and do the children know the difference?  While children will, eventually, make their own decisions about whether or not they will practice the faith (just like those who heard the Forerunner could choose to follow him and then follow the Lord, or could walk away and go back to their own lives), how the faith is lived out makes a huge difference.  This is true for the role mothers have (our moms are often so talented and sharing the faith with us), but is also true for fathers.  When dad practices the faith, the children are much more likely to continue to live the faith into adulthood.  
    John the Baptist had a particular vocation to prepare the way for Christ.  But God desires all of us to connect others with our Lord by the way we live, by the words we speak, especially, but not limited to, the way our family develops.  Are we leading people on winding roads away from God, or are we making straight the paths that lead to our God [the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen]?

Planning and Preparing

 Second Sunday of Advent

    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.].  My best friend often teases me for how much I plan.  Just the other day in a text he said, “nobody plans like you do.”  And I do tend to plan and prepare.  As an example, September 2023 will see (if the Lord tarry) my 40th birthday, and I already have plans on how to celebrate and am preparing to execute those plans.
    Last week I preached about how Advent is a time of waiting.  Advent is also a time of preparing.  St. John the Baptist is the quintessential Advent figure, proclaiming, “Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths.”  As a Church, we prepare for three things during Advent: to celebrate Christmas, we prepare for Christ to come into our hearts each day, and we prepare for Christ to return in glory.  As individuals we are probably preparing for family to come over at some point in the next month, perhaps even buying some food now; we clean our house and get it ready for a Christmas tree (real or fake) and the Christmas decorations; we make lists of presents we want and presents we need to get for those we love.  
    Of the three comings of Christ (2,000 years ago in Bethlehem, daily in our hearts, and at the end of time), the one that we probably default to at this time of year is the first Christmas, when Christ was born of the Virgin Mary in Bethlehem.  Perhaps we even think, especially as we just closed out the month of November, about Christ returning in glory and the final judgment.  But today I’d like to focus on preparing for Christ to come into our hearts today, and how we prepare for that.
    Because while the Incarnation was a unique event, as Christ took flesh in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and we could know about that Incarnation when He was born, Christ, in an analogous sense, becomes incarnate every day, as we offer to God ordinary bread and wine, and, by the power of the Holy Spirit and through the ministry of the priest, Christ changes it into His Body and Blood.  Each Sunday is a little Easter, as we celebrate the Resurrection, but each Mass is like a little Christmas, when God miraculously takes flesh before our eyes and we can look upon the God whom the heavens and earth cannot contain.
    Just like preparing for Christmas, there are practical ways that we get ready for Mass.  We get dressed (thank you for not coming to Mass without clothes!), hopefully donning nicer clothes than we would wear to go to a movie or a sporting event.  We make sure we don’t smell too gamey, and maybe comb or brush the hair, and maybe the ladies put on a little make-up.  If we have kids, we try to ensure that the socks match, the shoes are on the correct feet, and they won’t be too cold or too hot.  We leave (or should leave) so that we’re not walking into Mass after it has already begun, allowing a little time in case we catch every red light, or construction makes our detour from our regular route.  Those are all necessary preparations that we personally make for Mass, but which are altogether secular.  But how do we prepare ourselves spiritually?  Do we prepare ourselves spiritually?
    We can prepare for Mass by doing a good examination of conscience, and going to confession.  We especially need to go to confession if we are aware of mortal or grave sins, but we can also go even if we only have venial sins.  Allowing the Lord to cleanse us of our sins removes and obstacles that may get in the way of our reception of the Lord’s grace.  
    Preparation for Mass can also begin six days before Mass even begins.  Thanks to hand missals and the Internet, we probably always know what the readings will be for the following Sunday.  A great way to prepare is to read over the readings for Mass each day before the following Sunday.  Reading the Word of God is a great preparation, as the proclamation of the prophets was the same way the Chosen People were prepared for the Incarnation.  Reading something multiple times also helps us go deeper into the meaning of the sacred text.  And, if you have a child who is a bit squirmy and you have to step out, or if the homily is particularly boring, you can think about what you might say about those readings, and how God has spoken to you through the Word of God.
    Another proximate way of preparing is by fasting.  We are required to fast from all food and drink except water and medicine for 1 hour before receiving Holy Communion.  This means no gum, no walking in with a cup of coffee, or no other little food or drink delights.  The Communion fast prepares our body to hunger for the Eucharist.  It draws our mind and our body to the Body we will be receiving, the Body of our Lord.  Of course, this fast can be modified if our health requires some sustenance (such as those who are hypoglycemic, diabetic, or even simply pregnant).  But it can also be extended as a means of devotion.  Some of you remember when you had to fast for 3 hours before receiving Holy Communion, and a handful of you may even remember requiring the fast to begin at midnight (which is why the first meal of the day was usually had after Mass and was called breakfast–literally, breaking the fast).  I myself try not to eat any food before my first Mass of the day.
    On the day of Mass, proper preparation continues, as much as possible, by arriving at Mass before it’s scheduled to begin.  Again, with kids that can sometimes be tough, and even the best planning and preparation can sometimes give way to the practicalities of getting kids ready who may not always be helpful or enthused when it comes to going to Mass.  But generally, do we plan to arrive a little before Mass begins, or do we wander in sometime during the first reading, or second reading, or homily?
    Having arrived at Mass early, with whom do we spend that time?  There’s nothing wrong with catching up with friends before Mass, but God wants your time as well, and deserves it more than your friends.  Do you take time to quiet your heart, to make space for God’s voice, that so often comes in the silence by silent prayer before Mass?  There are a variety of prayers before Mass that one can say, or perhaps pray a decade of or an entire Rosary.  
    So often I hear the trite phrase, “I don’t get anything out of Mass.”  You might hear it as well.  I would encourage you to respond (of if you say it yourself, think on): “What did you do to get ready for Mass?”  Just like if we are not prepared for an event, we don’t get as much out of it, so with the Mass, if we have not prepared, we may not experience as many of the fruits as God desires for us.  You don’t necessarily have to be a planner like me, but make time to prepare to come to the celebration of the Passion of the Lord [who with the Father and the Holy Spirit is God, for ever and ever.  Amen].

An icon of St. John the Baptist from the place where he was hidden during the slaughter of the Holy Innocents

Waiting

First Sunday of Advent

    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.].  Advent, I would argue, is a time that is particularly good for our current culture.  I say that, because Advent is a time of waiting.  And we are, as a culture, really bad at waiting.  We are bad at waiting because, more often than not, we don’t have to wait for anything.  If I want to know something, I do a Google search or ask Siri, and almost instantaneously get a response.  If I want food, I pre-order it on my app so that it’s waiting for me when I arrive.  I spend the money for Amazon prime so that I can get almost anything I want within two days of ordering it.  If I need to send a message I can get it to the person immediately by email or texting.  We really don’t wait for that much in life anymore.
    There are obvious exceptions.  We generally still wait for weddings (though even those are happening much more quickly these days, as people, sadly, decide not to get married in the church).  We wait for babies to be born (though as a man, I’m not sure I can truly appreciate the desire of a woman, especially in the last weeks of her term, for the baby to exit the womb).  Those two precious events necessitate waiting, but the wait is worth it, as the joy of celebrating is even greater after the weeks and months of desiring that momentous event.
    Advent’s wait is primarily twofold: the remembrance of the waiting of the Chosen People for their long-awaited Messiah, and our waiting for that same Messiah, Jesus Christ, to return to us in glory.  The waiting of the Chosen People began before they were even a people.  Adam and Eve, after their fall, heard God’s promise of a redeemer, as God told the snake who had led to the Fall: “I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; He will strike at your head while you strike at his heel.”  Even then, at the beginning of creation, God promised a redeemer, the offspring of Eve, who would strike at the head of the serpent.
    Fast-forward some centuries to Abraham, our father in faith.  Scripture scholars estimate that Abraham lived sometime between 2100 and 2000 BC.  When God called Abraham out of Ur of the Chaldeans, God promised that Abraham would become a great nation, and a source of blessing for “all the communities of the earth.”  Of course, that happened through our Savior, the son of Abraham, but it took some over two thousand years for that promise to come true. 

From atop Mt. Nebo, where Moses recounted the Exodus for the Chosen People

    Fast-forward to around the 1400s BC to Moses, reminding the Israelites of all that had happened to them since they left Egypt.  Moses prophesied, “‘A prophet like me will the Lord, your God, raise up for you among your own kinsmen; to him you shall listen.’”  The Gospel according to St. John makes clear that some believed our Lord to be “the prophet,” the fulfillment of Moses’ prophecy.  But they had to wait almost a millennium and a half.
    Fast-forward to around the year 1000 BC and King David, resting from all his enemies, desiring to build a temple for the Ark of the Covenant.  God promises David, as the prophet Nathan tells him, “‘I will raise up your heir after you, sprung from your loins, and I will make his kingdom firm.’”  Christ is the Son of David.  As our Lord entered Jerusalem for His Passion, the people chanted, “‘Hosanna to the Son of David; blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.”  And Christ even asks the Pharisees, “‘Whose son is [the Messiah]?’  They replied, ‘David’s.’” 
    Fast-forward to 445 BC, and the composition of the Book of the Prophet Malachi, the last prophet in what we call the Old Testament.  Through Malachi, God promises to send a messenger to prepare the way, and to send Elijah before the day of the Lord, and even that “there will come to the temple the Lord whom you seek.”  But even this was 445 years before our Lord was even born!  If you put the average age of a person at 45, that’s nine generations between Malachi and the Nativity.  Or, to put it another way, if you were around at the time of the first Christmas, the prophecies of Malachi were at the time of your great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather.  That’s a lot of waiting!!  And you thought waiting for Michigan to beat Ohio State in Columbus was long!!
    And we have been waiting almost 2,000 years for Christ to return in glory.  God continues to speak to us through His Church, and we hear about, and maybe even experience, miracles by which God reinforces His presence and love for us.  But we can become complacent, and think and act like Christ will not return.  He, Himself, tells us in the Gospel according to St. Matthew, that it will be like in the days of Noah, where Noah had prepared the ark according to God’s command.  Sill, there was some waiting before the rain fell, and people probably thought Noah was nuts.  But once the rain came, they had wished they had prepared. 
    Christ also tells us, in the Gospel according to St. Luke, that when we see the signs, we should be ready for the His return.  Those signs have been with us each century, which is Christ’s way of telling us to always be ready, because He could return at any time.  Our wait could be over in a heartbeat.  Have we given up on waiting because it’s been so long?  Or are we ready each day for Christ to return in glory? 
    It can be difficult to wait so long.  It can be difficult to live as we are supposed to when we don’t get what we want immediately.  The works of darkness can seem so tempting when we think we have time.  Instead, God calls us to put on the armor of light, to put on the Lord Jesus Christ, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit live and reign for ever and ever.  Amen.  

Examining Our Year with the Fruits of the Spirit

 Last Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  As we come to this last Sunday of the liturgical year, the last Sunday after Pentecost, it’s a great chance to take stock of the previous year.  Like many of us do daily examinations of conscience at the end of the day, this “evening” of the liturgical year affords us the opportunity to see how we grew in grace.
    We ask ourselves, did we allow ourselves to be filled with the knowledge of God’s will?  Did we please the Lord, and bear fruit in our spiritual lives?  Did we endure, were we patient?  Did we rejoice in the Lord and give thanks to the Father?  Was the trajectory of our lives showing more and more that Christ delivered us from the power of darkness and transferred us into His kingdom?  Did we forgive, as God had forgiven us?

    St. Paul mentions bearing fruit.  In another epistle, the Apostle lists the fruits of the Spirit that we should bear: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.  Those are great points of meditation for us as we examine the past year.  Am I more loving now than when I started Advent last year?  Do I show the joy of being a believer in the Lord?  Or, to use a phrase, if you’re happy and you know it, tell your face.  In my interactions with others, does my love manifest itself by waiting for others and putting up with their own shortcomings, just as God puts up with mine?  Do I seek Christ in others, and therefore treat others the same way I would treat Christ?  Do I seek the good, and not run to what is bad and troubling?  In my relationship with God and others, am I loyal, someone others can count on?  Or do I only turn to God when I need something, and not stay with Him when times are good?  When I correct others, do I act out of anger and vengeance, or do I see, the other’s conversion?  Do I give in to every passion that comes my way, or can I restrict the desires of my body and soul to make sure that they are in accord with God’s will.  This is what God asks of us as we, day by day, get closer to the end of time.
    We can spend a lot of time fretting about the end of the world.  Indeed, our Lord tells us that there will be many confusing reports, with false messiahs and false prophets arising.  But if we are persevering in following God, then the end is not scary, but rather the culmination of our response to God’s grace.  Notice, though, that I did not say, “if we are perfect in following God.”  I’m a perfectionist, and so I strive to do everything right.  But I don’t.  And I need to worry less when I mess-up, and just make sure that I learn from my bad choices, and seek to do better.  As long as I continue to strive to do God’s will, even when I miss the mark (which is what the Greek word 𝛼𝜇𝛼𝜌𝜏𝜄𝛼, which is the word for sin, literally means), as long as I keep striving to hit the bullseye, then God will have His victory.
    Another temptation, as we look back on this past year and examine how we responded to God’s grace, is to presume that, going forward, we simply need to try harder.  We certainly do always need to seek to be more open to God’s grace.  But the work is not, primarily, ours.  The work is primarily that of God.  Even in the epistle, St. Paul prays that we may “be filled.”  This is an example, in grammar, of what we called the Divine passive, which means that God is doing the act, even if not explicitly named.  Yes, we need to cooperate, but any good thing that we can do depends on God’s grace.  So it’s not simply that we do x or y, but that we, each day, open ourselves up to God’s grace more and more, and respond to that grace.  That’s how we make sure that we belong to Christ’s kingdom, through “whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins,” and who lives and reigns with the Father and the Holy Spirit, God for ever and ever.  Amen.

"But for Wales?"

Thirty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

Fr. Mychal Judge

    For what would you give up your life?  Probably when we think about giving up our life, we think of our soldiers who have sacrificed their lives serving our country.  Or maybe we think about our first responders, especially firefighters who rushed into burning buildings, never to run out, or our law enforcement officers who rush towards danger when everyone else is running away, who were killed by gun shots, stabbings, or even by being hit by a car that wasn’t paying attention.  One of my heroes is Fr. Mychal Judge, who, as a New York City Fire Department chaplain, ran into one of the towers on 9/11 to try to rescue any survivors and show them the way to safety.  There is an iconic photo of first responders carrying out his lifeless body on a stretcher, an image of what laying down one’s life for the good of another looks like.
    So as we heard the first reading, we may have wondered what the big deal was.  These seven brothers and their mother refused to eat pork, because the Law of Moses, received from God, didn’t allow the eating of any cloven-footed animal that did not eat cud.  We might think that death is a bit extreme option, rather than eating a BLT. 
    Thinking about the cost we are willing to pay for what matters reminds me of a scene from “A Man For All Seasons,” about St. Thomas More.  Richard Rich, a former friend of Sir Thomas, perjured himself in order to obtain the office of attorney general of Wales.  St. Thomas, on finding the reason why his so-called friend should lie in court, said, “Why Richard, it profits a man nothing to give his soul for the whole world.  But for Wales?”  In other words, was the perjury worth the promotion?

St. Thomas More

    Many tend to view life from a utilitarian point of view.  I would dare say that at least some of us here have utilitarian morals: as long as it turns out ok, then it’s ok to do.  In other words, the ends justify the means.  If I can do some greater good, even if I have to do something evil, then it’s ok.  But those are not Catholic, nor even Christian morals.  The ends never justify the means.  Even the pagans knew that.  One cannot achieve good by doing evil, as they run in opposite directions. 
    Early Christians had to deal with this dilemma, too.  As the persecutions continued against the new, Christian religion, more and more friends and family became known as followers of Christ.  So those who were responsible for their punishment, their own kith and kin, would sometimes seek to ease the requirements in order to avoid punishment, and, in most cases, death.  Instead of worshiping a false idol, or worshiping the emperor, some Christians were given the option to simply sign a document saying that they worshiped the emperor.  It was just a small lie, one that would save their lives.  Surely the good that could be done by the Christians in the future would be outweighed by their single act of infidelity to God.  Christ is merciful; just turn to Him for forgiveness afterwards. 
    There’s a word for those who did sign: apostates.  In other words, those who abandoned God.  At the end of the day, the pork wasn’t the big deal.  But what was a big deal was disobeying what you knew to be something that God had communicated.  The food wasn’t as weighty as the rejection of God’s ways, signified by the kosher laws.  The holy mother and sons in Maccabees were models because, rather than disobey God and reject His ways, they chose earthly death.  But, they also had hope that, while others could harm the body, God would reward their faithfulness, not only with the soul, but in the resurrection on the last day. 
    There’s another story from the Old Testament, this one long before the Maccabees, about King Saul and the prophet Samuel.  God had told Saul to place all Amalekite people and property under the ban; they were to be destroyed because of how they had previously oppressed God’s Chosen People.  But King Saul decided to keep some sheep and oxen, and spare the life of the king.  Samuel found this out, and confronted Saul.  Saul replied, “‘I did indeed obey the Lord and fulfill the mission…. I have brought back Agag, the king of Amelek, and…I have destroyed the Amalekites.  But from the spoil the army took sheep and oxen, the best of what had been banned, to sacrifice to the Lord your God.’”  It seems like Saul was doing something good.  He saved the best sheep and oxen so that they could be sacrificed to the true God.  But Samuel responded, “‘Does the Lord delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices as much as in obedience to the Lord’s command?  Obedience is better than sacrifice.’”  And, because of Saul’s disobedience, he loses the kingdom, which will eventually be transferred to David, son of Jesse.
    Our view ought to be a heavenly one, not an earthly one.  What is best is not necessarily what helps us in this life, but what helps us in the life to come.  It is so easy to get caught up like the Sadducees, and see things from our limited vantage.  Instead, God sees all from an eternal vantage, and encourages us to trust Him, even when our minds can create some reason why going our own way appears better.
    I have not often taken the view that we, as Catholics, will have to undergo another persecution in our country.  I’m not quick to talk about the possibility that fidelity to God will cause us suffering.  But the more our State and country move away from God, the more likely we will have to choose between comfort in this world, and comfort in the next.  Already many Catholics have abandoned the position that all life is sacred, including the infant in the womb.  They have chosen their own logic, and why abortion is fine in some, if not all, circumstances.  Those who oppose are called backwards, anti-woman, anti-science, and misogynist.  If Proposal 3 passes, there will be no safeguards for conscience protection against abortion in our State.  Nurses and doctors may be required, in some circumstances, to perform or assist with an abortion, or lose the job.  What will be more important? 
    And what will be more important for you?  Staying faithful to the Catholic faith, to what God has revealed to us for our happiness?  Or abandoning the faith that Christ taught for social status, economic advancement, or even simply family harmony?  What is more important for you?  Status?  Money? Family?  Or God and heaven?  “Why Richard, it profits a man nothing to give his soul for the whole world.  But for Wales?”
 

Already and Not Yet

Feast of Christ the King
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  As we celebrate Christ the King, we celebrate what is, but also long for what is to come.  We see this even in our Lord’s description of His kingdom.  In the Gospel according to St. Mark, in the very first chapter, Christ says, “‘This is the time of fulfillment.  The kingdom of God is at hand.”  In the Gospel according to St. Luke, in chapter 21, the same Christ says, “‘behold, the kingdom of God is among you.’”  And yet, as we heard today, Christ also says in the Gospel according to St. John, “‘My kingdom does not belong to this world.  If my kingdom did belong to this world, my attendants [would] be fighting to keep me from being handed over….  But as it is, my kingdom is not here.’”  So, which is it?  Is the kingdom at hand and even among us, or is it not here?

    Yes.  Yes it is at hand; yes it is among us; yes it is not here.  As with so many aspects of our faith, we need to unpack the idea of Christ’s kingdom.  The Incarnation is the presence of the Kingdom of God, where all is right.  Christ holds all things together in himself, and in Christ we have the perfect union of God and man, which is part of the kingdom.  In Christ, the human soul is subject to the will of God perfectly, and the body is subject to the human soul.  In Christ, love and truth have met, justice and peace have kissed (to cite Psalm 84).  
    But, and you don’t have to look hard to realize this next point, we’re not living in the fullness of the kingdom.  Our bodies do not always obey our souls, which do not always obey the will of God.  Love is distorted to mean delight or even license; justice is often available to the highest bidder and is applied differently if you have money and/or power than if you don’t; civil unrest, battles, and wars still plague our cities, State, nation, and world.  Sorry, Belinda Carlisle, but heaven is not a place on earth.      And yet, as followers of Christ live the Gospel, heaven does break into earth more and more, and the kingdom establishes itself more perfectly.  When we love to the best of our ability with the love of God, the kingdom grows.  When we proclaim the truth of the Gospel, the truth that the Church continues to unpack throughout the centuries, the kingdom grows.  When we not only give each other his or her due, but also help others to thrive, the kingdom grows.  When we are able to pray for our enemies and do good to those who persecute us, the kingdom grows.  This is not to say that we are the ones who bring about the kingdom; that work is always primarily the work of God, with which we participate.  The approach that we have to usher in the kingdom tends to go wrong pretty quickly, due to our own sinfulness.  Just look at the approach taken in Central America which sought to bring about the kingdom, but which ended up being Marxist regimes that oppressed the people and led to class warfare and societal instability.
    It is Christ who brings about His own kingdom, and He will fully establish His reign at the end of time, when His angels will separate the sheep from the goats, the wheat from the chaff, and will cast down the beast and its followers for eternity in Hell.  That will be a dies irae for those who work against God, and the battle will be swift and decisively victorious for Christ.
    It will be decisive because Christ already decisively conquered on a tree.  His sacrifice, re-presented for us in an unbloody manner on this altar, was the defining battle of all time, when Satan was conquered once-for-all, and sin and death were trod underfoot.  So Christ already achieved victory, but that victory has not been extended in totality yet.  And that is why we wait.
    And as we wait, we show if we want to be victorious in Christ, or conquered with the ancient foe.  We demonstrate whether we prefer to serve in heaven or reign in hell.  Our actions are our response to the invitation of eternal salvation in the kingdom of God.  Are we going to the wedding feast of the kingdom, or do we find excuses why we cannot attend?
    If we wish that kingdom to spread, if we wish to cooperate in spreading that kingdom, then it begins here.  If Christ is the kingdom of God in its fullness, then when we receive Holy Communion worthily, the kingdom of God is among us and even within us.  Coming to Mass, offering ourselves with the host and the wine, and then receiving in a state of grace the Eucharist allows the kingdom of God to be planted inside of us at least each week, or even every day.  The more that we receive the Eucharist in a state of grace, the more likely it is that we will respond to spreading that kingdom in our lives at work, at home, on vacation, at sporting events, etc.  
    That kingdom also spreads most easily through the domestic church, the family.  When parents demonstrate love, the children learn to do the same.  When children and parents tell the truth, God’s kingdom is strengthened among them.  When parents make sure that every member of the family has the ability, not only to survive but to thrive, the justice of the Kingdom of God grows.  When children learn how to say “I’m sorry” when they have done wrong, and when children see their parents apologize for their sins in confession and in the home, Christ’s kingship is established more and more.  And then those children are more likely to do the same in the homes and families that they make for themselves.  And the kingdom spreads even more.  
    If you wish to help the kingdom God, then love, not only your neighbors, but also your enemies.  If you wish to help the kingdom of God, tell the truth, be honest in contracts.  If you wish to help the kingdom of God, stand up for what is right, no matter how unpopular it may be, correct with charity, when appropriate, and administer discipline as your state calls you.  If you wish to help the kingdom of God, admit when you’re wrong, and forgive when others have wronged you.  It will help show the “already” of the kingdom, and will allow us to persevere in the “not yet,” until Christ reigns fully, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, for ever and ever.  Amen. 

The Domestic Church

Thirty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time
    One of the great blessings in my life as a priest, when I have the opportunity, is to visit people’s homes for dinner and/or house blessings.  It’s good to see families in their home environment, even with all the messes and drama that can happen from time to time.  As the ritual for a house blessing states, the blessing is a sign that the family is welcoming Christ into their home.

Zacchaeus' sycamore tree in Jericho

    In some ways, this practice of inviting the priest into the home stems from the Gospel we heard today, when Jesus invited Himself to visit the home of Zacchaeus.  Zacchaeus, for his part, was very happy to oblige, and “received [Jesus] with joy.”  We don’t know what was on the menu for the meal Zacchaeus prepared, but we do know that some became very upset, because Zacchaeus collected taxes for the Romans, and that job often included taking more than even what the Romans asked for, to line a tax collector’s pockets.  Still, Jesus says that He came to the house of Zacchaeus because He came to seek out and save those who were lost.
    How do we welcome Jesus into our homes?  Do we welcome Jesus into our homes?  A phrase that has been used, especially since the Second Vatican Council, but which dates to the early church, is the domestic Church.  No, this is not the calm, passive, housebroken Church (as in a domesticated animal).  The term domestic comes from the Latin domus, meaning house.  But the phrase domestic Church does not refer to having Sunday Masses in the home, either.  The domestic Church is the family, “as centers of living, radiant faith”, as the Catechism of the Catholic Church says.  The Catechism continues:
 

It is here [in the family, the domestic Church] that the father of the family, the mother, children, and all members of the family exercise the priesthood of the baptized in a privileged way “by…prayer and thanksgiving, the witness of a holy life, and self-denial and active charity.”  Thus the home is the first school of Christian life and a “school for human enrichment.”  Here one learns endurance and the joy of work, fraternal love, generous-even repeated-forgiveness, and above all divine worship in prayer and the offering of one’s life.

Families are not something added on to the faith; they are part and parcel of the faith, and the way that the faith is passed on and learned, in all its facets.
    This presumes that the exercise of the faith is not something that happens only on Sunday.  If the only time that we have contact with God is at Mass, even though the Eucharist is the source and summit of the Christian life, then we are starving ourselves of the life-giving sustenance of our relationship with God.  Our faith is not meant to be observed only in these four walls on Sundays and holydays.  Our faith is meant to permeate our entire life, especially what happens in our homes with our families.
    Part of the symptom that people do not live their faith out at home is the desire to force all sorts of devotions into the Mass.  The Catholic Mass has a particular set of structures, music, gestures, which are noble, yet simple.  The more emotional, dramatic aspects of our faith are good, but are meant to be lived out more during the week outside of Mass, especially in the home.  Praying the Rosary, Praise and Worship music, clapping hands, spreading hands, lectures on this or that aspect of the faith can all be good things, but do not belong in the Mass.  People are hungry for the devotional life, because it is important to our life in Christ.  But the devotional life is not meant to be forced into the Mass. If people more fully lived out the faith at home, they wouldn’t feel the need for those devotional aspects during Sunday Mass.
    So what does living as a domestic Church look like?  What are things that every family should do?  The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops lists a number of things that families could and should do to more fully exemplify their role as the domestic Church.  I’ll list a few.  
 

-Read Scripture daily as a family, pray together, not just before meals, but in the morning or evening, in a time that works best for your family.  Don’t only use formal prayers (which are good), but also heartfelt, unstructured prayers, too.
-Pray a family Rosary, or even simply a decade.
-Have a crucifix in a prominent place in the home, and in each room.
-Utilize an Advent wreath or a poor box for Lent.
-Visit different churches and shrines as a family.
-Show love for each other, and connect that love to the love that God has for us.
-Talk about how God is helping you in good times and bad.
-Make Mass a priority each Sunday and holyday, as well as going to confession regularly.
-Install a holy water stoop inside a door so that people can bless themselves on entering or exiting the home and as a reminder of baptism.
-Show the importance of donating time, talent, and treasure to the Church by what you say and do.

Those are just ten ways; there are many more that you could invent or find.  But the important thing is that, whether you are single person, a family of two, or a family of ten, that Jesus is welcome in your house, and that Jesus’ presence in your house is evident.

    Too often we constrict our relationship with Christ only to going to Mass on Sundays and holydays.  We enter God’s house, the church, but we fail to invite Him back to our house, the domestic church.  Be like Zacchaeus today and everyday: welcome Christ to your house with joy.

Measuring Faith and Virtue

 Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  At the house of former parishioners in East Lansing who have become like an extended family to me, there are marks at one of the closet doors with names and dates.  Maybe your family has a similar tradition, where the grandchildren’s heights are measured from time to time, and noted on the frame of a door.  It’s been fun to see the grandkids come back and see their heights at different stages of their life.
    Of course, as a kid, you’re always making sure you’re standing up nice and strait, trying to get every extra centimeter that you can.  And, if you measure yourself too closely in time, you’re not going to see much, if any difference in your height. It may appear that you’re not growing at all!
    In our Gospel today we hear about a man who didn’t have to see to believe.  He first approaches the Lord for the healing of his son, and our Lord somewhat rebuffs his request: unless you see signs, you will not believe.  Already, the Savior is noting that the people won’t believe unless He does something spectacular.  Still, the man has faith, and begs our Lord to do something, otherwise his son will die.  Christ assures him that his son will live, though the man cannot see the proof of his faith until he returns home, and his son is fine.  In fact, the son is healed at the moment that our Lord had said to the man that his son would be healed.  That sign (the term the Evangelist John uses for miracles) then leads others to believe.
    Still, think about the man walking back to his home.  We don’t know how far it was, but the walk must have taken at least a day, as the man inquires when the healing happened, and at which hour it took place.  The answer was that it took place a day earlier.  From what we can tell in the Gospel, the man never doubted that what our Lord said would happen would, in fact, happen.  Walking home, perhaps we would wonder if our faith would really be rewarded, if this Jesus was truly able to do something, especially so far away.  Would we doubt?  Would we lower our expectations so that we wouldn’t be disappointed?  None of these things the man seems to do.
    When it comes to our faith and our trust in the Lord, are we like the man who has faith?  Or are we like the crowds that need to see signs before we believe?  Do we have confidence when God says something will happen, even if we do not immediately see the results?  
    In some ways, we can be like kids who want to measure faith every day like we measure our height.  And, like our height, we may not see very noticeable results.  We pray for trust in God, we pray to be open to His will, but each day we don’t seem to make much progress.  Or maybe it’s working on a particular virtue, or eliminating a particular vice.  We ask God to strengthen us to choose the good, or support us in times of temptation so that we don’t fall, but we see no real movement.  Are we willing to be patient, not only with God, but also with ourselves, in growth in holiness?
    I do not consider myself a millennial; nor do I see myself as part of generation X.  I’m the micro-, in-between generation that some call xenials (with an x).  I know life before everyone had a cell-phone; I’m comfortable with cassette tapes and VHS.  We couldn’t simply pause TV if we had to go the bathroom; you had to rush to the bathroom and hope you finished your business by the time the commercials were ending.  But I have, like many millennials and later generations, gotten used to getting what I want immediately, thanks to the Internet and having a phone with me almost all the time.  And so patience is not always my strong suit.  I do work at patience, and I ask God to help me, but day-by-day, I didn’t seem to make any progress.  
    One day, a few years ago, I flew to Australia, to visit a priest friend of mine in Sydney.  My flight left in early November.  The day my flight left was the day in 2019 when we got pounded with 8 or so inches of snow.  I arrived at Bishop airport in Flint, and my flight was delayed.  I waited all day in the airport, only to find out that the flight was cancelled, and I would lose a day of my vacation, as United tried to rebook a whole plane of customers who had to go to Chicago, and then continue their travels.  Normally I would have been upset and frustrated.  I would not have normally been calm and collected when talking to the gate agents.  But, for whatever reason, I was patient.  And that virtue that I had been working on, I noticed that I was better, after all those years of praying for more patience.  God had answered my prayers, but I had to trust in His timing, and the work that had to be done in my soul before I would be open to that virtue.  
    Can we trust God, even when we don’t see miracles, even when we don’t see the work that He is doing?  God’s work is so often invisible, and so our cooperation in that work is also an act of faith.  We do have to go out on a limb to have confidence that God will change us, He will perfect us, as and if we allow Him to do so.  We may not see much progress day-by-day, but after a year or more, I’m willing to bet that we will notice that we are different, that we have grown in virtue.  Be like the man in today’s Gospel: no matter how long the walk takes to see the fruit of your faith, do not doubt God, but have confidence that, if we but trust in God to transform our lives, He will not disappoint us.  He will, in fact, outdo our expectations: the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Magic Eye

Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

    When I was in grade school, one of the more popular items at our annual Book Fair were books that were called Magic Eyes.  On each page there was a picture, but if you stared at it a certain way, a different, 3-D image would seem to pop off the page.  As I say it, it doesn’t really sound that interesting, especially with the fact that you can now have virtual reality goggles.  But in elementary school in the early ‘90s, it was pretty cool.
    What God sees and what we see can be as different as the Magic Eye books.  Our view is often limited to the externals: how someone combs his hair; what kind of clothes she wears; skin and facial features; etc.  But what God sees goes much deeper than that.
    As Jesus told the parable about the Pharisee and the tax-collector (sometimes called the Publican), He is not only talking about how to pray (the publican) and how not to pray (the Pharisee), but He’s also making a point that had been made several times before in Scripture, that appearances can deceive.  The Pharisee seems to have it all together: he doesn’t commit major sins, he gives to the temple and synagogue, and he doesn’t cooperate with the pagan Romans.  The Publican, on the other hand, seems very downcast, and won’t even raise his eyes to heaven.  He simply, quietly, asks God for mercy from the back row.  And yet, it is the Publican who is justified (put into right relationship with God), not the Pharisee.
    This point had been made in the first book of Samuel, as the prophet Samuel seeks a new king of Israel to replace Saul, who had disobeyed God.  Samuel goes to the house of Jesse, and sees some studly looking men.  And yet, God does not choose any of them.  Instead, God chooses David, the youngest, not as much to behold, who is out tending the sheep, to be the new king of Israel.  Or, think back to to Book of Job.  Job does everything right, so much so, that God brags about Job.  But then Satan asks to take away Job’s prosperity, and then even his health, because Satan is convinced that Job will walk away from God if his good fortune were taken away.  God allows Satan, in the story, to do anything, other than kill Job, which Satan does.  Job loses everything, and his luck is so bad, his own wife says, “Curse God and die” (what a lovely woman!).  Job’s friends come, and try to convince him that he must have done something wrong, so he should repent, and then God will give Job good stuff and health again.  But Job maintains his innocence, all-the-while still trusting God.  In both those stories, and many more, physical strength and material blessings do not mean that God loves you more, nor does lack of goods mean that God hates you. 
    In fact, as we heard from the Book of Sirach, God “hears the cry of the oppressed…is not deaf to the wail of the orphan, nor to the widow.”  Those people seemed like God wasn’t on their side.  If you’re oppressed, you don’t have control of your own freedom.  If you are an orphan, you have no parents to take care of you, and there was no welfare state or foster homes to make sure you were taken care of properly.  If you were a widow, your husband, who made money to feed you, was dead, and you had to rely on the generosity of your children and other family.  In other words, these were all people who had very little, if anything.  And yet, God hears their cries. 
    Even St. Paul is an example of how what looks like failure can actually be success in the eyes of God.  St. Paul did found many churches, groups of believers in Jesus, but none of them were particularly large communities, and they almost always seemed to have problems.  St. Paul writes this second epistle to St. Timothy from house arrest, and is about to die for preaching the Gospel.  He references in another letter how many of his co-workers abandoned him.  And yet, he is sure that “the crown of righteousness awaits” him, because he has, “competed well;…finished the race;…kept the faith.” 
    So how do we measure success?  When do we think God favors us?  Is it when things go well?  Or is it when we have struggles?  In truth, God can favor us in either set of circumstances.  We may have come to church this morning and are on cloud nine because we just received a promotion, or our grandkids just made honor roll.  Or we may be struggling in marriage, doing everything we can to pay the bills and buy food with a meager salary.  God loves us either way.  He hears our prayers when we come to Him in humility, recognizing that whatever we have is from Him: a gift of good things; or the allowance of suffering to strengthen us and bring us closer to Him.
    How, too, do we view others?  Do we see the externals and presume that the person who appears to do well is blessed by God?  Do we presume that the dirty, homeless person must have done something wrong, and we should avoid him or her?  Or do we look deeper, trying to see Christ in every person, regardless of affluence or poverty?
    [Eric, you have chosen a beautiful time to join the Catholic Church.  Unlike decades past, we have lost a lot of clout politically.  Unlike before, what we hold as truths to be revealed by God regarding the dignity of the human person, from natural birth through natural death; the importance of work and using God’s gifts and talents for the building up of society; the definition of marriage given to us by God; that our bodies are good and tell us something factual about ourselves, which cannot be changed by desire or surgery; that the family is the building block of society and should not be infringed by the government; these things are now no longer popular or widely held.  People are leaving the Catholic Church in droves.  This is a beautiful time because God often works best when things seem to be stacked against us.  And you are choosing to witness to what God has revealed through his one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church. 
    It will call for great determination to live out that faith.  It may even lead to suffering.  But again, what the world sees as failure–sticking to God when the rest of the world seems to be abandoning Him for more palatable beliefs–is often success, and what the world sees as success is often failure.  And your one voice today, professing your faith with us, will be joined the myriad voices throughout the millennia who have professed that same faith, unbroken and untarnished, though many have sought to destroy it and change it throughout its history. 
    Do not be afraid to live as a Catholic, in all that the word Catholic entails.  Do not be afraid of seeming to be a failure to others by professing an ancient faith that critiques so much of what modern man seems to hold dear.  You may not do it perfectly, none of us do, but if you persevere in doing what you can to follow Christ, no matter how your life looks from the outside, you will merit to hear the words we all hope to hear one day: “Well done, good and faithful servant.  Come, share your Master’s joy.”  

Loving Father and Mother

 Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost

My sisters and I on a family vacation

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  My sister, Amanda, was married six months before I was ordained a deacon, so I cantored for her Mass.  My sister, Allison, was married after I was a priest, so I was able to celebrate that wedding Mass.  In both cases, I was blissfully unaware of all that goes in to planning a wedding reception.  But at some point after they were both married, the topic came up, and I learned about the cost and stress that accompany planning a wedding reception, and trying to see how many people will come.  They both mentioned how difficult it can be when a person RSVPed that they would attend (and so food had to be ordered for them), but then didn’t show up to the actual reception.  Perhaps that’s why the king in today’s parable from the Gospel was so upset, though I doubt my sisters were at the point of sending an army and destroying those who were AWOL.
    But the king was certainly mad, not only at those who abused his servants who announced the impending nuptials and killed the messengers, but even at those who would not come to the wedding, due to farming or business.  Was it simply because the king wanted his son’s wedding to be filled with guests?  Or was the king worried about all the food that had been ordered that no one would eat?
    Our Lord uses this image of a wedding, and God often uses the image of a husband and wife throughout the Scriptures to talk about His relationship with us.  So this parable is not simply about a party from two people getting “hitched.”  God is talking about the marriage that is taking place between God and us, His Bride, the Church.  In Christ, divinity and humanity are wed in an unbreakable bond.  Christ takes to Himself His Bride, the Church, and they become one flesh.  Those who are invited to the wedding are both guest and bride.  And God wants all His children, all those whom He created in His image and likeness, to be in attendance.  Nothing is more important, nothing more pressing.  And for those who seek to keep the bride away, a harsh punishment awaits.
    St. Augustine wrote a homily for the thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost which dealt with this idea of marriage between God and His Church.  He writes:
 

Let us love the Lord our God.  Let us love His Church: Him as our Father, her as our Mother; Him as our Lord, her has His handmaid; for we are the children of His Handmaid.  And this marriage is joined together by a great love: let no one offend one partner, and seek to gain the favour [sic] of the other.

The love that we have for Christ extends to His Bride, the Church.  If we truly desire to love one, we must love the other.  We cannot hate our Father and at the same time love our Holy Mother Church.  Nor can we hate our Holy Mother Church and then claim to love the Father.  
    We probably don’t think of ourselves of hating one or the other.  But what do our actions say?  St. Augustine continues, “Let no one say: ‘I do go to idols; I also consult those who have familiar spirits, and the fortune tellers.  All the same, I have not left the Church of God.  I am still a Catholic.’  While clinging to your Mother, you have offended your Father.”  The particular sins in the time of St. Augustine may not be our particular sins, but he could ask today: do we make more time for sports than for God?  Do we read our horoscopes?  Do I put more trust in my own planning and will than the will and providence of God?  Those are probably more current ways that we may offend our Father.
    St. Augustine then looks at whether we can love our Father and yet hate our Mother.  He writes:
 

Again another will say: ‘Far be it from me to do such things.  I have nothing to do with soothsayers.  I do not go looking for someone possessed by a spirit, nor seek advice through sacrilegious divinations; nor do I go to the worship of demons.  And neither do I serve idols.  But I am however a Donatist.’  What does it avail you not to offend your Father, since He will punish your offenses against your Mother?  What does it profit you to praise the Lord, to honour [sic] Him, to preach Him, believe in His Son and confess that He sits at the right hand of God the Father; while at the same time you blaspheme His Church?  Does the example of human marriage not move you to correct your error?

How easy it can be to say that we love God, and then not respect or not follow the Church and those whom God has put over us to govern us in the Church!  The Doctor of Grace continues, “If you have some patron, to whom you pay respects each day, whose doorstep you wear out with your attentions…supposing you were to make just one accusation against his wife, would you enter his house again?”  If someone came up to you with the kindest of words, showering love and giving you gifts, and then proceeded told you that your wife is a wicked woman, and that you married down, would you ever see that person again?  We cannot simply say we love God without loving the Church which is His Bride and our Mother.
    Certainly this is a difficult time of the Church.  It is difficult when the liturgy which we, and I include myself in that we, love and which helps us grow in holiness and adoration of our Father, has been restricted by Pope Francis (though in our own diocese, Bishop Boyea has been very gracious in basically letting us continue as we did before).  Every time Pope Francis gets on a plane, I get nervous about what he might say, and how I will need to explain it.  Certainly, select bishops (the bishops of Belgium, the homeland of my maternal grandmother, comes to mind) are tearing themselves away from the Church as did the Donatists.  
    But will we stay faithful to the one Church of Christ, which subsists in the Catholic Church?  Instead of saying vile things about this bishop, or the pope, can we simply say, “I don’t understand” or “It saddens me that…” and, “I pray that God will resolve this issue”?  I am trying to move more and more to this approach, not always successfully, but I believe it is helping me grow in holiness.  And it pains me to see the calumnies and/or detractions hurled at others.  If others be wrong, then do not join in their error.  But do not add sin to sin by speaking uncharitably about another, be he prelate, priest, or layperson.  
    “Hold fast…Dearly Beloved” St. Augustine continues, “let all of you with one mind hold fast to God our Father, and to the Church our Mother.”  The Church has not erred on faith nor morals, as promised by Christ to St. Peter, our first pope.  Stay with our Holy Mother, the Church, no matter how the waves break against her hull, and stay with our Triune God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

As We Forgive Those Who Trespass Against Us

 Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  When we think about participating in the divine, what occasions first come to mind?  I know for me, the sacraments are the most obvious answer.  The mysteries of our Lord’s life, Pope St. Leo the Great says, have passed into the sacraments.  Specifically, I think about the Mass, the joining of heaven and earth that takes place here in our church.  Not only do we hear God’s Divine Word, proclaimed for us in the Scriptures, we also receive God into us through the Most Blessed Sacrament of the Eucharist, which is the very Flesh and Blood of Christ.  The Eucharist best exemplifies the way in which we can become like God, as St. Augustine reminds us that the intent of the Eucharist is to make us more like the one whom we receive.
    But another way to participate in the divine is through the act of forgiveness.  We heard this very familiar story about the paralytic being brought to our Lord.  He forgives the man’s sins, at which the Pharisees become indignant because only God can forgive sins.  But, to demonstrate His authority to forgive sins, Christ then heals the paralytic as well.
    The Pharisees were not mistaken in their estimation that only God can forgive sins.  In fact, our Lord demonstrated His divinity to them by this miracle.  So any time you hear someone say that Jesus never asserted He was God, point them to Matthew, chapter 9.  There are other times that our Lord reveals His divinity also, but this is certainly one of those times.
    So, if only God can forgive sins, then how can we say, “sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris”; “as we forgive those who trespass against us”?  How can we forgive if forgiveness belongs to God?
    As a good Thomist, we can consider forgiveness in two ways.  The first way, which is reserved to God alone, is the remission of sins.  When God deals with sin, He eliminates it, wipes it away, and makes it so it ceases to exist.  Only the consequences of that sin remain (and even those can be dealt with through pious acts).  When we examine who forgives our sins in the Sacrament of Penance, it is God.  Yes, God uses the ministry of the priest to convey that forgiveness, but it is God who forgives, which is why the priest is bound to secrecy (we call it the seal of confession).  Those sins have been absolved by Christ through the ministry of the priest, but their use belongs only to Christ, not even to the minister, who then does not divulge or act on those sins in the future.  It is the sacrifice of Christ which washed away the sins of the world, the sacrifice of the unblemished Lamb of God.  We cannot add to that, but we can participate in it.
    But, as with so many aspects of life, God allows us to participate in His work.  We see this in the garden of Eden, as God calls Adam and Eve, not only to continue to care for the garden of Eden, but to create with Him and order with Him, and even to create new life (procreation).  God, further, calls humans to speak for Him when He calls prophets to proclaim His Word, both of comfort and of conversion.  We see that especially with Moses, Samuel, and the prophets that follow them.  God also allows men to exercise governance over His people, as seen through Kings David and Solomon, and the kings of their line.  God shepherds His people through kings who cooperate with His will.  
    But God also allows us to participate in His forgiveness.  He gives us the gift of saying “I forgive you” to a person, and not having it be empty words, detached from reality.  When we forgive someone, something in that person changes, and something in us changes.  We participate in the mercy of God.  It may not eliminate that sin (because a person has offended not only us, but also God), but it does eliminate the attachment of that sin that exists between the two  or more people.  God’s mercy flows through us, and the burden of sin can be lifted from hearts.
    To be Catholic is to be a person of forgiveness, because Christ tells us that the measure we measure out to others, will in turn be measured out to us.  He calls those who show mercy blessed because they will be shown mercy.  And He condemns the servant who was forgiven a great debt, but who could not forgive others their smaller debts.  We are merciful because God was first merciful with us, just as we love God because He first loved us.

    And He showed that love for us by sending His Son to die on the cross so that we could be forgiven.  God’s forgiveness wasn’t an ethereal reality.  God demonstrated His forgiveness by the spit that was hurled upon the face of Christ; by the skin viciously torn out from his back and side at the scourging; by the bruises and scrapes and split skin that came from falling under the weight of the cross as He carried it to Golgotha; by the holes in His hands and feet from the nails that pierced them; by the gall put to His lips; by the thorns pressed into His Sacred Head; by the gash in His side to prove He was dead, whence came Blood and Water that are the streams of Divine Mercy.  God forgave through the crucifixion.  Though He doesn’t ask us to be nailed to the cross in the same way, He does ask us to forgive in the same way.
    And the easiest way to forgive others is to first recognize that we need to be forgiven, not only directly by God, but also by our neighbor.  I wish that I could tell you that I’m a perfect priest, that I always make good decisions, that all my words are the words that our Blessed Savior would speak.  But that would be a lie.  I myself am beset by weakness, and sometimes I act out of my pride; or choose a hurtful word when a loving one works much better; or I choose the easier path instead of the virtuous one; and so many other ways that I fall short of the image of the Good Shepherd, to whom I am configured by sacred orders.  I am a sinner; sometimes it is hard to admit that I am wrong and have followed the wrong path.  And so I ask your forgiveness, as your brother and your father.  For any ways I have hurt you, or not demonstrated the love of Christ the Good Shepherd, I seek your mercy.  And perhaps, to those in your life who have hurt you, you can also show mercy.  
    One of my favorite quotes from saints is from St. Maximus of Turin, who preached, “Sinner he may indeed be, but he must not despair of pardon on this day which is so highly privileged; for if a thief could receive the grace of paradise, how could a Christian be refused forgiveness?”  If our Lord could shower His mercy on St. Dismas, the good thief, in the moments before He died, how could he not have mercy on us whenever we come to Him as He reigns in glory?  And, having received that mercy, our Lord also instructs us: “Go, and do likewise” to the praise and glory of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.