The Jesus Prayer

Tenth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Over the years that I have been a priest, I have come to love and appreciate the Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom that Eastern Catholics and Eastern Orthodox use for most of their Divine Liturgies (what we call the Mass).  It’s interesting that, based on my research, the Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom, the Divine Liturgy of St. Basil the Great, and our own Roman Canon likely find their roots sometime in the fourth century or so.  From time to time I am able to attend in choir an Orthodox Divine Liturgy and have developed friendships with the local Orthodox priests here in Genesee County.  We know we don’t agree on everything, but we celebrate our millennium of shared faith and help each other understand the millennium that we’ve been separated.
    One of the hallmark prayers in the Orthodox prayer tradition is from our Gospel today.  They call it the Jesus Prayer, and it is simply the words, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner.”  This is the prayer that they encourage people to pray throughout the day, to make it part of their very life.  I have even heard some priests connect it to breathing, so that on the breath in the person says, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God,” and on the breath out the person says, “have mercy on me a sinner.”  The idea is that, if practiced enough, especially while simply breathing, it becomes a part of each person’s day, and helps us to do what St. Paul admonished: “pray without ceasing.”  
    The first part of the prayer is connected to the epistle.  St. Paul told us today that no one can say Jesus is Lord except by the Holy Spirit.  This beautiful prayer includes all three Divine Persons: the Lord, who is Son of God the Father, which proclamation is only possible by the power of the Holy Spirit.  Now, obviously, any person can say the words, “Jesus is Lord,” but to truly mean it; to truly recognize that Christ is God and that His way of life is normative for me because He is my Creator; that kind of faith and obedience can only happen as a gift from the Holy Spirit.  We cannot have that surrender of our lives without God giving us the grace to do it first.  And then, while we do need to cooperate, it is only God’s grace which allows us to bring that act of faith that He inspired to competition.  This is what we mean when we say that our life in Christ is all grace.  

    The second part of the prayer, “have mercy on me a sinner,” is the words of the tax collector in today’s Gospel.  The man knew who he was.  As a tax collector, not only was it his job to collect money for the Roman government, who oppressed the Jews and who advocated the worship of false gods, but, in order to make a decent living, he had to exact more money from his own people than what Rome really wanted.  Tax collectors, the word publican is also used, were notoriously hated for their exaction of money from their own people.  The very call of St. Matthew by the Savior probably scandalized many people at first, and maybe even some of the apostles took time before they warmed up to him.  
    In any case, this tax collector was reaching out to God for mercy.  We don’t know if he left his job after this prayer.  We don’t know if he changed his life.  But we do know that, at this moment, he knew he needed the mercy of God, and so he cried out to it from the back row.  And our Lord said that his prayer was answered.
    When it comes to receiving God’s mercy, are we willing to humbly come before God and acknowledge that we are sinners?  Each of us has a need for forgiveness from God.  Even the saints, who rose to the heights of perfection during their lives, knew that they needed God’s mercy.  Do we take that second step (the first being God’s nudge in our hearts to even ask for mercy) and actually make that prayer our own?  
    We might wonder what good it would do because we don’t know how we can move away from that sin.  And certainly, to receive God’s forgiveness, we do have to have a firm purpose of amendment to not sin in that way again.  But just because we think we might sin again doesn’t mean that we can’t want not to give into that sin in the future.  When I was a young boy I didn’t want to antagonize my sisters in the future as I went to confession, but it was probably going to happen again.  Sometimes all we can muster up is that act of hope that, if God gives me enough grace, I might be able to never fall into that sin again, and that’s what I want.  But that little opening to the grace of God can be all that’s needed to truly start making progress in rooting sin out of our lives.
    I am also aware that I may be unaware of certain sins in my life.  That’s why, when I go to confession, I include the words, “and for any other sins that I cannot recall, or any sins from my past.”  And each Mass after I purify the vessels, I add the Jesus Prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the living God, have mercy on me a sinner.”  The Eucharist cleanses us of venial sins.  And this prayer, the prayer of the tax collector, can also, if said honestly and devoutly, can cleanse us of venial sins, because when we say that prayer in earnest, God will justify us as He justified the tax collector.  
    I pray that you will make that prayer your own as well.  Maybe you will say it once a day.  Maybe you will work on incorporating it into each moment so that, as you breathe in and out, it flows naturally out of you like a breath.  But this prayer has value and can change our lives if we are open to the mercy God wants to give to us when we call upon Him: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

Truly a Miracle

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
    Last Sunday concluded the National Eucharistic Congress, a great gathering from Catholics from all across the United States, some 50,000 people who assembled to witness to their faith in our Eucharistic Lord, and be strengthened by confession, Mass, and talks by world-renown speakers.  How fortuitous and providential it is that, coming off the this great witness of the Church in the United States of our belief that the Eucharist is truly the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of our Lord, Jesus Christ, we now, this weekend, begin a few weeks away from our usual Marcan Gospel accounts, and look towards John and His Eucharistic writings in the sixth chapter of his Gospel account.

From the Church of the Multiplication of the Loaves

    It’s funny (perhaps funny is not the right word) that a drop in faith in the Eucharist has happened as priests wrongly interpreted this passage of the multiplication of the loaves and fish as a story about the “miracle” of sharing.  Perhaps you have heard it preached that the boy gives what little amount he has to Jesus, but then the people feel bad because they, too, have food, and so there is enough food because Jesus gets everybody to share.  It’s an interesting hypothesis, but one that is totally implausible if you actually read the Gospel passage.  You basically have to start with the premise that miracles don’t happen, and then read that thesis into this Gospel to create the rather unintelligent explanation that what we heard today was the miracle of sharing.
    How can I say this?  Well, Jesus clearly prays over the bread and the fish, which were not enough for everybody, but then John says that they distributed as much as they wanted, enough for 5,000 men, not counting women and children.  Secondly, after this, the response of the crowd is twofold: they think He is the Prophet (with a capital P), and they want to make Him king.
    The term “The Prophet” refers back to Deuteronomy, chapter 18, where Moses says, “A prophet like me will the Lord, your God, raise up for you from among your own kindred; that is the one to whom you shall listen.”  What did Moses do that a prophet like him would do?  Moses asked God for miraculous bread, and God gave them manna, a bread that they did not anticipate, and which they could only collect the amount they needed; any extra would waste away.  So the people recognize that Jesus is giving them miraculous bread (and we’ll hear more about this in the coming weeks), but not just enough for what they needed; there was some left over.  Jesus went beyond what Moses could do.  
    In seeking to make him king, they recognized some greatness in Him.  Sharing, while we might think it is tough at times, and something which people do not do of their own accord, is not something which would make people want to make Jesus a king.  If anything, it simply shows that they have the power.  They wanted to make Jesus king because they realized that if He could multiple bread and fish, He could be the Messiah, the Davidic ruler of Israel.  So they knew this was not mere sharing.  

    So, too, more Catholics, though not at this parish as much, have started to think of the Eucharist as simply a reminder of Jesus’ presence, or a sign of His presence.  They have abandoned the faith of the Apostles, the Church Fathers (those who came immediately after the Apostles), and the unbroken faith throughout the two millennia of the Church, that the bread and wine become the Body and Blood of Christ.  St. Ignatius of Antioch, who died around the year AD 112 talks about the Eucharist truly being the flesh of Christ.  St. Justin Martyr, who died around the year AD 165 said that while it looks like bread and wine, it “is the flesh and blood of that Jesus who was made flesh.”  Indeed, the first Christians were accused of cannibalism because of these rumors that they were eating the flesh of Jesus.
    There were arguments around the year 1000 about the Eucharist, but it was around how we could understand that we truly received the flesh of Jesus.  In the year 1215, during the Fourth Ecumenical Lateran Council, Pope Innocent decreed that, “[Jesus Christ’s] body and blood are truly contained in the sacrament of the altar under the forms of bread and wine, the bread and wine having been changed in substance [transsubstantiatis], by God’s power, into his body and blood.”  This word, transubstantiation, is adopted by the Church and echoes throughout the rest of the centuries as our understanding of how what looks like bread and wine actually are, in substance, the Body and Blood of Christ.
    This is no less a miracle than the multiplication of the loaves and fish.  If God can make something out of nothing, whether at the beginning of creation or when Jesus creates bread and fish from fives loaves and two fish, He can certainly change bread into the flesh of Jesus and wine into His blood.  We see this miracle take place each time we come to Mass.
    So how do we respond?  Do we, like the people, acknowledge Jesus as someone special because we encounter this miracle?  Do we want to make Him king of our hearts and lives because He gives us His flesh?  There are more and more stories coming out of the National Eucharistic Congress of the way that the encounter with the Eucharistic Lord changes lives, whether of devout Catholics, lukewarm Catholics, Catholics who had suffered sexual abuse at the hands of priests, or even non-Catholics who met people alive in their faith and wanted to know how to have that joy in their life.  But even though we’re not 50,000 strong here at St. Matthew, it’s the same Lord who makes Himself present on the altar that made Himself present in Indianapolis last weekend, and that multiplied loaves and fish some 2,000 years ago.
    Allow this weekly miracle to change your lives, as God wants it to.  We don’t have to wait for a Eucharistic Congress to know that God is real, and He gives Himself for us in the Sacrament of the Altar.  Have faith in the miracle of the multiplication; have faith in the miracle of transubstantiation.  And let that faith open you up to the graces that God wants to send to change your life!

Cars and Jerusalem

Ninth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  While this is my eighth year living in Vehicle City, I will admit that I’m not a car guy.  That is to say, I don’t get cars and how they work.  I know how to use them, but if I were to pop the hood, I wouldn’t know how everything is supposed to work together.  I know there are things like spark plugs, carburetors, belts, fans, etc., but how they are all supposed work together is beyond me.  My grandfather, who worked tool and die at Fisher Body in Lansing for most of his adult life, probably would just shake his head at my ignorance, if he were alive today.
    But when we don’t understand how something is supposed to go together or function properly, we can easily miss when something is amiss.  We might have a sense that something is wrong (is my car supposed to sound like that?), but we couldn’t really tell you if something was really wrong, or what it might be.  

Church of Dominus Flevit

   That’s sort of what Christ bemoans in the Gospel today.  This is the time when the Lord weeps over Jerusalem because she does not realize the time of His visitation, the presence of the long-awaited Messiah, the Prince of Peace.  There is a beautiful church just outside the old city of Jerusalem called Dominus Flevit, Latin for the Lord Wept, that recalls this Gospel passage and could have been the place where the Lord wept over Jerusalem, because you can see much of the old city from this elevated point outside.  There is a chapel that has an iron grate, which stands between the viewer and the old city, and the grate has both a chalice with a host, as well as a cross seemingly overlaid over the landscape of modern Jerusalem.  
    Jerusalem had a particular destiny, as the king’s city, to welcome the Messiah when he came.  But because of the hardness of their hearts, most did not recognize the Lord as their long-awaited Messiah, and they missed the opportunity to welcome the Prince of Peace into His city.  So, because Jerusalem rejected peace, the Redeemer prophesied that war would come the city and stone would not be left upon stone, a prophecy that was fulfilled some forty years later when the Romans sacked Jerusalem and destroyed the ancient city, and took away many of the treasures that were there.
    We, too, are meant to recognize the Messiah when He comes.  Of course, we recognize that Jesus is the Messiah, the Christ, as far as the macro scale goes.  We know we’re not waiting for His first advent, but His second advent, His return in glory.  But do we recognize His third advent, how he comes to us each day, month, and year?  Do we recognize what God is trying to do in our life?
    If we don’t, we might still arrive at the destination the Lord desires for us: heaven.  But it will be much harder than it has to be.  A blind man may reach his destination by wandering around and bumping into obstacles.  But it helps if he has a guide to make sure he doesn’t fall into holes, or lose his sense of direction and start walking towards a destination he doesn’t desire.  So, too, for our salvation: if we are not attentive to God, we might still make our way to Him.  But it will be much easier and less dangerous if we attend to how God communicates.  How does God communicate?
    First, we can look to the Scriptures.  St. Jerome famously said, “Ignorance of Scripture is ignorance of Christ.”  By reading the Bible, whether as a whole or in a guided Bible study or at least the more prosaic parts (I know the genealogies of the Old Testament can be tough to get through), we come to see how God works.  We see His special love for the poor, the widow, and the orphan.  We see how He often chooses those whom the world considers losers or worthless to accomplish His mighty deeds.  We see how He calls people to follow His will, and gently (and sometimes not-so-gently) reminds them to come back if they have wandered away.  
    Secondly, we can look to the Church.  The Church takes all the Scriptures and reads it in the light of Christ and salvation.  Our Holy Mother Church teaches us what we need to know about how to be saved, which is really just teaching us how to follow Christ.  She helps us to recognize, through saints and reflection on God’s revelation, how God is working, and how His voice sounds, as opposed to the voice of the world, which can often sound more enticing.
    Thirdly, we can look to prayer.  A daily habit of prayer doesn’t meant that life will go smoothly for us.  But it does mean that through the ups and downs of life, we can better see what God is doing because we’re asking Him on a regular basis, “What are you doing, Lord?”  In prayer we should take time to bring our joys and sorrows, our understanding and our questions to God.  But we should also make time to listen, silencing our minds as best we can to allow God to speak to us and enlighten us with His plan, which, as God said to the prophet Samuel, is not always what we would do.  
    When we come to know God’s will, we can have peace.  Not simply a peace that means we are not struggling, but a peace knowing how the struggle will work out, or at least that it will in some way work out in a way that God has directed for our salvation and the salvation of the world.  The saints show us this peace time and time again, even in the midst of violent persecutions, because they know that whatever God allows will somehow give us the opportunity to grow closer to Him, even to the point of shedding our blood, if necessary.
    Throughout life, we might not understand how everything fits together and works out.  It might seem as foreign to you as the inner workings of a car seems to me.  But if we are attentive to Christ’s presence in our life and in the world, we are more likely to understand, and cooperate with God’s will, rather than working to frustrate it or simply wandering around in the dark.  Lord, through your word in the Scriptures, through your Bride, the Church, and through our daily commitment to prayer, help us to know your will, to love your will, and to embrace your will.  In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

"Do Not Be Afraid!"

Eighth Sunday after Pentecost

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  On 22 October 1978 in St. Peter’s Square in Vatican City, 58-year-old Pope John Paul II, proclaimed to all those who attended his Inauguration Mass as Supreme Pontiff: “Do not be afraid.  Open wide the doors for Christ.”  The same message applies today as it did 46 years ago this October: “Do not be afraid.  Open wide the doors for Christ.”
    I do not say this flippantly, especially given the concerns that weigh on all of our hearts this week.  I say this, as I’m sure the saintly pontiff did, with St. Paul’s epistle the Romans in mind, as we heard today: “You did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you received a spirit of adoption, through which we cry, ‘Abba, Father!’”  We don’t know what the future holds, but we do not need to be afraid, anymore than St. Paul was afraid; anymore than Pope St. John Paul II was afraid.  
    This does not mean that things would go easily.  St. Paul would eventually go to Rome and would be beheaded there simply for his faith in Jesus Christ.  Before that he had people betray him, abandon him, and he would get shipwrecked on his way to Rome.  Pope St. John Paul II would face head-on the communist government of the USSR.  He would be shot by an assassin on the feast of our Lady of Fatima in 1981.  While his mind remained sharp, his body would betray him until he couldn’t walk on his own and his speech was slightly less than a mumble.  Both St. Paul and the Successor of St. Peter would experience suffering.  But in any suffering they would cry out to their heavenly Father who would sustain them and help them to be a martyr, a witness, whether by the shedding of their blood or by the witness of patient suffering.
    Do we trust God to carry us through whatever may come next?  Are we children who belong in the Father’s house?  Or are we simply hired servants who come and go as it suits us?  Do we have confidence that any suffering, especially that which is unjust, will lead to our glorification?  Or are we afraid of the unknown and afraid of where the Father may lead us to go.
    Pope St. John Paul II reflected on being led somewhere strange in that same Mass.  He said:
 

The Lord addressed [Peter] with these words: “…when you were young you put on your own belt and walked where you liked; but when you grow old you will stretch out your hands and somebody else will put a belt around you and take you where you would rather not go’.  
Peter came to Rome!
…Perhaps the fisherman of Galilee did not want to come here.  Perhaps he would have preferred to stay there, on the shores of the Lake of Genesareth, with his boats and his nets.  But guided by the Lord, obedient to his inspiration, he came here!
According to an ancient tradition…, Peter wanted to leave Rome during Nero’s persecution.  But the Lord intervened: he went to meet him.  Peter spoke to him and asked, “Quo vadis, Domine?”–“Where are you going, Lord?”  And the Lord answered him at once: “I am going to Rome to be crucified again.”  Peter went back to Rome and stayed here until his crucifixion.

No doubt, Peter had reasons for wanting to flee Rome.  Think of the great work that Peter could have done if he escaped the persecution and hid in Italy, or maybe traveled to Spain like some have guessed St. Paul did for a time.  People were healed merely by the shadow of St. Peter, the Acts of the Apostles tells us.  And thousands converted by his preaching at Pentecost.  But that was not how Christ called Peter.  Christ did not call Peter to fear, but to trust in the will of the Father, even though that will included his crucifixion.
    God will never abandon us.  He has pledged Himself to us as our Father, our Abba, through holy Baptism.  No matter what we do, He will be there for us.  But will we stay loyal to Him?  When the going gets tough, will we go away?  Will we let Christ be crucified a second time because we give into fear and into our own wisdom?  Or will we be like Peter and stay in Rome, even when it means persecution and suffering?
    I often don’t understand God’s ways.  I don’t know why Christ allows this, but stops that.  There are moments where I think I can see His hand and the trajectory He has, but more often I simply have to make an act of faith that, as St. Paul said, all things will work for the good of those who love God.  But when tempted to run for the hills because things have gotten too tough, or because it would be easier to do something else, the words of St. Peter in John chapter six always pop up in my mind: “‘Master, to whom shall we go?  You have the words of eternal life.’”  There is nowhere else to go for eternal life.  Do not be afraid.  Stay with Christ.  And, in the words of Julian of Norwich, “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.”  In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

The Top-Shelf Gospel

Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time 

    Many of you know how much I have grown to appreciate bourbon over the past year or so. I had tried bourbon years ago, and would drink it occasionally since I was a priest, but ever since I started the Kentucky Bourbon Trail last September as part of my 40th birthday celebrations, I have really gotten into bourbon as my liquor of choice (always enjoy responsibly!). In fact, this past week I was down in Kentucky again, finishing the Kentucky Craft Distillery tour. 

    Among bourbon connoisseurs there is one bourbon that always comes up. People usually have mixed reactions to it, but it is one of the most sought-after bourbons in the US, and likely the world. That bourbon brand is Pappy Van Winkle. I won’t go into all the reasons, but Pappy Van Winkle is very hard to find, and when you can find it, it’s expensive, whether by the pour or by the bottle. A couple of weeks ago a Catholic who has done quite well for himself invited me over to his house in Grand Ledge for a bourbon tasting, and he let me try a 3/4 oz. pour of Pappy Van Winkle, along with some other top shelf bourbons.          

As we talked (as alcohol has a propensity for encouraging talking), something he said struck me, especially in regard to today’s readings. He mentioned that he has been able to acquire some very good bourbons, but he doesn’t just keep them for himself. He wants to share them with others and let them experience something they couldn’t experience on their own. So he hosts small bourbon tasting parties, or donates some of the top shelf bourbon that he acquires to charitable auctions or fundraisers so that groups can benefit from the donations and individuals can have a chance to taste some good bourbon. 

    We might consider the Gospel like a top shelf bourbon (very top shelf). And by Gospel, I mean the entirety of what Christ has revealed through the Scriptures and His Mystical Body, the Church. It is precious, because it is the key to finding eternal life. But like a top shelf bourbon, there is the temptation to simply hold on to it once we have acquired it and let it sit on a shelf as an occasional talking point or a badge of honor that we have found it. But the Gospel is not meant to be kept to oneself. It is meant to be shared with others, so that, quoting Psalm 34, they can "taste and see the goodness of the Lord.” 

    So often, when we think about the apostles, or at least I know this is true in my own thinking, I imagine them walking around with Jesus for three years, seeing His miracles, hearing His teachings, watching Him pray, and the like. But our Gospel reminds us today that He sent them out to proclaim what they had experienced. Jesus didn’t have them get a special degree or certificate to prove they were ready (and in many ways they weren’t ready, as we also see in the Gospel accounts). But He sent them out to proclaim that the Kingdom of God was at hand, and to cast out demons and heal the sick. And they did. We don’t know exactly how long they were gone, but we can imagine they went out all over Judea telling others about Jesus and sharing His teachings with them, as they participated in Jesus’ work of freeing people from the dominion of Satan and curing their diseases and infirmities. So it probably took a little while. And perhaps this happened more than once in that three-year time period. Like Amos in our first reading, they didn’t have any special commission other than from God calling them to speak for Him. 

    God has chosen us, as St. Paul said in the second reading, not only to be His people, but to share with others “the riches of his grace that he lavished upon us.” We continue what started in the early Church: we receive the Gospel, and then we change our lives, and then we share the Gospel as God commissions us. We don’t keep it to ourselves, but we share it with others, whether in our homes, at work, on vacation, and even while on the Kentucky Bourbon Trail. Many of you do that in your families, sharing the importance of Christ in your marriage and with your kids or grandkids. Hopefully many of you provide a good example at work of what it means to be Catholic, and assist those going through hard times by praying with them and sharing how Christ helps us make it through any difficulty. Some are called to be priests or consecrated men and women who give up certain things or even everything to focus on our relationship with Christ. But the key is that we are sharing the Gospel by what we do and by what we say, and that we don’t simply keep it to ourselves. 

    The Gospel is infinitely more precious than even a 23-year Family Reserve bottle of Pappy Van Winkle. You don’t have to hunt for it or pay any money to acquire the Gospel. But it is not meant to sit on the shelf and get dusty. The new wine of the Gospel is meant to be shared with others so that they can enjoy its flavor and vitality. And, unlike liquor, the more we share it, the more of it we have for ourselves. So share the Gospel with others. Their life is not the same without it, and won’t be the same after they taste of the Gospel.

Pray, Hope, and Don't Worry

Seventh Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Recently more and more journalists are reporting that sometime around the middle of this month, Pope Francis will further restrict celebrations of the Mass using the Missal of Pope St. John XXIII.  And while I’m loathe to accept rumors and gossip as fact, two previous similar situations have proven that, at times, rumors and gossip do have a ring of truth.
    I cannot and will not go into detail now about speculating on what will happen after Rome releases this document, if there will be, in fact, a document as feared, because we don’t know what it will say.  I have, through the Diocese of Lansing’s Office of Worship, asked Bishop Boyea to release a pastoral letter to the communities that celebrate using the Usus antiquior if further restrictions are levied against us.  Certainly, in times of upheaval and strife, the words of the spiritual father of our Diocese are most important.
    But what do we do until then?  One temptation is to worry.  But our Lord told us quite directly not to do that.  “Do not worry about your life…” he said in Matthew, chapter 6.  “Can any of you by worrying add a single moment to your life-span?”  Worry is what the enemy seeks to have us do, because when we worry we try to take the place of God where everything has to be in our own hands for an appropriate answer and resolution.  No amount of worrying will change anything, but it will exhaust us and cause us to lack trust in God, who can do all things.

    St. Pio of Pietrelcina, more commonly known as Padre Pio, would say it this way: “Pray, hope, and don’t worry.”  Prayer is something we can do.  When we pray we take our concerns to God, for whom all things are possible.  Whether we pray Rosaries, or litanies, or novenas, or simple Paters and Aves, prayer draws us closer to the Sacred Heart, which always benefits us.  In prayer we become like the beloved disciple, St. John, who leaned his head against the breast of our Savior at the Last Supper.  And that is not a bad place to be.
    Obedience is also key.  St. Augustine of Hippo once wrote, “If you believe what you like in the Gospel, and reject what you don’t like, it is not the Gospel you believe, but yourself.”  Analogously, we could say that if we only obey what we like, and disobey when we don’t like something, then we are not truly obedient.  Pope Francis, whatever we may think about the reasons for any upcoming decision, is the Pope.  He was validly elected.  If he weren’t, I’m sure Cardinal Burke, who was present for the election, would have said something by now.  I don’t have to agree with all of Pope Francis’s decisions.  I don’t have to find that his words or actions always to help foster faith.  But I do owe him, as Supreme Pontiff, religious submission of will and intellect.  And Popes have always retained the authority to adjust the form of the sacraments and the way the Mass is celebrated.  Pope St. Pius V did so in eliminating rites that were less than 100 years old.  Pope St. John XXIII did it when he added St. Joseph’s name to the Canon.  Pope Benedict XVI (who should be canonized) did it when he gave all individual priests that authority to celebrate using the pre-Conciliar liturgy. 
    In my time here, I have observed almost none of the criticisms which Pope Francis has leveled against those who prefer the Traditional Latin Mass.  Very few deny the dogmatic and doctrinal authority of the Second Vatican Ecumenical Council, even while some (quite rightly) do point out issues in its implementation.  Very few do what Cardinal Burke has condemned: lacking respect and obedience to the Holy Father by simply referring to him as Bergoglio or using other words to describe him which are not fitting for Catholics when referring to the pontiff.  Most, if not all, even while struggling with some of the things Pope Francis says (as do I, at times) pray for him and seek only to be good Catholics who appreciate the entire 2,000 year history of the Church, and prefer to worship using the older Mass.  We have united well in our parish with those who worship using the Missal of Pope St. Paul VI, and I truly believe we are united as one parish, not a divisive group within a parish.  So the attacks that some level against us are not true, and we suffer quietly those detractions, as St. Peter, our first pontiff, encouraged us to do.
    We also remain true to our conscience.  Conscience is a word that has been warped in the past decades.  Right now, most consider conscience as simply what they want to do or what they feel in their gut is right.  But conscience is the voice of God, and so God cannot contradict Himself, nor what He has revealed as true for the past 2,000 years.  Conscience has to be aided by the study of Church teaching, both in the Scriptures and in the Magisterial pronouncements.  Conscience is our practical application of those teachings in individual circumstances, not the changing of teachings to fit individual circumstances.  And the Church is very clear: whoever knows the Catholic Church to be necessary for salvation, but purposely chooses to leave her, cannot be saved.  We must follow our conscience, even if it errs.  But we have the responsibility to make sure our conscience is formed so that we can hear God’s voice and not rely only on our gut or instinct.
    When a recent parishioner who attends this Mass brought up to me the now-more-pervasive stories about further restrictions, his approach was an inspiring act of faith.  He simply said that he would trust God and not worry about what was ahead, because God is in control.  He said he chose not to worry because worrying wouldn’t accomplish anything productive, and could prove quite destructive.  I applaud that man’s faith, and hope that we can all emulate it. 
    Be assured of this: as your local shepherd, your pastor, and your spiritual father, I will never lead you away from what I believe to be the truth and the best course of action.  I will ardently yet gently encourage you to stay with the Church, even as waves sometimes seem to pummel the barque of Peter.  I will never encourage anything which I believe will endanger your eternal salvation, and I will do whatever I can to make sure that the Mass is still celebrated reverently according to whatever legitimate laws we need to follow.  I pray that you will not worry, but you will pray and entrust this present trial to God.  I pray that we will all have the wisdom to know when to be obedient and how best to do that.  And in this way, we can be assured that we are not simply those who say, “Lord, Lord,” but are truly those who do the will of our heavenly Father, and so prepare ourselves for heaven, where He lives and reigns with the Son in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God for ever and ever.  Amen.  

Recognizing Holiness

Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Me after my first Extraordinary Form Mass

    There is a tradition in the Extraordinary Form that the people bow as the priest processes up or down the aisle at the beginning or end of Mass.  This gesture is a sign of respect, not so much for the priest as an individual, but for Christ whom the priest makes present in a special way each Mass.
    I remember at the first Extraordinary Form Mass that I celebrated, I invited my friend to be there.  After Mass we spoke about how it went, and he joked with me that he saw all the people bowing, but he didn’t bow because he knows me too well and he doesn’t think I’m worthy of a bow. 
    I know my friend didn’t mean any disrespect, and he certainly is good at keeping me humble and not thinking that they are bowing to me.  But it illustrates the point that Jesus made in the Gospel today: it’s hard to recognize holiness in people we know well.  It was true for Jesus in His own time, and it continues to be true now.  With merely human friends, we know all their failings and their idiosyncrasies.  Of course, Jesus had no failings or idiosyncrasies.  But the cliché phrase can so easily come true: familiarity breeds contempt. 
    But in our minds, we convince ourselves that if we would have been alive at the time of Christ, we would have been one of His closest followers.  We would have walked all over to see His miracles; we would have believed in Him from His miracles and teachings; we would have stayed faithful to Him during His Passion; we would have stood by the cross at His crucifixion.  But the witness of the Gospels show us that, just because people were close to Jesus didn’t mean they stood by Him all the time or recognized His holiness.
    Holiness can draw people in.  Think of St. Theresa of Calcutta (Mother Theresa) or St. Pio of Pietrelcina (Padre Pio).  Though, even in those cases, most people who were drawn in didn’t spend a lot of time with the saints.  They simply had one or a few powerful encounters.  So it’s also true that holiness can put people off.  St. Francis of Assisi drew a number of people towards him to join in his radical way of life.  But if you stripped down in the town square to show your renunciation of all your worldly goods, it’s not an old man in a white cassock who would come to see you, but a doctor in a white coat who might come to commit you to a mental health facility!  Sometimes the holiest of people can be quite annoying to those of us who don’t share in their total love for God.
    Why?  Why can we find it so difficult to love the saints?  Why is it so easy to be hard-hearted, as God warned Ezekiel the people of Israel would be.  As St. John says in the Gospel, people often prefer darkness to light, and so when the light comes, we try however we can to get rid of it.  The light makes the darkness in us uncomfortable, and makes us realize that we are not who we claim to be. 
    And because of this hardness of heart and preference for darkness, God does not work great things in us.  He can’t, because we leave no openness to His work in our lives, but reject it and work against it.  And God respects our free will, however miserable the misuse of our free will makes us.  He wants to do great things in us, to transform us by the power of His love and grace, but He won’t force Himself on us, because love never forces itself on anyone.  Jesus didn’t work great miracles in His home town because of the people’s lack of faith there.  When we don’t open up to God, when we lack faith that God can do something for us, then He won’t work miracles in us. 
    The key to allowing Christ to work great things in us is to admit we need Him.  Even the smallest opening to God’s work in us can be enough for God to break through.  Think of St. Paul: there must have been some openness to God’s work, even as he was persecuting Christians, so that when Christ appeared to him on the road to Damascus, it could change his life and change him from a persecutor of Christians to one of the greatest Christian missionaries the world has ever known. 
    Today, ask God to soften your heart to be open to His work.  Ask him to reveal holy people in your life who can help you grow closer to God.  It could be a friend or a relative.  It could be someone you have written off.  But if we ask God to do great things for us, and make even a small amount of space for His love and grace, there’s no telling how much God can do with us, and make us into the saints He created us to be.  

Body and Soul

Sixth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  One of the common errors of people today is a false dichotomy, or a presupposition that there are only two choices.  And this can also affect our faith life.  Because we sometimes act as if we forget that a person is a unity of soul and body, and deal with the one we find more enjoyable or the one that comes more easily to us.  But both soul and body are important, as we see in today's readings.
    The epistle focuses us mainly on the spiritual.  And we have to understand this spiritually, otherwise we would start some pretty strange practices.  St. Paul says that we are baptized into the death of Christ, and that the body has to be destroyed so that sin will no longer have power over us.  St. Paul intends, of course, that we read this spiritually.  We believe that by the pouring of water over our heads and the invocation of the Persons of the Blessed Trinity, we symbolically die.  Now, I say symbolically because our soul is not separated from the body, as happens in natural death.  But the death is real inasmuch as our fallen self dies with Christ on the cross, and then rises to new life with Christ in the resurrection.  So it’s not as if this is all made up or in our minds.  We die to sin when we die with the Lord in the waters of baptism, and that is very real.  But it is not that our physical life is ended, otherwise we would be a cult of mass homicide.
    But then in the Gospel, our Lord focuses on the physical needs of those who were following him.  Christ had been teaching the people about who He was, and backing up what He said by healings and exorcisms.  But then, it is three days later, and the people are getting hungry and running out of food.  At this point, while the Savior had taken care of their souls by His teaching, He also focuses on their bodies by performing a miracle of multiplying bread and fish, so that they could eat and be filled.
    In the Church, people easily separate into those who take care of the soul versus those who take care of the body.  As regards the latter, we can think of those who want to provide for people’s physical needs without consideration of the hunger of their souls for truth and beauty and love.  As regards the former, we can think of those who want to teach people about the Lord and instruct them in the faith, but then when they ask for something to eat, they say some form of, “we don’t do that.” 
    And this tension even exists in Scripture.  In Acts chapter 3, we hear about a crippled man who begs Sts. Peter and John for alms.  He wants money to take care of his physical needs.  But the first pontiff says, “‘I have neither silver nor gold, but what I do have I give you: in the name of Jesus Christ the Nazorean, walk.’”  There is a much deeper healing going on here.  Or look back to the Lord, who, when friends lower a paralyzed man down through the roof, immediately tells the man that his sins are forgiven, and only afterwards heals his body, as proof that the Son of Man can forgive sins.  But then in the epistle of James, chapter 2, we read, “If a brother or sister has nothing to wear and has no food for the day, and one of you says to them, ‘God in peace, keep warm, and eat well,’ but you do not give them the necessities of the body, what good is it?”
    So, we invoke the principle of both/and, so often operative in Catholicism.  Jesus is both God and man.  Mary is both virgin and mother.  The Church is composed of both saints and sinners.  We are both soul and body.  We are called to care for both the spiritual and the corporal works of mercy.  We cannot choose one and ignore the other, save at the possible expense of our souls. 

    This doesn’t mean that we can’t focus on one, even while we don’t exclude the other.  St. Theresa of Calcutta is a great example of doing both as she was able.  Her primary mission was to serve the poorest of the poor, and much of her work was caring for the physical needs of those whom society had abandoned.  She didn’t exclude service to people because they weren’t Catholic.  She fed them, cleaned them, and cared for them not because they were Catholic but because she was.  Still, and I know this from my own semester of working with the Missionaries of Charity in Rome, if you were living in their house and eating the food that they prepared, you would pray with the Missionaries of Charity, too.  And St. Theresa would even speak to spiritual poverty when she was given a platform on the national and international stage.
    Probably many of us feel more comfortable serving the spiritual needs of others rather than the physical needs of others.  Part of it may be because we readily have Church teachings accessible in our minds, but we don’t always know how to help someone who says they’re hungry, or thirsty, or need a bus ticket to somewhere.  And, sadly, some people try to scam others out of money, which makes it even more difficult to assist others.  But, I would encourage you to do what I do when someone asks me for help with basic needs of life: pray for guidance from the Holy Spirit to know how best to help that person.  And remember that we don’t have to do it all.  There are many groups in Flint that assist those who are hungry, thirsty, or homeless, like Catholic Charities, the St. Luke New Life Center, St. Francis Prayer Center, and others which are not Catholic but still do great work.  It is not wrong to refer someone to those agencies to do what we cannot do on our own.  But sometimes I know I feel that tug at my heart to give money, or I often carry Applebees gift cards in my car so that, if the Holy Spirit moves me to help someone, I can have a gift card to give them so that they can get food or drink. 
    So often we can try to create false dichotomy between the body and the spirit.  And certainly, one can be fully fed but spiritually starving; or one can be physically hungry but spiritually satisfied.  Christ invites us today through the Scriptures to consider both, and to do whatever we can to address both the spiritual and the physical needs of others, according to the gifts and talents we have received from God, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

New Catholics, New Life

Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
    Today we have the great joy of celebrating the baptism, confirmation, and first Holy Communion of Mia who has been preparing over these past months, growing in her desire to follow Jesus and make the pattern of His life her own.  We also have the great joy of welcoming Kelcie into full communion with the Catholic Church, and then celebrating her confirmation and first Holy Communion.  The prayer of St. Paul from our second reading we make our own for you both: may you excel in faith, knowledge, and love.
    Christ is doing for you both, each in your own way, what he did with the daughter of Jairus: raising you up to new life.  From today on, you begin a life that is meant to be a witness of the emptying of Christ (we use the church word kenosis) for our sake.  There are so many people at the point of death: not physical death so much, but spiritual death, but God does not want it to be that way, as He said through the sacred author of the Book of Wisdom.  God wants us to be with Him for eternity, and He has give us the Church to help us get there.  Really, the Church is a map to eternal life and happiness, helping us know which way we should go, and which ways lead to danger and move away from our final desired destination.  
    When I use the word Church, you may think of the official teaching office which promulgates and clarifies Church teachings.  And there is truth in that.  But you, as our soon-to-be newest members of the Church, also have that mission: to know which way we should go, and to know which ways lead away from salvation.  You might think that is a bit much for someone who is just joining the Church today, but guiding humanity to God is the mission of each baptized and confirmed person, no matter how long he or she has been Catholic.  We all help others to know what to do and what not to do.  Sometimes we know this because we have studied the faith and learned in our head the path to salvation.  Sometime we know this because we have wondered away from God and felt the negative consequences that come with opposition to God, and so we can let others know that we’ve been there, done that, and how it hasn’t worked out for us.  
    You also inspire us today by your choice to become Catholic.  Many here were born into the faith, so to speak.  As infants, our parents had us baptized, and so we take for granted sometimes the profundity of what it means to be Catholic.  But, as we see you, both adults, make a free and purposeful choice, we can be stronger in our convictions that our life in the Catholic Church makes sense, and is something others have chosen who didn’t grow up surrounded by Catholicism in their family.  So it’s not just others outside whom you will impact.  We feel the impact of your faith even now, inside the four walls of this church building.
    In confirmation, you will receive the Holy Spirit again, so that you can have the courage to proclaim the Gospel by word and by deed.  You will be filled with power from on high to live a life that reflects what you believe, and help people understand how the answer to the deepest questions of their hearts is connected to Christ and faith in Him.  

    But, let us now return to the daughter of Jairus.  We also see in this passage something that many pass over, but is also important: after Jairus’s daughter comes back to life through the prayer of Jesus, He tells them to give her something to eat.  New life has to be strengthened by food.  And so, the culmination of her new life on earth is strengthened by food to sustain her newly-animated body.  So your new life that you are given, either through baptism, Mia, or by your profession of faith, Kelcie, which joins you to us in fulness, will be strengthened by the heavenly food, the Bread of Angels, the Eucharist.  
    For children, the order has been changed, but the ancient order of the sacraments of initiation was baptism, confirmation, then the Eucharist, an order restored for the Order of Christian Initiation of Adults.  The Eucharist was the culmination of becoming Catholic and growing in the faith because it is the closest one can come to Christ.  Your entrance into the Catholic Church again confirms that all of our life as Catholics leads to the Eucharist, and then flows from the strength we receive from the Body and Blood of Christ.  
    So today we rejoice with you; we thank God for you; we thank you for your “yes” to Him.  May you remain in Christ’s Holy Church while on earth, and so enter the heavenly Jerusalem, the Church in triumph in heaven, which is the goal of your baptism, confirmation, and reception of the Eucharist today!