Revealing What is Hidden

Fourth Sunday of Advent

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Recently the fifth season of the western-drama, “Yellowstone” finished up.  Like most TV shows, the audience is given a divine-like view, where they know what is going on, while the characters in the show have to figure things out for themselves.  This fifths season begins with the death of one of the major characters, and while the death is initially ruled a suicide, the TV audience knows that, quoting Shakespeare, “there’s something rotten in the state of Denmark.”
    I think that many television shows, especially, but not only, dramas, rely on the human desire to play God.  We don’t want to wait for God to bring to light those things hidden in the darkness.  We want to know now all that is going on, even the things that don’t seem to make sense or those that confound us.  
    St. Paul promises that God will reveal all hidden things when the Lord returns.  And in some sense, we might enjoy this.  When many people talk about heaven, they talk about an eternal Q & A session with God, asking questions as profound as why this person had to die, or why that person got to live, to the more mundane and silly questions like whether Adam and Eve had belly buttons, or who killed JR (you might have to be a little older to get that reference).  
    It’s also something to which we look forward because often there are serious questions to which we could never know the answer for sure.  We sense a lack of justice when we don’t know if the guilty party received punishment or not.  Think about how much ink has been spilled about whether Lee Harvey Oswald truly killed President Kennedy, and whether he acted alone or was part of a grander conspiracy, whether with the Mafia or perhaps even with our own government.  When those who, ostensibly, do not get punished for the wrong they do, especially prominent people like actors, musicians, athletes, and politicians, our desire for justice seems unfulfilled, like there’s no resolution that satisfies.
    However, bringing to light what has remained hidden in darkness cuts both ways.  It doesn’t only apply to actors, musicians, athletes, and politicians.  It applies to us as well.  The things that we work so hard to hide from others, whether simply out of embarrassment or perhaps out of true shame and contrition, Christ will also manifest as He judges us.  That, I imagine, delights us a bit less than the idea of knowing where Jimmy Hoffa is buried.  I imagine we would like to know the secrets of others, but we probably don’t want them to know our own secrets.
    Of course, the Lord knows it all.  He is omniscient.  He sees all time as at once, and knows the causes and the effects of every action and reaction.  Nothing we could do could ever be hidden from him.  And yet, God chooses to forgive us for those wrong actions, and, when we are truly sorry and confess our sins, He no longer holds those things against us, no matter how secret they may be.  Yes, those sinful actions still happened, and yes, they still echo through their consequences, but God does not hold them against us at our judgment if we are contrite and confess.  Those sins going from being things of shame to being opportunities to grow in the grace of God, who transforms our sins into healing, just as God healed the death of sin through taking death upon Himself, though He had no sin Himself.  

    But, as we approach the celebration of the Nativity of the Lord, we also have another aspect of revealing what was hidden.  And that is God Himself.  True, God had revealed Himself, as the author of the Letter to the Hebrews states, in various and sundry ways.  But the birth of our Savior was a true revelation, the revelation, of who God is.  When Christ came in the flesh, even though the flesh sometimes hid his divinity, it also revealed it.  One of the Christmas songs I hate, and I consider it at least partially heretical, is “Mary, Did You Know?”  And one of the lines I think is heretical is, “Mary, did you know / […] when you kiss your little baby / You’ve kissed the face of God?”  First of all, yes, she did know, because the Archangel Gabriel told her.  But more importantly, in the Incarnation, the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity, who was pure spirit, took flesh in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and after He was born, we all saw God any time we saw Christ.  Throughout His life, the Savior revealed God as the one who loves sinners, but hates sin; as the one who welcomes those who wander away, but condemns those who make obstacles to repentance; as the one who heals the sick with tenderness, but casts out vendors from the Temple; as the one who dies for our sins, but rises on the third day because death cannot cancel out life.  God does not hide himself, but reveals Himself, so that we can access salvation.
    Though not my favorite season of “Yellowstone,” this, what I believe to be, final season draws people in by allowing them to know what remains hidden from the characters in the show, at least at first.  Through our upcoming celebration of our Lord’s birth, may we rejoice at the revelation that had remained hidden, only suggested and pointed to from afar by the prophets, the Incarnation of Jesus Christ, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit is God, for ever and ever.  Amen.

"It is the Small Things"

Fourth Sunday of Advent

    Galadriel asks, “Mithrandir, why the halfling?”  “I do not know,” Gandalf replies.  “Saruman believes that it is only great power that can hold evil in check.  But that is not what I have found.  I found it is the small things, everyday deeds of ordinary folk, that keeps the darkness at bay.”  In the movie, “The Hobbit,” this is the exchange between Lady Galadriel, an Elven queen, and Gandalf, known to the Elves as Mithrandir, who is a wizard.  They know that a great, evil being, Sauron, is active again.  And yet, Gandalf seems very focused on Bilbo, who is a Hobbit, a halfling, who only begrudgingly acquiesced to Gandalf’s request and went on a quest with twelve dwarves to reclaim their home and treasure from a dragon.
    In our readings today, we hear about the small: Bethlehem, the Incarnate Christ, and the Blessed Virgin Mary.  Maybe Christ seems odd to have in a list of the small, but even Christ, in His Incarnation, became small, when compared to His Divine Nature.  But I’ll come back to that.
    First, Bethlehem.  Micah describes the little town as, “too small to be among the clans of Judah.”  Bethlehem means “House of Bread,” and had a long history in the Bible.  It was the burial place of Rachel, the wife of Jacob in the Book of Genesis; in the Book of Judges, Bethlehem was the home of a young Levite who served as an idol-worshipping priest, as well as the home of a concubine whose murder almost destroyed the Tribe of Benjamin; in the Book of Ruth, it is the home of Naomi, whose servant, Ruth, moved back with Naomi after they had left for Moab, and where Ruth married Boaz.  Boaz and Ruth gave birth to Obed, who was the grandfather of King David, who also came from Bethlehem.  After the Babylonians exiled the Davidic kings, it loses all fame, except in this passage from Micah, which is fulfilled when Christ is born in Bethlehem.  
    In our Gospel, we hear about the Blessed Virgin Mary, who, to us, seems anything but small.  But in her own time, she was not well known.  She was likely around fourteen years old at the time she conceived our Lord.  While she was from the family of King David, she had no power or prestige.  She was the daughter of an old couple Joachim and Anne, who had no other children.  She was, to everyone except God, a nobody.
    And even in the Letter to the Hebrews, the sacred author talks about Christ coming into the world in His Incarnation when He took on our human nature.  Even this was small, in its own way, because Jesus Christ, the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity, who created the universe and whom the heavens cannot contain, allowed Himself to be limited by our humanity, to do the will of the Father and reconcile us to God.  When comparing Jesus’ divinity and humanity, He did become rather small.
    But this is how God works.  St. Paul says in his first letter to the Corinthians, “God chose the weak of the world to shame the strong, and God chose the lowly and despised of the world, those who count for nothing, to reduce to nothing those who are something, so that no human being might boast before God.”  When great people do great things, they might think that it is them, not God, who accomplishes it.  When a weak or lowly or despised person does something great, they know that they could never have done it by themselves; they needed help from God.

    And, as we prepare for Christmas on Wednesday, that’s what God wants us to remember.  We could not, we cannot, save ourselves.  No amount of right living on our part could have ever bridged the gap between heaven and earth that Adam and Eve created when they disobeyed God and passed on their disobedience through original sin to us.  God had to save us.  Without Christ, we could not enter heaven, not even Abraham or Moses or King David.  All had sinned, and were deprived of the glory of God.  But God sent Jesus to save us, He whose name means “God saves,” and opened heaven not only for Abraham and Moses and King David, but also for us.  And even now that we are baptized, God gives us what we need to respond to that salvation.  Without the grace of God, we cannot do anything good even simply to cooperate with God’s salvation offered us through Christ.  The only thing that we can do without God’s grace is sin.  Every good thing requires God’s help.
    When we remember this, nothing can stop us, because nothing can stop God.  With God’s grace, Bethlehem became, not only the birthplace of a strong, human king, David, but the birthplace of the King of Kings, Jesus Christ.  With God’s grace, a young virgin who seemed to have nothing special about her became the Mother of the Redeemer.  Jesus Himself made Himself small so that He could attract us to Himself and save us by His invitation, rather than by force.  And we need only, by the grace that God gives us, respond to that invitation in order to enter the enteral home that God wants for us in heaven.  
    Some do believe that it is only the powerful that can keep evil at bay.  But, it is in the small ways that God defeats evil, with those who know of their smallness and yet rely on God.  May we cooperate, in our smallness, with the grace of God through small things, everyday deeds of we, ordinary folk, and so participate in Christ’s victory over sin and death.

Rejoicing and Patience

Third Sunday of Advent
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Patience is not a virtue at which I generally excel.  While we had posted the Office Manager job, I wanted good candidates to immediately apply for the position.  My best friend is sometimes bad at responding to texts, and I struggle when he doesn’t respond to me quickly enough (at least quickly enough in my mind).  And, generally, I respond pretty quickly, whether to an RSVP, a request for information, or to a text or a phone call.  In fact, I’m becoming a bit of a cause celeb among the Diocese of Lansing priests because I usually pick up my cell phone on the first ring, which somehow means it hasn’t even rung once for the person calling (I don’t know how that happens).

    So, as we hear the word “rejoice” today in the introit and in the epistle, which both come from Philippians chapter four, verse four, I’m all for it!  We rejoice because soon we don’t have to be patient anymore!  The celebration of our Lord’s Nativity, the day when our salvation became known in the flesh, is closer than the beginning of our time of waiting in Advent.  Our waiting is closer to finishing than when we first began waiting.
    But, we rejoice, not because we don’t have to exhibit the virtue of patience.  We rejoice because we can celebrate soon.  And that goes for our celebration of the Nativity (which will become an even greater focus in the readings in the coming days), but also for the return of Christ in glory.  The second coming is closer today than yesterday.  And that second coming is when all will be made right, the righteous will be welcomed into heaven to enjoy eternal bliss.
    But, we can even rejoice today because we know that Christ has come to save us, and that the salvation He offers us we can receive at any time.  Christmas is near.  The return of Christ is near.  But Christ offers us the gift of salvation now.  All we have to do is take hold of it and make it a part of our lives.  
    We see this most especially in two important Advent sacraments: Penance (confession) and the Eucharist.  Through the Sacrament of Penance, God reconciles us to Himself.  Twice in two verses in his second epistle to the Corinthians, St. Paul talks about how God reconciled the world to Himself in Christ.  That was the good news of Christmas and the Incarnation.  But that good news still applies today.  God is still reconciling the world to Himself through Christ.  And in the Sacrament of Penance, we participate in that reconciliation.  God takes our sins, like my impatience, and He removes it from us, and gives us in its place His grace, which is really His life.  He breaks down all the barriers between us and Him that sin creates, “so that we might become the righteousness of God in him,” to use the words of St. Paul from that same second epistle to the Corinthians.  In the Sacrament of Penance, the Holy Spirit accomplishes in us what Christ accomplished when He died on the cross.  And that is certainly a reason to rejoice.
    Likewise, in the Eucharist, we receive our salvation.  Christ gives Himself to us under the sacramental signs of bread and wine which truly become the Body and the Blood of Christ, so that we can have, in the most special way on earth, Christ living within us.  The same Second Person of the Blessed Trinity who, by the power of the Holy Spirit, took flesh and humbled Himself to be born with our human nature, again humbles Himself by allowing bread and wine to become Him, and allowing us to see His Sacred Flesh and Precious Blood with our eyes of faith.  The same Incarnate Lord whom St. Joseph, his foster father, held in his arms, I get to hold in my hands and give to you.  The same Suffering Servant who offered His life for the salvation of the world by dying on the Cross, joins us to that same sacrifice on Calvary through the Mass.  As I invite you to “Behold the Lamb of God,” (“Ecce Agnus Dei”), I remind you how near the Lord is to you and encourage you to rejoice as you behold your salvation.  And this is certainly a reason to rejoice.
    Patience is not my greatest virtue.  I continue to work at growing in that virtue which is described by St. Thomas Aquinas quoting Tully, “the voluntary and prolonged endurance of arduous and difficult things for the sake of virtue.”  And this virtue will help us to wait these next ten days until we celebrate Christmas, and these next days, however many, until Christ returns in glory.  But, what we will celebrate at Christmas, and what we await at the end of time, we also have now: Christ our God, reconciling us to the Father, who with the Son and the Holy Spirit is God, for ever and ever.  Amen.  

Judith and Mary

Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  “‘Blessed are you, daughter, by the Most High God, above all the women on earth.’”  “‘You are the glory of Jerusalem!  You are the great pride of Israel.’”  The gradual today echoes these words as we celebrate Mary’s immaculate conception in the womb of her mother, St. Anne.  Yet these words were not originally written or spoken about the Blessed Mother.  These words come from the Book of Judith, which tells of the widow, after whom the book takes its name, using her beauty and charm to kill Holophernes, the Assyrian general who laid siege to her city.  Along with our Gospel, they help form the first part of the prayer we all know and love, the Hail Mary: “Hail [Mary], full of grace, the Lord is with thee.  Blessed art thou amongst women…”  
    This prayer, then, connects the Old and the New Testaments.  Certainly, St. Elizabeth also echoes the words of Judith, but in Judith we see prefigured Mary, the beautiful one who attacks, not the general of a foreign army, but the leader of the ancient rebellion, the devil.  Judith kills Holofernes by cutting off his head.  This connects to the Blessed Mother, the new Eve, through the words God speaks in Genesis, chapter 3: “‘I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; They will strike at your head.”  Our Blessed Mother in her immaculate conception is depicted as a woman standing with a snake under her feet.  How do you kill a snake?  You cut off its head.  
    God, from all eternity, prepared the world and His People for this great gift that He gave to the Blessed Mother.  He began in Genesis, as I just mentioned, and then continued through the Book of Judith to tell us of a woman who would strike at the head of our enemy.  This woman would be blessed by God above all the women on the earth, the woman who is the glory of Jerusalem and the pride of Israel.  No other woman can claim such a high honor, and in the church, while we don’t worship the Mother of God, we give her more honor than any of the other saints.  We give the saints dulia or honor (the English word “adulation,” is connected to dulia).  We give to the Blessed Mother hyperdulia, or above-ordinary honor.
    Some would claim that our celebration of her immaculate conception removes the Blessed Mother from humanity, and therefore makes her not truly human.  And at first glance, one can understand the confusion.  After all, if the Blessed Virgin Mary was not conceived with sin, how can she truly by the highest honor of our race, since all of us are born with original sin?  How can she be a model for us when her beginning was so unlike ours?

    Yes, our Blessed Mother received a gift whereby she was more like Eve at her creation from the side of Adam than like Judith.  God created Eve (and Adam before her) without original sin.  And yet, Eve, though she had no sin, still disobeyed God (and Adam after her).  Eve had the power to choose good or choose evil, a power she used poorly when tempted by the devil.  The Theotokos also had the power to choose good or choose evil, but she used this power well, never disobeying God, never giving in to Satan’s wiles.  The first Eve’s disobedience found healing in the second Eve’s lifelong obedience.  But both the first Eve and the new Eve were fully human, though both entered the world without any sin on their soul.  And just as we call Adam and Eve our first parents, though they did not originally have sin at their creation, so we rightly affirm that the Blessed Virgin Mary, even with the prevenient grace of the immaculate conception, was one of us, not a tertium quid, a third thing between God and man.
    And this great gift makes sense for the one who would agree to be the Mother of Jesus Christ, our Lord and God.  God is pure holiness, and no sin can exist in His presence, any more than darkness can exist in the direct light of the sun.  So if our Blessed Mother had even just original sin, when our Lord took flesh in her womb at the Annunciation, it would have destroyed the Blessed Mother.  It is as St. Paul wrote in his second epistle to the Corinthians: “what fellowship does light have with darkness?  …What agreement as the temple of God with idols?”  The Mother of God had to be pure because light has no fellowship with darkness, and the temple of the incarnate God could not exist in the same place as idolatry, the worship of the false god of pride.  And in this sense, we return to the Gospel, in which the Archangel Gabriel refers to Mary as “full of grace.”  How could the messenger of salvation refer to her as full of grace if there were any sin in her at all?  
    Our Blessed Mother is truly a warrior queen who, united to her Divine Son, conquers the ancient enemy, the devil.  She strikes at the head of the ancient serpent to kill it, by being obedient to God and cooperating in the work of our salvation.  May we honor with lives lived in obedience to God, as best as we can, the highest honor of our race, the glory of Jerusalem, the woman blessed above all the women of the earth, the Blessed Virgin Mary, who gave birth to the eternal redeemer, Jesus Christ, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit live and reign for ever and ever.  Amen.  

Muppets and Making Ready

Second Sunday of Advent

    Growing up I was (and still am) a fan of the Muppets, the cloth puppets that Jim Henson created.  And so, during this Advent season, my mind turns to the Muppet adaptation of A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, called, “The Muppet Christmas Carol.”  Gonzo plays the part of Charles Dickens, with Rizzo the Rat assisting him.  Kermit the Frog is Bob Cratchit, with his wife, Miss Piggy, and their kids, including Robin playing Tiny Tim.  Michael Caine plays Ebenezer Scrooge.
    On the evening of Christmas Eve, Kermit and his fellow accountants (who are played by rats) close up the shop and start on their way home to get ready for Christmas, singing a song entitled, “One More Sleep ’til Christmas.”  They even ice skate in the street, and then Kermit makes his way home where Miss Piggy prepare the Christmas feast (meager as it was for the Cratchit family).
    As the Gospel introduces us to St. John the Baptist today, we continue to make our Christmas preparations, though we have more than one more sleep ’til Christmas.  St. John the Baptist is Jesus’ cousin, and fulfills the prophecy of the Prophet Isaiah as he cries out to prepare the way of the Lord and make straight his paths.  Isaiah also says that the valleys will be filled, and the mountains and hills will be leveled out, so that the road to God is flat and easily traversed.  

    So, do we listen to St. John and the Prophet Isaiah?  How do we prepare for the return of Christ and the celebration of His Nativity at Christmas?  What are the paths to God like in our lives?  
    First, how are we preparing for Christ, whether His return in glory, or the celebration of His Nativity?  Are we preparing?  It is so easy just to treat Advent like any other time of the year, but colder, darker, and with more parties.  There is so much to do, from decorating the house for Christmas, to buying presents, to attending work or personal Christmas parties, that the season can fly by.  In fact, as of today, there are only seventeen more days until Christmas, or slightly more than two weeks.  
    The best way to prepare for Christ is to prepare our hearts.  We do that by making a little more time for prayer each day.  Maybe it’s a daily Advent reflection, or simply an extra five minutes of prayer in the morning or before you go to bed.  But one of the best ways to prepare for Christ is to speak with Him about how life is going, and listen to what He says to you.  
    Another good way is to read Scripture.  In the Bible God reveals who He is and who we should be.  If do not familiarize ourselves with the Word of God in the Bible, then we’ll miss out on knowing God and knowing ourselves.  And while the Bible can be a bit overwhelming if you try to read it from cover to cover, during Advent, read the Book of the Prophet Isaiah in the Old Testament.  Isaiah prophesies a lot about the Messiah, prophecies that Christ fulfilled when He was conceived and born.  And while some of what Isaiah says needs some explanation, much of it is pretty accessible.
    As for valleys that Isaiah prophesied: what are the low points of our life?  I would suggest that the valleys in our lives are sins and sinful habits.  During this season of Advent, God wants to fill them in with His grace so that they no longer bring us low.  Advent is always a good time to go to confession.  But, in addition, look more deeply at your most common sins, or maybe the most serious sins, and try to understand why those sins are so tempting to you, and how you fall into them.  When it comes to our sins, the Devil always shows his hand in showing us where we like to fall.  Maybe it’s overeating; maybe it’s sexual sins by ourselves or with another; maybe it’s gossiping or detracting from someone.  Whatever our most common or most grievous sins, ask yourself when sin seems most appealing for you, and then ask for God’s grace during those times, and make a plan to distract yourself during those times from sins with something else that is good.
    As for mountains and hills: these are the times of pride in our life.  How does pride keep us from God?  Pride is a raising of ourselves in our own eyes or the eyes of another not in accord with God’s will.  When we have pride, we put ourselves in the place of God and unreasonably focus on our own good, rather than the good that God is, or the good that others need.  Humbling ourselves doesn’t mean pretending we’re no good, but it does mean not primarily going after honors or attention.  Humility means allowing God to be God and taking our cue from Him, rather than deciding that we know best and that the world should operate according to our wants and desires.  
    As we prepare for Christ’s return and the celebration of His Nativity at Christmas, St. John the Baptist invites us to make sure we are ready.  Are we praying daily, and maybe praying a bit more during Advent?  Do we read God’s word, especially maybe the Book of the Prophet Isaiah during Advent?  Are we seeking forgiveness of sins, and even trying to get rid of habits of sin?  Do we seek humility and not focus so much on ourselves?  All these ways, and more, are great ways to prepare for Christ so that God will bless us, everyone.

Darkness and Light

First Sunday of Advent
    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.]  I don’t know about you, but during these winter days, I feel like it’s ten o’clock at night, based upon how dark it is outside, and then look at my watch and it’s only 7 p.m.  Others will mention how they long for the season when they don’t both go to work and return home in the dark.  

    Darkness is, however, a natural theme of Advent.  Not darkness for its own sake, but how the birth of Christ scattered the darkness.  We see it in the candles on our Advent wreath.  We will see it especially during our Rorate Coeli Mass on Saturday, which is held entirely in candlelight and with the growing light of the dawn.  Zechariah, the husband of St. Elizabeth and father of St. John the Baptist, notes in his canticle, that “the dawn from on high shall break upon us,” prophesying Christ as the light that makes the darkness flee away.
    And yet, our Lord’s words in the Gospel today may seem a bit dark.  He says that “on earth, nations will be in dismay….People will die of fright in anticipation of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken.”  Talk about dark.  Just as the light of prophecy ceased some hundreds of years before Christ came as an infant at Bethlehem, so the preparation for His return in glory will be a dark time with much tribulation.  Perhaps, whether for us as individuals, or even the way the world seems to be going now, we can identify, maybe not with dying of fright, but with a darkness that seems to have swept over much of the world, and even, in some ways, into the Church itself.
    I don’t know when the end will come, but it is coming, and that is a large part of what the Church prepares us for in Advent.  Not just between nations, but even the entire trajectory of our human race seems to be in the midst of a great battle between good and evil, truth and lies, love and hate.  

    While I was in Alabama, I had a chance to read a Catholic novel called The Sabbatical by Michael O’Brien.  It’s about an Oxford professor who gets involved with a family whom other mysterious, evil forces seek to destroy.  I certainly don’t want to give away the book, and I encourage you to read it if you’re looking for good, Catholic literature.  Towards the end of the book, there is a dialogue between an elderly wise priest, Fr. Turner, and the protagonist, Professor Owen Whitfield:
 

[Father Turner said,] “You have come through a great stress–and sorrow.  You are very tired, and you are asking yourself if all the effort of your life is useless.”
[Owen responds] “At times I do feel that.  Of course, I know it’s not true.  But the battle seems interminable, and the gathering forces of darkness go from victory to victory…the captive minds of a generation and those who rule them are now beyond numbering.”
“Minds can be illuminated.  Providence is ever at work.  Love does not abandon us.  He never abandons us.”
“It certainly feels like abandonment, and looks very much like it too.”
“The enemy taunts you, Owen….He insinuates in your heart that he is winning this war, and you wonder whether he is right.”
[…]
“I do feel defeated,” Owen admitted.
“That is the enemy’s provocation.  If you leave your station in the battle line, you break the line of defense and weaken the lines behind you.  But if you stand firm, if you hold your position, even though you do not understand its purpose or usefulness, when it comes time for the King to tell you what to do, you will be ready for it and you will be effective.”

I’m sure my reading of this dialogue doesn’t do it justice, but you can see how it aligns with our readings today.  And I imagine it speaks to some, if not all, of you, at least at one point of your life or another.
    So, what do we do?  How do we keep our station in this battle between light and darkness?  A battle, I might add, that has already been won, but in which the “minor” skirmishes are still being fought on the field until the fullness of victory comes forth.  Owen’s monologue illumines this point.  He says to himself:
 

You do the duty of the tasks at hand….You keep faith with your responsibilities and your vocation, and you love the souls you’ve brought into the world and the souls God brings into your life.  You work and you pray.  You try to turn everything into prayer, and you practice hope.  You keep your eyes trained on the true horizon.

Because the dawn is coming, the dawn that shall break from on high, the rising Son who is not an orb of burning gas, but God Himself who took on our human nature.  He is coming, and the time is now to prepare for that return.  It is like Gandalf coming with Éomer to relieve the beleaguered forces at Helms Deep: “Look to my coming at first light….At dawn, look to the East.”  The Lord will return and will forever put to flight the forces of darkness by the rising of His Light, the Light from Light, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit live and reign for ever and ever.  Amen.  

Looking Back

Last Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  When I turned forty, I wouldn’t say I had a mid-life crisis, but I will say that I took stock of my life.  Forty is not old, yet it significant, because eighty years old would be a good life, and the fortieth birthday means that I’m halfway there.  So I looked back to what I had done and what I had failed to do (using the words of the Confiteor).  
    As we come to this last Sunday of the liturgical year, we would do well to take stock of how our last year has gone.  I don’t mean so much in our natural lives, though that is fine to recall, too.  But I mean our spiritual lives.  How have we grown closer to Christ?  Or have we grown further separated from Him?  What virtues have really taken root?  Or what vices?  What grand intentions have we put into place?  Which ones remain simply intentions upon which we never or rarely acted?
    Our Lord gives us signs of when things would come to a head, so to speak.  One Scripture scholar notes that the abomination of which our Lord spoke in reference to Daniel was when the Syrian king Antiochus IV Epiphanes set up a statue of Zeus in the temple in the year 167 BC.  The scholar notes that early Christians would have seen the destruction of the Temple in AD 70 as a similar calamity.  But what has entered into the temples of the Holy Spirit that we are?  How have we given into the world and worldly views?
    Our Lord also mentions false messiahs.  Others will point to false saviors and false prophets, whether in the desert, or in a room.  He tells us not to believe them.  Do we have people or things in which we put the trust that we should only put in God?  It’s so easy to elevate a person like a political leader or party, or a material good like money to the place that only God should occupy.  I will even get very queasy when, in March, the phrase pops up associated with the Michigan State basketball team, “In Izzo we trust.”  I’m all for some good March Madness, and Tom Izzo, who is Catholic, does seem to find a way to bring his team along to the Big Dance.  And that phrase is said in jest.  But still, whom do we trust?  Maybe this time of year, we’re putting more trust than we should into Dan Campbell.  Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing the Lions win for a change.  And he seems like a good guy, so I’m not trying to detract from his good name.  But how much do we allow a win from our men in Honolulu blue to affect our lives?  There’s nothing wrong with being a Lion or a Spartan fan (though I know there are a number of Wolverine fans who would say differently to that last part), but how much of our lives are spent focusing on sports, distracting us from things that matter much more and last much longer?
    But this year-end review is not all bad news.  While it’s good to examine our conscience, we should not only focus on what we have done wrong, but what is going right?  How are we progressing in virtue and growing closer to God?  Because, even in the midst of these tribulations, God promises mercy to those who stay faithful.  Christ mentions that the days of tribulation will be shortened for the sake of the elect.  God knows how much we can take, and He doesn’t give us more than we can handle (even if we end up saying with St. Teresa of Calcutta, I wish God didn’t trust me so much).  And none of the end tribulations should catch us off guard, because Christ Himself has warned us about what is to come, even if some of it has already come.  

    What lasts is the word of God.  The teachings of Christ remain forever, and they are sure and steady anchors onto which we can hold.  If we connect ourselves to that anchor, the waves may crash upon us, and may even push us around a bit.  But if we anchor ourselves on Christ, then we won’t go far from Him, and we’ll remain in the kingdom of Christ with the saints in light.  
    So, spend some time today reflecting on the past liturgical year.  Focus on areas in which we can grow.  But, also focus on successes we have found in Christ and cooperating with Him.  Both are important to note.  And pray, as we come to the end of this liturgical year, that we will remain faithful to Christ, no matter what happens in the world; no matter what happens in the Church.  Pray that we will have the strength to survive any tribulation because we are connected to the one who does not pass away, even as the heavens and the earth will, God: the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

Chosen

Resumed 6th Sunday after Epiphany
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  In the epistle today, St. Paul talks about being chosen.  Some translations use the word elect.  In any case, the meaning is the same: God has selected us.  And for what or to what end has He selected us?  For salvation.  But we need to avoid the Calvinist position of double predestination, that God has chosen who will be saved and who will be damned.  Instead, with St. Augustine of Hippo, we say that God saves us with our cooperation, though He knows from all eternity who will accept the grace of God and cooperate with Him.
    What a great mystery!  God relies on us, in a limited sense, to save us.  Of course, the means of salvation is the sacrifice of Christ, which is re-presented for us in an unbloody manner on this altar.  Still, we can choose whether or not to accept the salvation that comes from that once-for-all sacrifice, not just at the time of our baptism, but throughout our life, and, indeed, each day!  
    One of my favorite authors, Romano Guardini, wrote about this in his great work, The Lord.  While meditating on John’s account of the High Priestly Prayer at the Last Supper, Guardini writes:
 

[The Apostles] are his.  Jesus has taught them his message and the name of his Father.  He has lost none of them but the son of perdition.  Not even the implacable passages of the Epistle to the Romans speak with such harshness of the law of grace and the inviolate sovereignty of that divine will which chooses as it pleases, giving those it has selected to the Son–leaving the others so far behind that the Son does not even pray for them.  We should hear these words often, and God grant us the fear without which we shall never enjoy salvation!  The more deeply we understand them, the more unconditionally we should fling ourselves on God’s mercy.  Autonomous, he [God] can choose whom he will; there is no such thing as a “right” to be chosen, but nothing on earth should hinder me from pleading: Lord, let me be among your chosen, and my loved ones, and all mankind!  Do not add: for I have done no real wrong.  If you are tempted to, fear for your chances.  Before this tremendous mystery it matters little whether or not you have done your duty, whether you are noble or base, possess this or that intrinsically important quality.  Everyone should do what he can; every value retains its value; but in the face of this overwhelming mystery, such things are no longer decisive.  You must know only this, but as profoundly as possible: that you are a sinner and lost.  In this knowledge fling yourself on God’s heart and say: Lord, will that I be chosen; that I am among those given to your Son never to be lost–my loved ones and I and all mankind!

It was a long quote, but worth the reading, as he captures both God’s divine will and our participation.
    As Catholics, we can say that we are chosen.  But not with arrogance or as laurels upon which to rest.  Because, as Christ said in the Gospel of John, we did choose Him, but He chose us.  In one sense, we might say that because many of our parents had us baptized.  But even for those who, as young adults or adults chose to become Catholic, that choice was only possible because God gave us the grace to accept Him.  Being Catholic cannot simply be a matter of the will.  It is an openness to God’s grace which He begins in us.  
    And why did Christ choose us?  John continues relating what our Savior said, telling us that those who are chosen are selected to go and bear fruit that will remain.  We aren’t chosen for our own sake, or because we are the wisest, strongest, most attractive, or those with the best genes.  We are chosen so that the world can be converted to Christ, so that humanity can be what God wanted it to be in the Garden of Eden, and, even better, what Christ died so that humanity could be.  Our election in Christ is not so much as badge, as a catalyst that stirs us to evangelical action.  
    And, as Guardini noted, everyone should do what he can.  True, the Apostles didn’t really get this at first, but once they had been filled with the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, they realized that importance of sharing what Christ had done for them.  They received the courage from the Holy Spirit to share with others, often in simple ways, but sometimes in very profound ways, that life in Christ changes everything, and that one can find the happiness for which he was made, perhaps not on this earth, but after death in heaven.  
    And while we do not earn our salvation, St. Paul urges us in his epistle to the Philippians to work out our salvation with fear and trembling.  Why would we do that?  Only if we are not sure if we will be chosen in the end.  When we recognize that we are sinners and lost, then we seek to do what we can to show God that we should be chosen, not because we can merit it, but showing that we know we need saving, and that we are open to the salvation God wants for us.  

Msgr. Romano Guardini

    Guardini also reminds us that we should pray that we might be part of the chosen.  That prayer helps keep our election as not something that we take for granted, but something we seek each day.  This prayer to be chosen throws us on God’s mercy, which is the only way we can be chosen.  And it reminds us that being chosen means bearing fruit, and not being like the fig tree that was cursed because it would not bear fruit for the Lord.  
    Our election in Christ is a reason to give thanks.  But it is also an impulse to spread the Gospel.  Our election is made at baptism, but it is a gift that we can accept or reject each day.  Lord, will that we be chosen; that we be among those given to your Son never to be lost–my loved ones and I and all mankind!  In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Waiting...

Thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time

    Modern society does not make waiting easier, though, for many, myself included, it already seems difficult enough.  If I order something on Amazon, not only can I track the package to see when they will deliver it, they even sometimes will show me where the driver is in the city.  On election night, too, it frustrated me that the results of States couldn’t be called immediately.  I wanted to know the results immediately, or shortly after, the polls closed.  But I had to wait.
    Unlike Amazon deliveries, and more like the recent elections, we don’t know when the end is coming.  We know Christ will return.  We know, as Daniel prophesied, that “those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake.”  But we don’t know when.  Many have tried to read certain passages of Scripture and match them to current events to determine when Christ would return, but Christ Himself assures us, “‘of that day or hour, no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.’”  So what are we supposed to do?
    Well, we wait (thanks, Captain Obvious!).  But how do we wait?  We wait in joyful hope, but we wait as those awaiting the imminent return of the Master, waiting in such a way that we’re not caught off-guard.  What do I mean?  Don’t live in such a way that you think you have more time, because you never know.
    We do have a very young parish.  I would guess that the average age of parishioners is somewhere around 40-45.  And one of the downfalls of being young is thinking that we have more time.  Those who are more senior know that their days are limited, and the end is likely closer than the beginning.  So they tend to make decisions differently than those who think they have a long time.
    I think about when I was younger.  I know I’ve told this story before, but when I was old enough to be left at home, but still under the age of eighteen, my parents would often give me some sort of chore to do before they returned home, like washing the dishes, or sweeping the floor.  There were a few times where I neglected to do those chores earlier, and then remembered that I had not done what they had asked me to do as the car started down the driveway.  In case you’re wondering, that’s not the way we should approach the return of Christ.
    Living as disciples should be something that pervades all our life.  It’s not a part-time job, or a chore to accomplish at the last minute, or a hobby.  It’s a relationship with Christ, that should define who we are, much like marriage defines a man or a woman who is married.  The couple who treats their relationship like a part-time job, or a chore, or even an enjoyable hobby, does not stay together for long.  Instead, their marriage affects their work, their choices, their vacation plans, and all of what they do.  It may not be explicit, but it at least implicitly modifies all their life.  
    And if that is how we live as Catholics, then whenever the end comes, it will not catch us off-guard.  When Christ returns in glory, and He raises all the dead for the universal judgement, we will find it the consummation of the way we have lived our lives, rather than a shock and awe event.  It will be like the husband who has served overseas in the military for years, who finally gets to see his wife when he returns home.  They will hardly be able to contain their joy at reuniting after those long days, months, and years.  Their days, months, and years of remaining faithful to each other; of not living like a single person, though they were separated from their spouse; of not going out to the bars at times because the temptation to stray would prove too strong; of choosing to send and email home rather than playing cards with the guys would all prove worth it, because they remained faithful, even when it was difficult.
    Emilio, as we welcome you today into the Catholic Church, you are not done.  Yes, you don’t have to meet with Amanda each week to help discern if you are ready to join us.  Yes, you will have access to the entire sacramental life of the Church from this day on, and not only be joined to us through Holy Baptism.  But you are beginning a new part of life where Christ desires and deserves your fidelity.  Your relationship with Him should guide how you work, how you invest, your friendships and relationships, your actives, your vacations, and all of life, just like the same should be true for all those here who are already Catholics.  But, because you are joining with us, you have all the aides that Christ has provided through His Holy Church to make sure that you are living for Him, and stand ready for His return.  We rejoice with you today, but we also recommit ourselves as we help you live like a Catholic each day until the return of Christ.
    Because we know neither the day nor the hour.  We don’t know when St. Michael will begin the final battle, when the trumpet will sound, when the angels will gather the elect from the four corners of the world.  But we do know that, if we are doing our best to stay faithful to the relationship we have with Christ, then, as the Protestant hymn says, “what a day of rejoicing that will be!”

Sunday after Pentecost or Epiphany?

Resumed 5th Sunday after Epiphany
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  These Sundays after Christ the King can be a bit confusing.  The Introit (what is sung while I begin the prayers at the foot of the altar), the Gradual, the Offertory Chant, and the Communion Chant are all from the 23rd Sunday after Pentecost.  However, the epistle and the Gospel come from the fifth Sunday after the Epiphany.  This all happens because the number of Sundays after Christ the King can vary, depending on when Advent starts, which can vary based upon what day of the Christmas falls.  It was probably this complicated formula that led those tasked with revising the liturgy after the Second Vatican Council to move Christ the King to what we would call the last Sunday after Pentecost, and to adjust the variable number of Sundays based upon where Lent begins.
    Truth be told, I think that calculating time after major feast days makes more sense.  Ordinary Time gets a bad rap because of its ambivalent name.  It would probably be better to call it “Ordered Time,” or even to use the more literal translation of per annum as of or through the year.  But there must have been some good to continue to use the way that the 1962 Missal uses the twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost for much of the Mass, and the resumed Sundays after Epiphany for the readings.  

The Prophet Jeremiah

    First, we hear Jeremiah’s prophecy from chapter 29 repeatedly.  And in this prophecy Jeremiah speaks for the Lord saying that the Lord has a desire for peace for us, not affliction.  And when we return to the Lord, He will end our captivity.  As we come to the end of this liturgical year, we focus more and more on the end of time and prepare for the return of the Lord (which Advent highlights in particular).  And one could approach the end in two ways: in fear, as a day of wrath, or as the consummation of a life-long courtship with God.  The Lord tells us, Sunday after Sunday, that He prefers the latter, not the former.  He wants to redeem us from this vale of tears, this land of our captivity where we struggle under the burden of sin.  So as we consider the end and our judgement, we do well to remember what the Lord desires for us, and how we can receive that gift of eternal bliss.
    The Gradual continues the same theme.  God has delivered us from all that afflicts us.  We will glory in God all the day and praise His name forever.  Again, this is what heaven is: the deliverance from sin.  While we are on earth, we can still fall into temptation.  While our salvation is the goal, given to us as a downpayment in Holy Baptism, we can reject that gift and choose to walk away from God.  Our fallen desires and the suggestions of the evil one can try to convince us to give up our inheritance which is eternal life with the saints in light.  Once we have died, temptation can no longer affect us.  We will receive the results of what we chose in life: Heaven, Hell, or Purgatory, none of which allow for a change in our final destination due to rejecting or accepting sin (Purgatory can only lead to Heaven, so even there we cannot alter our destination).  And, if we accept that gift of salvation, then we will praise God for all eternity, in the day that knows no end in heaven.  
    Having recognized what God wants for us, we turn to the Offertory Chant, from Psalm 129, called the De Profundis.  We cry out to the Lord because we recognize that we have not always accepted the graces of Holy Baptism, Confirmation, and the Holy Eucharist.  This prayer is also said at the beginning of the Requiem Mass in the Extraordinary Form, as we plead for the deceased.  And while we don’t hear beyond the first couple of verses, Psalm 129 goes on to say, “If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities, Lord, who could stand?  But with you is found forgiveness; for this we revere you.”  We acknowledge that no one can earn salvation, because we are all sinners.  But God’s mercy can save us, and this gives us reason to worship Him.  Having recognized what God wants for us, we cry out that we might be open to that gift of eternal salvation, which is only possible due to the Lord’s mercy.  
    Lastly, in the Communion Chant, we hear our Lord’s words from the Gospel of Mark: “Amen I say to you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you shall receive it, and it shall be done to you.”  Having worthily received the Body of the Lord, He commends us to trust that our prayers for salvation will be answered.  Now, this doesn’t mean that we can commit mortal sin, be unrepentant, and still hope for heaven.  But what it means is that when we ask for mercy and the eternal salvation that God desires for us, God will not withhold that from us.  God isn’t some despot who holds good things out to us but then does not grant them or hoards them for Himself.  No, He is our loving Father, who gives us all good gifts, even better than our earthly fathers do when we ask for something good.  Without presuming on God’s mercy, we can have confidence in His mercy and that God will do whatever lies within His power to save us.  The only thing not in His saving power?  Our willingness to accept it on God’s terms, not ours.  That is to say, there is no such thing as cheap grace where we receive God’s mercy but fail to repent with at least contrition.  
    So while you might have to turn a few extra pages to follow in the missal.  And while we repeat the same chants Sunday after Sunday after Christ the King, there is good reason for how the Church had set up these chants.  And they will help us to prepare for our end, and the return of Christ the King at the end of time, who lives and reigns with the Father and the Holy Spirit, God for ever and ever.  Amen.  

Not Why, but What

Thirty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time
    Sometimes the way that God answers prayers doesn’t appear obvious.  Some people pray for a miraculous cure for their family member or friend and they get a miracle.  Other people say the same prayers and yet their loved one dies.  A natural disaster like a tornado or a hurricane demolishes one church, but another which is in the direct path has only minor damage.  Why?
    Some would like to attribute it to personal holiness.  And certainly being a friend of God, not only in name but also in deed, doesn’t hurt when asking God for a favor.  But that’s not what happened in the first reading.  The prophet Elijah went to Zarephath, which was a pagan town.  The widow he helped during the famine was not Jewish, but worshipped false gods.  Yet God answered her prayer for sustenance through Elijah, though many Jewish widows had to see their children die of starvation.  Jesus also speaks about how “there were many lepers in Israel during the time of Elisha the prophet; yet not one of them was cleansed, but only Naaman the Syrian.”  

    So how does God answer prayers?  Why do the prayers of some get heard, while others seemed to be ignored?  God never ignores prayers, but He doesn’t always answer them as we want.  And, to be honest, we don’t often know why He answers some prayers as people want, but not others as they want.  Why God allows good things to happen to bad people, and bad things to happen to good people is a conundrum we won’t know on this side of eternity.  Sometimes we do see that an answered prayer helps a non-believe believe, or that even a seemingly-unanswered prayer doesn’t shake the faith of one who believes in God, who accepts even a negative outcome gracefully.  But often, we don’t have the answer to why.
    So what do we do?  We ask a different question.  And that question is not “why?”, but “what?”.  What do we know?  We know that God loves us, and that, as St. Paul says, “all things work for the good of those who love God.”  Whatever God wills for us, and even whatever He allows us to undergo, helps us to be the saints that He wants us to be.  Sometimes what God wills and what God allows seems beneficial to us, like an unexpected raise, or recovery from an illness.  Sometimes what God allows does not seem so beneficial.  But He desires that everything we might undergo, even the tragic death of a loved one, would increase or faith, hope, and love in Him.
    We also know, as we hear in the second reading, that Christ is forever interceding for us to our heavenly Father.  Though He is also God, Christ stands in the heavenly Jerusalem, the sanctuary not made with hands, bringing our prayers, made in the power of the Holy Spirit, to God the Father.  Christ offers Himself, not in a bloody way, but in an unbloody way, to the Father, bringing our humanity to God throughout all time.  He offers Himself always so that our sins might be taken away, just as He offered, once for all, the perfect sacrifice on the cross for the salvation of all the world.  And Christ, who shares our human nature, always asks the Father to give us what we need for our sanctification.  
    During this month of November, which we began with the celebration of All Saints, we also know that all the saints plead with God for us and our needs.  They do so, not to change the will of God, but to submit our desires and our prayers to the will of God which is always for our good.  I often ask St. Anthony to help me or others find things that they have lost.  Or maybe you pray to St. Monica to ask God to give your children who have left the faith the openness to the grace to return to His Holy Church.  Or maybe you ask St. Joseph to intercede for a loved one who is terminally ill for the grace of a happy death.  Or whatever other desire you might have.  The saints cannot do anything but that which is in accord with the will of God.  But they always ask God that our desires might be aligned with His so that our faith, hope, and love will find more strength and resiliency.  
    Lastly, we know that God desires that we trust Him.  The poor widow who gave all the money that she had trusted that God would provide.  God doesn’t always ask for money, though we should support the Church financially, but He does always ask for the gift of our entire selves.  He wants all of us, not just parts of us.  He even wants the sinful parts of us, so that He can transform them by the power of his grace and mercy.  Just as Christ offers all of who He is to the Father in the Holy Spirit, so the Father desires that we offer all of who we are, in the power of the Holy Spirit, to Him.  And when we offer all of who we are, God offers all of who He is, which is a treasure beyond imagining, not in the sense the world uses treasure, but in the sense of the deepest longing of our hearts.  
    We don’t always know God’s ways.  We may never fully understand why some prayers are answered the way we want, but others God does not answer the way we want.  But we know that God loves us, that He always acts for our good and salvation, and that the best gift we can give God is the gift of ourselves, trusting in His will and plan for our salvation.  

Simply Complicated

Resumed Fourth Sunday after Epiphany

**NB: This is an expansion of the homily I gave at the 11 a.m. Ordinary Form Mass**

  

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  During my combined 13 years of post-high school education, I wrote a lot of papers on a lot of topics.  But the one thing that unified everything–from English and political science classes in undergrad, to theological papers in Major Seminary, to liturgical papers in my second Master’s degree after ordination–was that I tended to make things more complicated than they needed to be.  Apparently, St. Paul and I have the same writing style, where we like to cram a lot of ideas into one sentence, with various subordinate clauses and ideas.  
    When it comes to following the Lord, we, too, can complicate things.  Which is why it’s nice when either our Lord or St. Paul simplifies things (though the sentences St. Paul uses rarely are simple).  At the end of the day, being a Catholic and a disciple of Christ means loving God and loving our neighbor.  Nothing more; nothing less.  Living up to our call as baptized followers of Christ entails giving God His due, and giving our neighbor his or her due.  
    So why do we complicate things?  Why does the Church have all these teachings and all these rules if living as a disciple comes down to two basic rules?  Well, we tend to overcomplicate things, and in our complications, we can fail to see how certain actions detract from the love of God or the love of neighbor.  So the Church gives us a guide to help us to know how to live out the great commandment.
    To say we complicate things is, ironically, a gross simplification.  Our minds, operating under the shadow of sin, fail to comprehend how God calls us to love Him and love those whom He loves, that is, our neighbor.  I mean, in our own day, we can’t even understand what love is.  We use the word love for different things that are vastly different: I love my family; I love my spouse; I love my friends; I love that car; I love bourbon; I love tropical beaches; I love my dog.  We should not be loving all of those people and things in the same way!!  But love for a spouse is different than love for a sibling (at least it should be!), though we should love both.  And the way we enjoy objects like cars or bourbon or beaches or dogs is altogether a different action than the way we appreciate people.  Love, true love, means willing the good of the other when that other can return that love to you.  We can’t really love cars, or bourbon, or beaches, or (and I might be stoned for saying this) pets.  We can enjoy them, we can delight in them, they can give us pleasure.  But we cannot, strictly speaking, love them.
    So, we’re already struggling just to say what love is.  But now, we take the myriad examples of actions in our life, and we strive to connect it to love of God or love of neighbor.  What gets in the way of this is our desire to care for ourself first, to will our own good, rather than that of the other, be he God or neighbor.  I might know and express that I love God and should love Him.  But then when it’s a beautiful day for golf, or my favorite artist had a concert last night that kept me out really late, or my kid has a game in his or her travel league, suddenly my love of God and knowledge that I should worship Him, especially on Sundays, gets clouded by my own desire to recreate, to rest, to give my kid the opportunity to be a future professional athlete (however unlikely that may be).  
    Or, to take our epistle, how do we love our neighbor?  We can say, academically, perhaps even piously, that we should will the good of our neighbor.  But then our neighbor’s tree is dying and branches are falling on my side of the property line.  Or my neighbor cuts me off and slams on his breaks, almost causing me to get in a crash.  Or my co-worker has really odd habits and I feel I need to discuss it with all the other employees to validate my opinion.  Or my neighbor has a yard sign that suggests voting for someone who is, quite obviously, evil.  And all the sudden, love of neighbor is a good idea, theoretically, but in the real world we have to take care of ourselves first and make sure our neighbor knows that we are important and he should not mess with us.  
    I’ve used some pretty simple examples, but even in the complicated matters of life, it all comes down to love of God and love of neighbor.  Take in-vitro fertilization, or IVF.  Because we in the Church haven’t made it clear, many Catholics don’t see the problem with IVF.  After all, aren’t we supposed to be fruitful and multiply, as God commanded in the Garden of Eden?  Aren’t we supposed to be open to life?  So how is IVF not loving?  
    The church’s teaching on the sexual act, or anything like it, is based on the fact that God has made marital relations with three requirements to be good: not using another or out of force; unitive; and open to life.  IVF includes a break in that meaning of the sexual act.  First, it treats a child as a commodity, a good that one can pursue no matter what the cost.  Couples seeking IVF will often say that they deserve a child, rather than being open to it as a gift.  Also, IVF requires a man to spill his seed, which also involves using oneself to mimic the results of the marital act with another, or using another to achieve arousal.  IVF also requires a doctor to impregnate the woman, rather than how a child should be conceived, that is, with her husband in a loving and unitive act where they can give themselves freely to each other, not only in body, but also emotionally and spiritually.  Children, the Church says, have a right to be conceived in a loving act between a father and a mother, which also ends up being the best way to love a child and ensure its future success: with a loving mother and a loving father.  Further, IVF most often requires multiple fertilizations at the same time, because sometimes one fertilized egg will not take.  But that fertilized egg is a new human being, but it’s treated more like an object to be used to achieve an end.   If it doesn’t achieve that end, or gets in the way of another end, it is thrown away like garbage.  To throw away an innocent human being at one of the most defenseless moments of its life certainly does not demonstrate love of neighbor.  
    Again, our minds can focus on our own good, and can easily rationalize certain acts, when, at their heart, they do not really demonstrate love of neighbor.  So while following Christ comes down simply to loving God and loving our neighbor, we need a guide to help us know whether or not certain acts demonstrate true love.  But we don’t just have a guide, we have a mother, Holy Mother Church, who lovingly helps us to know what is good as God has communicated it, so that we can achieve our highest goal, and the result of loving God and loving neighbor in this world: eternal happiness in heaven, where God, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit live and reign for ever and ever.  Amen.

In A Post-Christendom Age

Christ the King
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Much ink has been spilt of late on the idea of Christendom, or a worldwide or Western-wide Christian kingdom reality.  In case you’re wondering, we’re not in it.  Christendom often describes a reality where Christian values are the norm, and may even be the major underpinning of the legal system.  In the US, people often think of the 1950s as demonstrating the height of Christendom for Americans.  Certainly, in Europe that history goes much farther back, but also frayed during the time of the so-called Enlightenment, until its collapse probably around World War I, when many in Europe wondered how a Christian ethos could produce the “War to end all wars” between Christian countries.
    Again, in case you’re wondering, we’re not in a time of Christendom.  While our court system, perhaps the last bastion of sanity in our otherwise crazy political system, has upheld our rights as a church against the assaults connected with especially the Obama and Biden administrations (think of Little Sisters of the Poor, the redefinition of civil marriage, and the promotion of gender dysphoria policies), society generally has walked away from a Christian worldview.  
    And in some cases, we’re to blame.  When our lives as Catholics no longer act as salt and leaven, but rather are part of the rot and flatness of society, is it no wonder that others would not want to continue with Christians providing the overarching theme of society?  Two extreme examples from the past century stand out as acute reminders that simply being Christian doesn’t mean you live a Christian life: Hitler and Stalin were both baptized Christians: Hitler a Catholic and Stalin a Russian Orthodox.  But many more stopped living the faith in their work and in their homes, which had an even greater diminishment of trust in a Christian worldview.  
    So, as we celebrate Christ the King this Sunday, what do we celebrate in a post-Christendom world?  This is an important date for the Traditional Latin Mass community of Flint, but how do we celebrate Christ the King when He seems to reign less and less in our country and in our world?  
    In the first place, we have to ask ourselves if Christ is truly king in our lives.  Can people tell that I am Catholic when I work?  When I invite friends over to my house?  When I go on vacation?  The first and most important way to spread a Christian and Catholic culture is to live it ourselves.  If we do not live the Gospel at its roots, that is, in a radical way (from the Latin word radice, meaning root), then no one is going to listen to me encouraging them to become Catholic or to live with Catholic values.  One thing that people look for today is authenticity.  While we all fall short of our goals at times, living something in integrity convinces others.  Living Catholicism only as a mask does not convince others, and strengthens the point that it’s not worth trying, since even those who profess it don’t live it.  May our lives not reflect the quote from G.K. Chesterton: “The Christian idea has not been tried and found wanting; it has been found difficult and left untried.”  If we don’t do what we can to live up to the standard Christ sets, why would we expect others to do so?

    Secondly, Christ told Pontius Pilate that His Kingdom was not of this world.  That doesn’t mean that we don’t advance the Gospel and Christ’s way of life, but that it will always be opposed.  Christ is King, whether we and the world accept Him or not.  And at the end of time, that kingdom will come in force.  But until that happens, our goal is to encourage others, by proposition, not imposition, to join in the kingdom, so that the inauguration of the full reign of Christ will be a day of joy for them and us, not a day of wrath.  The blueprint for this is what is called the Apostolic Model (in distinction from the Christendom Model).  Our key is to live like the Apostles did: filled with the Holy Spirit; committed wholeheartedly to Christ; willing to suffer persecution joyfully for the sake of the Name.  The first disciples were not theologians.  Maybe St. Paul could claim that title, but most of the first disciples simply opened themselves to Christ’s grace and were willing to die for their belief that He is God and saved them from sin and eternal death.  They lived in a way that showed they were ready for Christ’s return at any moment, not growing drowsy from the wait.  

    Living in such a way, and dying in such a way, transformed the first-century world.  The first generations of Christians did not participate in the all-too-common debauchery of public life.  They did not concern themselves with doing anything to gain power and prestige.  They loved those who persecuted them.  They lived innocent lives, but did not disdain to be martyred when confronted with false charges of treason or heresy against the Roman pantheon.  This convinced everyday people to convert and follow Christ then, and it will work to convince and convert everyday people now.  In a world that lacks logical consistency; in a world gone made by lust and power, those who live the truth (not their truth but the truth) stand out as beacons.  Yes, some will persecute those who are not mad.  St. Anthony of the Desert saw this some seventeen hundred years ago when he wrote, “A time is coming when men will go mad, and when they see someone who is not mad, they will attach him, saying, ‘You are mad; you are not like us.’”   So we need to be ready for greater persecution, if it comes.  But when neighbors recognize that we are not buying into the cultural madness, and that we are even willing to suffer because we do not buy into it, they will slowly come to our side, and sense the power of the Gospel, just as ordinary Romans did in the first three hundred years of the Church.
    Christ is King.  And while His Kingdom has not advance in this world recently, and in fact has receded quite a bit, His Kingdom cannot, in the end, be stopped.  In the meantime, our goal is to live the faith in its fulness, doing all we can to follow Christ with all of who we are.  When we do this, we live as faithful subjects of so great a King, and can expect to be welcomed into the mansions prepared for us when His Kingdom comes in all its fulness at the end of time.  To Christ be honor and glory for ever and ever.  In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

Blind Spots

Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

    More times than I would like to admit, I have been driving on the freeway, with a slow car ahead of me in the right lane (and, for the record, I generally drive 72 miles per hour), and I start to merge into the left lane, and either I notice the other car as I’m turning my head to the side to make sure the lane is clear (I know, I’m supposed to do that before I attempt to merge), or the car in the right lane next to me honks as I start to merge over.  Even with my “blind spot” indicator on the side-view mirror, I am still sometimes unaware of everything going on around me on the road.
    Our Lord heals Bartimaeus today in the Gospel from his blindness.  His blindness involved physically being unable to see.  But, ironically, Bartimaeus’ spiritual sight seemed to be 20/20.  How can we tell?  He cries out, “‘Jesus, son of David, have pity on me.’”  He cannot see, but he knows that Jesus is the Messiah, the long-foretold son of David who would save Israel.  He hadn’t seen any of Jesus’ miracles, but he trusted in what he heard and in what Jesus could do.  And even when people tell him to be quiet, Bartimaeus just keeps calling out to the Lord.  Ironically, those around Jesus, the “sizable crowd,” as St. Mark reports, had some blindness of their own.  Otherwise they would not have told Bartimaeus to be quiet.  Perhaps the crowd had heard of what this rabbi from Nazareth could do, but they didn’t expect Him to heal the man from the roadside.  
    We all have blindspots.  We all miss things that we should otherwise see.  Luckily, as we hear in the Letter to the Hebrews, Christ “is able to deal patiently with the ignorant and the erring.”  Because we have received so much that should make things so clear.  And yet, sometimes we are as spiritually blind as Bartimaeus was physically.  We fail to recognize what God is doing, or even who God is, though we have opportunities to encounter Him every day.
    Sometimes our blindness comes from our busyness.  When I’m driving and I don’t see the car coming up behind me or along my side, it’s usually because I have focused on the wrong thing, or I am in a rush.  I think that whatever I want to concentrate on is more important, and I miss the other vehicles traveling with me on the road.  This can happen in our faith life.  We get so busy with work, or maybe even with leisure, or maybe even with our family, that we neglect to take time to notice how God works or when God tries to communicate with us directly or through others.  Our minds get clogged with unnecessary worries, and we become like the sizable crowd that fails to recognize Jesus’ power and mission.  

    The antidote to this is daily prayer.  I know that, when we feel busy, we feel like we don’t have time to pray.  But, St. Teresa of Calcutta reminded us that if we feel too busy, that’s a sign we need to pray more, not less.  And, let’s be honest, we often can make time for prayer at work, though it might mean not scrolling the news page headlines or playing a game on our phone as a little break.  Or on vacation, we can choose to pray on a beach, or in the woods, and make time for going to Mass while on vacation.  Or even at home, though the kids are screaming, or making a mess, we can try to pray, even if that prayer is, “Lord, give me patience!” or “Thank you, God, for my beautiful children who don’t always act so beautifully,” or even taking more time as you put the kids to bed to pray with them and tell them just how much Jesus loves them.    But don’t let busyness be the disease that causes spiritual blindness.
    Joshua, as you enter into full communion with us, you complete one journey and begin another.  You are finishing a path which led you to seek the truths of the Catholic faith, truths that  you discovered are from Christ Himself through His Mystical Body, the Church.  You started to gain a new vision of the world and of being a disciple of Christ, which began outside the Catholic Church when you were baptized.  Christ gave you a new vision back then, and He continues to give you a new vision now.  But today you also begin a new road on your pilgrimage to the Father’s house.  You begin to walk with us as a Catholic, as we all continue to seek clarity in our spiritual sight from the Lord.  
    As you begin this new pilgrimage, do not be afraid to cry out to the Lord when you need Him.  If a teaching does not seem obvious, or if you are in need of forgiveness in the Sacrament of Penance, do not fear to cry out, “‘Jesus, son of David, have pity on me!’”  He will come to you, in one way or another, and heal you from whatever blindness afflicts you at that moment.  And know that you are not alone.  I don’t know if all our parishioners would be considered a “sizable crowd,” but, unlike that crowd outside Jericho, we commit ourselves to helping you encounter the Lord more and more each day.  Do not be afraid to reach out to us, as well all walk towards the Lord and doing His will.
    If we are honest, we all have blind spots.  But, with the Lord’s grace, we can find healing and clear sight.  May the Lord open our eyes and our hearts to His love and truth each day as we seek to follow Him.