One Faith and One God

Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost

G.K. Chesterton

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Gilbert Keith Chesterton wrote in his great work, Orthodoxy: 
 

I am the man who with the utmost daring discovered what had been discovered before….I freely confess all the idiotic ambitions of the end of the nineteenth century. I did, like all other solemn little boys, try to be in advance of the age. Like them I tried to be some ten minutes in advance of the truth. And I found that I was eighteen hundred years behind it….I have kept my truths: but I have discovered, not that they were not truths, but simply that they were not mine. When I fancied that I stood alone I was really in the ridiculous position of being backed up by all Christendom. It may be, Heaven forgive me, that I did try to be original; but I only succeeded in inventing all by myself an inferior copy of the existing traditions of civilized religion. The man from the yacht thought he was the first to find England; I thought I was the first to find Europe. I did try to found a heresy of my own; and when I had put the last touches to it, I discovered that it was orthodoxy.

Here Chesterton was, trying to be on the cutting edge of criticizing his own time, and found out that the new thing he was advocating was quite old, as old as the Church, because it was the Church.
    St. Paul talks about one faith, one God, one baptism.  And they are all connected.  We live in a cosmopolitan world.  Not only can you find those who practice monotheism almost everywhere, you can also find polytheists, those who believe in many gods, and even atheists, those who believe in no God.  And yet, all of them claim that their system is true, as they should, or else they should leave whatever system they have for believing.  However, there is one true faith because there is one true God.
    The key for us is discovering what this one faith is.  And no, I don’t mean to question Catholicism.  If I didn’t think Catholicism was true I could do a lot of other things than give up a family, good money, and my independence.  But do we believe that Catholicism is the truth?  Not exhaustive of it, because we are finite and our Lord, who calls Himself the Truth (along with the Way and the Life), is infinite, but at least as much truth as God has revealed exists in Christ and the one Church that He founded, which subsists in the Catholic Church.
    It would seem easier just to pretend like every form of Christianity is as true as the other, or that every religion is as true as the other.  It would seem to lead to less fighting.  But if there is truth, than it’s important to know it.  To put this outside the realm of theology, we really want to know if gravity exists, and if the natural world operates by cause and effect.  We don’t let off so easily those who deny gravity, or who deny that the natural world seems to operate by cause and effect.  Imagine the physical harm that could come from thinking that the Illuminati invented gravity to scare us from using our innate ability to fly.  And yet, we can write off someone who does not know the truth, a truth that does not only allow us to interact in this world, but a truth that could affect how we spend eternity!
    Now, a few important considerations.  First, just because someone gets part of the truth wrong does not mean they have the entire truth wrong.  I can know that cause and effect govern the natural order, but decide that the cause of an illness is bad humors that I have to release from the body through bloodletting.  I’m right about cause and effect; not so much about the bloodletting.  When it comes to our fellow man, just because they lack some of the truth does not mean they lack all of the truth.  Yes, God only founded 2 religions, Judaism and Catholicism (though we could rightly speak of Catholicism as the divinely-ordered fulfillment of Judaism).  But it doesn’t mean that other religions don’t have any truth.  Islam teaches that there is only one God; they’re right.  Buddhists talk about the importance of not letting our physical desires control us; that’s wise.  Still, our goal is to fill in the blanks for them, and help them see what they don’t have quite right.
    The same is true for our fellow Christians: they have a fair amount of things right; especially the Orthodox.  But if they’re not subject to the one leader Christ appointed for His Church; or they cut out books of the Bible; or they don’t recognize the sacramental system that Christ established, they are missing out.  And we should help them come to see the fullness of the truth.  If you think gravity exists, but only if you jump off a tall building, you have a strong start, but need to understand gravity better to know it exists everywhere, not just at tall buildings.
    Second, while it is imperative that we share the truth, it is equally imperative that we share it with love.  Yelling at Muslims in Dearborn that Mohammed is a false prophet probably won’t win them over.  But engaging in loving, respectful dialogue about how God could not contradict Himself might be a step in the right direction.  Or showing a Buddhist that God created the world good and does not want us to totally disassociate ourselves from it.  Or helping a non-Catholic Christian to see that the teachings of the Catholic Church are most faithful to what God has revealed in the Scriptures by talking about how you read the Scripture over a cup of coffee or bourbon can go a long way.
    There is only one true faith, because God is one.  Other religions and other Christian denominations have parts of the truth, and we should recognize those as finding their source in God, as all truth finds its source in God who is Truth Himself.  But if we commit ourselves to the truth, and commit to sharing with others in love, then we, like G.K. Chesterton, will find that the truth is not a political party or a vogue critique of the modern age, but a Person, who desires to love us and be loved by us, and help us to grow into the people He made us to be.  And that Person is Jesus Christ, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit is God, for ever and ever.  Amen.  

Non-Fad Thinking

Twenty-Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

    As I grow older (and hopefully wiser), it’s interesting to note the different fads that have popped up over my four decades of life.  Numerous people bought Beanie Babies, certain that they could pay for their children’s college education with those little stuffed animals.  Kids had fidget spinners not that long ago, which allowed them to play with a little spinner during different activities.  Religiously, we had the fad a decade or two ago of wearing wrist bands that had the abbreviation: WWJD or What Would Jesus Do.
    You don’t really see those bracelets too much anymore, but hopefully that doesn’t mean that people have stopped thinking about what Jesus would do in particular circumstances.  The Word of God that we heard today challenges us to go a step earlier, and not only consider how God would act, but also how God thinks.
    Isaiah prophesies today that God’s thoughts are not our thoughts and God’s ways are not our ways.  And in the Gospel, Jesus takes basic labor laws (that you get paid the same rate as everyone else in the same job multiplied by the hours you work) and puts them on their head.  No doubt in current society, Jesus would have been sued for unjust labor practices.
    But it should cause us to think: how do I see the world?  Do I think of things the way God does?  If not, how can I?  Let’s consider those questions that the Holy Spirit has put on my heart, and hopefully puts on yours.
    First, how do I see the world?  There are numerous options.  I could see the world through a selfish lens, make an anti-Copernican revolution, and insist that the world has to revolve around me.  Or I might see things merely from an economic point of view, of how it makes me more money or benefits my job.  Or I might view the world as a constant struggle of power between races, genders, or socio-economic classes.  
    Or do I choose first and foremost to recognize that God has created the world in goodness, and has made me its steward, not to tyrannize, but to care for it?  Do I consider that I am a beloved son or daughter in the son of God, whom God has created out of love, and recognize that every other person I encounter is also created by God out of love?  Do I view things not in competition with each other, but as opportunities to grow closer to God?  Do I, to paraphrase St. Paul, use the world without becoming engrossed in it or obsessed by it?

    Because God sees the world not in competition with Him (which would be silly, because nothing can compete with God), but as different aspects of His creative will that exist to cooperate with Him.  J.R.R. Tolkien wrote in his less-popular work of fantasy The Silmarillion, that the highest power created the world to be music.  By analogy, God created us to make music together.  Each of us is like a musical instrument of God that He intends to direct as a beautiful symphony.  Each has value, but cannot exist unto itself and play the entire symphony by ourselves.  Only when we cooperate with God and each other does the symphony come together.
    To apply the Gospel to this analogy, some people have larger parts in the symphony, some people have smaller parts.  But if the symphony is salvation, then each person still has a part to play and can be included, no matter how many measures a particular instrument is featured.   We do not lose out of salvation because God includes another person for a shorter period of time.  As long as we cooperate in this magnum opus, then we need not worry about how much the other has.  God desires salvation for all.  We shouldn’t worry about whether another person had an easier path to salvation.  We should simply rejoice that they had the chance to participate in the salvation God won for them.
    If I’m not sure if I’m thinking with the mind of God, then how do I try to think with that mind?  How do I live in such a way that God’s thoughts become my thoughts, and His ways become my ways?  To start with, we need time in silence.  Silence helps us know the mind of God, especially when we apply the Scriptures and the teachings of the Church as the food that we’re chewing on in silence.  The Benedictine tradition of lectio divina, or divine reading, helps us to read the Scriptures or a Church document, and then sit in silence with it and chew on it, like a cow chews on cud, slowly grinding it down.  And then, with the thoughts that come, put them against the Word of God.  How do they stack up?  Do they contradict what God has revealed authoritatively?  If so, I’m probably not thinking with the mind of God.  Do my thoughts advance my own salvation and the salvation of others?  If so, I’m probably on a good path of thinking and acting like God.
    [My dear parents, in bringing your child for baptism, you are promising to help Maximiliano think with the mind of God and act like God as he grows and matures.  You promise to pray with him, to read Scripture with him, to help him to learn to love and serve our neighbor as Christ commanded us, because in serving them we really serve Christ.  But you are not alone.  This entire faith community, as well as the godparents you have chosen, also promise that we will assist you in helping form your child in the faith.  We are never done growing in our love of God and understanding of the truth.  So we all continue to grow and help Maximiliano grow in becoming the saint God calls him to be through Holy Baptism, just as we strive to be the saints God has called us to be through our baptism.]
    Thinking with the mind of God and acting like God is not a fad. It will not come and go like Beanie Babies, fidget spinners, or bracelets.  Each day, strive to think as God thinks and to act as God acts.  To the extent you do, you will be repaid handsomely for your labors.

"You're So Vain"

Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  In Episode III of "Star Wars" (the sixth movie made), there is a scene where the Jedi Council informs Anakin that, at the request of Chancellor Palpatine, Anakin will become a member of the Jedi Council, though he will not be given the rank of Jedi Master.  Anakin bristles at not being given this honor.  He says, “How can you do this?  This is outrageous.  It’s unfair.  How can you be on the Council and not be a Master?”  He quickly asks forgiveness for his outburst, and the Jedi Council meeting continues.  Anakin had strength and power very few Jedi had, and was the youngest member of the Jedi Council, but because of his pride, he could not simply accept the great honor before him, but saw what he considered as a lack of respect and a slight against how advanced he was.
    Christ in the Gospel today warns against seeking after honor and prestige.  He puts it in very pragmatic terms, putting his words into the more palatable meal of allowing others to elevate one.  But, the danger of pride to think oneself the best is something Christ warns us we need to guard against, lest humiliation do the job of keeping our ego in check by showing us who is better than us.  As Qui-Gon Jinn says in Episode I of Star Wars (the fourth movie made), "There’s always a bigger fish.”
    The sin of pride, or perhaps more specifically vainglory, leads us to seek after fleeting realities, rather than focusing on our final end, which is God.  St. Thomas Aquinas teaches in question 132 of the Secunda secundae of the Summa Theologiae that seeking glory means seeking that whereby good is known.  And to know that one has done good is not a sin.  But seeking glory for good can be sinful in three ways: 1) “on the part of the thing for which one seeks glory: as when a man seeks glory for that which is unworthy of glory, for instance…something frail and perishable”; 2) “on the part of him from whom he seeks glory, for instance a man whose judgment is uncertain”; and 3) “on the part of the man himself who seeks glory, for that he does not refer the desire of his own glory to a due end, such as God’s honor, or the spiritual welfare of his neighbor”.  When does something worthy of praise, it is not wrong to want or accept recognition for that good thing.  But if we seek out praise for some minor good, or seek out praise from someone whose opinion doesn’t matter, or fail to recognize that the thing for which we are praised is for God or for our neighbor, then we have fallen into the sin of vainglory, which St. Thomas numbers among the capital vices.
    Vainglory arises when we miss the things that should drive us on to excellence, and focus too much on things that don’t, in the end, matter.  When I am intent on doing God’s will, I can accept praise from others because I know that the praise really redounds to God’s goodness.  My ego doesn’t need stroking because the good I do finds its end in God and in what God desires, namely, my salvation and the salvation of others.  But when I put fleeting things ahead of God and direct my energies to things not directed towards God, then I get unsettled when excellence is not recognized because the glory can be as fleeting as the end to which I direct myself, and then I am left with nothing, because I have not rooted myself in the eternal, God, but have rooted myself in the finite.
    The Angelic Doctor cites Pope St. Gregory the Great in saying that there are seven daughters, or vices directed to a capital vice, that demonstrate the activity of vainglory in our life.  St. Thomas Aquinas writes:
 

Now the end of vainglory is the manifestation of one’s own excellence…and to this end a man may tend in two ways….either by words and this is boasting [the first daughter], or by deeds, and then if they be true and call for astonishment, it is love of novelties [the second] which men are wont to wonder at most; but if they be false, it is hypocrisy [the third].  On another way a man strives to make known his excellence by showing that he is not inferior to another, and this in four ways.  First, as regards the intellect, and thus we have “obstinacy” [the fourth] by which a man is too much attached to his own opinion….Secondly, as regards the will, and then we have “discord,” [the fifth] whereby a man is unwilling to give up his own will, and agree with others.  Thirdly, as regards “speech,” and then we have “contention,” [the sixth] whereby a man quarrels noisily with another.  Fourthly as regards deeds, and this is “disobedience,” [the seventh] whereby a man refuses to carry out the command of his superiors.

To recap, the daughters of vainglory are: boasting, love of novelties, hypocrisy, obstinacy, discord, contention, and disobedience.  As we see any of these in our lives, we are guilty of acts that lead toward vainglory.
    We do not go wrong simply because we seek to be the best and do great things.  We don’t even go wrong when we want true goods to be appreciated.  But when we seek after lesser goods, or goods not directed toward God and salvation of ourselves and/or others, we can fall into the vice of vainglory and start seeking the highest place of honor, even when we don’t deserve it.  Rather, we should seek to excel because it gives helps others and gives glory to God, the giver of every good gift and source of all glory, which is due back, in the end, to the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Survey Says

Twenty-Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

    Imagine a round of “Family Feud” with a survey of 100 people who were asked, “What is the most difficult part of being Catholic?” there would likely be responses like, “sexual morality;” “having to go to church every Sunday and holyday;” “not eating meat on Friday;” “having to listen to bad homilies;” and the like.  And probably any member of the team who responded thus would hear the comment, “Good answer!”
    But for those who take their faith life seriously, in addition to what that survey says, our Lord’s teaching today on forgiveness, which is also the focus of the first reading and the responsorial psalm, should be near the top if not at the top.  Yes, denying our passions requires effort.  Making time to worship God cannot occur without some planning and dedication.  And yes, Catholic priests and deacons are not always known for the best preaching.  But forgiveness!  That’s one of the hardest teachings to implement.  
    Forgiveness strikes us as such a difficulty for two reasons: one, we don’t necessarily understand forgiveness; and two, we have a God-given desire for justice which concupiscence usually taints.  Both of those factors increase the difficulty of forgiving.
    As for the first reason, I think that sometimes we say forgiveness, but we don’t truly understand the meaning of the word.  When some people say forgiveness, they mean that we pretend like the injury, the wrong-doing, never happened.  But pretending that something didn’t happen does not accord with the truth.  This understanding of forgiveness is cheap, because if nothing bad happened, then there’s nothing good about a person forgiving something which didn’t happen.  Plus, we can’t erase or change the past, as Rafiki in “The Lion King” reminds us.

    The further consequence of this understanding of forgiveness also lends itself to enabling others.  The wife who pretends like her husband didn’t do anything, when in fact he put his hands on her, only encourages the husband to continue to use physical violence because no one stops him.  I can’t tell you the number of sad times when I have encountered as a chaplain a woman who obviously receives abuse from her husband but does not wish to press charges because she doesn’t think it’s loving, or thinks that she’s forgiven him, he didn’t mean to do it, and so she just needs to pretend like it didn’t happen.  That is not forgiveness; that’s enabling.  The same principle can be applied to alcoholics.  
    Forgiveness is an act of charity, of willing the good of the other.  And what makes it so laudable is that it acknowledges the offense that has happened, but chooses not to hold that offense against the other.  This may sound like enabling, but the difference is that forgiveness does or can include allowing a person to experience the consequences of his or her actions.  If you steal $20 from me, I can forgive you and not hold that theft against you.  But I may not ever leave you alone near any money of mine.  A Michigan State Police recruit who wants to be Catholic recently asked me how he can be expected to forgive sexual assault perpetrators, especially when they prey on children.  I mentioned to this recruit that forgiving doesn’t mean the person doesn’t go to jail or prison, or doesn’t face the consequences of his or her actions.  But it means we hope for that person’s conversion, change of heart and change of life, so that it never happens again.  And we rejoice if that conversion does happen.
    A beautiful example of rejoicing in the conversion of someone who has harmed us is the relationship in heaven of St. Stephen and St. Paul.  For the celebration of St. Stephen’s feast day (26 December), St. Fulgentius of Ruspe, a bishop, writes:
 

Now at last, Paul rejoices with Stephen, with Stephen he delights in the glory of Christ, with Stephen he exalts, with Stephen he reigns. Stephen went first, slain by the stones thrown by Paul, but Paul followed after, helped by the prayer of Stephen. This, surely, is the true life, my brothers, a life in which Paul feels no shame because of Stephen’s death, and Stephen delights in Paul’s companionship, for love fills them both with joy.
 
Forgiveness is an act of great charity, which wills the good of the other, no matter what the other has done, even in the heroic example of St. Stephen willing St. Paul’s conversion and holiness, though St. Paul, before his conversion, had helped put St. Stephen to death.
    Forgiveness seems difficult to us because we also desire justice, each person receiving his or her due.  And when a person has disrupted the social order and committed a crime, we want a person to suffer the punishment.  In some sense this is good, because we want a society that is ordered to virtue, and we want to make sure that virtue is encouraged and vice is punished, since not everyone lives according to virtue.  But all too often, we go beyond justice, and we also forget mercy, so that the punishment doesn’t fit the crime.  Forgiveness recognizes that my sense of justice may not be on the mark, and that God will deal out perfect justice, combined with perfect mercy, to the offender.  As the Gospel relates, we are all too ready to ask for mercy, but struggle to offer that same mercy ourselves.  Still, our Lord warns us here and elsewhere, that the measure of forgiveness that we give to others, is the measure of mercy we can expect to receive from Him.
    [Adam and Jamie, the Lord has shown great mercy to you.  While you were still sinners, Christ died for you, and offered the unmerited gift of baptism in another Christian community.  By doing so, He demonstrated His love for you.  But that love has led you to the fullness of the truth in the Catholic Church, so that you can receive even more love through the other sacraments, like Confirmation and the Eucharist which you will receive today.  You did not earn this gift, but God gives it to you freely so that you can live, as best as you can, as a disciple of Christ in full fidelity to what He has taught us through the Scriptures and the teachings of the Apostles.  You also, then, must be merciful and share that gift of salvation with those you meet, including the difficult way of life as a disciple to forgive those who offend us.]
    I would dare say that all of us struggle with forgiveness.  Whether “survey says” or not, forgiveness remains one of the hardest, or perhaps the hardest teaching of Christ for His disciples, for His Church.  May we, whom God has forgiven, forgive others ourselves, since God has paid the debt for our sins by the Passion and Death of His Son, Jesus Christ.

Senses of Scripture

Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  An early Church Father from the end of the second and beginning of the third century is Origen.  When he was not yet seventeen, his father was arrested for being Catholic, and was sentenced to death.  Origen wanted to accompany his father, but his mother would not let him, and hid his clothes, so he couldn’t leave his house because of his nudity.  This is the first oddity about Origen.
    He studied the Scriptures deeply, and wrote commentaries on the Gospel of John, the Books of Genesis and Exodus, Psalms 1-25, the Book of Lamentations, Ezekiel and the Song of Songs, as well as other works on prayer.  He wrote the Hexapla, which was the first critical edition of the Old Testament, with the original Hebrew, four different Greek translations, and a Greek transliteration in different columns.  It was quite the monumental work.  While disputed by some, there is a common story that Origen read Matthew 19:12 a bit too literally.  In case that verse doesn’t immediately come to your mind, it’s where Christ says that if your eyes cause you to sin, pluck them out, for it is better to enter heaven without eyes than enter Gehenna with two eyes.  Origen’s eyes weren’t his problem, his libido was.  So he castrated himself.  He also “bishop-shopped” in order to get ordained.  So there were some issues with Origen.
    While some of his teachings (or teachings ascribed to him) were condemned after his death, he gave us the understanding of three different aspects of Biblical interpretation, a schema we still can use today: the literal sense (what does the Biblical account actually say and what happened?); the moral sense (how does this apply to my daily life?); and the spiritual sense (how does this point to Christ?).  And that is what I want to focus on in our Gospel.

    What literally happened (and yes, I’m using that word correctly), was that our Lord encountered a funeral procession in the city of Nain, saw that a boy, the only son of a widowed-mother, had died, and raised him from the dead.  I’ve been to Nain in the Holy Land and there’s a little chapel to commemorate the miracle.  I do find it interesting that we tend to forget that Christ raised other people from the dead other than Lazarus: the daughter of Jairus and the son of the widow of Nain.  
    As we look to the spiritual sense, we see especially in this miracle a foreshadowing of Christ’s own Resurrection.  He was the Blessed Mother’s only son.  By tradition, Mary was a widow when Christ died for our salvation (otherwise Joseph would have also been with Christ during His ministry and especially at the foot of the cross).  The raising of this boy anticipates the Resurrection of Christ in a very direct way.
    But does this story have anything to do with us?  Can we understand this story from a moral point of view and how it affects our daily lives?  I think Origen would say that any Scripture can have a moral sense, if we reflect enough.  And in thinking about this passage, the following occurred to me.
    Sometimes we have spiritually died.  Maybe that’s from mortal sin, which takes away from us sanctifying grace, or the grace that allows us to go to heaven.  We cut ourselves off from our relationship with God.  Our Mother, who gave us spiritual birth, Holy Mother Church, mourns us with all those who are close to her.  At that point, we can do nothing else for ourselves.
    But never fear: Christ is near.  Even while we cannot do anything for ourselves, Christ comes to us to call us from death to life.  He tells Holy Mother Church that she need not weep, because He has risen from the dead and destroyed death and sin.  He has the power to raise us to life again, and tells us to get up from our sin and walk away from them.  And, because of Christ’s power, we can rise up and once more praise God.  We are given new life.
    We probably more often think of the Sacrament of Penance–Confession–as a car wash.  But properly speaking, it’s more like a resurrection, a restoring to new life of someone who was dead, specially if we have committed any mortal, or deadly, sins.  We cannot take away sin ourselves.  Even the desire to ask for forgiveness is itself a gift from God and a way that He already is raising us to new life.  Our sin saddens the family of the Church, and causes them to weep for our loss.  But in Christ, all is not lost, and we can rise again.  That is why we might think of the Sacrament of Penance like a second baptism, a new rising to life for those who are dead, not because of original sin, but because of personal sins.  St. Jerome calls it is a second plank to which we grasp on, after the shipwreck of the loss of the state of grace.  
    So see in the desire for confession Christ coming near to you and starting to raise you to new life.  Holy Mother Church desires you to be fully alive, which, as St. Irenaeus says, is also the glory of God.  Christ comes to you and calls you to stand up and walk away from sin.  May the grace and mercy of God call you to new life and the wholeness that are the gifts of the Resurrection of Christ: who with the Father and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns for ever and ever.  Amen.  

Believing and Belonging

Twenty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time
    All too often, we can be tempted to fall into the temptation that all that really matters is, to use a phrase, me and Jesus.  Some of my favorite country artists have songs to this effect.  Josh Turner sings, “There ain’t nothing that can’t be done by me and God. / Ain’t nobody gonna come between me and God.”  And Brad Paisley sings, “Me and Jesus got our own thing goin’ / Me and Jesus got it all worked out. / Me and Jesus got our own thing goin’/ and we don’t need anybody to tell us what it’s all about.”  And certainly, we do need to have a personal relationship or connection with Jesus.  

    But on 21 September 2010, then-Archbishop Timothy Dolan told the sixth-annual Los Angeles Catholic Prayer Breakfast: 
 

Jesus did not ask, “Saul, why do you persecute my people?” or “Why do you persecute my church?”  Jesus asked, “Why do you persecute me?”…We are living in an era where people believe in Christ, but not in his Church.  They want the king, but not the kingdom; they want to believe without belonging; they want the faith, but not the faithful.  But for the committed Catholic, the answer to that is ‘no can do.’  Jesus and the Church are one.

In other words, we are in this together; it’s not just me and Jesus. 
    And we hear that message in our readings today.  We hear about the principle of solidarity, that we have a responsibility for each other.  Ezekiel the prophet is the “watchman for the house of Israel.”  His duty is to warn the wicked to repent, otherwise not only will they die for their sins, but he will be responsible.  If, however, the Ezekiel warns the wicked and they do not repent, they will die, but Ezekiel will save himself.
    St. Paul, too, reminds us that God commands us to love one another.  In fact, all the commandments about how we should act come down to the command to love our neighbor as ourselves.  And when we love our neighbor, we fulfill the law.
    Maybe solidarity, our share connection to each other, makes the most sense for married couples.  When you celebrated the Sacrament of Holy Matrimony, you made a commitment that your life no longer only concerned you.  From that point on, your life intertwined with your spouse, first, and then your children.  Their happiness is yours; their suffering is yours; their salvation impacts your salvation.  
    But while St. Thomas Aquinas rightly teaches that our love has different levels (you have a higher responsibility to care for those closest to you than those who are not as close), we still are called to love our neighbor, even when our neighbor isn’t a spouse or family member, or even a friend.  Pope St. John Paul II wrote in his Encyclical, Sollicitudo rei socialis that solidarity is not a “feeling of vague compassion or shallow distress at the misfortunes of so many people, both near and far.  On the contrary, it is a firm and persevering determination to commit oneself to the common good.  That is to say the good of all and of each individual, because we are all really responsible for all.”  I am my brother’s keeper, in response to Cain’s famous question.  In a less powerful way, but still truly, when he succeeds, I succeed; when he fails, I fail.  I still have primary responsibility for myself and my family, but my actions towards others impact me, whether I notice the impact or not.
    This even extends to what we can call fraternal correction, which we hear about in the Gospel today.  Our Lord doesn’t pretend that all of his disciples will always get along.  He knows that, as we’re concerned for each other because we are each other’s keeper, we will sometimes need to correct each other in order to preserve unity in the truth in the Body of Christ, the Church.  
    The key to fraternal correction is charity.  One can give correction without truly seeking the good of the other.  In fact, giving correction can easily become a power trip of me vs. you masquerading as right vs. wrong.  But when we correct others, we need to do so with preparation in prayer first, and with charity throughout the process.  Still, because we are connected, we may need to correct others and let them know if they are falling short of living the Gospel.
    Fraternal correction becomes most difficult with family.  Sometimes it may take someone outside family to do the actual correction.  But even if we can’t correct because of a lack of charity or we have a good sense that the other will not listen to us, we should pray for that person.
    The key is that we are all connected to each other, especially Catholics with each other.  In the Most Blessed Sacrament of the Eucharist, we who are many are united with Christ, and therefore with each other.  We call the Eucharist Holy Communion because we have union with Christ first and then each other.  But this is only true if we believe the fullness of what Christ has taught and live in accord with how Christ and His Mystical Body, the Church, teaches us.  That is why Catholics living contrary to the major teachings of the Church and non-Catholics cannot receive Holy Communion: they are not in union with us.  [Waylon, part of the great joy today in you receiving your first Holy Communion, is that you will have a new form of union with Christ, who loves you so much that He wants to be closer to you than any other person will be.  But, in order to keep that union with Christ, you will need to follow Him and make sure you keep returning to Mass each Sunday and holyday with your family.  Only when we seek to grow in friendship with Christ each week and when we live as He taught us can we truly say that we have union with Christ and receive all the graces that Christ wants to give us through this sacrament].
    Our individual relationship with Jesus is important.  But it’s not just me and Jesus (or, to be grammatically correct, Jesus and I).  If I am joined to Christ through Holy Baptism, then I am also joined to every other baptized person.  And if I am part of Christ, then I love and show concern for all those whom God loves, that is, everyone, to the extent that I am able.  If we want the king, we also have to take the kingdom; to believe, we must also belong; to have the faith, we also have to take the faithful.  Jesus and His Church are one.