"But for Wales?"

Thirty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

Fr. Mychal Judge

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

St. Thomas More

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

Healing and Thanksgiving

 Twenty-eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time
    While it’s not November yet, based upon our first reading and Gospel, it could be fitting to set the roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing (or dressing; however you call it), cranberry sauce, and corn out on the table, because the evident theme to these readings is thanksgiving.  Naaman gives thanks to God for his healing, and the Samaritan leper gives thanks to Christ for his healing.  So thanksgiving is certainly part of the readings and part of the message that God is communicating through His Word.
    But besides thanksgiving, there is another theme that is prevalent in both the first reading and the Gospel: healing.  Healing is what led to giving thanks to God in both readings that I mentioned.  Naaman had leprosy, and so did, obviously the ten lepers.  What else is common?  In both cases, the healing comes from God through a very ordinary means.  Naaman is told to wash in the Jordan River; the ten lepers are told to go show themselves to the priests (which is how the community could be sure, according to the law of Moses, that the leprosy had been healed).  There was no special drink or salve.  They didn’t have to find some rare flower with healing properties, or do extraordinary feats of strength to be healed: they were all healed in ordinary ways.
    We say “thank you” when someone has done something for us or given us something.  This very Mass is an act of thanksgiving, united to the thanksgiving sacrifice of Christ on the cross.  And this Mass not only thanks God, but also has the opportunity to heal us in very ordinary ways.
    But do we seek God’s healing?  If a doctor were to give us a prescription that alleviated our suffering or took care of our symptoms, we would say thank you, since we no longer have to go through pain or illness.  God offers us, not only healing of body (which still sometimes miraculously happens), but especially healing of soul: healing of the wounds that afflict us from injuries we have taken from family and/or friends over the years.

    We are now engaged in a spiritual battle to protect all life, including that in the womb.  Bishop Boyea has asked us to pray a daily Rosary through election day for the defeat of Proposal 3.  We should vote no on Proposal 3, because it would make abortion on demand available, even up to right before the delivery; because it would allow the butchering of a baby inside the womb (what we antiseptically call “partial-birth abortion”); and because minors could obtain abortions without their parents knowledge, among other evils of the proposal.  
    But I have heard stories, and I’m sure they have happened, of people walking out of homilies, or walking out of talks that remind people how horrible abortion is.  Most of the accounts I have heard have the people walking out being women.  And as I thought about healing, I thought about the almost 630,000 women in the US who had abortion in 2019 (the latest US stats I could find).  
    I have no doubt that women who have had an abortion feel deep spiritual, emotional, and psychological pain.  I have no doubt that listening to someone speak about how wrong an abortion is can be a struggle, because that person is having to relive the pain and is being confronted with truth, a truth that no one can escape: that the direct, intentional killing of a human being, no matter how developed, is a grave sin.  That sin causes pain; it causes one to be wounded.  And sometimes it seems easier to ignore the pain, ignore the wound, than to get treatment for it.  
    The good news is that Jesus came to save, He did not come to condemn.  Yes, Jesus calls for conversion, for changing our lives so that we say no to evil and yes to good.  But if we have evil in our past (and everyone does), Christ can heal us of that evil, and the wounds that the evil caused.  We don’t have to carry those wounds with us any longer.  Healing is possible, the healing that leads to thanksgiving, just like it did in the first reading and Gospel.
    One woman was relating to me her story that she had procured an abortion.  She felt like she had no other choice, even though she knew, in her heart, that it was wrong.  But she went through with it because she felt trapped.  Eventually she had a conversion, and asked God’s forgiveness for what she had done.  That night, she had a dream of her unborn child, who was rejoicing in heaven, and the child told the mother that she forgave her.  That mother felt such relief; her wound was healed.  
    To any woman here who has had an abortion: God loves you and wants you to be whole and healed.  He doesn’t want you to carry around the burden of what you did.  God wants to set you free from that pain and guilt.  To any person here who knows someone who has gotten an abortion: remind them of God’s love for them, and that God doesn’t want them to be in pain, but to be healed and to be made whole by God’s forgiveness, available to us through the Sacrament of Penance.  Do not say it with judgment, but only with the love of Christ, who calls all sinners to Himself, no matter what the sin.  
    Healing leads to giving thanks to God.  Whatever your wounds, whatever your pain.  Bring it to God and let Him heal you.  Sometimes it happens in the most ordinary ways.