Keeping the Past in the Past

Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  In the spring of my senior year of high school, my friend group decided to go out to breakfast after our last final exam of high school.  The exam started at 8 or so, and finished by 10.  The restaurant we decided to frequent wasn’t far from the school.  We all got in our cars and drove there individually.  For whatever reason, even though I knew where I was going, I followed another car that did not.  It was able to get over into the far right lane of a four lane, one way highway and turn into a parking lot to go back on a perpendicular street.  I, however, was in the second lane from the right, and panicked a little.  So, without much thought and without looking, I just decided to make a right turn into a parking lot from my current lane.  I heard the screeching of tires, the honking of a horn, and my adrenaline rushed through my body.  Somehow, no doubt due to my guardian angel who was working extra that morning, the car I had just cut off did not hit me, and I was able to turn back towards the restaurant and arrive safely, albeit with a heart rate that was more congruent with sprinting a 200-meter race.

    We all have things we’re not proud of in our past, things that we would do differently if we could.  St. Paul was no exception.  He wrote to the Corinthians that he was the least of the Apostles and not even worthy to be called an Apostle because, before his conversion, he persecuted God’s holy Church.  If we think back, the Acts of the Apostles makes very clear that Saul of Tarsus–who started going by Paul after his conversion, especially with his work among the Greeks, since Saul was a very Jewish name and Paul was more Gentile–consented to the stoning of St. Stephen, and had been arresting Jews for proclaiming that Jesus was the Messiah, the Christ.  He was, to use a mafia term, the enforcer for the Pharisees, and was a Pharisee himself.
    But, St. Paul, whom St. Thomas Aquinas does and we can refer to as the Apostle, continued: “But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace to me has not been ineffective.”  Paul did not ignore his past, but neither did he let it define his present.  He acknowledged his past, but recognized that the grace of God had changed him, and he was no longer that man from his past.
    We all have a past.  Maybe it’s bad driving, like in my example from the beginning of this homily.  Maybe it’s something not that bad.  Maybe it’s something far worse.  We cannot change the past, but we shouldn’t live in the past, either.  God does not want us to allow our past sins to control our present and our future.  If we repent from them and convert, that is, turn towards God, our past can remain and education for us, rather than a life-sentence of guilt.  

Dr. Anthony Fauci at a Senate Hearing

    Of course, the first step is acknowledging our past sins.  Forgiveness and conversion only happen when we acknowledge that we have done wrong.  If we pretend like we’re perfect, God’s mercy finds no room in us, and so it cannot change us.  St. Paul, when writing to the people of Corinth didn’t say, “On the advice of council, I respectfully decline to answer based upon my my rights under the Fifth Amendment to the Constitution,” like Dr. Fauci did at the Senate Hearing on 29 July.  Paul acknowledged that he persecuted God’s Church, God’s people, with whom God so identifies that Christ said to him on the road to Damascus, “‘Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?’”  But Paul didn’t stay in his past.  He then also acknowledged that God’s grace had done a mighty work, which allowed Paul to preach the Gospel.
    So if we have acknowledged our sins and confessed them, we don’t forget them, but we don’t live in them, either.  The enemy often likes to remind us of our past sins.  But if our sins our forgiven, then in God’s eyes, the sins themselves are gone.  Might there be consequences for those sins that come with us into the present?  Sure.  But the sins are gone.  As King David sang in Psalm 102: “As far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our sins from us.”  If we have made a good confession, God’s not coming back to us to remind us of all the bad things we have done.  We will have to deal with the temporal effects due to sin, either on this earth (which the saints say is much preferred and much easier) or in Purgatory (which is still not bad, because Purgatory always leads to heaven).  But the sins themselves are gone. 
    We, though, have to accept that forgiveness.  Some scholars say that the sin against the Holy Spirit is not being willing to accept God’s forgiveness, which is why it is the only unforgivable sin.  If we don’t accept God’s mercy, then God won’t force it on us, which leaves us in sin, rather than restoring us to grace, as God desires.  
    We cannot erase our past, much as we would like to at times.  We should learn from our past, especially when we have sinned and done wrong.  But we should not drag our past into the present, at least not when we’ve given those sins to God through sacramental confession.  That is a yoke too heavy to carry, a yoke the Lord does not desire for us.  He desires us to carry His yoke, which is mercy, a burden truly light and easy.  Open yourselves up to God’s mercy and live in the freedom of those forgiven by God: the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

The Catholic Sense of Death

Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed

    While we, as Catholics, are used to the Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed, more commonly known as All Souls’ Day, it doesn’t often fall on a Sunday.  Sundays are little Easters, so it might seem odd to focus on those who are dead.  But Purgatory, the abode where the souls who are not ready for heaven, but have not rejected God, precisely stands as a possibility because of the Resurrection of Christ.  And Purgatory gives hope to all those who are not perfected at the time of their death, and therefore are not ready for heaven, where we see God, Holiness Himself, face to face.  
    We cannot deny the pain and sorrow of death.  When someone we love dies, we know that we won’t see that person on earth again.  And in the face of that harsh reality, tears naturally follow.  But as those who know that Jesus rose from the dead, our grief should be eased a bit by the fact that death is not the end.  That’s the power of the Resurrection of Christ: death is not the end.  That’s the power that the martyrs held as they didn’t fear to suffer for Christ, because they knew that the world threw all pain and suffering at Christ in His crucifixion, but Christ came out victorious in the end on Easter Sunday.  
    But it’s also the power that should help us who remain after someone dies, because our faith tells us that they simply have gone on a long journey to a place where we can’t stay connected through a meet-up, phone call, text, FaceTime, or Zoom, but where we can stay connected through prayer.  Just as we are somewhat sad, but still have hope when a family member or friend goes on a cruise and we can’t contact them with earthly technology, so we should have the same hope when someone we love dies, because death is not the end, but a transition to a new form of life.  
    But as Catholics we can often act like non-believers who treat death as the absolute end.  We forget our faith and the central teaching of our religion, the resurrection, and we do what St. Paul tells us not to do: weep as those who have no hope.  I’m not saying we need to celebrate every time someone dies, though some saints have reminded their family and friends that life will be better for them in heaven, since they followed Christ on earth.  Really, we should only mourn when someone was not prepared to die and did not follow Christ, though even then we commend those people to the mercy of God.  
    Purgatory also gives us hope because while we strive for perfection, if you’re anything like me, you sometimes fall short.  God is perfect holiness, and if you ever read through the Old Testament, you’ll notice that no one is really excited to see God.  It’s not because they disliked God, but because they knew, often better than we do, that the holiness of God destroys any sin, like light destroys darkness.  So to be in heaven, in the presence of God’s perfect holiness, means that we have nothing sinful left in us, otherwise we would be destroyed.  Or, if we think about God’s holiness like heat, it’s so hot that our sinfulness would immediately burst into flames.
    So if we die in a state of grace, that is, not aware of any mortal sins or any rejections of God, but we still have sin, we have the opportunity to still make it to heaven after we have been purified in Purgatory.  It’s not perfect holiness (and heaven) or hell.  We have the chance to still make it to heaven even if we have not fully configured our life to Christ.
    Having said that, Christ still calls us to put sin behind us and make His life our own while on earth.  Our goal should always be heaven.  If our goal is Purgatory, then we’re aiming too low, like a sports team that only hopes to make it to the playoffs, not win the National Championship.  Plus, we often don’t achieve the goals we set for ourselves.  If we set our goal as heaven and fall short, we do have Purgatory.  But if we set our goal as Purgatory and fall short, there’s no safety net, and our eternity could be the eternal suffering of hell.  
    What is also worth celebrating on a Sunday is that, because of the Resurrection and death is not the end, just like we can help each other while on earth to get closer to heaven, we can help those who have died and whom God purifies in Purgatory by His grace.  The souls in Purgatory are not just left to be purified until God has perfected them.  We can assist them in a variety of different ways and speed their way into heaven.  
    And this is something that we have also forgotten as Catholics.  Not only are we worse, after COVID, of even going to funerals (and I know that some employers are less willing to allow employees to attend funerals), but we especially drop the ball after the funeral.  We take on the mentality either that the person is dead and there’s nothing else we can do, or that the person has certainly made it to heaven and no longer needs our help.  Both of those approaches are antithetical to our Catholic faith.
    Because death is not the end, we can suffer for the benefit of souls in Purgatory.  Maybe it’s an illness, or pain, or just a frustrating situation, but we can offer it up, as the sisters used to say, and speed someone’s path to heaven.  During these first days of November we focus on special opportunities to gain indulgences for the souls in Purgatory, but there are numerous opportunities throughout the year to gain an indulgence, not only for our own salvation, but to help a soul in Purgatory get to heaven a bit faster.  For example, under the usual conditions, spending 30+ minutes in Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament is a plenary or full indulgence; saying the Canticle of Mary (the Magnificat) is partial indulgence; using an object of religious devotion that has been blessed by a priest is a partial indulgence; the vocal  recitation of the Rosary in a church or as a family, or a partial indulgence anywhere else; reading Sacred Scripture to grow in holiness is a partial indulgence, unless it’s 30 minutes or more, in which case it’s a plenary indulgence.  None of those require going to Rome or a Jubilee Year (though there are also indulgences attached to the Jubilee Year).  
    Lastly, Masses can be said for the soul of a person who died.  When a Mass is said for a deceased person, the merits of Jesus’ salvific work is applied to purify the soul of that person.  The practice of saying Mass for a person enjoyed popularity with older Catholics, but is important for every person.  And the cost to schedule Mass for the intention of a person is only $10.  So it’s not outside the range for even a young family with kids.  But what a powerful way to help a person in Purgatory!
    As we celebrate All Souls’ Day today, it’s good to have reminders about our faith in the Resurrection, and the effect it has upon how we mourn those who have gone before us marked with the sign of faith.  May our faith in the Resurrection of Christ not only remain in our minds and hearts, but truly affect how we live our lives as Catholics and the choices we make to assist the souls in Purgatory. 

Are You Saved?

First Sunday of Lent
    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen].  Are you saved?  This is a question that we can get from some of our Protestant brothers and sisters when we encounter them.  Or we might hear them talking about how they were saved on a particular date or at a particular age.  A week ago yesterday I attended the funeral of the mother of the Flint Post Administrator for the Michigan State Police.  She was baptist, and the preacher asked that very question to us, and talked about how Nadine was saved at a particular age when she accepted Jesus as her Lord and Savior.
    We as Catholics don’t use that language.  And so when we’re asked, perhaps we don’t know how to answer.  But as we begin Lent, it’s a good thing to explore.  St. Peter in his first letter [today] talks about being saved by baptism, which was prefigured by Noah being saved in the ark from the great Flood.  In terms of baptism, we can point to a day in which we were saved from original sin and became a child of God in the Son of God and, therefore, a member of the Church.  Baptism is a one-time event because it forever claims us for God and washes away, not only original sin, but any other sins that we have committed up to that point (if we’re not baptized as an infant, who wouldn’t have any personal sins that would need to be wiped away).  When it comes to baptism, we can rightly say that we were saved on that day.
    However, baptism isn’t only about a day.  Baptism begins a life of following Christ.  It’s not as if that one day means that we never have to worry about salvation after that.  Even though original sin is washed away, we still retain concupiscence, a desire for lesser goods.  While many Christians reject the idea of concupiscence after baptism, it seems quite obvious from human existence.  We probably can’t count the number of times even in just one day that we are tempted to do things that we know we shouldn’t do.  It doesn’t mean we have to give in to those temptations.  Through baptism, we have all the graces we need to avoid all mortal sins throughout our life.  But we still want what we shouldn’t want, as St. Paul himself describes.  Adam and Eve, who had no sin at first, were still tempted to reject God, and their choice to reject God affected all of us.  And Satan even tempted our Lord in the desert, as the Gospel for the First Sunday of Lent describes.  Our Lord had no sin whatsoever, and yet, due to His human nature, Satan thought he could get Christ to give in to lesser goods, just as Satan had tempted our first parents. 
    So, in this sense, we can say that we are being saved, in as much as we are choosing each day, more or less, to follow Christ.  To the extent that we follow Him, we are participating more in the salvation that God first offered to us in Holy Baptism.  To the extent that we choose lesser goods, things that we shouldn’t do, we are participating less in the salvation that God first offered us in Holy Baptism.
    And that leads to the last aspect of salvation for us as Catholics: we hope to be saved.  Life is our time of accepting or rejecting God and the promises of Holy Baptism to live as a disciple.  Each day we move closer to or farther away from eternal life in heaven.  There is no staying put or coasting.  But at some point, we will have cemented our decision because we won’t have any more decisions to make because we’re dead.  At that point, our life will witness to whether or not we accepted the salvation that God offered us in Holy Baptism and we will receive our eternal reward in Heaven (or the time preparing for Heaven in Purgatory) or our enteral punishment in Hell.  Once we die, there are no more second chances.  And so we hope that the decisions we make throughout our life show that we have accepted the salvation that Christ won for us by His Passion, Death, and Resurrection.  Only then will we know for sure if we are saved, though we have hope, because of baptism and because of being in a state of grace, that is, without mortal sin, at the time of our death. 

Powers Catholic Varsity Hockey Team

    While all analogies limp, think of it like being a hockey player.  When you first were able to skate on your own and hold a stick, you were, in a very beginning sense, a hockey player.  Sure, you didn’t have the ability to skate all that well, or the power from your muscles to push the puck far, but you were at the beginning.  Later, you developed more skills, and grew in your ability as a hockey player.  You also had times where you could decide to follow your desire to be a hockey player, or you could have chosen something else to do and abandon hockey.  Even for those of you who won the State Championship last year, you would each probably acknowledge ways that you can still grow as a hockey player.  Maybe we could, using this analogy, say that making to the NHL means that you are truly a hockey player, something some of you may hope to achieve someday.  So you were a hockey player when you just started out; you are still working on being a hockey player now; and you hope to truly be a hockey player in the NHL someday. 
    But for all of us, hockey players and non-hockey players alike, our goal is to continue to accept the gift of salvation that God offers us each day.  And our Lenten practices of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving are meant to train us in a special way during this time of year to be able to choose the higher goods of following God’s will, and say no to the lesser goods of following only our will.  May those things that we have given up and the extra things we’re doing during Lent; may the extra prayers we say as we talk more and listen more to God; and may the generosity that we show to those in need during our Lenten season continue us on the path of salvation that God has set out for us [the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen].

Patience with Us and Others

Resumed 5th Sunday after Epiphany
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  I am a perfectionist.  I strive always (even if not always wholeheartedly) to do tasks correctly, without any errors.  In some ways it’s virtuous, but in other ways it is a thorn in my side.  But every human person, whether a perfectionist or not, desires perfection.  That desire for the perfect is really a desire for God, implanted in our soul.  It is, as St. Augustine of Hippo says, that our hearts are restless until they rest in the perfection of God.
    But if this is so, why the reality that the Lord’s parable points to today?  Why does God allow weeds to grow up among the wheat?  Why not deal with evil as it comes up, when it is smaller, rather than waiting until the end to deal with it?
    St. Peter gives us some guidance in his second epistle.  He writes about how some are wondering if Christ ever will return, because it’s not happening as quickly as they would like.  The first pontiff responds, “The Lord does not delay his promise, as some regard ‘delay,’ but he is patient with you, not wishing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance.”  In the mysterious plan of God, weeds can become wheat.  The smallest opening to God’s grace can allow one to move from being a sinner on the highway to hell to a saint climbing the stairway to heaven.  If, by the power of God’s grace, bread can become the Body of Christ, then it should not surprise us that, by the power of God’s grace, a limb separated from the Mystical Body of Christ, the Church, can be restored to that perfect society.  So God allows the wicked chances to repent.

    But we should not only look outside at the world and see weeds sown amongst wheat.  We should not only look to the Mystical Body of Christ, which is a corpus permixtum, a body mixed with saints and sinners, as St. Augustine says in his work, The City of God.  But we should also look to ourselves and our own soul, which is itself a corpus permixtum, a mixture of good and evil.
    We can say with St. Paul, “I do not do what I want, but I do what I hate….I do not do the good I want, but I do the evil I do not want.”  We are not always, as St. Paul encourages us to be, “holy,” or acting with “heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving on another.”  We are not always ruled by the peace of Christ; we are not always thankful to God or to others.  Our lives are not always governed by the Word of God.
    And yet, God is patient with us.  He gives us time to repent.  He gives us time to change our ways to become more like His.  He always gives us sufficient grace to choose the good, but our wills do not always see the benefit of living according to Christ’s rule for our life, though it be an easy yoke, and a burden that is light.
    And that patience even extends after we die.  Purgatory is a dogma of the Church.  It is part of the reality of the afterlife.  And it demonstrates God’s mercy for us, who are mixed fields.  Now, to be sure, if some of the types of weeds in our soul are deadly, then they cannot enter, as we hear from the Apocalypse of St. John: “Then the angel showed me the river of life-giving water…On either side of the river grew the tree of life that produces fruit twelve times a year, once each month; the leaves of the trees serve as medicine for the nations.  Nothing accursed will be found there anymore.”  If we die in a state of mortal sin, we cannot go to Purgatory or Heaven.  The Catechism of the Catholic Church states in paragraph 1035 states, “Immediately after death the souls of those who die in a state of mortal sin descend to hell.” 
    But should we not have deadly weeds in our souls, but smaller venial weeds, God is patient with us and allows those “who die in God’s grace and friendship, but [who are] still imperfectly purified…[to] undergo purification, so as to achieve the holiness necessary to enter the joy of heaven.”  He does not exclude us from the Beatific Vision if, after our life, we have not achieved the perfection proper to our nature.  As long as we have not made a conscious choice to reject Him through a mortal sin, God can extend His patience to us even after we die, so that we can be united to Him for eternity in heaven. 
    I have said this before, but it’s worth repeating: the fact that Purgatory exists as an example of God’s patience and mercy should not make us aim for Purgatory.  Go to the heights, as Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati says, and aim for heaven.  Because at least if you don’t quite make it, you can still make it to Purgatory.  But if you don’t quite make Purgatory, there’s no consolation prize, but only wailing and gnashing of teeth. 

Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati

    And besides God’s patience spurring us on to utilize the opportunities for growth in holiness for ourselves so that we can go to heaven, God also invites us to be patient with others.  If God is patient with us, so we should extend that patience to others.  And that only happens if we love others.  How many times does a parent put up with those small, but frequent, bad decisions of their children (or sometimes even larger bad decisions as they go through adolescence)?  They discipline their children to help them to know the consequences of doing what is wrong, but they don’t throw them out on the street after the first time they hit a sibling, tell a lie, or break curfew.  Because of the love that parents has for their children, they endure multiple bad decisions and keep working to achieve the desired good behavior.  God does the same for us because of His great love for us.  We, too, are called to love with God’s love, which we call charity, as best as we can, not only with our family members, but even to those whom we do not know.  Patience is, as my spiritual director has told and tells me, and exercise of love for the other.
    The desire for perfection is good.  God calls us to be perfect, that is, to follow His will in our lives according to our human nature.  And our desire for the perfect comes from our desire for God, who is the perfect source of all goodness.  Still, when we see a lack of perfection, whether it be from others or in ourselves, we should not despair, nor should we go on Sherman’s march to the sea, destroying everything along the way.  The Lord invites us today to have patience, to mimic His own patience with us, because change can happen; weeds can become wheat; any sinner can become a saint.  And sometimes the sinner just needs a little more time to repent.  God is patient with us; be patient with others, so that we, and they, may enjoy the eternal peace of heaven, where God reigns eternally: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

True Dichotomy

Seventh Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  So often we’re nudged in the direction of a false dichotomy.  That phrase, false dichotomy, might sound foreign, might even sound like an obscure body part, but it’s the wrong assertion that there are only two choices.  For example, a person might say, “You have to vote for a Republican or a Democrat,” when, in fact, there are other political parties for whom you can vote.  Or, less weighty, you have to decide whether or not you can put pineapple on pizza.  As I tend to be the pop culture reference guy, it’s like Anakin in “Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith” saying to Obi Wan, “‘If you’re not with me, then you’re my enemy.’” 

    But not all dichotomies are false.  Scripture, and especially our epistle today, talks about the dichotomy between sin and grace, death and life.  Sin brings death, grace brings life.  And St. Paul talks about the Romans had previously been slaves to sin and death, but now were raised to life through grace, “in Christ Jesus our Lord.” 
    But this is not just St. Paul.  It’s the overarching theme in the Scriptures, from Genesis to Revelation.  In Genesis, after God creates everything good, culminating in the creation of man and woman in His image, our first parents have life.  They are living in the grace of God.  But then, Eve, followed by Adam, disobey God; they sin.  And by sinning, they welcome death into the world.  They are expelled from the Garden of Eden, and separated from the Tree of Life, so that they experience death. 
    And so throughout Genesis, we see that when evil is allowed to fester, it leads to death.  Think of the Flood and the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah.  But, when people follow God, they find life.  Think of Abram leaving Ur because God calls him to go to Canaan, and then becoming Abraham, the father of many nations.  The same could be said for Exodus, where God leads His people from slavery to sin in Egypt to freedom in following His law in the Promised Land.  Of course, throughout the journey, some disobey God, and they find death.  While others, like Joshua and Caleb, follow God, even when unpopular, and they enter the Promised Land.
    This same overarching theme repeats itself in the Books of Joshua and Judges, and then with the Kings of Israel.  The prophetic books are basically warnings from God through His prophets to live according to God’s will, because if they continue in their sin, they will die.  This culminates in the dispersion of the Northern Kingdom of Israel after they start worshiping false gods and oppressing those for whom God has a special love: widows and orphan; and the exile of the Southern Kingdom of Judah to Babylon after they, too, engage in idolatry and mistreatment of the poor and vulnerable.
    Of course, nowhere does this dichotomy appear clearer than with our Lord, who calls Himself, “‘the Way and the Truth and the Life.’”  To follow Him is to have life; to reject Him is to choose death.  The Savior even takes our rejection and the consequence of that rejection–death–upon Himself in His crucifixion, but because He was faithful to God He rises on the third day.  And the rest of the New Testament unpacks that choice between life and death, and helps those who follow the Lord to know what choosing life looks like to the nascent Church.  The Acts of the Apostles, St. Paul’s epistles, the epistles of St. Peter, St. Jude, and St. John all talk about how we can have eternal life and reject the death of sin.
    And at the end of the Bible in the Book of Revelation, we see the cosmic battle between good and evil, a battle that God wins convincingly.  But the Spirit also warns the churches that they have to continue to follow God to have that life.  It was not enough to choose life once or earlier; life must be chosen each day.  In the end, sin and death are defeated forever, and the fullness of the reign of God shines forth, with eternal life for those who remained faithful (and eternal punishment for those who rejected God).
    So which do we choose: life or death?  By our fruits, Christ tells us, you can tell what we choose.  Each time we sin, especially grave sins, we invite death into our lives.  Each time we follow God, we invite eternal life into our lives.  Indeed, though we often think of the judgment as Christ telling us where to go, either to Hell, or to Purgatory or Heaven, really we make that choice each day of our lives.  While the just are surprised that they served Christ through service to the poor, and the wicked are likewise surprised that they ignored Christ through ignoring the poor, they knew that they had served or ignored the poor.  In that way, their salvation or damnation was not a surprise, because they knew their choices, and whether or not they choose to do follow what God had instructed for eternal life.  Sometimes it was one act of following the Lord at the end of one’s life, like St. Dismas, the good thief, who received paradise for his defense of Christ crucified.  At other times it was more choices for the Lord, with some rejections sprinkled in, like St. Peter.  Or, in a negative sense, one great act of betrayal from Judas led him to despair of any chance of salvation.  But Dismas nor Peter nor Judas was ignorant of the choices they made and how each could affect eternal salvation.
    So where will we come out in this great drama and battle between life and death?  By baptism Christ claimed us for Himself and eternal life, and gives us the grace to stay faithful to the choices of life each day.  Each day the enemy works to enslave us once more to death.  Neither Christ nor the devil chooses for us.  We choose if we want death or life.  Praised be to God who gives us all the graces necessary so that we can accept the gift that salvation is, won for us by Jesus Christ, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit is God, for ever and ever. 
    

Judging Books and Wine

 Seventh Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  One of the early lessons we learn as a child is never judge a book by its cover.  There are many stories (some true, some invented) which seem to give credence to this maxim.  I don’t read a ton, but I can tell you that I often decide whether or not I want to pick-up a book by the cover.  There was also a story a year or so back about how wine labels have changed to try to encourage people (especially those of the female persuasion) to buy the bottle without knowing what the wine tastes like.  
    Our Lord seems to be saying that we should judge a book by its cover.  After all, good fruit equals a good tree; bad fruit equals a bad tree.  Doesn’t seem too complicated, and seems to make perfect sense.  And I’m certainly not here to contradict the words of the Son of God.

    Having said that, it’s not quite as simple as: doing bad things makes you a bad person.  Pope St. John Paul II reminded us: “We are not the sum of our weaknesses and failures, we are the sum of the Father’s love for us and our real capacity to become the image of His Son, Jesus.”  Which of us hasn’t sinned?  And yet, we do not want to be defined by our sins, but by the love of God.  
    Even St. Paul today in the epistle spoke about the conversion of the Romans, how they had been slaves to sin, but they were now slaves of God.  If St. Paul would have defined the Romans by how they had acted before their conversion, he would have simply written them off as damned.  But instead he called them to new life in Christ.  So how do we understand the words that we heard in the Gospel?  
    Part of it, I believe, has to do with a reading of the other parables of our Lord, rather than this one.  In another place, Jesus talks about the weeds sown among the wheat.  He says to let the weeds go until harvest time, when they can be sorted from the wheat.  That sorting would only take place when the “fruit” of the stalk of wheat had come to fruition, when the harvest was ready.  But, at that point, you would be able to tell the good fruit from the bad fruit, the weeds from the wheat.  And perhaps this is what our Lord means when He talks about He says that we can judge a tree by its fruit: it is only at the end that it becomes apparent what the fruit is.
    Think about it in terms of your own life.  Unless you are the Blessed Mother, you have, like me, had moments in life of which you are not proud, where you wandered away from the love of God and His law.  At that moment, you and I were not bearing good fruit.  So, perhaps we should be cut down and thrown into the fire.  And yet, God did not do that.  God was patient with us, like the farmer in the Gospel parable who sees the fig tree not bearing fruit, but waits one more year to see if it bears fruit.  God is patient with us so that we can stop being slaves of the flesh, slaves of immorality, and start being not only slaves, but friends of God.  
    Does this mean that we rest on our laurels, and just coast until the end of life?  It is interesting that, no matter what times weekday Masses are celebrated, it does tend to be older people who attend.  There is a certain sobriety that comes when you realize that you have more years behind you than you have in front of you.  But that seriousness, that wisdom of being a senior, can be had by us now, and not just about going to Mass.  The danger with putting off true and deep conversion until the end is that we never know when our particular end will be.  I could die any day, and Jesus could return any day.  If I am in the habit of delaying my conversion, the change of my heart for our Lord, then I could be caught unawares, and the judgment may come to me like a thief in the night.  
    Each day we are invited to, as St. Paul says in his letter to the Philippians, “work out our salvation with fear and trembling.”  We do battle and put the old man to death, while trying to be receptive to the grace of God which makes us new men and women in Christ.  Inasmuch as we do this, we are, likely bearing good fruit, which is a good sign.  Inasmuch as I strive for holiness by the grace of God, I am pointing towards heaven.  And, making a regular habit of confession, and perhaps knowing a very short but good act of contrition in case of extreme danger, God knows that I am doing my best to stop being a slave of sin.
    But even in our attempts to follow Jesus, that sin of apathy, or we might say sloth, can creep in.  ‘I am doing what I can, and I may not be perfect, but at least I’ll get to Purgatory,’ we might say to ourselves.  As one professor in seminary told me, humans often have a way of not getting their target, so aim for heaven, in case you fall a bit short.  Don’t aim for Purgatory, because if you miss, well, you get the picture.  
    Further, our Lord reminds us that lip service is not enough.  Words are cheap, and actions speak louder than words.  Even the demons know the truth, but they reject it.  We can know the truth, but do we embrace it?  Do we strive to go by the grace of God on the narrow way to salvation, or do we figure that, because we are in the Church that Jesus founded and have received the sacraments, we don’t have to worry or respond to the gift of salvation each day?  
    “The wages of sin is death,” St. Paul tells us (in grammar that only works in Greek).  If we embrace the death of sin in this life, we know what will await us in the next.  Our fruit, at the harvest of our particular judgement, will be bad.  But if we embrace the life of our Lord each day, our fruit, at the harvest of our particular judgement, will be good, and we will enjoy eternal happiness in the kingdom of God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Our Prayer Before God

Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

    In days gone by, some Catholic churches used to have a pew tax.  You would pay money to get a particular pew, or part of a pew, and it was your seat.  The most expensive pews were always the ones up front, closest to the Communion Rail, so that you could see as much as you could.  I think if we instituted a pew tax these days, the most expensive pews would be the ones in the back of the church, which people would pay more for so that they could get out earlier!
    The tax collector in today’s Gospel was at the back of the temple, but not because he wanted to get out earlier.  He chose the back because he didn’t feel worthy to approach God, because he was a sinner.  The Pharisee, on the other hand, is very confident that he is doing just fine, and, in fact, feels like he is doing much better than the tax collector. 
    As we approach November, the month in which we traditionally pray for the dead, we think of our loved ones who have died.  There’s a strange phenomenon that has taken hold in the church over the past 50 or years, and that’s making a funeral into a canonization.  You hear it in Words of Remembrance at the funeral home, and priests are sometimes the ones who perpetuate this practice in the homily: John Doe lived a good life and is in heaven now.  He did good things for the Church, loved his family, and worked hard.  He’s no longer in pain.
    To be clear, we should all hope that everyone who dies is in heaven.  We hope for the resurrection.  But what’s a bit odd is if we look toward those who are canonized saints, those whom the Church acknowledges are in heaven, they had a much different view of themselves.  The canonized saints were the first to say during their life, “I’m a sinner.  I have offended God.  My sins are an offense to God’s goodness, and I rely on His mercy.”  The people who are canonized saints were the first to tell people not to canonize them at their funeral, while those who maybe didn’t live such a heroically virtuous life are the first ones we talk about being in heaven.
    Again, our hope is that all God’s children are in heaven.  But is our attitude that of the Pharisee or the tax collector?  It was the Pharisee who said, “I go to church (temple), I pray often, I work hard, I donate to the church (temple), and I love my family.  I’m not a sinner like those other people!”  It was the tax collector who didn’t think he was worthy of the presence of God, and acknowledged how much he sinned.  Maybe the Pharisee didn’t do that many bad things; they weren’t known for big sins.  The tax collector, on the other hand, was seen as a traitor for collecting taxes for a foreign government.  And yet, the tax collector went home justified–in right relationship with God–whereas the Pharisee did not.
    I loved my grandmothers, now deceased, very much, and I had experienced a lot of love from them over my thirty-odd years of life.  Rarely, if ever, had I heard my grandmothers say a cross word; they lived a good life; they went to church.  But I still pray for them to be in heaven.  I have Masses said for them each year.  I hope that they’re in heaven, but I also know that, as much as I experienced perfection from them, they weren’t perfect, and in case they’re not in heaven, I want to do everything I can to help them to get there.  Do I think they’re in hell?  No.  But might they be in purgatory and in need of my prayers?  That could easily be the case, but even that is good, because the purification of purgatory only leads to heaven; it’s a one-way trip up.  And if they’re already in heaven, which I hope for, then I’m sure they’re sharing my prayers with someone else who needs it. 
    When there’s a tough goal, the temptation is to lower the bar so it’s more accessible.  But the great witness of the saints is that they were just like us, in so many ways, and yet they did live a saintly life; so it’s possible for each of us, we don’t have to lower the bar.  But even in their sanctity, they were acutely aware of their sins.  They didn’t paint over them, but acknowledged them and threw themselves on the mercy of God.  The temptation for us who maybe don’t live that heroically virtuous life is to pretend like we’re not sinners, we’re not that bad, because we’re not “greedy, dishonest, [or] adulterous” as the Pharisee said.  But if we aren’t living like a saint in the daily choices we make, at least we can do penance like a saint, and plead for the mercy of God.
    You already know this, maybe more acutely than others, but I’m not a saint.  I try to be, but I fail often, and often in the same ways.  I’m aiming for heaven, but I know that I don’t regularly hit the mark.  So even when I die, I’ll be buried in a purple vestment, as a way of saying that I need your prayers if I’m going to be welcomed into heaven.  I don’t have to make-up sins when I go to confession.  In my examination of conscience, they’re quite clear before my soul.  And so I try to go to confession every couple of weeks.  And every time I say Mass, in the silence after receiving Holy Communion, I make my own the prayer of the tax collector: “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me, a sinner.” 
    As we stand before God today at Mass, what is our prayer?  “God, I’m not that bad, I’m not a big sinner?”  Or “O God, be merciful to me a sinner”?

"Rebuild My Church"

Solemnity of the Dedication of St. Joseph Church

While praying at the Church of San Damiano, Francis of Assisi heard Christ speak to him from a crucifix, saying, “Francis, rebuild my church, which you can see is falling into ruin.”  Francis though that Jesus was speaking to him of the physical structure of the little church, and so he started to rebuild it, stone by stone.  But, gradually, Francis realized that Jesus meant that Francis was to rebuild not a physical structure, but the Church, the living stones of God’s temple.  

I tell that story, not because last week was the day which celebrates St. Francis on 4 October; not because our current supreme pontiff is named Francis, after St. Francis of Assisi.  I tell that story because, on this day on which we celebrate the dedication of this beautiful church, Jesus is asking us to do the same.  

Today, Jesus invites us to be rebuilt into the living stones of God’s temple in heaven.  To be honest, that’s a life-long process.  As Bishop Mengeling so often says, we’re not done yet.  We are not done being formed into those living stones until the day we die, and even then, many of us will likely still be shaped through the purification of Purgatory.  And although today is a day of rejoicing, as we look at the status of the Church, we could easily become depressed.  

While the Diocese of Lansing is doing ok, more priests are retiring or are at retirement age, than we are ordaining.  We need more men to respond to God’s call to follow Jesus as a priest and serve His people, especially through providing the Sacraments of the Eucharist and Penance, which, without priests, we do not have.  More and more families are not putting God as their first priority.  We see this through fewer couples getting married in the Church; fewer baptisms; fewer people attending Mass or practicing their faith in any way, shape, or form.  It leads so many parents and pastors to ask, “What did I do wrong?  What more was I supposed to do?”  Fewer and fewer people understand their faith and what the Church teaches.  There is confusion about marriage, about the Eucharist, about sin, even about who Jesus is and the necessity of Jesus and His Mystical Body, the Church, for salvation.  The Church, in so many ways, is in disrepair.  Before this vast undertaking, we can easily ask ourselves a question that St. Francis perhaps asked himself: what I can, an individual, do, to rebuild the Church?  The task is so great!

But Our God is a God of hope, not despair.  And so there is a way to respond to Jesus’ call to each of us to rebuild His Church.  And this divine renovation cannot happen by money; we cannot throw dollars at this problem.  The rebuilding happens with us being shaped into the living stone that God wants us to be.  The plan is the same as it was for St. Francis: become a saint.  That’s all it takes.  We tend to think of the saints as those who did extraordinary things.  And certainly there are some canonized saints who did amazing things.  But as St. Thérèse teaches us, we don’t have to do great things.  God does want us to do little things with great love.  Some God might call to do great things, but let’s all start where we can, by doing little things with great love.

The first way to respond to God’s invitation is to develop a relationship with Him.  Many of us know, at least a little, about Jesus.  But how many of us know Jesus?  You can know a lot about a person without knowing that person  The way that we start to get to know Jesus is not complicated.  Two practices suffice: daily prayer and going to Mass at least every Sunday and Holyday.  Mass is where we encounter God in a most intimate way through the Body and Blood of Jesus.  We receive God into us.  Why do we go to Mass?  Is it because of an obligation?  Is it because we want to hear good music?  Is it because we’re convinced that one of these Sundays Father Anthony is actually going to give a good homily?  Those are all things that might get us into the door, but those reasons won’t keep many of us going to Mass each Sunday and Holyday.  We go to Mass to worship God and to receive God into us.  Going to Mass for any other reason is like going to a football game for the band.  Bands are great!  I love the MSU Marching Band.  But you don’t drop the kind of money you would for a football game just for the band (though some band parents might).  The reason for going to a football game is to watch football.  All the other stuff is extra.  You have received season tickets, worth more money than all the gold in Fort Knox, to a preview of heaven and an encounter with God through sight, sound, smell, touch, and taste.  Going to Mass at least every Sunday and Holyday is a great way to start to become a saint.  Now I know that I’m preaching to the choir.  But we all know someone, maybe a friend, maybe a family member, who hasn’t been to Mass in a while.  Invite them to come back home.  Invite them to come to Mass with you.  

Daily prayer is another way to begin to become the saint that God wants us to be.  It is supposed to be the growth from our experience at Mass.  How often do you talk to your colleagues at work?  How often do you talk to your friends?  How often do you talk to your spouse or your children?  If you talk to God less than any of these people, or any others, there’s room for improvement.  The less you think you need to pray, the more you actually do.  And don’t forget to listen.  Conversations are two-way streets.

Those are two simple ways to start becoming the saint that God called each of you to be in baptism.  There are more.  But let’s start with the basics.  Then we can talk about reading Scripture regularly, sharing faith in small groups, going on yearly retreats or to the Women’s or Men’s Conferences.  There’s a lot of disrepair in the church right now.  We can easily despair.  But, if we become saints, in God’s way for us as an individual, just like St. Francis responded to God’s way for him to become a saint as an individual, then God’s church will be rebuilt.  There will be more good news.  And, most importantly, we’ll prepare ourselves to be ready to spend eternity in heaven with God, enveloped by His love with all the other people who were saints and helped to rebuild God’s church.  God is inviting you today: rebuild his Church!