All Things to All People

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Fr. Anthony and his sisters, (l-r) Amanda and Allison

    As any good parent knows, you can’t treat each child the same and expect the same results.  Each child is unique and has different personalities and means of motivation, even if there are similarities.  In my own family, all three of us children generally wanted to excel in what we did.  We generally all behaved, but we also all got into trouble in different ways.  For me, the oldest (the one whose perfection the parents kept trying to duplicate by having other children), usually simply setting out the expectation was good enough to keep me in line.  If not, a little punishment went a long way.  For the middle child, all my dad had to do was look at her the wrong way and she would start crying in penitence.  For the youngest child, telling her what to do usually led to some defiance, and then harsher punishments (she was the only one who had her mouth washed out with soap after mom told her not to say the word “punk” and she argued that it wasn't a bad word). 
    So as St. Paul says today, “I have become all things to all, to save at least some,” he is exercising good spiritual fatherhood.  He knows that each person responds to the Gospel differently, and so he had to tailor the tone and delivery of the Gospel, as well as his witness to it, to each person as best he could, so that some might convert to living as Christ has shown us.  Elsewhere in his letters he talks about using the power of the Gospel, and one can think of the miracles that God did through St. Paul (like raising a man from the dead who fell out of a window after falling asleep because St. Paul was preaching so long).  Or in another place we hear how he earned a living while preaching the Gospel (St. Paul was a tent-maker), so that they wouldn’t think he was trying to mooch off of them and get rich by preaching the Gospel. 
 

St. John Vianney

   This is still true today with my own spiritual fatherhood.  Some in this parish need strong words and the threat of divine retribution in order to change their lives.  Others are scrupulous, and don’t think that they can do anything right, that everything is a sin.  Some fall in between those two extremes.  St. John Vianney said that priests should be “a lion at the pulpit and a lamb in the confessional,” that is, strong words of preaching to bring about conversion, but gentle when a person comes to admit his or her faults to God in the Sacrament of Penance.  I may not always hit that goal, but I admit that, in my own estimation, that is the standard to which I apply myself.
    But being all things to all people in evangelization concerns not only priests.  It also applies to the lay faithful, you, in your work of sharing the Gospel in everyday life and transforming the secular world, the city of man, to be more like the heavenly world, the City of God.  Probably we all get this in principle, but do we apply it?
    When I was a seminarian I sure didn’t understand this principle.  It always perplexed me why people didn’t immediately convert after giving them a logical argument for the Catholic Church being the Church started by Jesus.  Or how self-styled Catholics could do things or promote things which were so antithetical to the Catholic faith.  To me, all a person needs is a good, rational argument, and they should convert.  And that works for some people.
    But for others, the truths of the faith are important, but only convince when they are lived out in practice.  You can give them every good argument from the Summa Theologiae, and still they would not be convinced.  But if they see a Catholic caring for the poor, feeding the hungry, comforting the sorrowful and afflicted, they are convinced that the faith must be real, because people actually do what they say Christ calls us to do.
    This can even go for the devotional life.  Some people love the warm, touchy-feely stuff.  They love the emotive nature of praise and worship music and need those emotional highs and lows to really move them in their relationship with God.  Others find the steady, metered pace of Gregorian chant more helpful to their prayer life.  Some just want to be still in silence and put the world outside.  Others need to use their imaginations and put themselves in the Gospel passages to envision how they would have responded and how they are responding to Jesus.  While the liturgical life has set standards that may come more easily or more difficult to us, based on our temperaments, the devotional life admits of a variety of expressions, based upon the individual desires and needs of each person or each type of person.  To pretend that Catholicism is monolithic in personal and devotional prayer, or that everyone should simply convert based upon intellectual arguments does not reflect the reality of the diversity of individuals. 
    So, our goal is the same as St. Paul’s: to be all things to all so that we can save at least some.  Again, this doesn’t mean that the Church changes her teachings to fit the times, or even that our common prayer, the Mass and the Liturgy of the Hours, should have wide variations.  But it does mean that the way we present the Gospel, and the way that we help people to personally connect to Jesus through personal and devotional prayer will vary based upon the person.  May our diverse approaches, unified in the one faith given to us from God the Father through Jesus the Son in the power of the Holy Spirit transform our world to be more configured to Christ, and therefore a better place to be.
    

Humblebrag?

Sexagesima

St. Paul from his basilica in Rome

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  It seems, at first glance, like St. Paul might be doing what we call today a humble brag.  He spends more than half of today’s epistle talking about all the things he could claim fame to.  He starts by sharing the things he could brag about: his heritage, his nation, his connection to Abraham.  Clearly, other ministers in Corinth had been claiming some sort of prestige because they were Jewish.  But St. Paul reminds the Corinthians that his bonafides are no less than any others, and probably greater than many others.  He then continues by talking about all the ways that he has suffered for the Gospel: receiving lashes, beatings, being shipwrecked, in danger almost everywhere he goes, whether on land or sea, getting threatened by Jews, threatened by Gentiles, being betrayed, not having enough food, drink, or proper clothing.  He then continues talking about “someone he knows” who had visions of the third heaven (today we might say: A friend of mine has this thing).  And he ends up by speaking about a thorn in his flesh, which he had asked the Lord three times to eliminate.
    So is St. Paul trying to direct pity and sympathy towards himself?  Not at all.  The Apostle was combatting those who were trying to modify the Gospel according to their own vision, and basing their ability to change the Gospel on their heritage.  So Paul, in essence, is saying, “You think they’re qualified?!  If pedigree is the issue, mine is better, so listen to me!”  And his list of sufferings is then further proof of why the Corinthians should listen to Paul, because he has laid everything on the line for the Gospel and endured much suffering.  And yes, sometimes people get special gifts, special charisms or visions of things about which we cannot even speak.  Probably, Paul was such a person, as he definitely had a special vision of Christ on the road to Damascus, and perhaps at another time, as well.
    But Paul doesn’t put much stock into those.  Rather, he glories in his weakness, so that what matters is not Paul but the power of Christ within Paul.  It is, as St. John the Baptist says, “He [Christ] must increase; I must decrease.”  Whatever helps the Gospel be spread, that is what is most important.
    Part of spreading the seed of the Gospel is trying to make sure that the soil is ready.  We prepare the soil by our witnessing by word and by deed, and doing so in a way that meets that person where he or she is at, so that we can draw him or her to Christ.  Sometimes people need to see a degree or some sort of formal qualifications.  Other times people need to know that you have gone through similar life experiences in order to trust our proclamation of the Gospel.  Other times people need to hear about specific encounters with God.  So as we proclaim the Gospel, we’ll want to get to know what will help that specific person, and tailor the methods we use to the way that they will be receive the Gospel.  It is, as St. Thomas Aquinas said, that what is received is received according to the mode of the receiver.

Harrison Butker

    There is also an important demonstration from St. Paul when it comes to showing the power of the Gospel is not our own power.  We tend to get really excited when a famous person converts.  There was a lot of hay made when Shia Lebouf spoke about his conversion, and how the Extraordinary Form helped him connect with God in a way that the Ordinary Form did not.  Mark Wahlburg often posts messages about how important his faith is, and he spoke about playing Fr. Stu and how that impacted his own faith.  I have recently been intrigued by the kicker for the Kansas City Chiefs, Harrison Butker, who is a Catholic and attends the Extraordinary Form Mass, and talks about being a disciple first, a husband and father second, and a football player last, but doing all these things with the greatest effort he can.  So praise God for famous people who live the faith.
    But there’s also something to the small people living the faith, the people who aren’t famous, who don’t have everything going for them, or who struggle to make it through week-by-week, but who stay with God and find in Him the pearl of great price.  I think the non-famous people draw us because, when something great happens, we realize that it’s not that person’s natural gifts, but the power and grace of God made manifest.  St. John Vianney, St. Andre Bessette, and Bl. Solanus Casey are perfect examples of this.  From a worldly point of view, they didn’t have much going for them.  And yet, each in their own way, they drew others, often in droves, to Christ.  And the power of Christ was made manifest through their weakness. 
    That should give us hope, because I am not famous, nor are many of you.  As far as I know, none of us are the richest people in Flint, or the most powerful or well-connected.  We each have struggles that we deal with each day and each week.  But in our weakness, God manifests His power.  And those others who are not famous, not rich, not powerful or well-connected can then know that the Gospel is for them, too; that God cares about those who don’t have it all together. 
    We have a lot for which we should give thanks to God.  We have a beautiful church; we have a beautiful Mass; we have a beautiful community here which is committed to the Catholic faith and strives to live that faith out each day as husbands, wives, fathers, mothers, children, brothers, sisters, employers, employees, retirees, etc.  Some have had amazing experiences of God through prayers and retreats.  Others experience God in the every-day happenings of life.  Each of us have our own temptations.  But through it all, God desires that we glorify Him in our greatness and weakness, in our joys and sorrows so that others can experience His saving Word, truth, and grace.  God’s great power is made perfect in our smallness.  Let us glory in being small parts of the great work of salvation of God: the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Eucharistic Revival

 Sixth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  The US Bishops have launched a Eucharistic Revival in our country, culminating in a Eucharistic Congress in Indianapolis in July 2024, the the first Eucharistic Congress in the US in some 40 years.  Reading any of the stats on how many Catholics actually believe what the Church teaches about the Eucharist can be rather depressing, and demonstrates the need to reinvigorate the faith of Catholics across the US in our Eucharistic Lord.

Famous mosaic of the Miracle of Loaves from the Holy Land

    Our Gospel passage today is a perfect one to draw us in to the Eucharist, as it was one of the multiplication of loaves miracles of our Lord.  How could we not think of the Eucharist when we hear how our Savior gave thanks, broke the bread, and gave it to His disciples, so that they could give it to the people?  That action still continues today, as we give Christ what we have, both our interior offerings of what has happened since the last time we came to Mass, but also bread and wine, and He, through the ministry of His priest, gives thanks, breaks, and returns that gift to the people so that they do not die of spiritual hunger.  No longer is it simply bread, but it is the Bread of Heaven, the Bread of Angels, the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of our Lord.  In Latin we ask God in the Our Father, “Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie”; “Give us this day our daily bread.”  But in the Greek, the phrase is not Panem…quotidianum, daily bread, but 𝜏𝜊𝜈 𝛼𝜌𝜏𝜊𝜈…𝜏𝜊𝜈 𝜀𝜋𝜄𝜊𝜐𝜎𝜄𝜊𝜈, super-substantial bread.  He gives us this “super-substantial bread” in the Eucharist, which not only feeds our body, but especially feeds our soul.
    This Panis Angelicus, this Angelic Bread, forgives us our venial sins, and unites us to the Lord.  That’s why we also refer to it as Holy Communion, Holy Union with Christ.  And if we are united to Christ the Light, then those small bits of darkness that we invited into our lives through venial sins are eliminated by the light.  But, if we have invited into our lives major areas of darkness, mortal sins, then we first need to go to confession, so that we are not joining our grave infidelity and evil to the fidelity and holiness of Christ.  That is why any person, from the President of the United States, to an individual in Timbuktu, should not present him or herself for Holy Communion in the state of mortal sin, nor should that person be offered Holy Communion if they publicly reject communion with Christ and His Church.  Still, if we only have venial sins, we should approach this Salutaris Hostia, this Saving Host or Victim, so that we can be more closely united to Christ.
    The Eucharist also gives us strength to live as disciples.  The people in the Gospel were fatigued because they had been listening to our Lord preach for three days (and you thought my homilies were long!).  They have received some strength from the Word of God, delivered by the Incarnate Word of God, but they are in need of more if they are not to faint on the way back home.  The Eucharist gives us this strength.  It is not enough that we be strengthened by the hearing and reading of the Word of God (though that is important).  God wants more for us.  He knows that living according to His Word can be difficult and taxing, because living according to His Word means denying our fallen human nature and taking up our daily crosses to follow Him.  And so He feeds us with Himself so that we can live the life to which God calls us.  That is also why the pelican is an ancient symbol for Christ: it was thought that the pelican, when there was not enough food, would pierce its breast and feed its young with its own blood.  So Christ does for us: He allows Himself to be pierced for our offenses, and then feeds us with His own Body and Blood in the Eucharist.  
    In many parts of the world in the past, and in some parts of the world today, people only receive Holy Communion once per year, not feeling worthy enough to receive.  St. John Vianney and Pope St. Pius X rightly advocated for frequent Communion (as long as one is not in a state of mortal sin) because he knew that we are more likely to be conquered by the devil when we are weak and malnourished, but we are more likely to be victorious in Christ when He dwells within us.  Frequent Communions has been a great gift to the Church over the past centuries, to strengthen us to live our life as disciples.
    Lastly, our Lord sent the people away after they had eaten.  Even in this small pericope, we see the heart of the Mass: the people hear the Word of God, they eat the bread that the Lord provides miraculously, and then they are sent.  So in our Mass, we have the proclamation of the Word of God in the Mass of the Catechumens, the consecration of the Eucharist and the miracle of transubstantiation in the Mass of the Faithful, and then the priest says, “Ite, Missa Est”, “Go, She [the Church] has been sent.”  The reception of the Eucharist is meant to change us, to make us more like Christ, in our life that we live outside these walls.  It is supposed to make us more kind, more forgiving, more loving, just as Christ is kind, forgiving, and loving towards us.  The Eucharist is meant to help us sacrifice our own wills for the good of our spouse and/or family, just as Christ sacrificed His life for His Spouse, the Church.  The Eucharist is not something that we receive as a prize for coming to Mass.  It is food that sustains us to go out and proclaim the good news of the in-breaking of the Kingdom of God by word and deed.  
    We need a revival of belief in and reverence for the Eucharist.  We need to better understand the great gift that the Eucharist is for us.  And we need to better utilize the graces that we can receive through worthy reception of the Body and Blood of Christ, so that the City of Man can better resemble the City of God, to use an expression of St. Augustine.  Let’s commit ourselves today to valuing this most precious gift Christ left for His Church, and commit ourselves to allowing the graces of the Eucharist to flow through us and empower us to bring Christ to those we meet, so that others may experience through us our Triune God: the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Understanding the Deeper Meaning

 Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

One tradition that exists in law enforcement is challenge coins (it’s also a military tradition).  A challenge coin is just a coin that has some representation of a unit or a department on it.  We don’t quite use challenge coins in law enforcement the same way that the military does (which often has an effect on whether or not you’re paying for your drinks).  But it’s a way to honor a person by sharing a part of the unit’s history.  As an example, about a year ago was given a challenge coin from the State Police Emergency Support (ES) Team (most people would think of it as a SWAT team) that honored the last ES Trooper who died in the line of duty.  This was an amazing gift which I treasure because it honors one of the ES team’s members who gave his all.
    But if you are not aware of that tradition, you may think the challenge coin is simply a nice, little knick-knack, but nothing more.  If you don’t know the background of the challenge coin, you may not give that gift the same importance that someone who knows what’s going on would.
    As we continue our Gospel readings on the Eucharist, we hear that the people do not understand the deeper meaning behind the miracle of the loaves and fish.  The people were amazed at what happened, but their understanding was limited to the physical reality that they sensed, rather than the metaphysical reality that required going beyond the simple five senses.  Jesus even tells them that they are looking for him simply because they liked eating the bread and fish, not because of a deeper faith.  And then Jesus uses that to springboard to teaching about the true bread from heaven, which is not an “it,” but a “who”: Jesus Himself.  
    For followers of Jesus, this problem of not getting the deeper meaning still exists.  It exists in a particular way among those who are not Catholic nor Orthodox.  So many Christians see Communion as simply bread and wine.  Yes, it has been prayed over; yes it is a reminder of Jesus’ presence, but they stop at the level of their physical senses.  But sometimes even Catholics forget, or perhaps were never taught, that the Eucharist is not bread and wine, though it retains those physical properties, but truly Jesus–His Body and Blood.

We, as Catholics, believe that a valid priest of Jesus Christ, who was ordained by the successors of the Apostles (the bishops), and who follows the prayer of the Church, intending to do what the Church intends to do, by the power of the Holy Spirit changes the bread and wine into the Body and Blood of Christ, not just for the time of that prayer, but as long as the bread and wine have those physical properties that are proper to bread and wine.  It looks like bread and tastes like bread, but it is no longer bread.  It is the Body of the Lord.  It looks like wine and tastes like wine, but it is not longer wine.  It is the Blood of the Lord.  
    This wasn’t some new invention of the Middle Ages, either.  St. Paul talks about partaking in the bread and cup as a sharing in the Passion of the Lord, which is what the Eucharist is: our participation in Jesus’ once-for-all sacrifice.  St. Ignatius of Antioch, who died around AD 107, says that the Eucharist is truly the Body of Christ, born of the Virgin Mary, and a descendant of King David.  St. Justin Martyr, writing slightly later, says the same thing.  So, too, St. Ambrose and St. Augustine, in the fourth and fifth centuries (respectively) say that the Eucharist is truly the Body and Blood of Christ.
    It wasn’t until the eleventh century that controversy really arose about the Eucharist, and whether or not it was the Body of Christ.  Quickly, the Church re-iterated that it was, and solemnly proclaimed it in a the Fourth Lateran Ecumenical Council in 1215, using the word that has been codified: transubstantiation.  While this teaching was rejected by the Protestants as they sprung up in the 1500s, the Ecumenical Council of Trent reaffirmed the perennial belief that the Eucharist is Jesus, not just a reminder, not just a symbol, but truly our Lord’s glorified Body and Blood.
    That, of course, affects the way that we treat the Eucharist.  If it really is Jesus, then we are extra-careful with it.  We use precious metal to hold and house the Eucharist.  We do not give it to those who do not believe what we do, which is why Protestants and non-Christians cannot receive the Eucharist–they don’t believe what we do about the Eucharist.  Before we receive, we fast (currently the law is that we fast from all food and drink except water and medicine) for one hour before we receive Holy Communion.  And as we approach the Eucharist, we do so with profound wonder and awe, knowing that we are receiving, on our tongue or in our hands, the very same Lord who was born of the Virgin Mary, and who is now seated at the right hand of the Father.  We dare, only because He commanded us, to receive the King of Kings into ourselves.  We dare because He told us we needed to receive Him to have the spiritual strength to follow Him.  
    As a sign of our respect and reverence our hands should be clean if we receive in our hands.  And the Church invites us to bow before receiving the Eucharist (though some genuflect or kneel down).  The point is that we want to show reverence for the divine encounter we have, an encounter with God that is the closest we can get to God on earth; greater than even the best sunrise or sunset, or the best musical composition, or even the love of a spouse, or whatever other way the we might encounter God.  Nothing even comes close to just how truly awesome the Eucharist is.  St. John Vianney, the priest, said, “What the Angels behold only with awe, the radiant splendor of which they cannot sustain, we make our food, we receive into us, we become with Jesus Christ one same Body, one sole Flesh.”  He also said, “If we truly understood the Mass, we would die of joy.”  
    May we truly recognize that the Eucharist is not bread and wine, but our Savior, who chooses to humble Himself and make Himself vulnerable to us.  May we value and treasure the Eucharist as the greatest gift we can receive here on earth, because it is already a foretaste, a preview of heaven!