Angry Woman Meme

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

    It’s a little old now, but there’s a famous meme where a woman is sitting at a table, yelling and pointing, while a white cat, sitting at the table, ostensibly across from her, has a snarky look on its face.  People put in all sorts of dialogues between the woman and the cat, some of which are pretty funny.  If I were to make a meme based on today’s readings, the woman would say, “God calls sinners!”, while the cat would respond, “He calls them to repent.”  
    After all, in all three readings, we hear about sinners whom God calls.  In the first reading, God calls Isaiah to be His prophet, to speak for Him.  But Isaiah knows that he is a sinner.  So he says, “‘Woe is me, I am doomed!  For I am a man of unclean lips, living among a people of unclean lips!’”  In the second reading, St. Paul acknowledges that he is not worthy to be called an apostle, because he persecuted the Church.  And finally, in the Gospel, Jesus calls St. Peter to follow Him, but Peter demurs, saying, “‘Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.’”  
    God knows that Isaiah, and St. Paul, and St. Peter, were all sinners.  God’s omniscience cannot be fooled.  But He does call each of them to do His will: Isaiah to speak for God as His prophet; St. Peter to be the first pope and head of the apostolic college; St. Paul to be the Apostle to the Gentiles.  And with each person–Isaiah and Peter and Paul–God offers them His mercy.  Isaiah receives an ember, touched to his lips, which takes away his sins.  Jesus asks St. Peter three times if he loves Him, and then gives Peter the mission of caring for Jesus’ flock.  St. Paul, who loses his sight when he encounters the Lord on the road to Damascus, regains his sight and is baptized through a follower of Jesus, Ananias.  
    So yes, God calls sinners.  And yes, He forgives their sins.  But He does so in order that they repent and change their ways, which is exactly what Isaiah and St. Peter and St. Paul did.  They left behind what the old man in them, the old Adam, to be exact, and they put on the new man, the new Adam, Jesus Christ, and lived according to His will, rather than their own.  God didn’t call them to Himself so that they could go back to their old ways.  God didn’t want Isaiah to use his speech for sinful matters.  God didn’t want St. Peter to go back to fishing.  God didn’t want St. Paul to return to persecuting His Church.  He met them where they were at, yes, but He led them to a new place, a new mission.

His Eminence, Francis Cardinal George

    In our laziness, our sloth, we can miss that second part.  We’re very happy that God meets us as we are.  It warms our heart that God would choose us, sinners though we are, to share in His life.  But when it comes to leaving the past behind, and going where God wants, no longer just where we want to go, we balk at the change and choose to remain in our past.  This is why so many people love the horrid hymn “All Are Welcome.”  It’s the first part of the call of Jesus to any person.  He welcomes sinners and tax collectors to dine with Him; that is true.  He does not condemn the woman caught in adultery, or the Samaritan woman at the well.  But the story doesn’t end there.  He tells them not to sin anymore, and gives them, by His presence, what they need to change their life to conform to His.  It is as His Eminence, Francis Cardinal George, used to say, “All are welcome, but on Christ’s terms, not their own.”  
    Today, as we admitted Jenna, Raegan, and Skyler to the Order of Catechumens, we saw the witness of one whom Christ called.  Ladies, you, like all of us before we were baptized, have original sin.  Original sin is an obstacle that following God as He desires.  But God has overcome that obstacle to invite you to follow Him by becoming a disciple of Jesus Christ.  God met you where you were, but now He calls you deeper into relationship with Him, to put out into the deep waters that might be scary, and which take you way from anything in your past which is not of God.  But He doesn’t leave you alone as you put out into the deep waters. He goes with you, and we also, now that you are a catechumen, promise to support you, pray for you, and help you as you prepare for baptism, confirmation, and the Eucharist.  
    We stand before you as those whom the Lord has also called, though we are sinners.  And we do not claim that we follow Christ perfectly.  But each time we fall, each time we sin, Christ reaches out for us again, and encourages us to put that behind us as He forgives us in the Sacrament of Penance, and strengthens us to say yes to Him and no to anything contrary to Him and His teachings.  He has called us, too, to deep waters, and sometimes we fear to go with Him, but He calls us, and we hope to follow as best as we can.
    Because the Lord doesn’t want us to wallow in our sins of the past.  He doesn’t want us going back there because our sins don’t give us life.  They don’t give us happiness.  They don’t allow us to be the people He has called us to be.  Only by following Christ, by making His life our own, by living according to what He has taught us through the Scriptures and the Church can we truly be happy and be fully ready for heaven at the end our life.
    So you, and we, are sinners.  And God has called you, and us, to leave that sinfulness behind.  He desires to burn away our sins like with the Prophet Isaiah; to open our eyes like St. Paul; to call us to leave behind our old way of life like St. Peter.  May you, and we, have the courage to answer that call, repent, and be faithful to the Gospel.

The Raising of Lazarus and a Greater Miracle

Fifth Sunday of Lent
    I have a vague memory from when I was a young child of the first funeral visitation I attended.  I remember looking at the casket with the deceased person, and being a bit confused.  The person looked to be asleep, and I wondered if the person would ever wake up again, and if it would happen while I was there.  I obviously did not, at that point, really understand death.

    We have heard this story about the raising of Lazarus how many times in our life, and it probably has become a bit passé and humdrum.  We know what’s going to happen.  But imagine that story was transposed into our time.  Imagine a wandering priest, who had worked some miracles, walked into the funeral home visitation with a closed casket, told you to open it, and then said, “Awaken!”  And then imagine the person actually opened his eyes, sat up, and then got out of the casket.  Not so humdrum anymore!
    That is the shock that we should have when we hear this familiar story.  It should shake us out of our complacency.  The raising of Lazarus is the last great sign in John’s Gospel that Jesus is who He says He is.  And Jesus takes great pains to make sure that no one will be confused about the significance of what just happened.  Perhaps the other accounts of Jesus’ miracles were written off by others as parlor tricks, or clever shows put on by a snake oil salesman.  But this amazing feat could not be written off.  Jesus waited two days after knowing that Lazarus was ill even to go to Bethany.  And by the time He gets there, Lazarus had been in the tomb for four days.  There was no question that Lazarus was dead.  In fact, the people were concerned that decomposition had started.  And yet, no one could deny that Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, because they saw Lazarus, tied up in burial cloths, walking out of the tomb. 
    And yet, that work, as amazing as it is, is not the greatest work of Christ.  This sign, this miracle, merely restored earthly life to a man who would die again.  Incredible?  Yes.  But not as incredible as the greatest work of Christ, which was His own Death and Resurrection, into which we will enter and participate in less than two weeks. 
    The raising of Lazarus was the re-vivification of earthly flesh.  The Death and Resurrection of Christ brought about the possibility of eternal happiness by filling the earthly flesh with the Spirit of God.  St. Paul references this in our second reading when he writes, “if Christ is in you, although the body is dead because of sin, the spirit is alive because of righteousness.”  And Christ comes into us through Holy Baptism, the Sacrament in which we die with Christ so that we can rise with Him to new life.
    Through Baptism, God takes something which is opposed to Him, His own enemy, and makes it the dwelling place of His Holy Spirit.  He makes a son or daughter out of an enemy, and takes that which is pointed towards destruction and makes it that which is pointed toward glory.  Our bodies operate under the weight of sin and the death that comes with sin.  And yet, by the Spirit of God, they can continue on this earth but no longer plagued by sin and death, but designated for eternal life.  And that eternal life will not end, like the earthly life of Lazarus eventually ended (and as our earthly life will eventually end).  But God will raise up our bodies to be like His in glory, as St. Paul said, and those bodies will experience no more death, nor more pain, no more limits that our earthly bodies experience. 
    With this in mind, it is also striking that we often choose to reject the resurrection that Jesus offers us, and give in to the death that comes from sin.  If Baptism is our own raising like Lazarus, so that we are a new creation, choosing to commit major sins after Baptism is like asking the crowd to re-wrap us with burial cloths and put us back in the tomb where can rot.  Sin binds us up and brings death and rot.  Jesus, on the other hand, frees us to be ourselves as God created us to be, and refreshes us and restores us to our youth. 
    Do we believe that Christ can do this?  Do we have faith in Christ who is the Resurrection and the Life?  Are we like St. Martha, so often put down because of her busyness, but here demonstrating her faith in the Lord?  Do we meet Him and express our faith that we will rise in the resurrection on the last day, because He is the Christ, the Son of God?  Are we like Mary, who previously had sat at the feet of Jesus, but who, in this instance, was slow to come to Jesus and slow to believe?  Are we willing to accept the new life that God desires for us, a life separated from the sins of our past, leaving them in the tombs as we walk about in the fresh air of life in Christ?
    [My dear Elect, in this last scrutiny, we once again ask God to heal you from your past sins, and remove any hold that Satan has upon you.  Christ beckons for you and says, “Come out!  Do not be bound any longer!”  You are less than two weeks away from the time when Christ will make you His own, and pour His Spirit within you, the same Spirit who raised Christ from the dead.  Hear the voice of God.  Do not linger in the tombs, but enjoy the bright light of freedom.]
    I dare say it would be a shock to any of us if, at the next funeral we attended, the person were to come back to life.  And if that person said that Jesus had sent them back, we would probably pay heed to what Jesus had said to that person.  Jesus does a greater work than that: He frees you from the death of sin.  Pay attention to what Jesus has said through the Scriptures and the Church.  Pay attention to the witness of those who have died to their sins and risen to freedom in Christ.  Come out of the death of sin.  Allow the grace and mercy of God to unbind you from slavery to Satan and walk about freely in the Spirit of God.

As We Forgive Those Who Trespass Against Us

 Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  When we think about participating in the divine, what occasions first come to mind?  I know for me, the sacraments are the most obvious answer.  The mysteries of our Lord’s life, Pope St. Leo the Great says, have passed into the sacraments.  Specifically, I think about the Mass, the joining of heaven and earth that takes place here in our church.  Not only do we hear God’s Divine Word, proclaimed for us in the Scriptures, we also receive God into us through the Most Blessed Sacrament of the Eucharist, which is the very Flesh and Blood of Christ.  The Eucharist best exemplifies the way in which we can become like God, as St. Augustine reminds us that the intent of the Eucharist is to make us more like the one whom we receive.
    But another way to participate in the divine is through the act of forgiveness.  We heard this very familiar story about the paralytic being brought to our Lord.  He forgives the man’s sins, at which the Pharisees become indignant because only God can forgive sins.  But, to demonstrate His authority to forgive sins, Christ then heals the paralytic as well.
    The Pharisees were not mistaken in their estimation that only God can forgive sins.  In fact, our Lord demonstrated His divinity to them by this miracle.  So any time you hear someone say that Jesus never asserted He was God, point them to Matthew, chapter 9.  There are other times that our Lord reveals His divinity also, but this is certainly one of those times.
    So, if only God can forgive sins, then how can we say, “sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris”; “as we forgive those who trespass against us”?  How can we forgive if forgiveness belongs to God?
    As a good Thomist, we can consider forgiveness in two ways.  The first way, which is reserved to God alone, is the remission of sins.  When God deals with sin, He eliminates it, wipes it away, and makes it so it ceases to exist.  Only the consequences of that sin remain (and even those can be dealt with through pious acts).  When we examine who forgives our sins in the Sacrament of Penance, it is God.  Yes, God uses the ministry of the priest to convey that forgiveness, but it is God who forgives, which is why the priest is bound to secrecy (we call it the seal of confession).  Those sins have been absolved by Christ through the ministry of the priest, but their use belongs only to Christ, not even to the minister, who then does not divulge or act on those sins in the future.  It is the sacrifice of Christ which washed away the sins of the world, the sacrifice of the unblemished Lamb of God.  We cannot add to that, but we can participate in it.
    But, as with so many aspects of life, God allows us to participate in His work.  We see this in the garden of Eden, as God calls Adam and Eve, not only to continue to care for the garden of Eden, but to create with Him and order with Him, and even to create new life (procreation).  God, further, calls humans to speak for Him when He calls prophets to proclaim His Word, both of comfort and of conversion.  We see that especially with Moses, Samuel, and the prophets that follow them.  God also allows men to exercise governance over His people, as seen through Kings David and Solomon, and the kings of their line.  God shepherds His people through kings who cooperate with His will.  
    But God also allows us to participate in His forgiveness.  He gives us the gift of saying “I forgive you” to a person, and not having it be empty words, detached from reality.  When we forgive someone, something in that person changes, and something in us changes.  We participate in the mercy of God.  It may not eliminate that sin (because a person has offended not only us, but also God), but it does eliminate the attachment of that sin that exists between the two  or more people.  God’s mercy flows through us, and the burden of sin can be lifted from hearts.
    To be Catholic is to be a person of forgiveness, because Christ tells us that the measure we measure out to others, will in turn be measured out to us.  He calls those who show mercy blessed because they will be shown mercy.  And He condemns the servant who was forgiven a great debt, but who could not forgive others their smaller debts.  We are merciful because God was first merciful with us, just as we love God because He first loved us.

    And He showed that love for us by sending His Son to die on the cross so that we could be forgiven.  God’s forgiveness wasn’t an ethereal reality.  God demonstrated His forgiveness by the spit that was hurled upon the face of Christ; by the skin viciously torn out from his back and side at the scourging; by the bruises and scrapes and split skin that came from falling under the weight of the cross as He carried it to Golgotha; by the holes in His hands and feet from the nails that pierced them; by the gall put to His lips; by the thorns pressed into His Sacred Head; by the gash in His side to prove He was dead, whence came Blood and Water that are the streams of Divine Mercy.  God forgave through the crucifixion.  Though He doesn’t ask us to be nailed to the cross in the same way, He does ask us to forgive in the same way.
    And the easiest way to forgive others is to first recognize that we need to be forgiven, not only directly by God, but also by our neighbor.  I wish that I could tell you that I’m a perfect priest, that I always make good decisions, that all my words are the words that our Blessed Savior would speak.  But that would be a lie.  I myself am beset by weakness, and sometimes I act out of my pride; or choose a hurtful word when a loving one works much better; or I choose the easier path instead of the virtuous one; and so many other ways that I fall short of the image of the Good Shepherd, to whom I am configured by sacred orders.  I am a sinner; sometimes it is hard to admit that I am wrong and have followed the wrong path.  And so I ask your forgiveness, as your brother and your father.  For any ways I have hurt you, or not demonstrated the love of Christ the Good Shepherd, I seek your mercy.  And perhaps, to those in your life who have hurt you, you can also show mercy.  
    One of my favorite quotes from saints is from St. Maximus of Turin, who preached, “Sinner he may indeed be, but he must not despair of pardon on this day which is so highly privileged; for if a thief could receive the grace of paradise, how could a Christian be refused forgiveness?”  If our Lord could shower His mercy on St. Dismas, the good thief, in the moments before He died, how could he not have mercy on us whenever we come to Him as He reigns in glory?  And, having received that mercy, our Lord also instructs us: “Go, and do likewise” to the praise and glory of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Sin-Conversion-Forgiveness

 Fourth Sunday of Lent

    Right now we’re in the midst of the NCAA basketball tournament, often called March Madness.  The hard work of 68 teams throughout the regular season is put to the test, as they compete against the best teams in the nation, not just in their conferences.  In the end, one team will hold up the trophy, the physical sign that they are the best in the country.  It would certainly be easier if a team didn’t have to win the six games of the tournament to be crowned champion, but that trophy would mean a lot less, because it would not have come through hard work, good execution, and sometimes a little bit of luck.
    Just as there is a progression through March Madness, so there is a progression that we hear in the Gospel today about forgiveness as we heard the all-too-familiar parable of the Prodigal Son.  The main point of the parable is the mercy of the father, which Jesus uses to teach us about the mercy of our Heavenly Father.  But we also see how this whole process of sin, conversion, and forgiveness takes place, until the celebration in the father’s house at the son’s return.  
    Of course, the first part of this story is sin.  The son demands what is “his,” which isn’t really his yet.  He doesn’t want to depend on the father for what he needs.  When we sin, we don’t rely on our heavenly Father.  We take what we feel is ours, and we spend it on “dissipation.”  We think that we can make it on our own without God’s help.  In fact, when we separate ourselves from God, we notice how little we have, and how much like a famine it is.  If we don’t recognize how bad things are, we go from bad to worse, until we are surrounded by the mud of sin upon sin, and even hungry for the scraps that the pigs are eating, which is bad enough from our point of view, but even worse from the point of view of a Jew, to whom pigs are ritually unclean animals.
    The next part of the process in conversion is sometimes the hardest part: we recognize how bad things are.  Alcoholics Anonymous will talk about the necessity of hitting bottom before one can truly find sobriety.  The same is true with sin.  We can only truly seek conversion if we realize that we need help, and that we cannot take care of ourselves.  In the parable, Jesus refers to it as the son “coming to his senses.”  With so many sins, we tell ourselves it’s not so bad, it’s not really doing a lot of harm, and so we continue on.  Of course, when we do that, we keep ourselves away from the Father’s house.  We don’t find the way home, and we don’t really move much to get there.
    But if we do recognize the evil of our sins and the horrible effects they have on us, then we start back towards the Father.  Both the recognition of sin, and then the movement back to the Father are only possible because of God’s grace, to which we start to open ourselves.  Nothing that we can do that is good happens without God first making it possible.  As we open ourselves to being sorry for our sins, and leaving them behind, we start back to the Father’s house.  
    Part of this is being open and honest about our sins: that we chose them.  As a society, we are good at making excuses.  We’re never guilty for anything; it was always someone’s else’s fault.  Maybe it was our upbringing, or some external factor, or really anything, as long as we don’t have to take responsibility.  We don’t even know how to take responsibility in our apologies: “If I hurt you, then I’m sorry.”  A true contrition acknowledges that we have sinned, that we have done wrong, and that we have disobeyed and offended our heavenly Father.  In order to truly have the conversion that will heal us, we need to acknowledge our own role in sinning.  
    But, having come to our senses, recognized how bad things are, and started back to the Father to apologize for our sins, our loving Father runs out to meet us.  God doesn’t dangle forgiveness at the end of a line for us to try and catch, like the tricks we play with dogs and their toys as we hide it behind our backs, or keep swinging it back and forth, just out of the grasp of their mouths.  God runs to us to embrace us in love.  In the days of Jesus, no man would have run, not only because it showed a lack of dignity, but also because it was physically hard to do in sandals and a tunic.  And yet, that is what God does for us.  He cannot contain Himself and His love for us.  He cannot wait even the few extra minutes it will take for us to get to Him.  He runs to us.  

    And as He embraces us, He makes us His sons and daughters, though we are not deserving of that title.  We wasted our filial dignity, and spent it away.  But God gives it back to us, and then celebrates for and with us.  And he spares no expense.  He puts a robe around us, which is his love and our protection from the outside elements; a ring on our finger, which symbolizes our authority in the house of our Father again; and sandals on our feet to keep the dirt of sin from attaching itself to us.  
    The celebration is worth it.  But there are no shortcuts to forgiveness.  We cannot find the celebration at coming back to the Father’s house if we stay in the mire and the mud of our sins.  We cannot receive the robe, ring, sandals, and fattened calf if we do not acknowledge that we had earlier squandered our inheritance of eternal life and offended our Father, whose only desire for us is that we stay in His house and enjoy what He has set before us.  If we do wander away, though, the good news is that the love of the Father will welcome us back when we have repented and started back to Him.  If we don’t have the good sense of staying in the Father’s house, let’s at least have the good sense to come back after we’ve been away.

Being a Holy Family

 First Sunday after Epiphany-Holy Family

   In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  I think when many think about the Holy Family, they go immediately to Jesus, Mary, and Joseph; and rightly so.  I love my family dearly, but, I’ll be honest, I never really considered my family a holy family.  That’s not to say we were pagans or reprobate.  But when you’re used to the fights between siblings, the tension that exists between adolescent children who want more freedom and caring parents who want their kids to make smart decisions and keep children safe (sometimes you could cut that tension with a knife), the cruel words and fighting over which TV show to watch, you don’t tend to think of yourselves as holy.  We did go to Mass every Sunday (never a question of if, but when) and Holyday; we abstained from meat on Fridays of Lent; we prayed a family rosary on long car-rides for summer vacation or the rare trip to Disney World; we had a Advent wreath, and contributed to the Rice Bowl collections during Lent.  So it’s not like we were a horrible family, but, growing up, I never really thought about us as a holy family.
    We are blessed with many families here, families that are often growing in size or new generations.  And yes, as a confessor, I hear about family fights, arguments between parents and children, or even spouses.  But what’s the norm for being a holy family?  Does it entail that two of the members of a family out of three are sinless?  If that’s the bar, then we’re all in for disappointment.  I would suggest, though, that our readings on this first Sunday after Epiphany, as we celebrate the Holy Family, gives us some clues.  
    I’ll start with our Lord.  Mary and Joseph find Christ in the temple, after He decided to stay behind (without letting them know).  Of course, our Lord never sinned, but I would not suggest that staying anywhere, even at church, without letting your parents know is a recipe for holiness for anyone else.  But our Savior was, as we would say, at church.  And that is key to being a holy family: go to church.  I realize I’m preaching to the choir.  But as we share the Gospel, and talk with other Catholic and Christian families, we can share with them that one of the basic ingredients of a holy family is going to church every Sunday and Holyday.  I am, of course, excluding the times when you are sick; please don’t come when you are ill, especially if it’s contagious and serious, like the flu or COVID.  The church dispenses you during illness, or even if you can’t make it because you’re caring for a sick family member and can’t make it.  But otherwise, go to Mass.  That’s a basic part of being a holy family.
    Secondly, and also from our Gospel, be open to the will of God, even when it doesn’t necessarily make sense.  Mary and Joseph were worried about the Lord, but they embraced His decision to be in His Father’s house, once He explained that He was supposed to be there.  That wasn’t easy for the Blessed Mother and St. Joseph.  But they accepted it as the will of God.  We like it when the will of God happens to coincide with our will, but sometimes it doesn’t; how do we respond in those instances?  This is certainly a harder part of being a holy family, especially when God allows very difficult things to happen to us.  
    St. Paul also outlines ways to be a holy family.  The first one I want to mention is forgiveness.  This is, perhaps, another difficult part of being a holy family.  It’s so easy to hold on to grudges, to stew about old wounds, to hit back when a sibling hits us first, or rip that thing out of their hand that we wanted.  It’s so easy to act on our passions and respond with retribution.  But that’s not the way of the holy family.  Forgive others, St. Paul says, as Christ has forgiven us.  Even if the other person isn’t sorry, forgive him or her.  Family slights are often small, and often easily forgiven because we love the other and want to move on and have family harmony.  But even in bigger offenses, we are called to forgive.
    This doesn’t mean that parents can’t discipline their children.  Forgiveness doesn’t mean ignoring a chance to help a child, of whatever age, learn an important lesson in virtue.  Even the Scriptures say that the Lord loves those whom He disciplines.  But the Lord doesn’t keep coming back to that past fault or failing.  Once forgiven, it’s gone; erased from any consideration of who we are.  And that’s the goal for which we should strive.  
    Humility is another important virtue for family life.  When we think that we are more than we are, we usually get into trouble as families.  Whether it’s comparing virtue, or who’s left in charge when mom and dad are gone, or even based upon achievements in school, work, or life, it’s easy to get puffed up with pride.  But pride is not the way of the Gospel, and not the way of a holy family.  Humility does not hide one’s gift, but uses it for the good of the other, and recognizes that any gift is not given to be kept to the self or to put others down, but to raise everyone up and help everyone succeed.  This, too, can be tough to live out, but it is a key to success.  
    And, above all these, put on love, says St. Paul.  Love is something that we often associate with family.  It is the greatest blessing of family life, and the way that we first encounter God as a child: through the love of our family.  The love of God is not based upon what we have done, but is given simply because we belong to Him.  So with the family, love is not something that family members should have to earn, but should be given simply because we are family.  I love Bishop Barron’s definition of love: willing the good of the other.  It’s not merely an emotion or a good feeling.  True love is exercised even when the feelings and emotions are not there.  But it is doing what is best for the other, even if the other doesn’t recognize what is best.  Love is sometimes saying no; setting curfews; assigning chores; kissing wounds; embracing a heart-broken family member; applauding good work, correcting bad behavior, and much more.  Love is at the heart, if you’ll pardon the pun, of being a holy family, just like the love that was shared among the Sacred Heart of Jesus, the Immaculate Heart of Mary (pierced by a sword), and the Chaste Heart of St. Joseph.  Love is key to being a holy family.
    Even if you don’t consider yourself a holy family, do those things that I have mentioned, and you’ll be on your way.  It may not always seem like it, and you won’t do it perfectly (nor does anyone else), but following though on what we heard in the Scriptures today will help you be the holy family that you are called to be by God the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

A Second Look at God's Mercy

 Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  One of the great things about Sacred Scripture is that it is a treasure that can never be fully mined, a spring that never runs out.  I was reminded about that as I was reading over this very familiar parable about the unforgiving servant.  It’s funny how you sort of skim over the parts that you think you know: a servant has a huge debt, he can’t pay it back, so the master decides to sell him and his family to pay the debt.  But the man pleads, and the master gives him more time to pay it back.  But when faced with the same situation where the servant is like the master, and someone else owes him a little bit of money, the servant is not as merciful.  That’s what I thought I had heard all these years.

    But then I looked closer at the Gospel, and noticed that the master didn’t give him more time to pay back the debt.  The servant offered to pay it back, if he could have more time, but the master forgave the entire debt.  That changes the tone of the parable a bit.  I don’t know why I never noticed it (I’m sure a psychologist could have a field day with that), but I always presumed that the servant was expected to pay the money back.  
    It doesn’t take a great Scripture scholar and knowledge of Greek to know that the master represents our heavenly Father in the parable.  Our Lord reveals someone of who the Father is as He shows that, faced with the pleading of His children, He does not give more time; He eliminates the debt.  And isn’t that what we see with salvation?  
    We can sometimes have this idea that if humanity in general, or we in particular, just had more time, we could pay back the debt of sin.  But that’s wrong.  We, whether in general or in particular, could never pay back the debt that was incurred because of sin.  By true justice we should have been handed over to the jailers (Hell) to pay the price of our sins.  But as we pleaded for the mercy of God, God did not give us more time, but forgave us our sins as Jesus paid the price for it on the cross.
    What generosity!!  How prodigal (wasteful) God is with His mercy!  Just thinking about that should make us fall to our knees, not in pleading, but in gratitude for what God has done for us!  No matter what our sins, when we plead with our heavenly Father in the Sacrament of Penance, He forgives us, wipes away our debt, so that nothing stands against us.  As the hymn states, “What wondrous love is this!”  
    But then, the Lord says and the parable clearly teaches, we are to imitate the Father in His mercy.  Just as we receive mercy, so should we give it.  When others offend us, they offend merely another human.  When we sin, we offend God and our fellow man, so the debt is much greater than being offended by another person.  And yet, how often are we quick to plead for God’s mercy, but not show it ourselves?  Oh the irony that sometimes the angriest drivers are the ones who are leaving the church parking lot on a Sunday!
    We are invited to emulate the mercy of God the Father, and, in doing so, fight the fallen powers of the devil.  To do that, we have to wear the armor of God: the breastplate of justice, the shoes of peace, the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit.  St. Paul also mentions girding our loins with truth, so I guess we could also add the compression shorts of truth to that list.  In any case, we should be surrounding ourselves with prayer and the mercy of God as we go to interact with people.  Yes, people may sometimes be nasty, but the devil can use other’s nastiness to tempt us to fall into sin by being nasty right back.  Earlier in the month on 2 October we celebrated our Holy Guardian Angels.  We can ask for their assistance in helping protect ourselves from the attacks of the enemy.  We can ask them to clear away any temptations to sin, especially if we have to prepare for a difficult conversation.  
    And as we do so, we should keep a clear head that the measure with which we forge, is the measure that we will be forgiven.  Again, a sobering reality.  As we go to confession, it should not only forgive us our sins (which it does), but also allow us to demonstrate the mercy of the Father more readily.  If that’s not happening; if we are not (however slowly) finding it easier to forgive others and be patient with them, then we’re not allowing the sacrament to be as fruitful as God wants it to be.  God intends His mercy to change us, to convert us, to change our hearts.  May we leave the confessional each time feeling well-armored from the darts of the enemy, and ready to enter the battlefield of the world and extend the mercy of God: the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

One of the Hardest Things about being Catholic

 Twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

    What’s the hardest thing about being Catholic?  Is it believing that Jesus, who looked just like us, is God?  Is it believing that Mary never sinned, and did not have original sin?  Is it trusting that Jesus will not allow His Church to teach anything about what we are to believe or how we are to live that goes against His will?  Is it that bread and wine are transformed by the power of the Holy Spirit to truly become the Body and Blood of Jesus?  Is it having only one spouse for an entire life?  Is it not using artificial contraception, or artificial means of conceiving?   Is it going to church every Sunday and holyday?  Is it not lying, not gossiping, not coveting?  Or is it Jesus’ command that we hear today, that we are to forgive?
    Maybe some of those other things are hard for us as well, but I hazard a guess that forgiving someone who has hurt us is one of the most difficult parts of our faith.  I don’t mean forgiving someone who didn’t really do us that much harm, or even forgiving someone who did us harm, but whom we easily love and so we easily forgive.  And I don’t mean forgiving a stranger whom we don’t care about and will never see again.  I mean forgiving someone who truly pierced our hearts by their actions, by their betrayal, by their serious wrongdoing, whom we know, with whom we interact.  
    And yet, that’s what Jesus calls us to do as His followers.  We forgive, not only seven times, but seventy-seven times (and if you think that the number seventy-seven is meant to be exact, think again; it means over and over again).  Forgiveness should be easy, because, as the author of Sirach says, “Wrath and anger are hateful things.”  We usually stay away from things that are full of hatred.  But for some reason, we can cling to wrath, anger, and unforgiveness.  
    We think that by holding on to the pain, to the hurt, to the wrong, to our grudge, that it makes us more powerful.  We think that it hurts the other person by our being mad at them (when, in fact, the other person generally doesn’t know and/or doesn’t care).  So we nurture our hatred toward that person.  What that person did can be truly wrong, maybe even heinously wrong.  Maybe someone ruined our good name, or cost us our job.  Maybe someone inflicted great bodily harm against us, or, sometimes even worse than bodily harm, emotional or spiritual harm.  I’m not talking, and neither is the Lord, about ignoring the bad behavior, or saying that it doesn’t matter.  Forgiveness only means something when what happened does matter, and did really hurt us.  
    Perhaps even more striking than what Jesus teaches us about forgiving others, though, is that the way we forgive, or don’t forgive, others, is how we will be forgiven.  Elsewhere in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus says it this way: the measure we measure out to others will in turn be measured out to us.  In other words, God will forgive us as we forgive others.  This shouldn’t come as a shock, though, because we say it each time we say the Our Father: forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.  May we take it as: forgive us, because we’re forgiving others.  But we can also look at it as: forgive us in the measure that we forgive others.
    I want you to close your eyes now.  Go ahead, close them.  Think of a person that has hurt you, that you are having a hard time forgiving, or maybe cannot forgive.  Think of that person’s face, their eyes.  Think about what that person did that you are finding it difficult or impossible to forgive.  Maybe you feel that hurt welling up inside you again, that anger pulsing through your body, wanting retribution, wanting justice, wanting revenge.  What words did you say to that person in anger?  
    Keep your eyes closed.  Now picture yourself standing before the judgement seat of Christ.  You are there, cognizant of your sinfulness, but wanting mercy, wanting to be welcomed into heaven.  You can almost feel the joy, the warmth, the light coming from just beyond where you are.  You can sense that you were made for that place, that it would complete you.  And from the mouth of Christ you hear the words that you spoke in anger to the person you cannot forgive.  What do you feel now?  
    You can open your eyes again.  If we really took that exercise seriously, it was probably pretty stark; maybe even scary.  I know it was for me as I composed this homily.  Jesus died for us, He forgave us for leading Him to the cross, not because He had to, but because He loves us.  He wants to forgive us, and the only thing that can stand in our way is our lack of forgiveness towards others.  So today, even if it can only be far away and can’t or shouldn’t be in person, forgive that person who has harmed you.  Let go of the hatred and the grudge you’ve been holding on to.  Forgive others, so that your heavenly Father can forgive you.

New Life

Fifth Sunday of Lent–Year C and Scrutinies

Most of the times when we have the yearly readings and the scrutiny readings (which 2 out of three years means they are different), I prepare two different homilies.  Usually each set of readings has its own focus and takes me down two different roads as I think about what the Lord wants me to say.  But this week the two Gospel passages–the woman caught in adultery and the raising of Lazarus from the dead–tied in together and seem to both emphasize the same point.

If I think about the raising of Lazarus (you can go home and read John 11 if you want a refresher), it is an amazing passage in itself.  Probably all of us have experienced the death of a loved one, and if it was a close family member or friend, we know the pain and sorrow that Martha and Mary were feeling.  We understand and maybe even have said with Martha, “‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.’”  We can then also imagine how moving it would have been to actually have seen Lazarus risen from the dead.  Imagine your loved one, who had been dead for four days, being returned to life.  Maybe it would be a little creepy, but the joy would have been inexpressible.  

And then I think about the woman caught in adultery from John 8.  That woman was raised from the dead by Jesus, but in a pre-emptive way.  His challenge to the scribes and Pharisees keeps them and the mob that had formed from stoning her to death.  Jesus’ words have been repeated (whether appropriately applied or not) throughout the ages: “‘Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.’”  Jesus saves her life, and encourages her to go and sin no more.

But both Lazarus and the woman caught in adultery would later die.  Lazarus’ earthly life came to an end…again, at some point.  By pious legend Lazarus either became the first bishop of a city in Cyprus, or Provence in France.  We have no idea what happened to the woman caught in adultery.  But they both died.  We usually think of the raising of Lazarus as Jesus’ biggest miracle.  And certainly it was a biggie, and proved His divinity.  Jesus showed that He, as God, had power over life and death.  But we might say that, in one sense, his miracle with the woman caught in adultery was bigger.  When Jesus raised Lazarus, Jesus gave Him back earthly life.  When Jesus forgave the sins of the woman, He offered her eternal life.

Forgiving sins raises people from death.  In my ministry as a confessor, I have been privileged, though I am a sinner and in need of God’s mercy, to be the instrument of God’s mercy to people, some of whom have been away from God’s grace for longer than I’ve been alive.  To hear the confession of people who have been alienated from God by their choices, and to reconcile them to God and bring them back into His family, is a humbling and truly awesome gift, one of the greatest that a priest receives.  To act in Jesus’ Name, with His power, when someone tells me, often with tears in their eyes, that they have been away from the Church for 10, 20, 30, 40, or even 50 years; that they have killed the infant in their womb; that they have committed adultery, allows me to see the great power of Christ which raises their dead soul to life, and recreates them.  

I can often see the guilt and hurt, or hear it in their words.  These are people who are as good as dead, and yet are looking for new life.  The world has not shown them kindness.  They have been drug out into the streets, ready to be killed by the stones of judgment of others.  Sometimes they even expect judgment or condemnation in the Sacrament of Penance.  But what they hear are the words of Jesus: “‘Has no one condemned you?  […]Neither do I condemn you.  Go, and from now on do not sin any more.’”  Once inside that confessional, the only one who could truly condemn that person because He truly knows what the person has done and why and to what extent he or she is truly culpable, does not condemn, but forgives.

Forgiveness is a way that Jesus gives new life.  Not just an extension of earthly life.  But a new life that can last forever in heaven.  It is given in Christ’s Name with His authority in the Sacrament of Penance.  But each one of us has the power to raise someone from death by forgiving them.  If we truly forgive someone who has wronged us, especially if they have wronged us in a powerful way, we give that person new life, and raise their souls from death.  It is not easy.  It doesn’t mean we forget the pain and hurt that person caused us.  But it means we no longer hold it against him or her, and grant them the opportunity of a new life without the chains of sin dragging that person down to death.  Today, and every day, you have the opportunity to raise someone from the death of sin to the new life of forgiveness.  Can you say with Jesus, “‘Has no one condemned you?  […] Neither do I condemn you.  Go, and from now on do not sin any more.’”

Picking the Fruit of the Tree of the Cross

Fourth Sunday of Lent

Very few people I know like to get in trouble.  As children (and sometimes as adults) when we have done something that we shouldn’t, something for which we could get in trouble, we tend to run away and hide.  We don’t like to admit that we’ve done something wrong.  If there’s a broken anything in the family house, it was never one of the kids who did it; it was always done by someone named Idont No.  

We probably get this from our first parents, Adam and Eve.  Back in the Garden of Eden, they were tempted to eat the forbidden fruit, to disobey God’s command.  And they both did it.  But then what did they do?  They hid because they were ashamed.  They didn’t want to face God and what the consequences would be.  To admit that they were wrong was to admit that they were naked, totally seen, by God.

We like this first part of the Gospel today, John 3:16.  This passage may be one of the best know passages in all the Bible: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life.”  We see it at sporting events, especially football games from people in the seats behind the goal posts.  And it is powerful, and needs to be spread more.  It is important for us always to carry this message with us, that Jesus came as the result of God’s love so that we do not have to perish, to die eternally, but so that we can live eternally.  If you read this passage, you’ll notice that it’s not in quotation marks.  This isn’t some that Jesus said (at least according to modern reading of this passage), but is rather John’s commentary on Jesus’ conversation with Nicodemus.

But St. John also says something important later in this same passage: “the light came into the world, but people preferred darkness to light, because their works were evil.”  St. John, having spent three years with Jesus in His public ministry, the same disciple who was beloved by Jesus and leaned on his chest during the Last Supper, was keenly aware that people prefer darkness to the light that Jesus brings.  And why?  Because we think in the darkness we can hide our sinfulness and get away with it.  We don’t want to get in trouble.  We don’t want God to see our imperfections.

But St. Paul reminds us in our second reading that response to sin is not to hide in the darkness, but to run to the mercy of God.  He writes to the Ephesians that God wants to, “show the immeasurable riches of his grace.”  God sent Jesus not to condemn us, but to forgive us.  But to be forgiven, we have to come into the light.  We have to come and admit our sins which cause spiritual death so that God, who is rich in mercy, can forgive us and raise us to new life.  God’s mercy and forgiveness are the fruit of the tree of the cross, the fruit that God wants us to pick regularly and consume.  And God encourages us and pushes us there.  But only we can pick that fruit of mercy, just as only we can pick the fruit of disobedience like our first parents.  

We shouldn’t want to sin and to do bad things.  But when we do, God encourages us to come running to Him, rather than running away from Him.  God wants us to come to the light, rather than to hide in the darkness.  And the funny thing is that God already knows what is in the darkness.  He knows the ways that we have distanced ourselves from Him.  But when we bring it into the light we find not condemnation but mercy.  We are only really in trouble if we continue to prefer the darkness to the light and hide from God.  Because when we hide from God we show that we do not really believe in Him and His power to forgive.  And, while St. John says clearly that, “Whoever believes in him will not be condemned,” he also says in the same sentence, “but whoever does not believe has already been condemned.”  

We can all help to promote people coming to the light, especially in our families.  Yes, there will be negative consequences for making bad choices.  That is the nature of bad choices: there are bad things that follow.  But what a beautiful thing it is when a child or a spouse comes forward to admit that he or she has done wrong.  In that moment, even though there is often hurt from the wrong done, especially if it’s wrong done to a person, there is also, or should also be, joy in having the wrong come into the light.  To put it concretely, you may still punish your child for stealing $20 to help them to understand that stealing is wrong.  But at the same time there should be some mitigation for that child coming forward in honesty to admit the wrong he or she has done, because that child had the courage to come into the light so that he or she could receive mercy.  When we come into the light and reveal our sins to God (who knows them already), He is merciful to us.  Hopefully we can also live that way and show God’s love by being merciful when a wrong is brought into the light to us.

The Real Lesson of 9/11: Forgiveness

Twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

            There are times in each of our lives, I believe, when God confirms in a very real way that He is in charge.  These are the moments when, without our planning, everything falls into place and a great blessing is bestowed or a great lesson is learned.  In these moments we experience wonder and awe in the presence of God who is the Lord of all History, to Whom all time belongs.

            Ten years ago, our country was attacked in a horrible way.  Innocent civilians lost their lives because of terrorists who chose hatred and death.  In those moments, it was very easy to wonder where God was.  As a senior in high school, and likely for many of you, for me it was a time of real fear at the evil that was unleashed by sinful men.

            And yet, here we are today, with readings that were chosen in the 1970s for the twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time, chosen by men, guided by the Hand of God, about forgiveness.  There was no way that those men could have known what was going to happen on September 11, 2001.  There was no way for them to know that ten years after that event, September 11 would fall on a Sunday, the twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time.  And yet, here we are, with God confirming in a very real way in our midst the lesson of forgiveness that He wants us to embrace on the anniversary of a day that we as a country were sinned against.  We should have wonder and awe in the presence of God that all of these variables lined up just so.  As Pope Bl. John Paul II said, in Divine Providence, there are no such things as coincidence.

            Our lesson on forgiveness from the Divine Teacher begins with the first reading: “Wrath and anger are hateful things, yet the sinner hugs them tight.  The vengeful will suffer the LORD’s vengeance, for he remembers their sins in detail.  Forgive your neighbor’s injustice; then when you pray, your own sins will be forgiven.  Could anyone nourish anger against another and expect healing from the LORD?  Could anyone refuse mercy to another like himself, can he seek pardon for his own sins?”  The words from the Book of Sirach are very challenging, but they are truth.  As the Letter to the Hebrews says, “The word of God is living and effective, sharper than any two-edged sword…able to discern reflections and thoughts of the heart.”  Where are we in forgiving those who attacked us ten years ago?  Where are we in forgiving those who have hurt us since then, not only terrorists, but also neighbors, family, friends, co-workers?  “But Father, you don’t understand what they did!  I just cannot forgive them!  The pain they caused is too great!!”  Forgiveness is certainly difficult, especially when the offense comes from someone who is close to us.  And yet, we hear God in His inspired word saying that if we are holding on to wrath and anger, than we can count ourselves among the sinful.  If we do not forgive others, we will not be forgiven by God.  As Jesus says, “the measure which we measure out to others will in turned be measured out to us.”  The level at which we forgive is the level at which we can hope to be forgiven.  If we cannot forgive, then neither can we hope to be forgiven.

            Now, to be clear, forgiveness does not mean being a doormat.  Forgiveness does not mean ignoring past actions.  It does not mean that we do not guard our nation carefully.  It does not mean that we forgo screenings at airports.  It does not mean that we blithely trust someone who has betrayed our trust, especially in a major way.  But it does mean that we pray that God will extend His mercy towards them, and heal them of the evil that has grown in their heart, and that they will convert and be blessed by God with His love. 

            It is easy to hold on to hatred.  It is easy to carry a grudge.  It takes almost no effort at all.  The hatred and the wrath seem to bubble up naturally.  It takes real power, though, to forgive.  It takes real strength to be the bigger man, the bigger woman, to not hold on to past offenses.  When we see a person who has been wronged hating another, it almost seems commonplace.  When we see a person who has been wronged forgiving another, we are moved by that person’s soul.  Think of a mother who has lost her child to murder.  It is not newsworthy when she spews out more hatred toward the murderer.  It is newsworthy when that mother, in the midst of her real pain and sorrow, has the strength of soul to say to that murderer, “I forgive you.”  Does the murderer still go to jail?  Certainly.  But the mother is no longer imprisoned by her hatred, but has been set free by forgiveness.

            How many times do we forgive terrorists?  How many times do we forgive a spouse who has betrayed the spousal trust?  How many times do we forgive a friend who hurt us?  How many times do we forgive the stranger who changed the lives of so many by acts of violence and hatred?  Jesus tells us that we forgive them always, so that when we need forgiveness, maybe in small ways, maybe in big ways, our hearts are prepared to receive the forgiveness of God.  If we do not forgive, then our hearts are not open to receive the forgiveness that God wants to bestow upon us.

            “But what about justice, Father?  What about paying the price for your crimes?”  If you insist on justice, then let me lead you to the cross.  Let me lead you to Calvary, because that is where justice leads.  That is where justice led Jesus, who suffered for us, innocent as He was, so that we could have eternal life.  That is where He who shared our human nature died, fulfilling the justice that original sin required, so that we who share that human nature with Jesus could also rise with Him to glory.  We should be careful about insisting on justice, or asking that the “fires of [God’s] justice burn,” because we might just receive that justice, and the wages of sin is death, as St. Paul says.  Justice for sins brings death.  Forgiveness and love bring life.

Fr. Mychal Judge being carried out
by NY Emergency Personnel after the
South Tower collapsed

            What we saw on September 11, ten years ago, was that hatred only brings destruction and death.  Hatred led those terrorists to end the lives of so many innocent people in the World Trade Center buildings, at the Pentagon, and on United Flight 93.  Love, which is at the root of forgiveness, led Fr. Mychal Judge to care for the souls of those who were in the Twin Towers and to pray for them even as the South Tower collapsed.  Love led the many heroes of the police and fire department personnel to risk their lives to try to save others who were in and around the Twin Towers.  Love won that day.  Love builds us up to be more human, to be more in the image and likeness of God. 

We mourn those who lost their lives that fateful day.  We protect ourselves now from future attacks.  In the midst of it all, we pray for forgiveness.  “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.  And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”  Amen.

Gospel Standards

Twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

            One of the nice things to have in any educational setting or profession is standards.  You want to make sure that there are controls to ensure that a person is reaching the expectations of the job, or actualizing the potential that he or she has inside.  We have standardized tests for school to make sure that kids are learning the right material and are competitive with other students across the country and the world.  We have standards for the members of the Armed Forces as they go through Basic Training to make sure that they can physically, mentally, and emotionally endure the trials of being a solider.  We have standards for businesses to make sure that a good product is being delivered and that people are doing all they can to help the company succeed.

For the past few weeks we’ve been hearing tough words from Jesus: “‘Strive to enter through the narrow gate, for many, I tell you, will attempt to enter, but will not be strong enough’”; “‘when you are invited, go and take the lowest place’”; “If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother…he cannot be my disciple.  Whoever does not carry his own cross…cannot be my disciple…anyone of you who does not renounce all his possessions cannot be my disciple.’”  These are very high standards for us as Catholics.  Hearing these readings should have caused each one of us to take stock of how we are responding to the great riches of being Catholic and having a life in Christ.  Some of us, hearing these words seriously and taking them to heart, may have even started to question practices in our lives, or maybe even our eternal salvation.

And the reason why we hear these tough words from the Word of God is to cause us to soberly realize that salvation, while a free gift, calls for a great response from each one of us, not a mediocre retort.  Faced with this realization that a great response is needed, the temptation can be to try and lower the bar so we can reach it.  After all, in the name of compassion, or what we understand as compassion, we so often loosen our standards if no one can reach it, sometimes even if the standard is what is needed.

But Jesus does not lower the bar.  He does not loosen the standard.  Instead, He shows mercy.  He forgives us when we do not meet the standard set for us.  Take, for example, what St. Paul tells us in the second reading.  Jesus does not lower the bar and decide that all those who murder Christians can get into heaven, since some people who want to go to heaven are murdering Christians, and after all, we’re all basically good.  Rather, he forgives those who have murdered so that they can witness to God’s mercy.  St. Paul himself says, “I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor and arrogant, but I have been mercifully treated.  […] Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.  Of these I am the foremost.  But for that reason I was mercifully treated, so that in me, as the foremost, Christ Jesus might display all his patience as an example.”  St. Paul does not explain away what he has done, nor does he excuse his actions, but relies upon the mercy of God so that St. Paul can share that mercy with others and be a living witness of God’s mercy.

Sheep in the Judean countryside

And God’s mercy is so great, that to some it looks foolish.  If we examine the first parable in today’s Gospel, we see how “foolish” and “wasteful” is God’s mercy.  God is like the shepherd who leaves 99 sheep to find one that has wandered off.  Losing one sheep out of 100 is not bad odds.  And leaving the other sheep which do not wander to find one that does could endanger the 99 safe sheep.  But God is not satisfied with the 99.  He wants the one, wandering sheep to return to the fold.  He is not happy with 99% of His flock being safe and sound.  He wants 100% of his sheep to be safe.

That is how great God’s mercy is: that there is more rejoicing for one sinner who has returned than for 99 righteous people who never left.  That is how much God wants to share His mercy with us: to the point of appearing foolish or wasteful.

Often, we do not live up to the standards set before us by Jesus in the Gospel.  We don’t turn the other cheek, or love our enemies, or pray for those who persecute us.  We all struggle with particular sins, some minor, some major.  Rather than saying, “It’s ok to do this sin or that sin; I’m only human,” we should rather turn to God for mercy to be forgiven of the sins that draw us away or separate us from God, and strive again for those high standards by the grace of God. 

And the way we do this is to return, again and again, to the Sacrament of Reconciliation.  In this way we respond to God’s grace so that we can be found, and lead the choirs of angels and saints in heaven to rejoice for us sinners who have repented.  Maybe we only usually go twice a year during Advent and Lent.  Let’s make an effort to go four times a year.  Maybe we go every other month.  Let’s try to go every month.  Maybe we go every two weeks.  Let’s stay faithful to that practice so that we can receive the great mercy of God, and be living witnesses of the mercy that God wants to show every one of us.  Between St. Thomas and St. Johns, Reconciliation is available at least every other day each week.  What a great opportunity it is for us to have God and the heavenly host rejoice over us. 

Maybe we’re a major sinner like St. Paul who needs major conversion.  Or maybe we just struggle with the same minor sins every month.  God is waiting to forgive us and show us His mercy in the Sacrament of Reconciliation.  May we first receive mercy, and then spread the Good News of how deep God’s love and mercy is for us to those we know who are in need of God’s mercy.