Our First and Most Important Friend

 Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time
    Some of the greatest blessings in life are friends.  They are there for you to share in your joys and comfort you in sorrow.  The best friends help you to be the best version of yourself, which is sometimes easy, and sometimes a bit painful.  St. Augustine of Hippo had a beautiful reflection on friendship from his book The Confessions:
 

Friendship had other attractions which were very important to me – we could talk and laugh – help each other in small ways – we enjoyed doing lots of things together – reading some book – going somewhere – sometimes we would be very serious together – sometimes we were able to act the fool together.  Sometimes when we argued with each other it was not a bitter argument but like the kind of argument you might have with yourself.  In fact, sometimes the argument was the kind only friends can have when they have some disagreement – it sometimes made our usual harmony more meaningful.  Each of us had something to learn from each other and something to teach in return.  If someone was absent for some time they were missed and we welcomed them back warmly.

Maybe as I read St. Augustine’s description, your own memories with friends came to your mind, and the good and difficult times you made it through.
    But, as good as friendship is (and St. Thomas Aquinas calls friendship one of the highest goods on earth), we hear a very different message from the Prophet Jeremiah today as he proclaims, “Thus says the Lord: Cursed is the one who trusts in human beings, who seeks his strength in flesh, whose heart turns away from the Lord.”  Did St. Augustine and St. Thomas decide that Jeremiah got God’s message wrong?  Does God not want us to have friends?  
    Friendship is a gift from God, and in fact, Jesus calls tells the apostles, “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.  You are my friends if you do what I command you.  I no longer call you slaves…I have called you friends.”  So maybe Jeremiah did get it wrong!  God seems to encourage friendship, which necessarily entails trust in other humans.
    Of course, there’s a way to see this to brings together Jeremiah and Jesus, and Scripture and St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas.  As with everything, it deals with the proper ordering of goods.  Ordering good things is one of the harder tasks in life, because we don’t have to reject what is evil, but decide which good is a higher good than another.
    As good as friendship with our fellow human beings is, our friendship with God is even more important.  And this is the message that Jeremiah is getting at in the first reading.  If all we do is trust in our fellow man, then we’re missing out, and in a great way!  There are things that only a human friend is going to accomplish (short of a miracle): helping you work on your house, throwing a birthday party, and the like.  And so it can be very natural in any need to turn to a friend to find comfort or to rejoice.  But our human friends are limited by time and space, whereas God is not.  So to neglect going to God first is to wrongly order our loves.  And, ironically, the Psalmist says, “Unless the Lord build the house, in vain do the builders labor.”  And St. Paul tells us to rejoice in the Lord always.  So even with fixing up a house, or throwing a party, we should start by turning to the Lord.  We may still need friends to accomplish the manual labor, but unless that effort is done according to the will of God, it won’t be as successful as it could be, and may even be a disaster.  
    In my own life, the temptation to turn to friends first is most evident and most seductive when I’m feeling down.  Again, there’s nothing wrong with turning to a friend to find some comfort and consolation.  But my friend, as well as he knows me, does not know me as well as God does.  And my friend cannot see how certain things are meant to happen in the grand scheme of things.  So his advice is going to be limited by whatever finiteness he has, whereas God is infinite, and is limited by no external factors.  When I need a friend to lean on, God wants me to turn to Him first.  I might still turn to my human friends, but God gets first billing, or at least, that’s what he deserves and that’s what will help us the most.  
    Relying on God first is precisely the principle behind all of the Beatitudes that we heard today in the Gospel.  The poor, the hungry, those who weep, and those who are hated do not seem to be blessed.  But they have to rely on God first, and when you get that right, everything else can be put into its proper place.  Those who are blessed are those who know that they need God, first and foremost.  Those who are cursed are those who think they can get by on their own, and do not need God.  Why?  Because God has made the world contingent on Him and His will, and truly to succeed in life means acknowledging and living by that reality.  We may not always like it, but that’s the way the world works.  In the same way, we have this force called gravity.  We may not always like it, but if we try to live as if gravity didn’t exist, eventually we get to a place where gravity imposes itself on us, whether we like it or not, and reminds us that we have to live according to that force.  
    Friendship is a great gift.  “There is nothing on this earth more to be prized than true friendship,” wrote St. Thomas Aquinas.  “Friendship is the source of the greatest pleasures, and without friends even the most agreeable pursuits become tedious.”  But, friendship with God, and relying on Him first is the key to any true friendship, and not only natural but supernatural friendship.  May we not only develop our friendships on earth, but also the friendship that will last into eternity: our friendship with God.

A Post-It Note from God

Second Sunday of Lent

In the front of my Breviary for Lent and Easter, the book of prayers that priests, deacons, and consecrated men and women are required to pray throughout the day, is a Post-It note, on which is written: Sirach 6:5-17.  The last part of this Scripture passage reads:

Faithful friends are a sturdy shelter;

whoever finds one finds a treasure.

Faithful friends are beyond price,

no amount can balance their worth.

Faithful friends are life-saving medicine;

those who fear God will find them.

Those who fear the Lord enjoy stable friendship,

for as they are, so will their neighbors be.

Fr. Kregg Hochhalter

This Post-It note was put there by one of my best friends from college seminary, Kregg Hochhalter, who is now a priest of the Diocese of Bismarck.  He stuck it there when I visited him once while he was still at St. John Vianney College Seminary.  Every Ash Wednesday I open it up, and I immediately think of him and our friendship.  Because we live so far apart, and because we have such busy lives, we rarely get to see each other.  In fact, after his ordination to the priesthood a few years back, I had not seen him until last summer, when his retreat happened to coincide with my summer studies at Mundelein Seminary in Illinois.  We didn’t have much time to catch up because of his retreat, but we spent the better part of an hour or two finding out how the other was doing.

Friendships like these are not too uncommon.  Many times friends from college move away from each other.  But if they are truly good friends, then all it takes is a meeting, even after a few years, and they can pick back up where they left off.  What is a blessing for me is that every year, I am reminded of our friendship, pray for Fr. Kregg, and try to send him a little note.  That yearly physical reminder I have in my book eases the year’s worth of not being able to see him.

Abraham (still called Abram at this point in the story) in our first reading is given a physical reminder of his covenant, his friendship, with God, who promises Abram descendants more numerous than the stars in the sky.  Abram would never see that promise fulfilled, nor the promise that his descendants would have the land.  But each time Abram looked into the night sky, and saw all the stars, he was reminded of what God had sworn on oath would happen.  In fact, that very bloody covenant ritual of cutting up animals and burning them, was the ancient way of saying, “May I be as these animals if I do not fulfill my part of the covenant.”  Each time Abram saw the stars, he knew that his descendants would one day be many, not just the child of his slave woman, Ishmael, or the child of his wife, Isaac.  

Jesus also gives Peter, James, and John, the Big Three of the apostolic college, a glimpse of something spectacular which is meant to hold them through the suffering and crucifixion of Jesus.  Peter, James, and John see what a glorified body will look like, and they see Jesus surrounded by Moses, who represents the law, and Elijah, the greatest of all prophets.  They are given a glimpse of the resurrection.  They don’t really understand it, other than knowing it’s truly awesome.  

Mural of the Transfiguration at the top of Mt. Tabor

And it is even more awesome when one recognizes how much of a change it would have been.  I have been to Mount Tabor, to the place of the Transfiguration.  Today it has a switchback road with small busses to take people up.  But I climbed in my Birkenstock sandals to the top on one of my pilgrimages.  And even though I had showered that morning (as I do every morning), I was a mess by the time I made it to the top.  There were weeds, brambles, thorns, and the like, as well as loose rocks.  I doubt Jesus would have showered that morning; no doubt they were all a bit dirty from walking so much on the dirt roads, the sun beating down on them.  So when Jesus’ face “changed in a appearance and his clothing became dazzling white,” I’m sure Peter, James, and John knew this was something divine, a moment from God that was meant to strengthen their faith in who Jesus is.

God will often give us moments or Post-It notes that are meant to remind us of what is to come.  There is no better moment than the one we have here.  Jesus, under the appearance of bread and wine, is made present for us once again in the Sacrament of His Body and Blood.  This  place is not heaven, but is meant to be a reminder of us of heaven, where we will worship God and have communion–union with–God.  It is our weekly, or for some of you, daily reminder of God’s love and of what we have to look forward to if we follow Jesus.  May our Lenten practices help us to be aware of the many ways that God gives us a glimpse into what is to come, the bounty, the good things of the Lord that we hope to see in the land of the living.  

The Root, the Shoot, and the Fruit

Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity

            One of my favorite classes at Sacred Heart Major Seminary was Theology of the Trinity. 

Bishop John Quinn,
Bishop of Winona, MN

Besides being a great subject to study (you can never go wrong learning more about God), I also enjoyed the class because of the professor, Bishop John Quinn, who was at the time an auxiliary bishop of Detroit, and is now Bishop of the Diocese of Winona, Minnesota.  He taught well, but also became a mentor to me, and a kind of friend, with whom I still keep in touch today with an occasional letter or email.  In that class we learned about the different images that were used to describe the Trinity: The Sun (s-u-n) Itself (God the Father), the Light of the Sun (Jesus), and the Warmth of the Sun’s Rays (God the Holy Spirit); the Root (God the Father), the Shoot (Jesus), and the Fruit (God the Holy Spirit); and many others.  But what was key to describing the Most Holy Trinity was the understanding that God was not simply a monad, but a Communion of Persons.

            Our belief in One God, yet Three Persons, distinguishes us from the other two major monotheistic religious of the world: Judaism and Islam.  They both hold, with us, that God is One, based upon the words of Deuteronomy: “Shema Yisrael: Adonai Elohim, Adonai Echad”: “Hear, O Israel, the Lord is God, the Lord is One.”  And yet, throughout the Gospels, Jesus makes clear that He and the Father are One, not just in some metaphorical sense, but in the core of their Being, shown when Jesus forgives sins, something which only God could do.  That is why the Sanhedrin condemns Jesus for blasphemy, for claiming to be God.  And in today’s Gospel, Jesus affirms the role of the Holy Spirit, who is God, as continuing His work.

            But while we can talk until the end of time about the Trinity, seeking to understand more fully who God really is, we experience the Trinity in our everyday lives.  For, if God is a Communion of Persons, and we are created in the image and likeness of God, then we too are called to be a communion of persons.  And we know this from the beginning.  We know, as the Book of Genesis states, that it is not good for the man to be alone.  It is not good for us to lack communion.  We have, built within ourselves, a desire to know another and to be known by another, and to pour ourselves out for another, just as God is known in His fullness by the Trinity of Persons, and shares that knowledge with each Divine Person, and each Divine Person pours out all of who He is to each other.

            First and foremost, our desire for communion leads us to desire God.  St. Augustine rightly said in his Confessions, “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.”  Each person, even the most hardened atheist, has a desire for communion with that Communion of Persons in the Trinity.  We want to be connected to the infinite.  And whether we are single, ordained, consecrated men and women, or married, there is an aspect of our desire for communion that can only be filled by God.  And when we try to fill that with someone else, even a best friend or a spouse, we are perpetually frustrated, because they are finite, and we desire communion with the infinite.

            But we do also desire communion with each other.  For many here, that life of communion is fulfilled in a special way through marriage, which is itself a symbol, something which points to another, of the communion of the Trinity: each spouse pours their life out to the other, which is always open to new life, just as the Father and Son pour themselves out to each other, in a love which is so strong that it spirates, or breathes forth, the Holy Spirit.  That is why Jesus, and therefore the Church, teaches that divorce cannot be a possibility, because marriage is called to make visible the invisible total union of God, which will never be divided or broken up.  My dear married couples, you are the way that we witness what the love of the Trinity is meant to look like.  What an exalted vocation!!  For those who promise celibacy or take a vow of chastity or virginity, that spousal union is lived out with God, which then allows us to share that infinite love of God with you, whom we are called to serve. 

Sts. Gregory (l) and Basil (r)

            But all of us, no matter what our vocation, are also blessed with the communion of friendship.  In that platonic union, we are also able to pour ourselves out to another, such that sometimes friends become like another self.  What a great blessing to be able to have a person who accepts us as we are, but also calls us to the heights of holiness and virtue, with whom we can be open and honest.  Two of Christianity’s greatest friends, Sts. Basil and Gregory Nazianzen, lived this out, though they had their very rough patches.  St. Gregory wrote on the anniversary of the death of St. Basil, “We seemed to be two bodies with a single spirit.  Though we cannot believe those who claim that ‘everything is contained in everything,’ yet you must believe that in our case each of us was in the other and with the other.”  We can each experience something akin to that in our trusted friends.

            What we celebrate today, the Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity, is not some far-removed doctrine which has nothing to do with our life.  It is a defining part of who we are as Christians, and it is built into the very nature of our being.  May the Eucharist, though which we have communion with Jesus, and therefore communion with the entire Trinity, draw us each day deeper into the communion which is the basis for all others: the Communion of Divine Persons in the Most Holy Trinity.

Our Camaraderie with God

Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

            Many of the adults I talk to who have children who frequently misbehave, tell me that they feel like they are getting their just desserts.  “Father,” they tell me, “when I was a kid I was a real trouble maker.  I kept my mom and dad up late at night, worrying about whether I was ok.  At the time, I didn’t think it was a big deal, but now that I have kids, I realize how difficult I made it for my mom and dad, and I appreciate all their love and concern all the more.” 

            There’s something about having someone know exactly what you’re going through that gives you a real sense of camaraderie.  While anyone can be a critic, only coaches know how hard it is to get your players to perform at the level of which you know they are capable so the team can win.  When there is a death of a loved one, especially a spouse, parent, or child, we rightfully support each other, but only one who has lost a spouse, parent, or child truly understands what that person is going through.

            What camaraderie we have, then, with our God!  God knows us.  He knows us better than we do ourselves.  He knows what will truly make us happy, and how we can best achieve that happiness.  But the shocker is that, not only does God teach us how we are to live in order to be happy, but He joins us to Himself and experiences life just like we do, but without sin.  This is the scandal of the Incarnation: that God, who existed before all else, who cannot suffer, who was subject to nothing, would lower Himself and take on human flesh and feel the heat of the burning sun, the cool of the desert night, would stub his toe occasionally while walking, and would be tempted to all the things we are, and then freely be nailed to a cross in order to save us.  While we have grown used to this narrative over 2,000 years, this is truly amazing!!  God did not have to join a human nature to His divine nature in Jesus.  There was no compulsion to take on human limitations.  But out of love for us, Jesus did all that.

            In our first reading, God talks about how He will lead his people from exile into joy.  He promises to bring gather them, and to console them after their sorrows.  He will even make the road easy for them, without hills or valleys, without twists or turns.  He will free them from their oppression.  And in Jesus, God does that.  In our Gospel, Jesus heals a blind man, Bartimaeus.  He restores light and vision to the man’s eyes, the man who had walked in darkness for a long time.  But God does not just do this like a magic trick.  He does not simply will it to be from the heavens.  Instead, He takes the journey with us, from exile into freedom, from darkness into light.

            In Jesus, God knew the weight of sin, though He was sinless Himself.  As holiness itself in a human body, Jesus could sense all the disobedience around Him.  It must have made His very being convulse interiorly at the separation that sin causes.  But, He took that sin upon Himself and freed us from it.  It is as if He took our hand as we were lost, and told us, “I’ll lead you back home.”  In Jesus, we could hold hands with God, and be led where we needed to go.

            Although God knows the eye better than we do ourselves, in Jesus God sees with His eyes.  He has eyes that receive light and shadow and color, and so as He comes to Bartimaeus and senses his faith, He restores sight to that man to bring him back into the light. 

            Our God is not the god of the deists, a disinterested clockmaker who set the world in motion and lets it work according to its mechanical rules.  Our God is the loving Father, who sends His Son to experience life with us, and to show us the way to true happiness.  Yes, He knows the pain of sin because He knows how He created us and He knows that sin does not fulfill who we are.  But He also knows the weight and pain through Jesus’ human nature, such that He cries out from the cross using the words of King David in Psalm 22, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?”  Through always united to God, He drinks the pain of sin, not just a sip, but to the dregs, so that we can have life.  Yes, God knows darkness because He separated the day from the night, but He also has eyes that see and experiences the joy of vision with human eyes.

            So, do you know that God?  Do you know the God who not only knows you because He is God, but because He has also taken to Himself human flesh, never to separate from it?  Would you be comfortable enough having breakfast with this God?  Or do you prefer the anonymous, distant god?  To be honest, the anonymous, distant god is easier to deal with.  It’s like that fourth cousin, once removed who lives in Mississippi.  Sure, we’re family, but there’s no real relationship there.  And that way, he makes no demands on me, and I make no demands on Him.  We’re just associated with each other.  Do you know Jesus such that you would be comfortable spending time with Him, and making a sacrifice for Him?  A relationship means that there are demands on one’s affections.  Friends do this and don’t do that.  Jesus invites us to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us.  He invites us to be pure of heart, mind, and body.  Jesus invites us to take up our cross daily and follow Him, to value everything less than our relationship with Him.  Those demands only make sense if we have a relationship with Him.  If not, they just seem like rules and regulations.

            The Good News is that Jesus knows us, and He knows the reality of our situation, in His human nature as one like us in all things but sin, and in His divine nature as our Creator.  The upside is that, if we are willing to have a relationship with the God who took on human flesh, then we can grasp that fleshy hand as He says to us, “Come with me.  Let me take you from the exile of sin into the freedom of holiness; from the darkness of death into the light of life.”  “Come, follow me.”