Corona and the Well

Homily for the Third Sunday of Lent
    Probably at least in the back of your mind, and very likely in the front of your mind, is COVID-19, the Coronavirus.  I saw a meme the other day that said something to the effect of: Did you ever wonder what it was like to live in the 14th century?  Well, we have two popes and a plague.  Obviously, the spread of this illness is not really a laughing matter.  But the fact remains that it’s on our minds, even here in church.
    As a reminder, if you’re feeling ill, we ask you, as an act of charity, not to come to church.  Wash your hands frequently.  We’re not holding hands during the Our Father (just fold them in a prayer position), nor doing the exchange of peace, and, for the time being, we’re not going to distribute the Blood of Christ at Mass (recall that, even if you only receive under one species, you receive the entire Jesus).  We also have hand sanitizer at the main entrance that you can feel free to use.
    Sometimes people will take the opportunity to say that large bad events are punishments from God.  Whether it’s a new virus, a hurricane, an earthquake, or any natural disaster, some are quick to pile on the idea that God is punishing us for something.  This isn’t really a Catholic view of how God works; there is rarely a one-to-one correlation between something bad happening and God being unhappy (just look at the Book of Job, or especially at the suffering of Jesus).  But, in times like these, we can take the opportunity to see what we value, and in what or whom we place our trust.
    Because, throughout the history of the Church, saints have pointed out that bad things happening are a reminder to us that God is in charge, and we are not.  Again, not that God sends us calamities, but when they happen, they remind us that, even with all our technological advances, we are not the masters of the universe, or even of our own lives.  God can certainly use disasters and outbreaks to turn back to Him and act in our life in a way that we recognize that God is God, and we are not.
    But something like the outbreak of COVID-19 also tells us where our top priorities are.  I will admit, I wanted to watch Powers Catholic boys basketball play in the District Championship last Friday.  I’m sure there are many more who wanted to see the Big Ten tournament or the NCAA tournament, even just on TV.  As I write this, I just saw that the Master’s Tournament, a tradition unlike any other, was postponed.  School won’t be back in session until 6 April.  Certainly, there’s the disappointment of buying tickets (sometimes very expensive tickets) and the loss of the expense of traveling, but is that the most important thing in our life? 
    And where do we look to as far being the base of our hope?  While we certainly need to be prudent as far buying supplies to last us if we get quarantined, how many rolls of toilet paper do we need?  Are we looking to the government to save us?  The government certainly has a role in protecting us and advising us on best practices, but our hope is not in supplies, or a 401K, or even the government.  Jesus invites us to make Him our only hope.
    And that is where the readings tie in.  In the first reading, the people do not put their hope in God.  They’re tired, worn out, and thirsty, and they complain that God is not taking care of them enough.  Massah and Meribah becomes in Jewish Biblical talk the signs of a lack of trust in God.  But God does provide for them, all throughout out their sojourn in the desert. 
    Or the Samaritan woman.  She’s in a desperate situation.  Drawing water in the middle of the day was a sign of being a social outcast, much like having a cough right now.  She’s an outcast probably because of her multiple husbands.  She put her trust in other men.  But when she encounters Jesus, He invites her to put her trust in Him, so that she can have living water and never thirst again.  It takes Jesus talking with her a while to get her to that point, but she gets there, and realizes that Jesus is the answer to the questions of her life.  The same is true for us now.  While fear and panic is common, natural, we may even say, we are called to the supernatural, to trust in God, even as we follow best practices for good hygiene.  God invites us to trust in Him.
    Illnesses are also scary because they remind us of our mortality.  Especially in our culture, we avoid death like the plague, if you’ll pardon the expression.  We fight it with pills, creams, injections, and anything else we can think of.  But, for a faithful disciple, we need not fear death.  It is a transition to, our hope tells us, new life in Christ.  The saints often remind us to keep death before our eyes daily, not to be dour or depressed, but to make sure that our choices reflect with whom we want to spend eternity.
    Let’s be prudent in our choices to avoid contracting or spreading COVID-19.  But let’s also not fear or act out of panic.  May we come to the well of God’s wisdom, and draw the living water that Jesus promises to provide us.  May our hope not be in any thing or comfort that the world says it can provide, but in Jesus Christ, our true hope and joy.

Imitation

Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

A picture of me in my
"dress code"

It could be said that while I was in college seminary, I had a certain dress code that was always associated with me.  It was basically khaki pants, a polo shirt (buttoned-up all the way), with a cross on a chain around my neck.  It was kind of my style.  But I didn’t realize it was so associated with me until Halloween in my junior year.  I was studying in Rome, both with seminarians and non-seminarians.  We all lived in the same house, and we tried to observe American holidays to keep us connected, even while we were abroad.  We couldn’t really go trick-or-treating, but we did have a costume party.  A friend of mine, not a seminarian, came down the party dressed in khaki pants, a polo shirt (buttoned-up all the way), with a cross on a chain around his neck.  I saw him and asked him what he was going as, and he said a seminarian.  I told him it was a great costume, not knowing that he was, in fact, going as me.  Dave and I remain friends to this day, even though he went as me for Halloween.

Dave Berthiaume, who
went as me for Halloween,
pictured with his then-girlfriend
(now-wife), Annie

St. Paul said in our second reading, “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ,” but I’m quite sure he didn’t mean go trick-or-treating as St. Paul.  Yes, dressing up like someone is one form of imitation, but what is really meant is living a life through which Christ is reflected.  If we’re a husband or wife, it means loving our spouse and children with as close as we can muster to unconditional love.  If we’re a manager of people we treat our employees as Christ would have treated them.  If we’re a janitor it means that we clean to the best of our ability to honor God.  If we’re a student, it means we use and develop our God-given intellect to do our homework and prepare for college or a trade-school.  It is, as St. Paul also mentioned in the second reading, doing whatever we are doing for the glory of God.

When I pray with our student athletes, both from St. Pius X and from Powers, I always pray that they will use their talents for the greater glory of God and the honor of their schools.  But it certainly goes beyond sports.  Imagine if we did our jobs and lived our vocations with the glory of God and the honor of our company or family at the front of our mind!

As we prepare for Lent, with Ash Wednesday this upcoming Wednesday, that’s a great way to have a great Lent: keeping the glory of God at the front of our minds.  It can often get shoved to the back of our minds, and all the concerns of life clamor for more and more attention.  Think about illness (and we heard about it in our first reading and Gospel).  When someone is sick, it can be very easy to ostracize that person because the fear of contracting that illness moves to the front of our mind.  Last week when I was sick, I didn’t have leprosy, but I might as well have walked around shouting, “Unclean, unclean!”  And I don’t mind saying that the sick person, acting out of the love of God, probably shouldn’t want to infect others and so should take precautions to not spread the bacteria and viruses as much as possible.  While it was frustrating, it was good for me to keep myself away from my office, the school, and even limit my contact with the parish last weekend.  

But does the motivation come from what we think God would do, what would bring glory to God, or does it come from fear?  Again, I’m not saying we should ignore good hygiene practices and protect our public from preventable illnesses, but in our Gospel, Jesus is not scared by the leper, but treats the diseased person (and a very contagious disease at that) with respect and love.

There are always people that scare us that we can be tempted to not treat with the love of God, or not act in a way towards them with the glory of God at the front of our mind.  I remember in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s learning about AIDS and how, at that time, there was a lot of fear that even being remotely close to someone with AIDS could mean getting what was at that time a very scary and deadly disease.  But that didn’t stop John Cardinal O’Connor, the late Archbishop of New York, from opening clinics and even working with people who had AIDS to make sure that God’s children, no matter how scary AIDS seemed, received loving medical care.

There are probably people that scare us today, too.  I won’t hypothesize what situations or people scare you.  But I invite you, as I challenge myself, to truly consider in prayer if I treat the people or situations that scare me as an opportunity to imitate Christ and glorify God, or if I act out of my fear.  God does not call us to be naïve, but He doesn’t call us to be jaded, either.  

St. Paul invites us to be imitators of Christ.  No, that doesn’t mean we wear a tunic, grow a beard, and wear sandals.  But it does mean acting like Christ would in each of the situations that life presents to us each day.  If we all did things with the greater glory of God on our minds, I think our world would be a much better place.

God Takes On the Life of Job

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

If you came to Mass today looking for a pick-me-up reading, our first reading from the Book of Job was probably not helpful.  We’ve probably all had days like Job, though, thinking that our life is just dragging on and is full of misery.  Remember that at this point, Job has lost almost of all of his material wealth, his children have been killed, and he himself is afflicted with sores.  His wife’s advice in all of this: curse God and die!  Not the loving support you want to hear from your spouse!  Instead, I think in hard times we all would rather that we had someone to sympathize with us; not just someone who feels bad for us, but someone who has gone through the same or similar circumstances.

That is the great news about the Incarnation!  God sees us in our misery, a misery which far surpasses that of Job, but He doesn’t just empathize with us, that is, suffer in us without any idea of what it really means.  Our God takes flesh in the second Person of the Blessed Trinity, and comes down to know our pain.  When God takes on our human flesh, not just living in it but truly making it His own, uniting our human nature to His divine nature forever, He takes on our misery, without giving up any of His glory.  

But while He could have avoided the nastiness of our fallen condition, He doesn’t.  In fact, our Gospel reminds us that He went down right into the middle of it all.  He spends time and touches people who are sick “with various diseases.”  He drives out demons.  He even enters into the delicate relationship between a son and his mother-in-law when He goes to the house of Simon Peter.  And, as our Gospel also states, He goes out to preach and to heal and to expel demons in other villages, not just His own.  He takes upon Himself all that it means to be human, but without sinning.  But, though He never sins, He even takes sin upon Himself as He suffers the pain and the penalty of sin.  When we sin, we (hopefully) feel bad enough because we have injured (venial sins) or severed (mortal sins) our relationship with God.  But imagine how much more horrible that must have felt for Jesus Christ, Himself God, to take upon Himself separation from God.  When we think about it, Jesus’ words on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” become even more powerful.  Jesus even shares in our death, the ultimate penalty of sin, as He breathes His last and His body loses the breath of God.

That doesn’t sound like it, but it’s good news.  It sounds horrible that God would have to go through that, and it’s for that reason that people weep when they think about the Passion of Jesus Christ, but it’s really good news.  Our God does not simply empathize with us, but sympathizes with us(which means He suffers with us).  He embraces us as we suffer, and reminds us that He knows the pain that we go through, not as a distant onlooker, but as a participant in our pain.

And that is the good news that St. Paul preaches.  That is the Gospel (which means good news) that St. Paul is obliged to preach, because he wants others to know that they do not suffer alone, and that, after all Jesus’ suffering, new life was won.  That is why St. Paul made himself a slave to all; why he became weak to the weak and all things to all.  St. Paul wants others to know that while life can sometimes seem as miserable as Job, Jesus has passed through pain and death and has transformed it into joy and life.  

Today the Church celebrates World Marriage Day, and next weekend we’ll have a blessing for Married Couples which will coincide with our St. Valentine’s Day Dinner Dance (and the Sunday after).  The call of Catholic married couples is to be a sacrament, a sign instituted by Christ which brings grace.  Too many married couples feel like Job, with life as a drag.  Catholic married couples are meant to show them, through their own living out of the vocation of marriage, that marriage may not be easy, and that sometimes couples might feel like Job, but that Christ has transformed marriage into a way to become holy.  They show it to others by their love for each other.  They show it to a new generation as they conceive and raise children in the faith.  They preach the Gospel by letting Christ sanctify and transform their love for each other so that when others look at them, they see the love of Jesus for His Bride, the Church.  

And we, the Bride, the Church, are not always easy to love, as many married couples sometimes experience.  We, God’s People, are not always faithful to Him; we do not always love Him; we do not always show that love for Him by prayer, spending time with Him, making Him the priority in our life.  And yet, Jesus continues to love us and pour Himself out for us as He sits at the right hand of the Father, interceding for us.  Married couples: I challenge you to say 1 Our Father with each other each day.  If you do, I promise not that marriage will be easy, but that you will have the strength from heaven to persevere even in the hard times.  High schoolers, college students, and young adults: I challenge you to say 1 Hail Mary each day, asking our Blessed Mother to help show you if you are called to marriage, and if you are called to that beautiful vocation, to show you whom to marry.  For the rest of us, let us pray 1 Glory Be each day for the sanctification of married couples and those discerning a vocation to marriage so that our church, our city, our nation, and our world can be filled with examples of Christ’s love.

Desserts and Deserts

Second Sunday of Advent

           

I’m a little weird.  Most of you have probably learned that already.  Why do I think I’m weird?  I like formality (in formal situations) and I also love country music.  Those two things don’t usually go together.  In most situations I’m very stoic.  And yet, you get me listening to a sad song like “I Loved Her First,” or get me watching a movie like “Old Yeller,” and water starts streaming down my eyes and my voice starts to waver and crack.  I’m also someone who loves grammar, and loves speaking grammatically correctly.  I think many people consider that weird.  You will rarely hear me end a sentence with a proposition.  I’m not confused by there, they’re, and their, nor when to use who and whom.  The English teacher at St. Thomas Aquinas school in East Lansing gave me, as a parting gift, the New York Times bestselling book, Eats Shoots and Leaves about proper punctuation and its importance.  I also love helping people understand grammar, using funny tricks.  For example, the way you know how to spell dessert versus desert is that you always want more dessert, and so you add a second “s.” 

           

Deserts (not desserts) play an important role in our readings today.  In the first reading we hear Isaiah say, “A voice cries out: In the desert prepare the way of the Lord!”  And in our Gospel passage St. Mark writes about St. John the Baptist as the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy.  “John,” Mark tells us, “appeared in the desert proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.”  Deserts are key in what the Word of God is saying to us today.  And deserts were key for the Chosen People.

            We don’t think of deserts as places of life.  There is such a lack of water, that only the strongest plants that have developed a system to survive can make it.  We’re used to seeing deserts with nothing but sand, like in Death Valley or the Sahara desert.  But Antarctica is also a type of desert.  In any case, deserts are not know for life or being great places to be.  Deserts are places where humans are in a race to beat the elements and find water, the source of life. 

            But, for the Chosen People, the desert was a very important place.  It still wasn’t a very kind place, but it was important.  Desert brought back the memory of the pilgrimage from slavery in Egypt to freedom in the Promised Land.  In between the slavery in Egypt and the land flowing with milk and honey in the Promised Land, there was a desert, in fact 40 years of desert, as the Chosen People did not trust God, and so God did not allow any of those who had rebelled against Him to enter the land He prepared for them.

            Wandering in the desert was not fun, and it didn’t carry with it the best memories for the Jews.  It seems like every other chapter of the pilgrimage to the Promised Land is a complaint of the Jews about how good Egypt (the place of slavery!) was in comparison to wandering in the desert.  There’s no food, no water, and no trust that God will provide them.  At one point, the people complain and God sends little seraph serpents that bite the people to stop their whining.  Even Moses has problems in the desert.  The people were complaining about not having water.  God tells Moses to strike the rock once, and water will flow from it.  But Moses gets so frustrated that he says, “Shall I provide water for you?” and strikes the rock twice.  Because of Moses’ disobedience to God, even he is not allowed to enter the Promised Land.

            And yet, the desert was the place that God continued to draw Israel to Himself, and teach her how much He loved her.  It was where the Israelites learned that no matter what, they could trust God; God will provide.  They always had enough food and drink when they trusted God, and when they trusted God, nothing went wrong.  As much of a trial as the desert was, it was also the sacred space for Israel: the place where they learned how to love and trust God.

            So it makes perfect sense that the desert is the place where preparations are made for the Lord, as Isaiah prophesies.  It makes perfect sense that St. John the Baptist chooses the desert as the place where repentance will take place.  God’s highway is going to go straight through the desert, and God is once more going to teach His Beloved People how to love Him.  In the desert, comfort will be given to Israel as they acknowledge their sins, and their guilt will be expiated, expunged, and a cleansing will take place, a cleansing with water which prepares for a cleansing with the Holy Spirit. 

            Don’t be afraid of the desert!  That is where we learn to love God.  Maybe your desert is an illness or a disease in yourself or a loved one.  Maybe your desert is final exams, or an upcoming test, or just school in general!  In this Year for Marriage in Michigan, maybe your marriage is in a desert.  Do not be afraid!  Illness, difficulties in school, and difficulties in marriage are not good things, but God makes them a means to learn to love Him more.  God makes the desert a sacred place where trials are meant to lead you closer to God and closer to a land flowing with milk and honey.  Do not be afraid, but do not be apathetic, either!  In illness, seek to unite the suffering with Jesus’ on the cross.  In school, see how God teaches you patience in going through things that are difficult or gives you opportunities to rely on others for help (not cheating, mind you!) or just is stretching your mind in a way that will help you become a better person.  In marriage, do not wait until things are really bad and about to fall apart.  Treat yourself to a Marriage Encounter weekend to make a good marriage better.  Or if you do find yourself in a marriage that is falling apart, invest in a Retrouvaille weekend to give your marriage every last chance to be salvaged.  If you are divorced with no hope of reconciliation, go through the process of a Declaration of Invalidity (commonly known as an annulment) to be able to heal those memories and be able to be free to marry again according to God’s plan.  In whatever circumstance you are in, listen to the “voice of one crying out in the desert: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths.’”  Everyone wants more dessert, and so we add a second “s.”  Through this Advent, may we also desire the desert as the place where we come to love God more!