How To Fix Us

Fifth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  There’s only so much repair work that can be done on an object before you have to buy a new one.  Patching it together eventually does not work.  As kids, when we would get a hole in the knees of our school uniform pants, mom or grandma would patch it up.  But if the patch got a hole in it, or if the stitching kept coming undone, mom and dad would break down and buy new navy blue pants.  Or maybe you had something that was duct taped together, until the adhesive started to wear out, and you had to finally get a new whatever rather than just taping it up again and again.  
    When we talk about the human person and following Christ, we’re not talking about a simple repair.  We need a comprehensive overhaul.  We may think we just need a few tweaks here and there, but in reality, what Christ desires of His followers is not possible except by His grace.  In order for our righteousness to surpass that of the Scribes and Pharisees, to live the deeper law that Christ gave in the Beatitudes, we can’t just muscle through ourselves.  The new law requires grace.  In order to exhibit the virtues St. Peter enumerates in the epistle, we cannot simply struggle hard enough in order to live that way.  We need Christ’s grace to transform us.
    When we talk about conversion, we often use the Greek word, metanoia.  That word comes from two Greek words, 𝜇𝜀𝜏𝛼, meaning change, and 𝜈𝜊𝜐𝜍, meaning mind.  But, perhaps better than mind is the idea of seeing the world differently.  Conversion, from the Latin words cum and versio, meaning to turn towards something, means that we see the world differently because we have turned ourselves towards Christ and have taken on His mind.  But it even goes beyond the intellect.  Conversion–metanoia–means that even our hearts are changed so that we re-direct our loves to the way that Christ loves.  
    And only when we love the way that Christ loves and see the way that Christ sees can return a blessing for a curse.  Only when we allow the grace of God to change us can we not only avoid murdering others, as the commandment prescribes, but also avoid hatred towards the other in our heart, the deeper meaning of the word “anger” that St. Matthew uses in the Gospel.  
    We don’t have it in this passage, but our Lord raises the bar for the sixth commandment as well as the fifth commandment.  Only when we allow the grace of God to change us so that we love as He loves can we not only avoid committing adultery and fornication, but we go deeper and avoid even using someone in our hearts and minds.  And for the eighth commandment, not only do we not swear by anything–not by heaven, not by Jerusalem, not by our head–but we let our yes mean yes and our no mean no.  We speak straightforwardly.
    Too often we try to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps, and then get frustrated when we cannot live up to the standard that we want, or the standard to which Christ calls us.  But we have to recognize that we are broken, and that Christ alone can repair us.  This is not to say that we are totally depraved, as some Protestants hold.  God still made us good, and that goodness exists in us no matter what.  However, that goodness does not always operate in us because of sin and our draw towards it.  And the healing that we need, the repair, only comes by what Christ has done for us.  Only He can heal what has wounded us.  It would be like trying to heal our own compound fracture without having any medical knowledge beyond a basic grasp of the body.  We might get some things right, but we will never be able to heal ourselves as we need to be healed to be whole again without the help of the Divine Physician.
    And this should give us hope.  Our salvation does not rest on us alone.  We do have to cooperate in it, and Christ gives us many opportunities to work with Him in going to heaven, but if we could save ourselves, all that Christ did and taught would be wholly unnecessary, which means that Abraham would have been able to go to heaven without a redeemer.  But that would make the sacrifice of Christ unnecessary, at least for some, which would be cruel to make a Son go through if it were not truly necessary.
    This is the great battle between Christ and the Pharisees.  They complained about the Lord always spending time with sinners, but the sinners were the ones who knew they were broken and couldn’t fix themselves.  The Pharisees thought they were fine, that they could live the Old Law perfectly on their own, and so did not need a redeemer, which made many of them miss out on the salvation Christ was offering.  

    Like the first line of the Coldplay song, “Fix You,” says, we tried our best but we didn’t succeed.  We tried to fix ourselves, but it didn’t work.  We needed a healer, a Salvator, to use the Latin, to fix what sin had broken in us.  And that’s precisely what Christ came to do.  He came to fix us so that we could offer blessings when we are cursed, so that we could be compassionate, so that our lips would not speak deceit.  Christ came so that our hearts and minds could be changed not only to avoid the grave actions of sin, but even to change the heart whence those grave actions arose.  We cannot do it on our own.  We cannot repair ourselves enough to be prepared for heaven.  We need Christ to fix us.  Christ who, with the Father and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns for ever and ever.  Amen.   

More Than Rules

Second Sunday of Lent
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  The Church Fathers have consistently taught that the Gospel we heard today, that of the Transfiguration, allowed Christ to assuage the distress of the announcement of His Passion, so that the Apostles could know that, after the Passion, the glory of the Resurrection would follow. 

    The Transfiguration also demonstrates what Christ desires to happen to us if He joins us to Himself through Holy Baptism.  The glorification of the head also means the glorification of the body.  God does not keep His glory to Himself, but shares it with those whom Holy Baptism joins to Himself and those who, through a holy life, keep that union strong. 
    And during our Lenten observances, as we discipline ourselves and “waste away” from fasting and abstaining, it is good to keep our eyes on the prize and realize for what God made us.  Because God did not solely destine us for this earth and all of its fallenness.  God made us so that we could live with Him eternally in heaven, and the glory that He has by nature He would share with us by grace.  We, too, are meant to be transfigured.
    So often Catholicism is simply presented as rules to follow.  St. Paul today tells us not to give in to fornication and not to give in to lust, as do the pagans.  And in this way, St. Paul tells us, God will make us holy.  Certainly, many people think about the Church’s teaching on sex as “don’t do [fill in the blank].” 
    But the Gospel reminds us that Catholicism is not, at its heart, about rules.  Catholicism is about letting God transfigure us to be more like Himself, which is how He made us.  Rules can often seem very external, but God desires that His grace not only affect our actions, the externals, but also affect our entire being, both externals and internals.  The chief complaint from the Lord about the Pharisees was that they only cared about the externals, so He calls them cups where only the outside is washed, while the inside remains dirty, or white-washed sepulchers, finely decorated on the outside, but full of death on the inside.  The catch-word for Lent, repent, comes from the Greek 𝜇𝜀𝜏𝛼𝜈𝜊𝜀𝜄𝜏𝜀, meaning a change of mind or a change of being. 
    And as we hear St. Peter say that it is good that they are at Mt. Tabor, and should stay there in three tents, even he, in a sense, thinks only about the externals.  Christ allows His divinity to shine through, and Peter is awe-filled.  But it doesn’t require any change of his own life.  He can simply watch the Lord and bask in His brilliance.  But a disciple is not just about “me and Jesus,” to use a common Christian phrase.  Following the Lord means that we allow God to transform our life, which pushes us out to share that new life with others.  When we conform our lives to God, we conform them to love, which is diffusive; it wants to be shared with others, not kept to ourselves. 
    This transformation cannot only be on the outside.  St. Paul, elsewhere, talks about the glory of the law, which pales in comparison to the glory of righteousness.  Moses, the Apostle writes, had this glory, but the glory faded, which is why Moses covered his face: so the Israelites didn’t see the slow fade of the glory.  The Law had some transfiguring effect, but not a total transfiguration.  Moses could give the law, but grace and truth came through Christ, as we hear in St. John’s prologue at each Mass. 
    It is all too easy to “do the right things.”  It is easier to simply do the external things that we are told that we need to do than to allow those things that we are supposed to do change us, both outside and inside.  But the point of the externals is to change the internals.  God does not only want us to look good, He wants us to be good.  And so those things that we do should change our interior dispositions to be more like Christ.
    So as we engage in our Lenten disciplines, ask yourselves: is this discipline opening me up to the grace of God so that I can be transformed?  Or is it only an outward action that does nothing to my interior spiritual life?  And if we’re not being transformed, it’s not that we stop our penances.  We can’t simply eat meat on Fridays because we don’t experience how abstaining from meat on Fridays transforms us to be more like Christ.  What it does mean is that we have to examine how that practice, or any others that we undertake, can make us more receptive to God’s grace.  Maybe by not eating meat by choice, I ponder those who cannot choose what they want to eat because they have no money.  My heart grows in love for the poor, and I am led to consider how I can help them according to my own state in life.  I no longer see them as “others” who annoy me, but as beloved of Christ, and even Christ Himself, as He says in Matthew 25, for whom I have a responsibility to care. 
    I know I preached about externals and internals on Ash Wednesday, but the Gospel of the Transfiguration reminds us that Christ did not come only to change religious practices.  Christ came to make us more like God, not on our own terms, like what Adam and Eve tried to do when they disobeyed God, but on God’s terms, with a transformation that shines more brightly.  May our Lenten practices not only discipline our bodies, but also help us to be more like Christ, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit is God, for ever and ever.  Amen.

Sweat the Small Stuff

Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

   “Don’t sweat the small stuff.”  We’ve probably heard that phrase a time or two.  And in some cases it can be quite good advice.  One can get so focused on little things that you miss the bigger things of life.  Or, to use another cliché, “you can’t see the forest from the trees.”  
    But when it comes to our life in Christ, when it comes to following Jesus, that’s not the message we hear today.  We are still advised to take care of the big issues, e.g. murder, adultery, divorce, and false oaths, but Jesus encourages us to go deeper, to look to the smaller roots that lead to those bigger problems.
    Because those big ones can be easy (at least to some or most) to keep.  Most people are not going to murder another person.  Most married couples do not cheat on their spouse.  Most people do not “swear to God” and then do not follow through.  And if that’s all we think that following Jesus is about, then we probably think we’re pretty good.  Indeed, many have come to think that as long as they’re not a horrible sinner, then they’re probably going straight to heaven after death.  It’s a nice wish, but not one that is in line with the Gospel.
    Jesus reminds us that the small stuff is precisely where the big stuff begins.  If you have enough trees to do get a forest.  In following Jesus, it does not suffice not to be an egregious sinner.  Jesus desires us to have a change of heart.  In Church language we use the Greek word metanoia.  In fact, what we translate as repent, often comes from that Greek word “metanoia,” which could also be translated, “change your hearts.”  
    And a heart that is changed to be more like Jesus is a heart that recognizes how those smaller desires in our hearts lead to action.  Every action comes from a desire, really, but those big sins we see in seminal form by smaller sins and desires that stem from the heart.
    Very few, if any, wake up one day and say, “You know what?  I haven’t murdered anyone lately.  I think I’ll give that a try!”  No, it starts with that person that we find annoying, and an anger with that person in our heart.  It continues with us calling others names, insulting them, giving them the middle finger.  It builds to desiring evil for another person whom we do not like, hoping that some bad happens to them so that they’re taught a lesson.  Those may not always lead to murder, to killing an innocent human being, but every homicide started many steps back with anger in the heart.
    Very few, if any, wake up one day and say, “I haven’t cheated on my spouse” or “I haven’t messed around with my girlfriend” (ladies, you can replace this and later examples with the male counterpart) and then proceed to be unfaithful and unchaste.  It starts with the song we hear on Spotify, or the Netflix drama we watch.  It continues with that longer look we take of the attractive woman at work or in class, or the racy adds we linger on that pop-up on the Internet.  It builds through watching pornography, or being alone in a room with a girlfriend when no one else is home, never intending to cross that line, but hoping to get as close to that line as possible.  
    When our desires and our hearts are rightly ordered, then the big stuff never enters our mind.  When our desires and our hearts run wild, and follow any desire they have for small things, it is much easier to give into bigger evils.  Again, smaller evils don’t necessarily lead to bigger evils, but even those small evils show that God is not number one, which means that we’re not ready for heaven, where God is all in all.  
    Jesus says later in the Gospel according to St. Matthew that, “‘the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent are taking it by force.’”  Following Jesus is not for sissies or wimps or whatever other word you want to use.  Following Jesus means fighting battles day in and day out.  It is not for the faint of heart.  Following Jesus means we fight those small disordered desires in our hearts because even in themselves acting on those small disordered desires means that we’re pulling away from God.  If someone were trying to take our life, we would fight with all we had, using any means necessary to preserve it.  God wants us to use the same, all-out mentality when it comes to our eternal salvation, to eternal life.  Fight with everything we have to deny ourselves those little sins that we often overlook.
    The good news is that, just as we should sweat the small stuff, doing small things for Christ also can help us beyond what we imagine.  Just as small disordered desires lead us away from God, and can lead to much greater sins, so small acts of fidelity to God can build up to greater witness that God is number one in our life.  That excuse for the person who cut us off on the road, thinking that the person may be going to a dying family member rather than cursing them out; that change of the channel when something lewd comes on TV, or going to a different page when the Internet brings us a scantily clad member of the opposite sex; that act of kindness towards a person for whom we do not particularly care; the putting of a filter on the phone or the choosing of an accountability partner who helps us avoid pornographic sites; all those things help change our heart for the better, and make us better disciples of Christ.
    The good news is also that we don’t have to fight alone.  No good, whether small or great, is possible without the grace of Christ leading us there, accompanying us through it, and completing it.  And God showers down his grace like rain at all moments of our life so that we can say no to evil and yes to good.  Pay attention to the small desires of the heart.  Keep what is good, reject what is evil, so that, by God’s grace, we will be as prepared as we can be for our judgment, and hopefully be welcomed into eternal life in heaven.  

What Do You Want Me to Do For You?

 Quinquagesima Sunday
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  “What do you want me to do for you?”  What a question!  Besides asking the blind man in the Gospel, our Lord asks us the same question today: what do you want me to do for you?  
    It would be easy to treat this offer like Aladdin, rubbing the lamp and having the genie come out, offering us three wishes.  It’s interesting that, when it comes to genies, most stories involve some level of greed.  What is desired is personal gain, whether it be money, power, notoriety, or some other fleeting good.  Of course, then there’s the other reality with a genie, that you have to be careful what you ask for, because you just might get it and get it literally, or in a way you never intended.  

    But our Lord doesn’t operate that way.  He promises neither to give us fleeting goods which are really the idols of the world (power, pleasure, money), nor to trick us with what we ask.  He sincerely asks us what we want to receive from Him.  And notice that the blind man does not ignore his physical reality.  He doesn’t deny the trouble that being blind gives him, or pretend that all he wants is eternal life.  He asks for his eyes to be healed.  We don’t know how old this man was.  Maybe he was young; maybe he was old.  But his eyes would eventually fail him again as he continued to age.  Still, God gave him that gift.  
    So what do you want from God?  What do you want God to do for you?  When you’re thinking about it, make sure that it’s something that is actually good.  I used to, when I had some extra cash, buy

MegaMillions or PowerBall tickets.  I would tell God that if I one, I would give 10% to the church, so it would really be a good thing if I won.  I haven’t won, for the record, and I am convinced that God hasn’t wanted me to.  I hear so many stories about people who came into quick and easy money, and how horrible their lives became.  So maybe God was saving me from that pain (some of you may be thinking, ‘I’ll take my chances, God; let me understand what it is to have that kind of problem!’).  But what do you want God to do for you?  Solomon didn’t ask for riches or victory over his enemies, but wisdom.  That would be a great gift to get from God.  Or maybe you want God to increase your faith or your hope.  Those are also good.  Or maybe you desire healing from God, like the blind man.  God also grants those prayers if it’s for that person’s good.  What do you want from God?
    Have confidence that God can do it for you.  In another story of healing, a man asks our Lord to heal his son who is possessed.  The man says, “If you can,” and Christ replies that all things are possible for the one who has faith.  Do we have confidence that God can do great things?  Does He do every great thing that we desire?  No.  Does that mean that He can’t.  No.  It means it wasn’t His will.  But if you look at almost every healing in the Gospels, they come as a result of faith.  When we have faith in what God can do, it opens up for possibilities that we never imagined were possible.  As the Lord asks us, “What do you want me to do for you?”, do we really think He can do something for us?
    That question, “What do you want me to do for you?”, takes on a special meaning for us as we approach Lent.  Perhaps the Lord is asking you and I today: “What do you want me to do for you this Lent?”  What do we expect to get out of this upcoming Lenten season?  Are our sacrifices something that we do because we’ve always given up this, or done this extra thing?  Or will they truly help us to grow in holiness?  Will our Lenten practices help us to be ready for Easter, to celebrate the Resurrection of our Lord from the dead?  
    If we ask the Lord for something this Lent, He will give it to us if it is for our good.  Do we have a particular sin that we want to fight more and eliminate from our life?  Do we have a family member or friend with whom we need to reconcile?  Do we have an enemy that we need to forgive?  Lent is the perfect time to open ourselves up even more to God’s grace to allow us to live the divine life.  Lent is the time of metanoia, a change of heart and mind, a time to put on the mind of Christ, as the Apostle says.  Do we want that from God?  Do we want to change, or are we happy in our set ways of operating or the spiritual plateau on which we may find ourselves?  
    Do we need to grow in love?  Not the romantic love that we so often associate with the word love, but the agape love that St. Paul describes in our epistle.  Do we need to become more patient and more kind?  Do we struggle with envying what others have, or do we seek to elevate ourselves above others?  Does our love for others depend on our emotions or how the day is going?  If we wish to grow more like Christ, it necessary entails growing in love, both for the God we cannot see and the brother and sister that we can see.
    God is not a genie.  We are not limited to three wishes.  God truly desires our good, and wants to know what we feel we need.  He is our loving Father, and wants to give us every good gift.  As we go through this week, and as we prepare for Lent, may we hear the Lord asking us, “What do you want me to do for you?”, and prayerfully consider what it is that we desire from the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.