The Empowerment of the Holy Spirit

Solemnity of Pentecost

    What scares you?  What causes you fear?  I would say that, since I started my work with the Michigan State Police, I am less fearful than I once was.  By learning from experience from the Troops and scenarios I have done at the Training Academy, I’ve learned how to better size up a situation and evaluate for potential dangers.  But I still can be afraid.  I’m afraid of drowning (even though I enjoy swimming); I’m afraid of being totally alone, abandoned by friends; and I’m afraid of failure.  Those are probably my top three.  What are your fears?
    As the Blessed Mother, the Apostles, and the disciples were in the Upper Room between the Ascension and Pentecost, perhaps they were afraid.  Over a month before they had seen their leader, whom they thought to be the Messiah, arrested, charged, and executed in the most horrible way.  That’s what made them stay in the Upper Room between Holy Thursday and Easter Sunday.  St. John the Evangelist tells us that the disciples were in the locked room, “for fear of the Jews,” for fear that their fate would be the same as Jesus’ fate.  And yet, Jesus breaks through and says to them, “‘Peace be with you.’” 
    So in that Upper Room again on Pentecost, after Jesus had ascended, maybe there was some fear.  It had been nine days since Jesus ascended, they were waiting in prayer, they had chosen Judas Iscariot’s successor, St. Matthias, but the Holy Spirit had not yet come. 
    But, when the Spirit did come, as we hear in Acts, chapter two, their fear was gone.  The fear of the Jews that filled them during the three days between Jesus’ arrest and Resurrection was turned into preaching to the Jews, in languages heretofore unknown to Mary, the Apostles, and the disciples, but understood by the many visitors who were in Jerusalem for the Jewish feast of Pentecost.  The gift of the Holy Spirit led the followers of Jesus from fear to boldness, from cowardice to courage.
    Today as we celebrate the gift of the Holy Spirit, that same spirit is renewed in us, not only in memory but in fact.  Today we “stir into flame” the tongues of fire that have been given to us, in most cases invisibly, through baptism and confirmation.  Today we are invited to move from fear to boldness in proclaiming and living our faith.
    Over the pandemic, we have been conditioned to fear.  At first, we learned to fear a microscopic virus that was new (novel was the word that was used).  Any time there is a new virus that can cause serious health problems and even death it is easy to fear.  We then became quite afraid that there wouldn’t be enough toilet paper (which I still don’t quite understand).  But then our fear turned into fear of each other.  And then previously existing racial divisions were exploited to pit one race against the other.  Political parties, too, became both aggressors and victims of fear-mongering, as each major party accused the other of being seditious and treasonous.  Even in churches we were encouraged by some to fear simply worshiping God, even with different hygienic practices in place to keep people as safe as possible. 
    I lost at least one of my grandparents to COVID, and I have other friends who died of it.  I have known many who have contracted the virus, some still with lingering side-effects.  So I don’t mean to suggest that we should be cavalier with our own or other people’s safety and health.  I feel like I have to say that these days, because of the fear that people will think that I don’t care about them or their health, or don’t understand the cost that COVID-19 has had for some families.
    But the Holy Spirit does not call us to fear.  And as we gather for the first time without the dispensation from our obligation to attend Mass on Sundays and Holydays, we assemble, not to pretend that there are not serious issues in the world, but to proclaim that, by the power of the Holy Spirit, we are not afraid.  We have been empowered by the Holy Spirit both to make prudent decisions about our health, but also to say with St. Paul that if God is for us, who can be against us?  We have been empowered to remind ourselves and our friends that we all need God, and that our Sunday obligation is meant to give us a nudge to give God His due and be strengthened by the graces of the Eucharist to share God’s truth and love with people who need it, with people who need our courage to be courageous themselves. 
    We have been empowered not to give in to division and the fear of the other, whether due to race or political party, or whatever other label can divide us, but to unite, in the Holy Spirit, in loving each other, in working for justice for every person, for working towards the common good and the dignity of each human being, not just my platform and my agenda. 
    It’s easy to be afraid.  The disciples were at one point.  But we are not called to fear, but to be models of courage, so that others can lean on us for a little bit of that courage that they want for themselves.  The enemy wants us to be afraid; he wants our fear to silence us.  But God gives us, today and every day, the Holy Spirit, that we might follow the example of those first disciples on Pentecost, and proclaim by word and deed, in ways others can understand, the wonderful love and truth and work of our God.  Do not be afraid!!

Job and Detroit Lions Fans

 Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

    I am convinced that at some point in the future, the Lions will make it to the Super Bowl.  It will be the fourth quarter, and the Lions will be losing by 1 point.  They’ll be on the opponent’s 20 yard line, ready to kick the game-winning field goal, with 1 second left on the clock.  The kicker will kick the ball, and it will go straight, ready to pass through the uprights, and just as it’s about to pass through, and the refs are about to raise their hands, Jesus Christ will return in glory, and the Lions will forever be the team that never won a Super Bowl.
    As Lions fans we are used to disappointment.  There are other bad teams, but only the Lions seem to find new and exciting ways to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.  So perhaps we can sympathize with Job from our first reading and say “I have been assigned months of misery, and troubled nights have been allotted to me.”  In case you’re unfamiliar with Job, it’s a beautiful book of the Bible.  It may be more of a parable than a literal story, but it tells the story of a man who is faithful to God, but then undergoes great trials.  His first trial is that his oxen and donkeys were grazing, and were stolen by Sabeans, who killed all the herdsmen, save one.  Lightening struck all his sheep and shepherds and killed all but one shepherd.  Chaldeans came and stole all of Job’s camels, and killed all their caretakers, save one.  His seven sons and three daughters were all killed when their house collapsed during a party, and only one servant survived.  To this Job says: “‘The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.’”  Quite the ordeal!
 

   But then, Job is struck by severe boils “from the soles of his feet to the crown of the head.”  Life is so bad that his wife, obviously a loving and caring woman, tells Job, “‘Curse God and die.’”  The Book of Job makes clear that Job has done nothing wrong, and yet he suffers greatly.  This story of Job is an attempt to understand why bad things happen to good people.  I encourage you to read the rest of the book (we only hear a part of chapter 7 today) to see how it ends.
    Suffering is a part of life, not just for Lions’ fans.  There are moral evils that we have to suffer with (crimes, betrayals, loneliness from others’ rejection of us); there are also natural evils that make us suffer (natural disasters, illnesses, pandemics).  People of all faiths and none struggle with this question, sometimes called Theodicy, of why bad things happen to good people, and why there is evil in the world.  In case you’re wondering, there is no easy answer.
    Jesus, as He so often does, turns the question on its head.  What does He do?  He heals; He grants wholeness; He saves.  Our Gospel today relates healings that Jesus did, exorcisms, and preaching.  Jesus shows us that He enters into our evils, some of our own making, some that we have no control over, and He brings healing.  The very word for savior in Latin, Salvator, is connected to another word, salus, meaning health.  The Salvator is the one who brings salus.  
    But Jesus, our Savior, doesn’t do so extrinsically, outside of all our sufferings.  He doesn’t watch from afar and offer us health while social distancing.  He enters into our pain, our suffering, our illness, and brings us delight, wholeness, and health.  And that’s part of the beautiful message of the Gospel: Jesus defeats sin and death through His Passion, Death, Resurrection, and Ascension; but we still see it happening, until Jesus returns and ushers in the fullness of His Kingdom.  Until then, Jesus suffers with and in us; He does not abandon us.  And while suffering is not good, it always helps to know that we are not alone, that our suffering has not separated us from the One who loves us above all, as suffering often does make us feel segregated.
    I think this is so clear from our pandemic.  I’m not here to argue against science and taking necessary precautions to protect one’s health.  But one of the greatest evils in this pandemic, whether physically necessary or not, is that we are being disconnected from each other.  Whether we have symptoms, are asymptomatic, or are virus-free, COVID has sought to divide us from each other.  The age-old wounds of sin and division, that were always just below the surface, have come to the top and are festering.  And because we lack a physical unity with each other, that spiritual and emotional unity has also been stretched, or even torn.  
    In the midst of that division, Jesus continues to heal and make whole.  There are stories of heroic Catholics–priests, deacons, and lay faithful–who have refused to let people die alone, even if they had COVID.  The Church has continued to feed the poor, shelter the homeless, educate adults and children, because that is Jesus’ work, and that work does not stop just because there’s a pandemic.  My mind is drawn, by way of an earlier example, to St. Damian of Molokai, whose Belgian blood I share, who gave up his own life to bring Jesus and His healing, especially spiritual healing, to the leper colony in the Hawaiian islands.  
    But even today, through the Sacrament of Penance (confession) and the Eucharist, Jesus continues to heal, and continues to walk with us through our suffering.  He has defeated it, and suffering will end when Christ is all in all.  But until then, Jesus does not leave us orphans; He does not leave us to suffer alone, but suffers with and in us, so that we can bear our burden with Him.
    In the times when you feel most alone, most abandoned, most bereft of human interaction, turn to Jesus in prayer.  Come to the church and spend time in front of the Blessed Sacrament.  Look to the crucifix, and lay all your trials on that cross.  If you do, life, victory, and wholeness will be yours in Christ Jesus our Lord.