The Struggle Is Real

Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time/Fourth Sunday after Pentecost
    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen].  A few weeks ago I gave a talk at the Michigan State Police Training Academy to potential recruits who will hopefully join the 151st/152nd Trooper Recruit School or the 29th Motor Carrier Officer Recruit School.  They were doing an overnight stay to get them a little accustomed to how life in Recruit School would be.  A number of them were not following instructions, and the staff was loudly telling them to do better.  As they lined up, I could see the fear in their saucer-sized eyes, wondering if they would make it through all the mental and physical challenges that recruit school entails for them to be a good Trooper or Motor Carrier Officer.

Prophet Jeremiah

    Following Christ can sometimes feel like being a recruit.  No, our Lord isn’t going to yell in our face to do better when we fail (thankfully!).  But following Christ means that we prepare ourselves for struggles and challenges, from within and without.  The Prophet Jeremiah is a great example of this.  God calls Jeremiah to deliver a difficult message, and even though Jeremiah does exactly what God asks of him, he still gets threats (as we heard in our first reading) and is thrown into a muddy well.  Or St. Paul writes in his epistle to the Romans that the sufferings of this age are nothing as compared to the glory that will come.  And St. Paul knew of what he spoke.  In his second epistle to the Corinthians he writes:
Five times at the hands of the Jews I received forty lashes minus one.  Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was stoned, three times I was shipwrecked, I passed a night and a day on the deep;…dangers from rivers,…robbers,…from my own race,…from Gentiles,…in the city,…in the wilderness,…at sea,…among false brothers; in toil and hardship, through many sleepless nights, through hunger and thirst, through frequent fasting, through cold and exposure.  And apart from these things, there is the daily pressure upon me of my anxiety for all the churches.

The Apostle to the Gentiles didn’t have to imagine suffering for Christ; he did it regularly just for spreading the Gospel.  
    Where do the struggles come from?  They come from within and from without.  From within, they come from our own sinfulness and concupiscence.  St. Paul mentions that all have sinned.  Even after original sin is wiped away through Holy Baptism, we still have a desire to disobey God that remains within us.  And so we suffer from the struggle of dying to our old self, our sinful self, and living according to the new man, Jesus Christ.  Temptations often beset us, but we have all the grace we need to resist those temptations.  Still, the struggle is real.  Often, the struggle comes simply from wanting to do our own will, rather than the will of God, that struggle that comes from pride.  But also we struggle with temptations towards the other deadly sins: sloth; greed; envy; wrath; gluttony; lust.  We may not be tempted toward all of them, but we all experience temptation from at least one of them.  And just like we cannot grow stronger muscles through doing nothing, so we cannot grow spiritually without doing exercises to fight those temptations.  The more we do those spiritual exercises like prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, the easier following God’s will becomes, though there is always a struggle to make the right choice.  
    But the struggles also can come from a world which does not always support Christ and His rule.  When others choose not follow Christ, they advance a kingdom which fights against those who serve the Kingdom of Christ.  Others who choose those seven deadly sins spread dysfunction, conflict, and pain in their wake.  And sometimes, they not only unknowingly spread these, but also sometimes knowingly spread evil in order to make everyone else experience chaos and sin.  These can be in big ways, like the gun violence that plagues our City of Flint, or they can be in small ways, like cheating people from money they deserve, spreading slander, or working to undermine our good deeds.  
    This work of fighting evil requires us to engage, not with the tools of the enemy, but with the weapons of Christ: the sword of the spirit, the breastplate of righteousness, the shield of faith, and the sandals of peace.  The best way to fight evil is with good.  Of course, we can always defend ourselves and our families from violence with force when necessary, but violence tends to beget violence, and continue a cycle that never ends.  But still, our work of advancing the kingdom of Christ should come primarily from the good that we do motivated by our love of God and love of neighbor.
    Following Christ does not mean life will go easily.  Sometimes we struggle with others who want to keep us from Christian living around us.  Sometime we struggle with our own fallen desires and temptations.  Usually we struggle with both.  But engage the struggle for goodness, for following Christ.  Because the reward for engaging in the fight will infinitely outweigh any suffering we undergo here, and that reward is eternal life with Christ in heaven [who lives and reigns with the Father and the Holy Spirit, God for ever and ever.  Amen].

How to Survive the Storms

Fourth Sunday after Epiphany
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Years after a major council, there are still disagreements about how to implement it.  Parishioners from a major church participating in idol worship.  Sexual immorality at which even pagans would blush.  People trying to buy influence in the Church.  A well-known archbishop telling the pope he’s wrong.  Believers claiming they have access to what Jesus really meant.  Faithful bishops being killed.  Heretics infiltrating dioceses and claiming to speak with apostolic authority. 
    You might think I’m talking about the Church after the Second Vatican Council.  Instead, I’m talking about the apostolic days of the Church.  In our mind, we easily think that the first days of the Church were easy and trouble free.  We often like to think of them as the golden age of Catholicism.  And certainly God blessed His Church abundantly in the days of the apostles first spreading the Gospel.  But Paul talks about how not everyone agreed with the Council of Jerusalem, which said that Greeks did not have to become Jews and obey the Mosaic law to be a follower of Jesus.  People were buying meat sacrificed to idols.  Paul condemns those in Corinth who are practicing immorality and tells them to be cut off for a time for their own good.  Peter flip-flopping on whether or not he would eat with Gentiles.  The early beginnings of gnosticism, claiming a secret knowledge of the true teachings of Jesus.  Apostles being martyred at an alarming rate.  Circumcisers saying that they are super-apostles, and that others should listen to them, not Paul.  This was the early Church; not exactly a bed of roses.
    In the State Police, each Trooper Recruit School feels like it was the last truly difficult recruit school, and that all the others that came after are easy in comparison.  Inversely, we tend to think that our suffering is the worst, whether personal, economic, or ecclesiastical, and no one has had it as hard as we have.  Do we have it hard?  Certainly.  There is still disagreement about the implementation of the Second Vatican Council, or some even doubt if it’s a real council (in case you’re wondering, it is).  Pachamama.  We are definitely reaping the fruits as a society of the sexual revolution.  Economic scandals and worse are in the Church.  Bishops arguing with each other and the Pope.  Faithful Catholics of all states of life being martyred.  Confusion about who speaks with authority in the Church.  The waves are certainly crashing around the barque of Peter.

    Whether in the Church, or in our own personal or business life, we might feel like the apostles in the boat.  We’re doing all we can, using our best knowledge and skills to keep the boat afloat, and it seems like the Lord doesn’t care; He’s asleep.  We’re taking on water, we’re afraid of capsizing.  So we call out to the Lord to save us.
    Did you notice in the Gospel that Christ’s first course of action is not to calm the waves.  The first thing our Lord does is question the faith of the apostles.  Why are you afraid?  Why are you doubting?  Then He commands the storm to be still, and it is.  We keep calling out to the Savior, but maybe we feel like he’s not doing what we want Him to do.
    Psalm 107 (106 in the Douay-Reims), verses 27-29 says
 

They reeled, staggered like drunkards; their skill was of no avail.  In their distress they cried to the Lord, who brought them out of their peril; He hushed the storm to silence, the waves of the sea were stilled.

Christ, in calming the sea, was proving that He was God.  He was proving His command over the  waters, which were the ancient symbol of chaos and disorder.  
    But often times, we think that we should take the place of God and handle things ourselves.  Again, this can be in our personal, work, or church life.  Maybe we’re struggling with a family member, and rather than turning to prayer and the guidance of the Holy Spirit, we make a plan of action without consulting the Almighty.  Or perhaps a fellow employee is not doing his or her job, and we feel upset that we are working hard, while the other person is not.  Do we immediately “turn him or her in”, or do we pray for guidance and seek to understand if maybe that person has some other issues outside of work which are affecting his or her ability to do the job.  Perhaps maybe we can even assist that person and help resolve what is going on, rather than simply seeking termination for him or her. 
    I know that many are upset with the recent suggested restrictions on the Extraordinary Form from Pope Francis and the Congregation for Divine Worship and Discipline of the Sacraments.  Even though Bishop Boyea has been quite generous in continuing this Mass and the access to sacraments celebrated in the usus antiquior, I also know that some have considered going to Masses celebrated by the Society of St. Pius X if they don’t have the access they desire.  That approach isn’t staying in the boat and waiting for our Lord to help.  That approach is jumping ship into a dinghy that is partially tethered to the boat.  When there is no other option to celebrate the sacraments validly within a 30-60 minute drive, then yes, the Church does allow for sacramental participation in schismatic groups, like SSPX and even the Orthodox (if they allow it).  But outside of that scenario, which does not exist currently here, participating in the sacramental life of a schismatic church is a sin against the unity of the Church, and I would advise, in the strongest way possible, not even entertaining that sinful attitude. 
    Is Christ no longer God?  Has His promise to protect His Church suddenly failed?  Can He who stilled the storm and waves not ensure the safety of His Bride, our holy Mother, the Church?  If we leave, even for a day, we are implicitly saying that Christ cannot provide for us, that Christ cannot protect us, and that we must turn to those who have rejected union with Rome for the sure path.  But those who have rejected Rome have never been the sure path, not even in the darkest days of the Church throughout the centuries. 
    Our current times may seem like the worst ever.  For us, they may be.  But it is not the end.  Christ promise that the gates of hell will not prevail against His Church is not unfulfilled.  Yes, the storms rage around us.  Yes, the waves are breaking over the ship, and we are, in some ways, taking on water.  But if we stay in the boat in Jesus, then we need not fear, we need not doubt.  If we leave, we can be sure that Christ will say to us, “Why do you fear, O you of little faith?”  But if we remain, connected to the perennial truths of the faith which cannot change in the Church which always remains the Bride of Christ, we can merit to hear, “Well done, good and faithful servant.  Come, share your Master’s joy!”