Properly Dressed

Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  One of my first funerals as a priest was for a man named Marshall Reid, who was the founder and co-owner of the men’s clothing store, Holden-Reid.  As I often do in my homilies, I try to relate something spiritual to something common, which in this case talking about the phrase, “clothes make the man.”  As the funeral liturgy so often draws us back to baptism, I was able to talk about the baptismal garment and how baptism makes us who we are.
    Today in the Gospel we hear about a man who came to a wedding but without the proper clothes.  The servants cast him out from the wedding, to which all were invited, because the man didn’t come prepared for a wedding with proper vesture.  The master welcomes all to his banquet, and yet there are still expectations.  It reminds me of what the late-Francis Cardinal George said about the horrible hymn, “All Are Welcome,”: all are welcome, but on Christ’s terms, not their own.
    At each Mass we come to the wedding banquet of the Lamb, to use terminology from the Book of Revelation.  The Mass is a sacrifice, first and foremost, but is also a meal that celebrates the full union and reconciliation of God and man.  But we have to wear the proper clothes.

    I’ll begin with me.  You’ll notice I don’t wear street clothes to celebrate Mass.  I don’t even wear an academic robe to show that I have the qualifications to preach.  In addition to my priestly cassock, I put on all sorts of vestments, each with a different meaning: the amice, the helmet of salvation; the alb, a reminder of our white baptismal garment; the maniple, a reminder of the labor in the mission field of the world; the stole, the sign of my authority as a priest; and the chasuble, which represents love, a love that covers all other vestments.  Some churches, not our Latin church, but others even give those who serve in the sanctuary special shoes, so that they are entirely covered with symbolic vestments to make clear that Christ is present, not just the minister.
    What should you wear?  Our severs also have special vestments–a cassock and surplice–which remind us of poverty (the black cassock) and the baptismal gown (the surplice).  But what about the laity in the pews?  I think we owe God our best, or at least better than what we give our daily life.  I think less of a specific dress code, and more of an external way to show that we are giving God more than we give our work or our recreation.  And that varies for every person.  For the poor person it may mean simply trying to have clean clothes for Sunday Mass.  For a college student it may mean jeans or slacks, rather than sweatpants, shorts, or pajama pants, and a nicer shirt our blouse.  For others it may mean a button up shirt and tie, along with dress pants.  For others it may mean a full suit.  But I think the point is that God wants, and deserves from us, that we would give Him our first fruits, our best, not just our leftovers.
    But Christ also reminds us that the externals have to match the internals, otherwise we’re just like the hypocritical pharisees who washed in the outside of their cup but were filled with filth on the inside.  God wants our baptismal garments to be clean, not just in what we wear but at the level of our soul.  Many of you try to go to confession regularly, and oftentimes will try to have it on Saturday before Sunday Mass.  We also offer a short time of around 45 minutes after the 8 am Mass until 9:30, when I start getting ready for the 10 a.m. Mass.  Others will come after Mass, which is also good to do.  Regular confession helps us stay “dressed” properly for the wedding banquet of the Lamb.
    I would also challenge us to see how we welcome people to Mass each Sunday.  No, I’m not going to have us start greeting our neighbor before Mass.  The Mass is not about us and or pretending that we gave God the gift of our presence.  But how do we make others, who may be strangers to St. Matthew, or even strangers to this beautiful form of the Mass, feel like they belong?  Recently we welcomed a number of families from Lapeer who no longer have access to the Extraordinary Form at Immaculate Conception.  Have you made them feel welcome and a part of our parish community?  Do you keep your eyes out for people who don’t look familiar, not as threats, but as opportunities to help them to understand how we pray in this form?  I studied the Mass and its history in seminary and in post-graduate work, so I didn’t find this form of the Mass too strange or complex.  But others, even Catholics who attend the Ordinary Form each week, can sometimes feel lost.  Do we give them a hand missal, or maybe even sit next to them so they can follow along with us and know when to kneel, sit, stand, and what prayers to say?  People are much more likely to stay at this form of the Mass if they know how to join in the prayer, rather than seeming like a stranger in a Mass which is part of their patrimony as Catholics.
    God wants us to dress properly for the wedding banquet of His Son.  That applies to me as a priest with my vestments, and to you as far as giving God your best.  But it doesn’t only mean externally.  God wants our entire person, body and soul, to be dressed appropriately to join in His great celebration of sacrifice and love.  May we not be thrown out of the banquet, where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth, but dress our lives in a way that shows that we are grateful for our invitation and attendance at the wedding banquet of the Lamb of God, Jesus Christ, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit, lives and reigns for ever and ever.  Amen.  

Eating with your Feet

Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Pope Francis and Bishop Boyea have been speaking a fair amount about being welcoming people and parishes as part of the New Evangelization.  And it makes sense.  Who wants to come to a church where you are new, or just visiting, and as you are sitting in your pew, quietly praying and waiting for Mass to begin, a person comes up to you and says, “You’re in my seat!”?  Or who would want to join a parish where your family, which includes young children, gets horrible glares when the kids are being a little noisy, or even where someone says to you, “Can’t you control your own children and keep them quiet?!?”?  I wouldn’t want to join that parish!  

There are numerous groups that also feel like they’re not welcome in the Catholic Church.  We are called to be a welcoming community, and to welcome all people to a deeper relationship with Jesus.  More often than not, people are drawn to a relationship with Jesus when they know that others want them to be there, and will support them in living their life according to the Gospel.  It is especially helpful to note that none of us can get on our high horse, because we are all sinners of various kinds, all in need of God’s mercy.  Yes, some sins are more serious than others, but we should always recognize that all of us are in need of deeper conversion–of conforming our lives to that of Jesus.

But, being welcoming is not the end all, be all.  Parents: I’m sure you’ve all had times where your children wanted to have their friends over for dinner and you’ve agreed.  You welcome your children’s friends to your house to eat with you.  You are glad that they are there.  But then, at dinner, as they’re sitting at the dinner table, your children’s friends decide they’re going to eat with their bare feet (kids, don’t try this at home!).  What would you do?  

You would probably tell them to stop (hopefully in kind, yet firm, words).  While your children’s friends are welcome at your house, there are certain rules that exist for the health and well-being of the household, even with honored guests.  And sometimes that means holding firm on certain issues.  We see that with Jesus in the Gospels that we have been hearing over the past few weeks from John chapter 6.  No one would accuse Jesus of not being welcoming.  He drew in so many people who felt ostracized from Judaism and general society to follow Him.  And yet, when it comes to His teaching on the Eucharist, He seems very stubborn.  

Two weeks ago, as I’m sure you all remember, the Jews followed Jesus across the sea.  Jesus didn’t say: “It’s so nice to see you!”  He said, “‘Amen, amen, I say to you, you are not looking for me because you saw signs but because you ate the loaves and were filled.  Do not work for food that perishes but for food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you.’”  That doesn’t sound very welcoming.  

Last week we heard about how the Jews started murmuring as Jesus continue His teaching that He is the bread that came down from heaven.  They said, “‘Is this not Jesus, the son of Joseph?  Do we not know his father and mother?  Then how can he say, “I have come down from heaven”?’”  Jesus doesn’t respond with, “Oh, you just don’t understand what I’m saying and where I come from.”  Jesus says, “Stop murmuring….No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draw him….Everyone who listens to my Father and learns from him comes to me.’”

This week, Jesus continues to say that He is the living bread come down from heaven, and whoever eats this bread, His flesh, will live forever.  That really sends the Jews into a tizzy: “‘How can this man give us his flesh to eat?’”  But Jesus doesn’t say, “You misunderstand me; I’m talking about my Flesh under sacramental signs in the Eucharist, not as in cannibalism.”  Instead, he solemnly doubles down on his previous statements: “‘Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you.’”  Is Jesus not being welcoming?  Why would we follow a God who is not welcoming?

Jesus, of course, is always welcoming, especially to sinners.  But His welcome of them is to His way, His life, His truth.  Jesus was not concerned about winning the largest congregation award.  He was not concerned about converting everybody there, no matter what it takes, though He does desire all to be saved.  Jesus’ welcome is always paired with the truth.

If we are to be a parish formed after the heart of Jesus, then we, too have to hold those two things in tension: welcome and truth.  We have to be kind, understanding, and loving to those we meet, and encourage them to follow Jesus and strive to be like Him, as we try to do.  But that only happens when we also hold firm on what Jesus hold firms to: the truth.  Welcoming others does not mean watering down our faith.  It means lovingly welcoming others to conform their lives to Jesus, as we attempt to do the same thing.  Being welcoming does not mean anything goes.  It does not mean you can eat with your feet.  Being welcoming means embracing anyone with our words and deeds, and walking with them to become more like Jesus.