God's Favorite?

Twenty-Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time
    Kids will often joke, though sometimes they are serious, about who is the favorite child.  Of course, parents love all their children, but still, sometimes there’s a seeming favorite, whether it be the oldest or the baby.  You might think that, in my family, the son who is a priest would be the favorite, but I will tell you that my two sisters who have provided my parents with grandchildren probably have a bit of lead on me.  I’m sure my mother would say we’re all her favorites.
    Who is God’s favorite child?  It’s hard to imagine God having a favorite.  That seems contrary to what our modern sensibility would like to envision.  Probably, like my mom, we would imagine that we’re all God’s favorites.  
    But from the parable we heard today the message is clear: the one who does the will of the Father is the favorite.  Not the one who says he will do the will of the Father, but the one who actually follows through and does it, even if at first the child didn’t want to follow through.  Jesus makes it clear that tax collectors and prostitutes were making it into heaven before the chief priests and elders (probably a hard pill to swallow that a woman of ill repute could make it to heaven before someone who had devoted his life to divine worship).  And it’s not because they are tax collectors and prostitutes.  It’s because they changed their life when the Word of God was preached to them.  They may have originally rejected God’s invitation to work in the vineyard by their rejection of God’s laws, but at the preaching of John or Jesus, they repented and changed their life.  On the flip side were the chief priests and elders who probably prided themselves on being open to do the will of God, but when God Himself appeared before them, calling even them to conversion, they rejected Jesus, God-made-man, and hardened their hearts (at least most of them did).  
    At this idea that God has a favorite, we might repeat what we heard from the prophet Isaiah today: “‘The Lord’s way is not fair!’”  How could God prefer someone to another?  Of course, at this point we have to affirm that God loves everyone; otherwise they would cease to exist.  But what does God value?  God values actions over lip-service.  Or, to use a cliché, talk is cheap.  Take a family example: your spouse says to you once a week: “I love you.”  But then you’ve got extra work and won’t be home until late, and your spouse doesn’t make dinner, but waits for you to get home.  Or your spouse doesn’t take out the trash that is over-flowing.  Or your spouse just doesn’t make time for you very much at all: he or she doesn’t ask about your day, show concern over your priorities, or even give you a simple hug and/or kiss.  Would you say that the spouse really loved you?  He or she may say it, but anyone can say, “I love you.”  The way you know it’s true is by the actions that follow from those words.  
    I’m obviously preaching to people who care something for God.  After all, you took time out of your Sunday to come to Mass.  And I can imagine your prayer, if it’s anything like mine, includes some way of saying to God, “I love you.”  But do you actions show that love?  Besides going to Mass, is there other evidence that you love God beyond those words?  Or, to use another cliché, if you were put on trial for being a Catholic, would there be enough evidence to convict you?  Would a jury of twelve people from Genesee County be convinced that you follow Jesus in the one Church He founded, or would they find any evidence circumstantial at best?  Would it be reasonable of them to doubt your love of God?  Of course, I can’t answer that question for you.  But it’s a great examination of conscience question.

    St. Paul describes today how Christ showed His love for us: He died for us.  He didn’t hold on to His equality with God.  He didn’t cling to what was rightfully His.  He emptied Himself; He lowered Himself.  He died, so that we might live.  And that death was the proof of the love of Jesus for God the Father, the freely-made sacrifice of His own life for our good, the good of His beloved creation to be able to be with Him in heaven forever.  Jesus is the favorite Son because He not only said, as Psalm 40 states, “Behold, I come to do your will,” but then followed through in His actions, even when this meant “death on a cross.”  Jesus worked in the vineyard, even though it meant utter humiliation and suffering, but still embraced it because it was the will of the Father.  
    God loves each of us, no matter what we say, no matter what we do.  But our Lord clearly states that if we wish to be God’s favorite, and there’s room enough for all of us to be God’s favorite, we cannot simply say that we love God, or that we follow Him, or that we want what He wants.  If we wish that elevated status, then we must follow through on what we say with what we do.  Even if in the past we have said no to God, today choose to do His will, and find it that action the sign of our acceptance of salvation.

Vision and Ventilators

Twenty-fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time
    We hear this familiar Gospel passage, and probably, if we are honest, we don’t like this parable too much.  Perhaps now, more than ever, we all want to get what is ours, what we are owed, and we want what we feel is just.  The idea that someone could work for one hour, and receive the same amount of money as a person who worked for an entire day seems ludicrous.  But Jesus never promises that everyone will get the same amount. 
    This really speaks to how much God values spreading the Gospel.  He is willing to pay someone a full day’s wages as long as they work hard, no matter how long they worked.  The obvious message is the relationship between those who were “faithful” Jews, and those who were making last-minute conversions.  It could also easily be extended to mean the Jews (who were called from of old) and the Gentiles, who were only joined to the olive tree of Israel after Christ broke down the barriers between Jew and Gentile by His Death and Resurrection. 

    And we even see this parable at work in a real situation in St. Dismas, the good thief, who was crucified with Jesus, but who prayed that he would be with Jesus in paradise.  “‘Amen, I say to you,’” said our Lord, “‘today you will be with me in Paradise.’”  We have no evidence that St. Dismas had followed Jesus at all during his lifetime, and the only thing we know about him before his death is that he was a criminal, often times described as a thief.  But hours after his statement of faith in Jesus, he would be in heaven. 
    Do we have the same drive for the spreading of the kingdom of God as did the landowner?  Are we willing to pay dearly so that the Gospel can be shared, even to the point of foolishness?  Or do we have other motivating factors for our actions, that we feel are more fair or equitable?
    Jeff and Mary Love, Karen Downs, Deacon Dave and I, recently attended the first of three meetings on helping parishes spread the Gospel.  The meetings are co-hosted by the Diocese of Lansing and the Catholic Leadership Institute.  We learned about parish vision, core values, and purpose statements.  For St. Pius X, it was all a bit awkward, as we know we are on a trajectory towards closing.  In talking privately with one of the facilitators, I spoke about the preference you expressed, to exist until we ran out of sufficient funds.  He asked the question that has been on my heart since you voiced your desire for St. Pius X: is this really what would advance the kingdom more?  Is this really the best path for spreading the Gospel, not just in Flint Township, but for Genesee County and the Diocese of Lansing?
    I know that your preference is based on your love of St. Pius X.  It is hard to let go of something so dear to us, especially when some of you helped to found St. Pius X with your family.  Change is never easy, especially the longer we live, and holding to the status quo requires the least amount of change.  But is it operating with the same drive that Jesus describes in the Gospel for spreading the kingdom and sharing the Gospel, such that resources are brought to bear on those who will do that work?

    To be sure, I understand the mindset of wanting to hold on for as long as possible, even when the end seems obvious.  In late March of 2020 we were at the very beginning of a virus about which we knew little.  Ventilators were in high demand and short supply.  Those with pre-existing conditions were especially vulnerable.  It was in that context that my grandfather, whom most called Jesse, contracted COVID from his nursing home.  He was taken to Sparrow Hospital for treatment.  For his kids and grandkids, including me, it was scary.  The mortality rate was rising quickly, and no one seemed to know how to treat COVID effectively.  My grandfather started out with a cough, needing a little bit of oxygen from a mask from time to time.  He had some good days, and things seemed to be holding steady.  We, of course, were not allowed to visit, except by Zoom.  As the days progressed, though, things got worse.  Eventually the occasional dose of oxygen from a mask became the nasal cannula, the thing they stick in your nostrils in order to deliver oxygen all the time.  We grandkids made a video holding up signs, telling him we loved him.  Around that same time that we showed the video, the nasal cannula was proving not enough, and he was going to need a ventilator.  My mom and her siblings had to decide what to do next. 
    My grandfather was 93.  He had been a strong man throughout his life.  His children, who loved him dearly, and most of whom could not see him, even if they traveled from being out-of-State, would not have a chance to say good-bye in person if they decided to withhold further care.  But, as hard as it was, they made the decision not to use the ventilator, as it was not always proving useful in treatment, especially for the elderly, and perhaps that ventilator could help a younger person who had a better chance of surviving the Coronavirus.  He died shortly after being removed from oxygen on 9 April 2020.
    Do I wish I could have been with my grandfather in his last moments, giving him the Sacrament of the Sick and the Apostolic Pardon?  Certainly.  Would I have done anything to keep him around longer and put him on the ventilator so that we could have, hopefully, a few more days?  No.  At the time, the what-ifs were frequent in my mind, but I know my mom and her brothers made the right decision.  It wasn’t easy, but it was for the greater good.  And I would like to believe, though I have no proof of this, that someone else who needed a ventilator benefited and maybe even had his life saved from the machine that my grandfather would have been using if that route of care had been chosen. 
    Our mission is to spread the Gospel.  I have been preaching that since I arrived in 2016.  We have groups who are active here in the parish, working hard to strengthen their faith, and I applaud those groups.  But I think, if we’re honest, we know where this is going.  From factors both in and outside of our control, our parish is dying. 
    So what is the best thing for us to do?  Is it to remain as long as we can, and just spend money to have the semblance of a parish so that we can pretend everything is ok and pretend that hundreds more people are going to start coming to St. Pius X in the next months or year?  Is that the calculation that the landowner makes for spreading the Gospel of the kingdom?  Or can those resources, both personal and financial, be better used by supporting other parishes in the area?  Could the ventilator we have chosen to use, which may prolong things but which will not cure things, be better used by someone else?
    We hear in our Gospel the paradigm that God uses for evaluating what is best: how can I get more workers for the vineyard to spread the Gospel?  Is that the paradigm that we are using as a parish as we continue our on pilgrimage to closing?  Or do we have another paradigm for how long we should exist?  I know what we all want.  But is what we want in line with the mission of any parish: to spread the Gospel as effectively as possible?  

Too Old for Silly Stuff

Solemnity of St. Matthew
    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.]  Last weekend in Fort Wayne I had a chance to be with my fellow Knights and Dames of the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem.  We had excellent talks on the Eucharist, on the worsening conditions for Christians just trying to survive in the land where our Lord lived, died, and rose again, and on the work of the Order.  But another benefit is catching up with people that, generally speaking, I only see once a year at these Investiture Weekends.
    During drinks with one such person, he was talking about a men’s gathering he recently started attending in his parish.  If I remember the details correctly, it’s on a Saturday morning beginning at 7:30 a.m., with confessions, then Mass, then a formation talk and socializing.  This friend of mine asked one of the men what drew him to give up a Saturday morning and focus on his faith.  The man, I believe in his mid-50s, said something to the effect of: I’m too old to put up with silly stuff anymore.  I want to take my faith seriously, and I want to be fed with solid food, not with the fluff upon which many parishes so often focus.  
    I thought of that conversation as I prepared to compose this homily for our parish patron, St. Matthew.  His feast was this past Thursday, but so that we might celebrate it as a parish, I transferred it to the Sunday, as Bishop Boyea has allowed me to do in the past.  

    I don’t know how old St. Matthew was when he received the call to follow our Lord (many of our images in this church depict him as an older man), but perhaps, sitting at that tax collector’s booth, as our Lord invited him to become an Apostle, St. Matthew had that same sentiment: I’m too old for all this useless focus on cheating others to make a living, not practicing my faith, but supporting pagan oppressors.  St. Matthew must have noticed that something about our Lord was different, and that following Him would be a life worth living.
    Following Christ for St. Matthew started with a banquet in his home.  Not a bad commencement to the apostolic life.  Maybe think of it like an ordination reception.  But after that it got real, real quick.  The Apostles lived by donations from others, our Lord was not always welcome, especially by the Pharisees and scribes, and He even prophesied His own Passion and Death, in the most horrible way possible.  Even after the Ascension, and after writing the Gospel which bears his name, St. Matthew died as a martyr, by the axe, as we see in the apse above.  So life wasn’t easy.  But it was a life worth living, and worthy of being celebrated for some 2,000 years.
    As Catholics, no matter what our age, are we doing our best to live with that same drive, with that same desire to make a difference, and not just exist in the “fluff”?  Are we serious about our faith life?  How easy to just float upon the river of life like we’re in a tube, not always knowing where the current takes us.  In fact, if we float in the river of the world, we know it’s not taking us to Christ, as our world is not ordered to Christ; it’s ordered to pleasure at all costs, to numbness, to whatever comes easiest.  The call of Christ is to take up our cross daily, to feeling the great joy of serving God and following His will, as well as the sadness of giving up what feels good but leads to destruction and damnation, to fixing our eyes ahead of us as we plow, and not looking back to count the costs.  
    It is easy to preach “God loves you.”  It is a true message.  God loves you more than you could ever imagine.  But love calls for love in return.  The greatest displeasure to one who loves is not to have that love returned.  Think back (or currently) to the pain of high school when someone you crushed on didn’t like you back.  Or imagine giving your all to a spouse who does not return that all back to you.  God loves you is only half the message; do you love God?  Can anybody tell you love God?  
    As we celebrate our parish patron, I would like us to commit or recommit ourselves to being serious about our faith life.  Not just professing with our lips that we are Catholic, but living a life that demonstrates that faith.  I’m not asking you to be perfect, as I will tell you that I am not.  But I am asking you, and I will join in with you, to trying to live that heroic life, like St. Matthew, that means something, that echoes through the millennia as a witness that others can follow.  
    What does it mean to be serious about our faith?  I can’t give you an extensive list here, but I do have some ideas that can help.  One: at least make it to Sunday and Holyday Masses, but attend other Masses if you can.  Our worship of God is one of the most important things that we can do.  Not just when it’s convenient; not when it’s easy; but even when it takes some sacrifice.  Two: commit to confessing your sins at least once per month, or more frequently, especially if you are aware of grave or mortal sins.  If you’re struggling to think of sins, find a better examination of conscience to help you out.  Three: choose to pray each day: as a couple and/or family.  Pray for at least 10 minutes.  It can be formal prayers like the Holy Rosary; it can be conversational prayer and prayer of petition.  And leave some time to listen to God in the silence.  Four: when possible, abstain from meat every Friday.  If you can’t, for health reasons or because you’re spending time with people who are not Catholic, then create some other penance to do on that Friday.  But try to deny yourself something each Friday and unite it to the cross of Christ.  Five: read a book about the faith.  Maybe it’s just a few pages each day; maybe only one page each day.  But deepen your faith.  Attend a Bible study or a faith-sharing group.  We offer numerous options here at St. Matthew.      There are, as I said, many other important ways to take the faith seriously.  We are called to serve the poor, to welcome strangers, to instruct the ignorant, and the other Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy.  But choose today to be a serious Catholic: not serious in the sense that you never smile, but serious in the sense that you are purposeful in living as a Catholic, not just floating by, hoping that you’re floating towards God.  No matter how old you are, we are always too old for fluff that doesn’t strengthen us to follow Christ.  We are never promised tomorrow.  Live each day, like St. Matthew, focused on following with all of who we are our God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

The Virtuous Life and the Fruits of the Spirit

Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  I am a rule follower.  It’s part of my personality.  Yes, I may bend a few rules here and there, but generally, if there’s a rule, I follow it.  It’s like one of my favorite Dwight Schrute quotes from the TV show “The Office”: “Whenever I’m about to do something, I think, ‘Would an idiot do that?’  And if they would, I do not do that thing.”  So when St. Paul tells us not to be immoral, impure, licentious, idolatrous, get involved in sorcery, hatred, rivalry, jealousy, fury, selfishness, envy, drunkenness, and orgies, I just say, “Ok, don’t do those things.  There must be some good reason why St. Paul would say not to get involved in those things.” 
    But others need more explanation than I usually require from a Church authority.  Others might ask why not do those things?  They sound fun and pleasurable.  Why shouldn’t I do what feels good?  And the question itself is not bad.  God doesn’t just tell us to do or not do something like a despot.  If He warns against an action, there’s a good reason.  And if He asks us to do something, it’s for our growth in holiness.
    St. Paul alludes to some of those reasons toward the end of the epistle.  He describes the fruits of the spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.  Those attributes are proper to God, and are outgrowths of being like God in our human nature.  When we practice those fruits, we show forth how God is working in our life.
    But there’s also a kind of perfection of the human person that is taking place when we practice those fruits of the spirit.  At least for our better self, we would rather be around loving people, joyful people, peaceful people, kind people, etc.  Being around a person who has no self-control is tiring and confusing.  You never know what he is going to do or she is going to say.  The conversation can change from one point to another on the turn of a dime.  There is no consistency or follow-through with a person who simply follows his or her passions whenever they arise. 
    Aristotle, even unaided by the light of grace, wrote in his Nichomachean Ethics that true happiness comes from being who we are.  As a pagan, he saw humans merely as a rational animal.  But even as a pagan, he knew that our happiness relied on us living in a rational way, not living according to our passions.  And so he set out virtues, excellences of choosing to do what was most reasonable, rather than being deficient in a proper passion, or an excess of that passion that went beyond reason.  For example, Aristotle talks about how the virtue of courage helps us to face what is difficult or what brings us the passion of fear, like a soldier fighting to protect his country.  Yes, there is fear of injury or death, but the virtuous soldier does not give in to that passion, but fights in the face of the prospect of getting wounded or dying in battle.  The deficiency of courage is cowardice, where one does not stand and fight when one should.  The excess of courage is rashness, where one does not appreciate appropriate danger that one has no possibility of vanquishing, and foolishly fights when a tactical retreat is more appropriate. 
    The list of the fruits of the spirit is really a list of virtues which are aided by grace.  Take, for example, joy.  Joy helps us to find happiness in celebratory moments or moments that draw us closer to heaven.  This fruit of the spirit takes practice, to train us not to be sad any time something difficult comes our way that we do not enjoy.  It takes asking the Holy Spirit to help us to be happy and to realize that we belong to Christ, and so nothing can shake us from His loving embrace.  It does not mean that we cannot be sad, like at a funeral, but it allows us to know that Christ died for our salvation, and the deceased person’s earthly trials are done, and hopefully they are at least in Purgatory or even in heaven, and will be united with God for ever. 
    But we cannot have those fruits of the spirit if we follow our passions.  As our Lord said in the Gospel, we cannot serve two masters.  If we make our passions our master, they will enslave us.  There are so many people enslaved to lustful passions, and those people tend not to be as loving as they could be, as joyful as they could be, etc.  But, when we make Christ our Master, He shows us how to choose the good, which frees us to be the most human we can be, as He created us to be. 
    Even on earth, people who always give in to their passions tend to be the most miserable.  If you always take what you want, regardless of whether or not it belongs to you, you can easily wind up in jail for stealing.  If you always give in to your anger, it usually comes out physically and you can get in trouble with the law for assault or violent crimes, and end up in jail.  While jail is not as tough as it used to be, it’s not a fun place.  It is the opposite of the freedom which every human desires.
    And beyond earth, to the life that comes after death, if we always give in to our passions, if we willingly put ourselves into the shackles of sin, then our eternal destiny will not be a surprise, but neither will it be pleasant.  On the other hand, if we live according to grace and virtue, becoming more and more friends of God by what we do and what we say, then our eternal destiny will not be a surprise, but it will be eternal bliss in the fullness of the friendship with God that we sought on earth. 
    God gives us commands and He reveals perfections, not simply as a fiat, but according to our perfection as human beings.  Whether we more easily just follow what God says because He says it, or if we seek to understand why God says and the reasons behind it, God calls us to true freedom in Him, to be examples of the fruits of the spirit to those we meet, and draw them into friendship with our Triune God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

So You Had a Bad Day

Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time
    I think a lot of people have this idea that if we just do what God wants, then everything in life is going to go well.  If you believe in God and follow His teachings in your life, then you won’t worry about not having enough food or clothing, won’t lose your job, won’t experience suffering.  Maybe we have some innate sense in us that says that if we do right, God will reward us immediately. 
    I don’t know about you, but I have not experienced life that way.  Not always, but more than I would have hoped in my life, the song “Bad Day” by Daniel Powter has resonated: “You stand in the line just to hit a new low. / You’re faking a smile with the coffee to go. / You tell me your life’s been way off line, / You’re falling to pieces every time / and I don’t need no carrying on.”  And the thought very easily comes to my mind: ‘God, why are you allowing this to happen to me?  I’m one of the good guys!  Bad stuff shouldn’t happen to me!’
    If we would read this Gospel passage a bit more, we might not set such unrealistic expectations.  First, Jesus tells the disciples that he was going to suffer and be killed, but that He would rise on the third day.  If anyone was truly one of the good guys, to whom bad stuff shouldn’t happen, it would certainly be Jesus.  And yet, He foretells his own passion and Death. 
    But then he makes it even more real: “‘Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.’”  If we wish to be His disciples, then get ready for suffering, in other words.  As Bishop Barron says, we have become so used to the cross, that we have sanitized this phrase.  But think of the worst thing that could happen in your life: the most humiliating, painful thing that could happen to you.  And then put that in where Jesus says, “take up his cross.”  That’s how shocking it would have sounded to the disciples listening to Him.  But He didn’t take it back, or say it was just mean to be taken metaphorically.  And some, like Peter would experience a literal crucifixion just for following Jesus.

    Again, to remind us how bad crucifixion was, let me paint a picture.  First, you were stripped naked.  Not down to your loin cloth; stark naked, with all that God gave you hanging out for everyone to see.  As much as nudity is ubiquitous in our society, it’s altogether different when it’s forced upon us, and we have no way to cover ourselves up.  Then, you were strapped to unfinished wood.  Think of the splinters you were getting, not just in a finger, but probably all over your body.  Of course, Jesus’ body at His crucifixion was already battered, as He had endured scourging where pieces of flesh had been torn out.  Then, to get you supported to hang on the cross, nails would have gone, likely, through the wrists and the feet.  And then you would be suspended as the cross was placed in the stand, and you hung there.  Medically speaking, the weight of your body would have pressed upon your lungs, which started to fill with fluid.  Breathing became more and more difficult.  You could push yourself up a little, to allow the lungs more space to take in oxygen, but that would reignite the sharp pains in your hands and feet.  Crucifixion was a death of asphyxiation.  You suffocated…slowly.  And that was the treatment a disciple could expect.
    Life on this earth is not meant to be easy for a follower of Christ.  It’s not easy because the world is generally against Christ.  And the only way we get a totally easy life on this side of eternity is do the opposite of what St. Paul taught: “Do not conform yourselves to this age but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and pleasing and perfect.”  When we give in to the things which are contrary to Christ, life probably will be a bit easier on this earth.  But that gamble only works if this life is all there is.
    If, on the other hand, there is more to life, where those who have followed Christ faithfully finally get eternal rest and happiness, then even suffering on this earth isn’t as bad.  Our happiness will come, just not here.  And that’s why Christ also says, “‘For the Son of Man will come with his angels in his Father’s glory, and then he will repay all according to his conduct.’”  When we view life from an eternal perspective, the present suffering, while not a walk in the park, can be endured for a future of glory.  It’s like the mother who’s pregnant (an image Jesus Himself uses).  The morning sickness, the skin stretching out, the back pain, the inability to see, let alone touch, your toes, and then the delivery of a baby through an area that starts out much smaller than the baby is not fun.  Especially the last part, especially without drugs, is very painful.  But then the mother gets to hold her baby for the first time, and the pain, while not forgotten, somehow seems worth it. 
    God does not promise us an easy life, even if we follow His will perfectly (which, of course, we don’t).  God does promise us that we will have pain, sometimes very sharp pain, because we follow Him and are working on conforming our lives to His.  But the Good News is that He has also experienced that pain for doing God’s will.  Our God didn’t shrink away from or avoid our pain.  He entered into it and saved even suffering so that we could use it for good when we unite it to Him.  We will have a bad day now and then, even when we’re the good guy.  But God will uphold our souls in the midst of our suffering if we stay faithful to Him and do our best to discern the will of God: “what is good and pleasing and perfect.”  

Human Intellect and Divine Wisdom

Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time
    As I get ready to turn 40, it’s incredible to think of the technological advances just in those four decades.  Thinking simply about how we listen to music, we went from records, to 8-tracks, to cassette tapes, to CDs, to Napster, to iTunes, Pandora, and Spotify. 
    The human mind is an amazing organ, and we continue to unlock different ways to utilize the created world.  But, while the brain comes up with ever-new ideas, it is not perfect.  Our intellect, which helps us to understand the world, both natural and supernatural, is fallen like the rest of creation.  Our minds do not always grasp truth.
    We see that in the Gospel today.  When asked who people say Jesus is, the first few apostles echoed the human wisdom, perhaps the best human wisdom, of the day.  “They replied, ‘Some say John the Baptist, others Elijah, still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.’”  These Apostles, as good as their hypotheses were, erred.  Even if they were simply echoing what others said, they did not grasp the truth of Jesus’ identity. 

Statue of St. Peter from Galilee

    When St. Peter makes his reply, Jesus quickly identifies that “‘flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father.’”  Peter’s response comes, yes, from his intellect, but, more accurately, from his intellect inspired and guided by God the Father.  Peter bases his response partially from what he understands, but also from wisdom from above.
    Those who have responsibility for teaching the faith, as well as we who receive that faith, do well to remember that our human intellect alone does not suffice for passing on the truths of the faith.  From all appearances and human judgments, Jesus was simply another great prophet.  But His miracles demonstrated that He was more than that; He showed by His actions that He was the “Son of the living God.”  But only intellects guided by grace could apprehend that truth.
    When we stick to our own understanding of truth, it is all too easy for our minds, darkened by sin, to assert things which are false.  We may even have reasons and some kind of logic to back up what we say.  But if our intellect is not guided by the Light of God, then we can, all too easily, get things wrong and either not fully grasp what God wants us to know, or even go against what God has revealed. 
    Take, for example, a popular idiom: love is love.  Our intellect, left to itself, might say, “Yeah, that sounds right.”  Dissecting the sentence, it actually doesn’t say much.  Grammatically speaking, it would be as profound as saying “one equals one” or “red is red.”  But it’s all too often used as a way of saying that a person should be able to love romantically or marry whomever he or she wants. 
    Some even use the Scriptures to try to back this up.  They see that St. John says in his first epistle that God is love.  And so, God would seemingly approve of romantic love of another, no matter who that other is.  They might also point to the fact that Jesus upended many of the cultural norms in His day, so we should be willing to do so as well.
    They might point to human history, and point out that there were, in our country, not that long ago, laws which prohibited interracial marriages.  They might say that we are more enlightened now to realize that those laws were wrong (as they were), because every human being has dignity and is worthy of love.  This move to allowing same-sex marriage, they might advocate, is the natural progression of enlightenment and development of human society, so that, as long as two people love each other, they can do whatever they want, and are entitled to the same protections that we have given to marriage between a man and a woman in marriage.  It all sounds quite logical.
    But it fails to take into account the guidance of our loving God in Sacred Scripture.  God, both in the Old and the New Testament, condemns homosexual activity as contrary to His will for human sexuality, and affirms that marriage is between a man and a woman.  And if one retorted that the Scriptures are conditioned by their culture, then why believe any of it as true?  If Scripture is simply one example of the human intellect, unguided by the grace of God, then we’re back to the fact that Jesus is John the Baptist, Elijah, Jeremiah, or a prophet.  He’s just another teacher.  But, as Jesus tells Peter, He’s not simply another teacher or prophet.  If we can’t rely upon the Word of God, then Judaism and Catholicism might as well be tossed aside.

Statue of St. Paul from Rome

   Besides the clear statements from St. Paul that one cannot practice homosexual acts and go to heaven, we also need to look at how St. Paul, inspired by the Holy Spirit, teaches about love.  From everyone’s favorite wedding passage in 1 Corinthians: “Love…does not seek its own interests…it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth.”  When a feeling of attraction divorces itself from the truth, it is not love, no matter how strong or how well-intentioned.  Yes, God is Love, but Jesus is God, and Jesus refers to Himself as the Truth, so Truth and Love are intrinsically bound up together.  When love separates itself from the truth, it becomes mere infatuation or even lust.  I cannot will the good of the other (St. Thomas’ definition of love) if what I want to do is contrary to what will help the other person attain heaven.  Love would never lead one to endanger the immortal soul of the beloved.  Love would also never go against what Love Incarnate has taught through the Old and New Testaments and through the infallible teachings of Love’s Mystical Body, the Church. 
    Does this mean that God wants us to hate those with same-sex attractions and persecute them?  No.  God calls us to will the good of all others, whether they are like us or different from us.  God calls us, as He says myriad times in the Scriptures, to pay special attention to those who struggle in life and find themselves on the margins of society, as those with same-sex attractions often do.  Telling someone that they cannot get married and enjoy the physical expressions that are proper to marriage does not mean that we hate that person.  Telling someone “no” does not equal hate, otherwise every parent hates their children…sometimes multiple times…each day. 
    When we rely simply on human reason, as good as it sometimes is, we can get things wrong.  This is especially when it comes to God and what He teaches, because our minds are darkened by sin.  In order to get the “God-stuff” right, we also need the guidance of the Holy Spirit, who helped Peter proclaim Jesus’ true identity, and who still guides the Church to teach us infallibly on matters of faith and morals.  

A Deeper Law

Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Sometimes what is obvious is not as obvious as it seems.  When we hear this Gospel of the Good Samaritan, I am willing to bet that most of us can’t understand why the priest and the levite don’t help the man who was accosted by robbers.  We likely feel that it’s obvious what a person should do.  In fact, many States have laws called “Good Samaritan laws” that protect people who are trying to help, even if things do not go well, as long as there is no malfeasance intended or vincible negligence allowed.
    But listen to Leviticus 21:1-3: “The Lord said to Moses: Speak to the priests, Aaron’s sons, and tell them: None of you shall make himself unclean for any dead person among his kindred, except for his nearest relatives, his mother or father, his son or daughter, his brother or his unmarried sister.”  It continues in verses 10-11: “The most exalted of the priests, upon whose head the anointing oil has been poured and who has been ordained to wear the special vestments…shall [not] go near any dead person.  Not even for his father or mother may he thus become unclean.”  All of the sudden, with this in mind, the priest and the levite don’t sound quite as bad, or, at least, there’s a question as to what they were supposed to do.
    Of course, our Lord’s point is quite obvious: we are still supposed to help those in need.  Love of neighbor, which is part of inheriting eternal life, means caring for others.  The man was left for dead, and if the priests were truly living out the law, then they should have helped the man who had been robbed.  
    We learn, then that there is a kind of hierarchy of laws.  The levitical laws were important.  God gave them so that the priests could offer worthy sacrifice, and obtain mercy and blessings for God’s Chosen People.  But there was a more basic law, also found in Leviticus, two chapters earlier: “The Lord said to Moses: Speak to the whole Israelite community and tell them: Be holy, for I, the Lord your God, am holy.  […] You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”  Love of neighbor is part of the way that the Israelites were to be holy, like God.  And it was a law for all Israelites, not just the priests or levites.  
    It reminds me of the scene from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, where Aslan, who has risen from the dead after he sacrificed himself on the Stone Table, says:
 

…though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still which she did not know.  Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of time.  But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and the darkness before Time dawned, she would have read there a different incantation.  She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor’s stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backward.

Yes, the priests and levites were supposed to stay ritually clean, but they had a previous commitment to love as God loves, and to care for the most vulnerable.  And they didn’t even check to see if the man was dead.  They simply walked on by.
    Ironically, it was the priests and levites who could not distinguish, though they were well-educated, between the letter and the spirit.  I know this dichotomy is often abused to mean that anything goes.  And I’m certainly not advocating that position.  But Christ came to help us understand what it truly meant to live as children of our heavenly Father.  Elsewhere he condemns the fact that a person could free their beast of burden from being entrapped on the Sabbath, but He could not liberate a person from demonic possession or from illness on the Sabbath.  Again, some had lost sight of the point of the law: to help the People live as God’s own possession, and to witness to His life and love by their own actions and words.  
    And Christ could make this point, because, as the Church Fathers say, the parable of the Good Samaritan is really an allegory for what God did for us.  God displayed His holiness by seeing us beat up on our path.  We were walking the wrong way, away from Jerusalem, the city of the Temple, to the city of Jericho, the city cursed by Joshua after they destroyed it.  Satan and his horde had accosted us, taken away from us our rightful inheritance by tempting us to sin, and then left us for dead after we caved to sin.  The law and the prophets were sent to us, but they could not fully help.  But then our Savior, who was both one of us but also God, came to our rescue.  He put us on His shoulders as He bore the weight of the cross, and made sure that we could be healed at His own expense, even promising to do whatever was necessary for healing even after He departed from earth.  
    Strictly speaking, God had no need of us.  He didn’t need to save us.  He would lack nothing if all of humanity were damned to Hell.  But, because He loves us, He descended to hell so that we wouldn’t have to.  He came to our rescue through no merit of our own.  And so God desires that we do our best to live in imitation of Him.  God desires that we participate in and share His holiness with others.  And that is part of evangelizing.  When we demonstrate the love of God in our actions and words, especially when others know that we are Catholic, they can be drawn, even if only little by little, to a relationship or a deeper relationship with God.  
    The parable of the Good Samaritan seems obvious.  In some ways it is.  But at the end, the point is that, in order to inherit eternal life, we must do our best to demonstrate the holiness of God.  Sometimes, perhaps most often, the laws help us demonstrate God’s holiness.  But any law that exists always draws its authority from how it helps us to be holy as God is holy.  May we be helped each day to love our neighbor as ourselves, and to love with all of who we are God: the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Not Made Up

Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  As kids, but even as adults, we can make up rules.  Kids do it with games they create.  The games may not always make sense, and the rules often favor the person making up the game.  Sometimes they’re made up as the game progresses.  But even as adults we change rules, not often in games, but in relationships, in decisions we make and how we make them, in order to suit our whims and fancies.  Not all of this is vicious or devious, but sometimes just the result of more experience.  This is often the case with parents’ rules for their children.  The firstborn often has very strict rules, and is not allowed to do much, as the parents are still trying to figure out how to be parents and how to keep their eldest safe and responsible.  But, as more and more kids come, sometimes the rules soften a bit.  Sometimes the baby of the family gets away with things that the oldest child never could have done, this being attributed either to the favor of the youngest child, or because the parents are too tired to fight those battles with another child, so they acquiesce. 
    Many Catholics see the teachings of the faith as made up rules and regulations.  How often does the trope get repeated that this teaching or that Church law is simply the will of a bunch of old men with pointy hats.  But St. Paul reminds us of something important today: while there are rules that can change based upon later needs of generations, what is most precious to us and what is necessary is not made up by old men, but is handed down to us, starting from the Apostles, and then further expounded by their successors, the bishops. 

    St. Paul in today’s epistle outlines the basic kerygma of the faith: Christ died for our sins, was buried, and rose on the third day.  And everything basically flows from that basic teaching.  And that teaching is not ours, as if we own it.  It does not belong to the bishops or even the pope, as if they could change it.  Rather, they are the stewards of what came before, who, as our Lord says elsewhere, brings out the old and the new, as they guard what came before, and open up deeper mines in the treasure that is the deposit of faith.
    In communicating the faith, it’s important to start with those basic teachings (again, we call it the kergyma, which is just the Greek word for teaching).  When talking to our neighbors, they may not even be sure if God exists, so we should start there.  Whether using St. Thomas Aquinas’s five ways, or simply talking about how there is a desire on our heart for the infinite, which could not be there without an infinite being implanting that in our heart, we can start with the truths about God, who He is, and how He works.  This will lead us to how the Church teaches that God is not a monad, but a Trinity of Divine Persons, a Communion of Love.
    St. Paul, after talking about God (Christ), then says that He died for our sins.  Sin is pretty obvious.  G.K. Chesterton said that sin is one of the teachings of the Church that can be proved simply by observation.  Look around and you will see people missing the mark (the Greek word for sin, 𝛼𝜇𝛼𝜌𝜏𝜄𝛼, literally means to miss the mark).  We see people, and we even notice ourselves, making choices that we don’t really want to make, or that take us in a different direction than we want to travel in life.  And if God is life, and sin is choosing against God, then choosing sin is choosing death, more specifically, eternal death if it is grave and we do not repent.  That’s a pretty bad place to be, but God didn’t leave us in sin, He took upon Himself the punishment for sin (death), though He was sinless, so that we could have life.  He reconciled us to the Father, and gave us the possibility that we could choose God and not choose against God.  He accomplished this by His Resurrection, proving that sin and its consequence, death, had no power over Him, that He was more powerful than anything else.
    St. Paul then talks about how Christ appeared to Cephas (Peter) and the Eleven.  Then other disciples, and then Paul again reiterates Christ appearing to the Apostles, including to St. Paul himself eventually.  This is also, I would argue, the basis of the apostolic teaching: Christ continues His ministry through His Apostles (whom He chose to lead the Church) and through His disciples (all those who follow Him in the Church).  And His grace, through the Apostles and disciples, is not in vain; it is active and enlivens the Church.  But always in harmony with the basic teachings, and how the Magisterium, the fancy term for the pope and bishops exercising their teaching office, has developed those basic teachings.
    Our job is to share those teachings, and hold fast to what has been handed down to us in matters of faith and morals.  When we do that, we participate in our Lord opening the ears and mouths of the deaf and mute (but without having to spit on everyone with whom we share the Gospel).  All of those teachings are in Scripture, directly or indirectly; others are promulgated in Ecumenical Councils, from Nicaea I to Vatican II; others are in papal pronouncements on faith and morals; others are commonly taught by the popes and bishops.  But we do not change those teachings that touch on what has been revealed as part of the divine and Catholic faith: not the pope, not any bishop, not any priest, not any layperson.  If we were to do that, we would cut ourselves off from communion with the Mystical Body of Christ, the Church, and we would find ourselves on the outside looking in, rather than part of that communion of Trinitarian love that God desires for each of us. 
    Yes, some rules are created that flow from our belief, but can change based on the needs of certain generations and peoples.  But our teachings on faith and morals are not made up, like in a child’s game, just to favor those who are in power.  Our teachings on faith and morals is a bottomless treasure chest, helping us to find the happiness that God desires for us, but always in harmony with the earliest treasures God gave to us in His Truth.  May we all be equipped to understand those treasures of faith and morals, and share them with others, so that they, too, can come into a saving relationship with the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

The Sound of Silence

Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

    Around 8th grade, I was given a basement bedroom that my dad created so that my sisters could have separate bedrooms (so that they didn’t kill each other).  And in that bedroom was an old stereo system that had radio, two cassette decks, and a turntable, with storage area for records at the bottom.  One of the records that my dad has was “Simon and Garfunkel: The Concert in Central Park.”  It was a great set of records, and included on of their more famous songs: “The Sound of Silence.”  The title of the song itself is something that tickles the brain, as we usually don’t associate silence with any sounds.  And yet, if we reflect upon silence it does almost have its own unique sound to it.
    Today in the first reading, we hear the well-known story about how Elijah was at Mount Horeb, another name for Mount Sinai.  Elijah was fleeing from Queen Jezebel, who had threatened to kill Elijah after he had put the prophets of the false god, Ba’al, whom she followed, to death on Mount Carmel.  This was the mountain where God had revealed Himself in the dark cloud, in thunder, and trumpet blasts as Moses approached the mountain.  This was where the finger of God wrote out the Ten Commandments.
    But as Elijah is there, while he hears wind strong enough to crush rocks, feels the earthquake under him, and sees fire, Elijah only comes into contact with God through a tiny whisper, which could only be heard in the silence.  It was if God revealed Himself to the prophet Elijah in exactly the opposite way that He revealed Himself to Moses, himself also a prophet. 
    Silence confuses modern man, who so obsesses himself with activity and noise.  But if we don’t make time for silence, if we are always busied about with actions and sounds, then we lose one of the ways that God communicates with us.  Yes, like with Moses, God sometimes reveals Himself in the truly awesome, that which fills us with awe, due to magnificent displays.  But, like with Elijah, God sometimes reveals Himself in ways that we can only appreciate if we practice silence.
    Silence is meant to be a part of the liturgy, of the Mass.  Bishop Boyea, in one of his challenges in The Road to Emmaus, part of our activity during this Eucharistic Revival, was to arrive to Mass 15 minutes early for silent prayer.  Did you do that?  Did you even attempt it?  Or was talking to your friends before Mass more important that spending time with God?
    Besides a beautiful way to prepare for what happens at the Mass, silence is also supposed to be a part of the Mass.  There are different times when the Church calls for silence.  Why?  Cardinal Sarah, former head of the now-Dicastery for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments, and originally from the Africa, had this to say:
 

When we encounter the sacred, when we come face to face with God, we naturally fall silent and kneel in adoration.  […] We await His Word, His saving action, in awe and anticipation.  […] If I am so full of myself and of the noise of the world that there is no space for silence within me, if human pride reigns in my heart so that it is only myself of whom I am in awe, then it is almost impossible for me to worship Almighty God, to hear His Word or to allow it space to take root in my life.”

Silence can be so difficult to us because it forces us to acknowledge that we are not God, and that God cannot be summoned to respond to us like a genie from a bottle.
    Do you notice the times of silence in our Mass?  The first is during our recollection of sins during the Penitential Act.  After I ask us to acknowledge our sins, “and so prepare ourselves to celebrate these sacred mysteries,” I give us time in silence to think about the ways that we have fallen short of following Christ in our daily lives.  I’m not lost; I’m not catching my breath.  I’m giving myself and you time to think about the sins for which we need to ask for God’s mercy.
    The second is after the homily.  After we have heard God speak through His Word in the readings, the Psalm, and the Gospel, and after we have heard how that Word is to be applied to today (however good or poor the homily may be), we need time to be silent with God and let that Word sink into our hearts, and challenge us to repent and change our lives.  Otherwise it is like seed that falls on the path which the birds come and eat up.
    The third is after Communion.  After we finish singing the Communion chant, that is especially your time, not to watch me purify the vessels; not to prepare your exit strategy from the parking lot so you don’t get caught by Sunday drivers.  That time is for you to thank Jesus for offering Himself for our salvation, and giving us a way to connect with that salvation through our worthy reception of the Eucharist.  Communion is God’s greatest gift to us.  Do we even say thank you, or are we waiting until some more noise can fill our minds?
    The Gospel talks about recognizing Jesus amidst the waves and winds.  This reminds us of the chaotic, noisy times of life.  And it is important to recognize God at those times, too.  But we will all-too-often mistake God’s voice for that of our own during chaos if we have not made time to listen for the voice of God during times of calm and silence.  “Do not be afraid” of the silence.  As you are able each day, make some time for silence, and don’t just turn on music or the TV to have background noise.  Because if our life is filled with noise and distractions, we will likely miss many opportunities that God desires to be close to us and remind us of His love and His truth.

Eyewitnesses

Feast of the Transfiguration
    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.].  I will admit that I haven’t really been into baseball all that much for a while.  It probably tracks with how good the Tigers have been (or, rather, how bad they’ve been for so long).  But I do know that one of the much-disputed changes in baseball has been the use of replay.  For those of you who watch baseball, perhaps you’ll tell me that it’s not as controversial now as it was when it was instituted.  And I’m sure it’s popularity varies between when it overturns a call that we like, versus when it overturns a call that we don’t like. 
    It is interesting to note how long baseball relied simply on the eyes of the umpires.  And especially when it comes to major league games, sometimes the separation between a ball hitting a mitt and a shoe touching the bag was infinitesimal.  But it was the way we did things in baseball.
    I bring this up, because when it comes to our faith, we often go back to the old cliché, “you just have to believe it.”  Sometimes this is a fine answer, and especially when it comes to teachings that are beyond our reason.  But what we believe, though it may sometimes be beyond reason, is not unreasonable.  In fact, it’s very reasonable to believe what we believe.
    And that’s the point that St. Peter is trying to make in the second reading/epistle: “We did not follow cleverly devised myths…but we had been eyewitnesses of his majesty.”  St. Peter is, of course, talking about what we celebrate today, the Transfiguration of the Lord.  Christ didn’t simply walk up Mount Tabor by Himself, then come down and say, “You’ll never guessed what happened to me!  My clothes because dazzling white, and then Moses and Elijah appeared, and then God the Father’s voice was heard, saying, ‘This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.’” 

    No, three Apostles witnessed the Transfiguration.  Not even just one witness; three.  Peter, James, and John.  Deuteronomy 19:15 states: “One witness alone shall not stand against someone in regard to any crime or any offense that may have been committed; a charge shall stand only on the testimony of two or three witnesses.”  One could perhaps doubt if only St. Peter had been there, or only St. John, or only St. James.  But if their testimony could support charging someone with a crime, some of which were punishable by death, certainly their testimony could also be believed when it came to testifying to the glorification of the Lord, as well as the presence of Moses and Elijah.
    Speaking of which, the presence of Moses and Elijah also strengthen the case that Christ is who He says He is.  By their presence with the Lord on Mount Tabor, they were witnessing to His divine identity.  And not just Moses and Elijah, but also those whom they represented, that is, the Law and the Prophets, a shorthand way of saying the entire Old Testament.
    But back to the Apostles.  They may have been afraid.  They may have been a bit confused.  But they know what they saw.  And after the Son of Man was raised from the dead, they told the vision to those who would listen.  And if three people tell me the same thing, at least in the broad strokes of the story, I am very likely to believe it, because it is backed up by others.
    While the Transfiguration was only seen by three, the Resurrection was seen by the Eleven, by St. Matthias, by St. Paul, and by other disciples in the 40 days the Lord remained on earth.  And they shared what they had seen and heard.  Not a ghost; not an apparition; but the real Lord, with the marks of His crucifixion, but also eating fish.  These witnesses testified to what they saw, and that testimony was shared down to the present day.
    We, too, are called to be witnesses of what we have seen.  In some cases, that means our own personal experiences of God in our life.  St. Peter tells us elsewhere that we should always be ready to give the reason for our hope to anyone who asks.  Do we know why we have hope?  Do we know the Lord?  We should be ready to tell others about what God has done in our lives, whether a miracle, or even simply the times when we have felt his presence and the effects of His grace, love, and truth in our lives.
    But we can and should also appeal to those first witnesses.  They saw the Lord risen from the dead, in His glorified body.  And then told the next generation of disciples, and they told the next generation of disciples, all the way down to us some 2,000 years later.  And they were very careful about keeping the story straight, and not letting in unnecessary or factually wrong details.  This wasn’t simply about whether George Washington every chopped down a tree, and told his father the truth about it.  This was about salvation, about heaven or hell.  And so the teachings have been kept throughout the millennia. 
    Our task as disciples is to get others to listen to the “beloved Son” of the Father.  Christ desires glory for us.  He wants us to be in heaven with Him, because that is why God created us: to know, love, and serve Him in this life so to be with Him in the next, as the Baltimore Catechism states.  We, too, are supposed to have a glorified body like Christ revealed at the Transfiguration.  But that only happens if we listen to Him.  It only happens if we conform our lives to Him.  And that transformation of life can only occur by God’s grace. 
    Our faith is not unreasonable.  Our faith is not based on “cleverly devised myths,” or stories that have no basis in reality.  Others have seen, and have testified both by their words and even by the shedding of their blood to the truth that Christ gave them.  May we listen to those who have gone before us, and speak to those who come after us, the good news of salvation in Christ[, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit live and reign for ever and ever].