Exitus-Reditus

Fifth Sunday of Easter

    For whatever reason, certain phrases sound more elegant and intelligent in foreign languages.  Instead of saying, “this for that,” it sounds much better to say quid pro quo.  Or instead of saying, “exactly,” one can say per se.  If you said, “a certain something that I can’t describe,” people would understand you, but you could also throw in a little French and say je ne sais quoi.  Perhaps, due to the popularity of mafia movies, we find ourselves used to asking in poorly-pronounced Italian, capisci? when we might otherwise say, “Get it?” 
    Likewise, when we speak about the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity, we use a phrase from St. Thomas Aquinas which is exitus-reditus.  That certainly sounds much more erudite than beginning-return.  But no matter how we say it, we recognize its veracity.  Christ came to us from the Father (in the Incarnation at the Annunciation which we celebrated on 25 March) and then returned to the Father (at the Ascension, which we will celebrate in a few short weeks).  Christ existed before all time, but the Father sent Him to us, and then Christ returned to the Father.  And our Gospel points to the return, as Christ speaks to His Apostles in the Upper Room at the Last Supper.  He tells them that He goes to prepare a place for them, “‘so that where I am you also may be.’”  
    We come to know God the Father through God the Son.  St. Philip the Apostle, puts his foot in his mouth as he tells Jesus, “‘Master, show us the Father, and that will be enough for us.’”  Probably the other apostles may have thought the same thing, but I’m sure they were glad they didn’t verbalize their desire.  Because Christ reiterates for them that He is the revelation of the Father.  The unity between Father and Son, even though they are different Divine Persons, is so strong that when one encounters one Divine Person, you encounter the entire Triune God.
    But exitus-reditus doesn’t only apply to God the Son.  It also applies to us.  We, too, though not consubstantial with the Father, come from Him, and our goal is to return to Him.  Even with all our advances in science, the gift of new life still comes from the Father.  And once our parents conceive us, our goal, our end, is to return to the Father so as to be one with Him in heaven.  It’s back to the Baltimore Catechism answer that says it so poetically and succinctly: God made me to know Him, to love Him, and to serve Him in this life so to be with Him in the next.  
    So this middle time, the time between our exitus, our beginning, and our reditus, our return, determines how our return ends up.  To paraphrase Denethor from the movie version of The Return of the King, our experience at our return will depend on the manner of our return.  Because, as Christ affirmed in our Gospel, He is the only way to the Father.  We cannot return to the place the Father has prepared for us, unless we follow the pattern that the Father set out for us, made visible in Christ.  We are, as St. Peter affirmed in our second reading, “‘a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people of his own,’” but our lives have to reflect that chosen status in order to receive the inheritance promised to us at our beginning.
    So do we recognize how to live like Christ in our day-to-day lives?  Do we give attention to the needs of others, rather than focusing only on ourselves.  As soon as the Apostles learned that the Greek-speaking or Hellenist widows lacked in care, they responded, in this case by creating the Sacred Order of the Diaconate, the first deacons.  God doesn’t necessarily ask us to create new groups, but to cooperate with those that already exist.  We’re familiar with Catholic Charities, the North End Soup Kitchen, the St. Luke NEW Life Center.  Do we assist them?  Do we donate what we can, be it food, clothing, or other goods?  Sometimes I get new “secular” clothes.  When I do so, I try to make sure and donate older clothes, if they are in reasonably good condition, to Catholic Charities through the Hope in a Box box that is by the drinking fountain at the Beach Street doors.  When was the last time that you looked in your closet for clothes that you no longer wear?  Sometimes we have formal wear that we only use once or twice, but are there things that we never use, or don’t need to have, that others could?  St. Basil the Great once said in a sermon, “The bread in your cupboard belongs to the hungry; the coat unused in your closet belongs to the one who needs it; the shoes rotting in your closet belong to the one who has no shoes; the money which you hoard up belongs to the poor.”  Our attention to those in need makes up part of the way that we show where we want to return to: heaven or hell.  
    Whether we use the fancy Latin phrase or not, we all came from the Father and will return to judgment by Him, when we will learn our eternal destination: heaven (likely after some time in Purgatory) or hell.  If we wish to return to the dwelling place the Father has prepared for us, that Christ promised us in the Gospel, then we have to follow the example of the great exitus-reditus of the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity.  We have to follow the Way that He is: the one who gave up His life for our good.  It may not be in the red martyrdom of shedding our blood in imitation of Christ’s perfect sacrifice of His Body and Blood, but it may be in the white martyrdom of dying to our own wills and living according to the will of the Father.  No matter in which language we say it, living the life of Christ in our day-to-day lives will help us embrace the inheritance Christ won for us, whom the Father has adopted through Holy Baptism as His adopted sons and daughters in the Son of God, Jesus Christ.

People of Constant Sorrow and Joy

Third Sunday after Easter
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  I first heard the song, “Man of Constant Sorrow” while watching the 2000 Cohen brothers movie, “O Brother Where Art Thou?”  And while it didn’t strike me as religious, the lyrics mirror what the Lord says in today’s Gospel: that we will have sorrow here, but joy after.  
    The song talks about the sorrow of leaving Kentucky (a sorrow I can relate to, though I was neither born nor raised there), the sorrow of rambling through the world without any friends, of leaving a true love, and that true love loving another after the singer is dead and buried.  “But,” as the song continues, “there is one promise that is given / I’ll meet you on God’s golden shore.”  
    While, in my own experience, leaving Kentucky is truly sorrowful, the sorrow our Lord talks about in the Gospel consists in the reality that the world does not conform to God’s plan.  Our Lord shares these words in the context of the Last Supper, as He prepares to be judged in a sham trial and be put to death by a strange alliance of Pharisees and Pontius Pilate and Roman soldiers.  We can think of no greater sorrow, no greater demonstration that the world is not as it should be, than putting God’s own Son to death in such a gruesome way.
    But the messed-up state of the world did not end there.  It continues because of sin: our own personal sins, and the sins of cultures, societies, and governments.  Even we, who have received the saving washing of Holy Baptism, still suffer under concupiscence, the inordinate desires of our lives not in accord with the will of God, and fall short of the august call that God has given us to be His adopted children in Christ.  Our sins, and the sins that we experience, should cause us sorrow.  Wars, even if necessary, should cause us sorrow at the destruction of life and property.  Illness and disease, things that are not necessarily due to anyone’s choices, should cause us sorrow because God has made us for health and integrity.  
    But, even as we pass through this vale of tears, in hac lacrimarum valle, as we say in the Salve Regina, we should also have joy.  Our joy comes not from a human solution to wars, illness, and personal evil, but from Christ who has conquered sin and all its effects, death, and even natural evils.  Our joy comes from the knowledge that we threw everything evil at Christ that we could think of, all our hate, all our dysfunction, all our sin and death, and while it looked for a while like He had been conquered, He rose victorious on the third day and proved that nothing has more power than God, and that God can turn into life and light even the worst death and darkness that we give Him.

    Our joy should come from the understanding that God did not simply raise our Lord for His own benefit, but also for ours, and that God has given us a way to be joined to the Risen Christ through Holy Baptism, a once-for-all event in our life that we have to choose to ratify each day if we wish to share in its full benefits.  Our joy comes from knowing that, if we cling to Christ, turn away from our sins, and do all that we can to reject Satan and sin, then we, too, will find victory over death and darkness.  And that can keep us going.
    It is the joy that mothers keep in mind as they suffer through pregnancy.  All the morning sickness, all the stretch marks, all the back pain, all the swollen feet and ankles, all the pain of delivery (which, all joking aside, I do believe exceeds even a man-cold), is worth it because of a new child and the joy that comes from holding that child in her arms, a result of the love shared between her and her husband.  
    But we have to keep that in mind, otherwise it just seems like trials.  And when we only consider our trials, they can wear us down, depress us, lead us into despair.  When we forget about heaven and the perfect happiness that comes from union with Christ, the sufferings we endure and the sufferings we choose to endure in order to follow Christ don’t seem to make any sense.  If heaven doesn’t exist, then why would I curtail the desires of my body?  If heaven doesn’t exist, then when would I give up meat on Fridays?  If heaven doesn’t exist, then why wouldn’t I do whatever I needed to be the most powerful, the most famous, the most rich?  If Christ is not raised from the dead, as St. Paul says, then we are the most pitiable of people because all the ways we die to ourselves seem foolish.  But if there is life after death, a life that can be filled with happiness if we live like Christ (or a life that can be filled with suffering if we only seek out pleasure on earth), then no matter what pain or sorrow we go through on our way, the destination is worth it.  To use an analogy, driving through Ohio is worth it only if Kentucky is on the other side of Cincinnati.  
    We are, in some sense, men and women of constant sorrow, because Christ has not yet returned to usher in the fullness of His Kingdom.  We leave Kentucky, we ramble through life, we lose friends and loved ones, we go each day towards the grave.  “But there is one promise that is given”: that through living the life of Christ, the life of the Easter, the life of resurrection, we can meet Him and all the saints on God’s golden shore, where He reigns–the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit–for ever and ever.  Amen.  

Praying for a Good Shepherd

Fourth Sunday of Easter
    On 10 April, Bishop Boyea, as required by canon law, submitted his letter of resignation to Pope Leo XIV.  As of my composing of this homily, it has not been accepted, and my guess is that it will be at least eight months until we get a new bishop, maybe even twelve or more months.  Bishop Boyea has noted that there are something like twenty-two dioceses who do not have a bishop ahead of him.

    In my own humble estimation, Bishop Boyea has been a good bishop.  He has been a good shepherd after the Most Sacred Heart of the one Good Shepherd, Jesus Christ, who refers to Himself as the Good Shepherd, a title that was also referenced in the second reading by St. Peter, our first pope.  In this time where we wait for a new bishop, I would encourage us all to pray to God for another good bishop, and pray to the Holy Spirit to guide all involved in the process, all the way up to Pope Leo, to choose for us the bishop who will help us continue to grow in our relationship with Jesus Christ.
    But what makes a good bishop?  What makes a good shepherd?  We each might have our own ideas, and not only would there be differences between your ideas and mine in some cases (as I relate to our diocesan bishop a bit differently than the lay faithful), but there are probably even some differences if I asked each of you, though there would also be some similarities.
    In some ways, our own desires for a good bishop would likely follow our own wisdom, which may or may not be connected to the wisdom of the Holy Spirit.  In humility, we all need to acknowledge that just because we see some charism or trait as important, does not mean that God considers it equally important.  We are sheep, and sheep are not the wisest of animals.  For example, sheep, if not moved around, will pull up the roots of the plants on which they graze, eliminating future food sources in their short-sightedness.  They also so rely on the herd, that they have been known to put themselves into danger, simply because a few other sheep are leading them that way.  So when our Lord calls us sheep, He’s not exactly giving us a compliment.  Sometimes we can take things to far like sheep pulling up roots.  Or sometimes we can go along with an idea because one or a few people that we like or we respect lead us that way.

    But Christ tells us that a good shepherd is one who lays down his life for his sheep.  A good shepherd, from today’s passage, also looks for other sheep that would benefit from being part of the fold, even if they are not part of the fold yet.  So as we pray for a good new bishop, we should pray for a holy man who is willing to die for us to protect us from spiritual dangers, as well as a man who seeks out lost sheep, or sheep that belong to another fold, and one who will welcome them in to the pastures of the Catholic Church.
    As I think of Bishop Boyea, and why I think he has been a good shepherd, he truly has a love for the Lord and seeks to have others follow the Lord.  Liturgically he has been very faithful to the way the Church wants to see the Mass and the sacraments celebrated: in a beautiful, transcendent way.  He tries to reach people where they’re at, including by his weekly videos that teach us about different aspects of the faith.  He has done his best to strengthen the weak, but to fight the arrogance of the proud.  And, he has challenged me to go beyond my own first opinions and ideas, to make sure that what I suggest to him makes sense.  And he has told me that I was wrong, when I needed to hear it, even if I didn’t always want to hear it.  
    We probably consider correction more when it comes to others that we see are wrong, rather than ourselves.  But a good shepherd doesn’t let his sheep wander away, but calls them back.  In the Letter to the Hebrews, we read: “all discipline seems a cause not for joy but for pain, yet later it brings the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who are trained by it.”  And we hear in different Gospel passages how the Lord has to correct the Apostles, including even St. Peter right after our Lord made Peter the Chief Shepherd of His Church, and Peter told the Lord that He should not have to suffer.  So, when praying for a new good bishop, we should also pray for one that will hold our feet to the fire when we do not live up to our call to follow the Lord, but are following our own designs.
    Trevor, today you will become the newest sheep in the Lord’s flock.  Through prayer and study you have come to the point where you want to enter into full communion with the one Church Jesus Christ founded.  The Lord, the Good Shepherd, has been with you all throughout your life, calling you to this moment, to enter these pastures.  And with great love He will seal your entrance into the Catholic Church with a fresh outpouring of the Holy Spirit through the Sacrament of Confirmation, and the gift of Jesus’ own Body and Blood through the Eucharist.  We, your fellow sheep, promise to help you continue to grow in your faith in and love of Christ, until hopefully we are all ready to enter the eternal pastures of heaven.
    I know a lot of people have expressed anxiety about who our new bishop will be.  Perhaps other recent episcopal appointments have added to that concern, though I would caution that just because we read something in a particular blog or periodical, even Catholic, does not mean that we have the whole story.  But if we make our desires for a good bishop known to the one Good Shepherd and Bishop of our souls (as St. Peter said at the end of today’s second reading, though our translation uses the word guardian), I have no doubt that God will give us the bishop that we need, who will help us to grow as disciples of our Lord Jesus Christ.

What Makes a Good Shepherd?

Second Sunday after Easter
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Nine days ago Bishop Boyea, as required by canon law, submitted his letter of resignation to Pope Leo XIV.  As of my composing of this homily, it has not been accepted, and my guess is that it will be at least eight months until we get a new bishop, maybe even twelve or more months.  Bishop Boyea has noted that there are something like twenty-two dioceses who do not have a bishop ahead of him.

    In my own humble estimation, Bishop Boyea has been a good bishop.  He has been a good shepherd after the Most Sacred Heart of the one Good Shepherd, Jesus Christ, who today in our Gospel referred to Himself as the Good Shepherd, a title that was also referenced in the epistle by St. Peter, our first pope.  In this time where we wait for a new bishop, I would encourage us all to pray to God for another good bishop, and pray to the Holy Spirit to guide all involved in the process, all the way up to Pope Leo, to choose for us the bishop who will help us continue to grow in our relationship with Jesus Christ.
    But what makes a good bishop?  What makes a good shepherd?  We each might have our own ideas, and not only would there be differences between your ideas and mine in some cases (as I relate to our diocesan bishop a bit differently than the lay faithful), but there are probably even some differences if I asked each of you, though there would also be some similarities.
    In some ways, our own desires for a good bishop would likely follow our own wisdom, which may or may not be connected to the wisdom of the Holy Spirit.  In humility, we all need to acknowledge that just because we see some charism or trait as important, does not mean that God considers it equally important.  We are sheep, and sheep are not the wisest of animals.  For example, sheep, if not moved around, will pull up the roots of the plants on which they graze, eliminating future food sources in their short-sightedness.  They also so rely on the herd, that they have been known to put themselves into danger, simply because a few other sheep are leading them that way.  So when our Lord calls us sheep, He’s not exactly giving us a compliment.  Sometimes we can take things to far like sheep pulling up roots.  Or sometimes we can go along with an idea because one or a few people that we like or we respect lead us that way.
    But Christ tells us that a good shepherd is one who lays down his life for his sheep.  A good shepherd, from today’s passage, also looks for other sheep that would benefit from being part of the fold, even if they are not part of the fold yet.  So as we pray for a good new bishop, we should pray for a holy man who is willing to die for us to protect us from spiritual dangers, as well as a man who seeks out lost sheep, or sheep that belong to another fold, and one who will welcome them in to the pastures of the Catholic Church.
    As I think of Bishop Boyea, and why I think he has been a good shepherd, he truly has a love for the Lord and seeks to have others follow the Lord.  Liturgically he has been very faithful to the way the Church wants to see the Mass and the sacraments celebrated: in a beautiful, transcendent way.  He tries to reach people where they’re at, including by his weekly videos that teach us about different aspects of the faith.  He has done his best to strengthen the weak, but to fight the arrogance of the proud.  And he has challenged me to go beyond my own first opinions and ideas, to make sure that what I suggest to him makes sense.  And he has told me that I was wrong when I needed to hear it, even if I didn’t always want to hear it.  
    We probably consider correction more when it comes to others that we see are wrong, rather than ourselves.  But a good shepherd doesn’t let his sheep wander away, but calls them back.  In the epistle the Hebrews, we read: “all discipline seems a cause not for joy but for pain, yet later it brings the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who are trained by it.”  And we hear in different Gospel passages how the Lord has to correct the Apostles, including even St. Peter right after our Lord made Peter the Chief Shepherd of His Church, and Peter told the Lord that He should not have to suffer.  So, when praying for a new good bishop, we should also pray for one that will hold our feet to the fire when we do not live up to our call to follow the Lord, but are following our own designs.
    I know a lot of people have expressed anxiety about who our new bishop will be.  Perhaps other recent episcopal appointments have added to that concern, though I would caution that just because we read something in a particular blog or periodical, even Catholic, does not mean that we have the whole story.  But if we make our desires for a good bishop known to the one Good Shepherd and Bishop of our souls (as St. Peter said at the end of today’s epistle), I have no doubt that God will give us the bishop that we need, who will help us to grow as disciples of our Lord Jesus Christ, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit is God, for ever and ever.  Amen.   

Our Surpassing God

Third Sunday of Easter

Grand Tetons National Park

    About halfway through 2020, and about 5 months into “14 days to flatten the curve,” I decided to travel to a national park.  I was sick of being cooped up in Flint, and needed to get away to destress from all the new stress of COVID that we pastors had to deal with as we learned how to shepherd people during a pandemic.  While I knew a flight was not going to be great, I did look forward to going somewhere far away where I could enjoy the outdoors and not have to wear a mask.  So I looked to our national park system, and decided to visit Grand Tetons and Yellowstone National Parks.  I had looked forward to being less encumbered by COVID protocols, but the views I had from the two national parks out west were spectacular and far surpassed any expectations I had for parks I had heard about, but never visited.
    In both our first reading and our Gospel, we hear about expectations that God far surpassed.  In the first reading, St. Peter, on the day of Pentecost, tells the Jews that Jesus has fulfilled the prophecy of David, but did so in a very unexpected way.  And in the Gospel, Jesus Himself enlightens the disciples on the road to Emmaus about the ways that God had foretold the Messiah.
    For David, God had made a promise that his descendants would always sit upon the throne of Israel.  And I’m sure David considered this promise as a guarantee that his sons would always rule over Israel as earthly kings.  That was exciting enough.  But David, too, prophesied in the psalms that God would not abandon David to the netherworld, nor let his holy one (perhaps David used this title to refer to himself) undergo corruption.  But God far surpassed what David expected.  God made one of David’s children, Jesus, an eternal king in heaven whose reign would never end because Jesus has a kingdom which lasts forever.  And God did not let the truly Holy One, Jesus, undergo corruption, nor let Jesus remain in the abode of the dead, but raised Him to new life.  David thought that what God would do was glorious enough from an earthly standpoint.  But what God really was going to do would have blown David’s mind.
    Likewise, for the disciples on the road to Emmaus, they knew the prophecies about the Messiah, David’s son.  They knew that Moses prophesied about a future prophet to whom the Chosen People must listen.  They knew that God would provide a Davidic king who would trample Israel’s enemies and restore glory to the Chosen People from their oppressors.  But again, they thought of the Messiah in earthly ways.  They wanted a king who would throw out the Romans and restore an earthly kingdom to Israel.  But God did better: He destroyed the true enemy of Israel, sin and death, and established a heavenly kingdom that could never be conquered by any power in heaven or on earth.  And in that kingdom swords would be changed into plows, and spears into pruning hooks, and the lion and the lamb would lie down together and dwell in peace.  Those who heard these prophecies of Isaiah probably thought them to be hyperbole, but God intended it much more realistically, where, in God’s reign, there would be no more war, death, sorrow, or disease, and harmony would be the hallmark of God’s kingdom.
    When we think about what we think God wants, our earthly vantage point often limits us.  We have something good in mind, but perhaps it’s not all that great.  It may have a certain excellence from an earthly point of view, but God wants much more than our limited minds could ever hope for or anticipate.  His plan excels ours as much as diamonds excel fools gold.  But we get stuck in our ways and our views and so do not see, like the disciples on the road to Emmaus, what God really can do and has done for us.  When our measly projects don’t come to fruition the way we wanted, we, too, can become downcast.
    In the midst of our dashed earthly hopes, we should turn to the Lord and ask Him to enlighten us with His plans and what He has done, which is far greater than our own plans and expectations.  We do this through reading the Word of God, through daily prayer, and through our worthy reception of Holy Communion.  We come to Christ, like the disciples, and let Him know that we don’t understand what God is doing, and ask Him to show us the way, to show us the great things that He has done, so that we can appreciate them.  And God–the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit–will open our eyes to His plan and His great deeds in our lives and the lives of others, which accomplish far more than we could ever hope for or imagine.
    In August, 2020, I wanted to get away and live a freer life, without social distancing, without masks, without living like a prisoner in my own home.  I went out west, thinking that at least it would allow me to accomplish those goals.  But as I toured through Grand Tetons National Park and Yellowstone National Park, I experienced such natural beauty and grandeur, that it not only refreshed my body, but even lifted up my mind and my soul as I stood in wonder and awe of what God had made, and what He allowed me to experience as part of my inheritance as a citizen of our great country and an adopted child of the God who made such magnificent mountains and grand geysers.  God surpassed my hopes, and He wants to surpass yours.  Do not let your hearts droop down when our limited goals and desires do not come to fruition.  Bring them to God, and see the great things He wants to do for us, things that surpass our hopes and dreams.

Inconceivable Mercy

Second Sunday of Easter/Divine Mercy Sunday 

    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen].  In the movie, “The Princess Bride,” one of the antagonists, Vizzini, uses the word “inconceivable!” every time something happens that he can’t believe, which makes Iñigo Montoya, his erstwhile henchman, say, “You keep using that word.  I do not think it means what you think it means.”
    The same could be said for the word mercy, which is a focus of today, since Pope St. John Paul II declared the Second Sunday of Easter (aka Sunday in the Octave of Easter or Low Sunday or Quasi Modo Sunday) to be Divine Mercy Sunday.  Since then, countless numbers of people have sought out the Lord’s mercy for past offenses, and have grown in their appreciation of God’s merciful love.  Indeed, our Lord promised St. Faustina: “The soul that will go to Confession and receive Holy Communion [on Divine Mercy Sunday] will obtain complete forgiveness of sins and punishment.”  This is part of the reason Fr. Daniel LaCroix from St. John Vianney parish will be helping me hear confessions at 1:30 today.
    But to understand such a generous gift, we have to understand what mercy truly is and what it is not.  Mercy is the transforming love of God accepted by a person who knows that he has sinned.  Mercy is not license, which is the abuse of God’s mercy that presumes we can keep on sinning.  Nor does mercy ignore faults or pretend they’re not real.  A person who doesn’t think he sins has no need for mercy, because mercy is the remedy for sin, and for a person who has no sin, no mercy is necessary.
    As the Catechism of the Catholic Church states in paragraph 1847, “To receive [God’s] mercy, we must admit our faults.”  It goes on to cite the first epistle of St. John, where the Beloved Disciples writes, “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.  If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just, and will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”  In order for us to receive the great gift of God’s mercy, which is truly the Good News at its heart, we also have to be honest and recognize that we do not always live as God calls us to live.  
    Sin is death.  Sin is slavery.  Sin turns us in on ourselves.  God does not want that for any of us.  But He created us with free will that can be used well and choose Him and His way of life that leads to eternal happiness, or our free will can be used poorly and choose ourselves and Satan and eternal misery.  Because of original sin and personal sins, we worked against God and became His enemies.  But, “while we were still sinners Christ died for us,” as the Apostle says in his epistle to the Romans.  He continues, “Indeed, if, while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, how much more, once reconciled, will we be saved by his life.”  The Good News is that, while we chose death, and could not get out of its webs, again, quoting St. Paul’s second epistle to the Corinthians, “For our sake [God] made [Christ] to be sin who did not know sin, so that we might become the righteousness of God in [Christ].”  God took upon Himself in Christ the punishment that we deserved, not only so that we didn’t have to face that punishment, but so that we could enjoy what God initially created us for: eternal happiness with Him in heaven.  That is mercy.  That is inconceivable!
    And God’s mercy is meant to change us, to transform us.  When we recognize just how serious sin is, and just what God went through to free us from sin, it can change our hearts, our minds, and our actions.  God’s mercy desires to give us life in place of the death of sin; give us freedom in place of the slavery of sin; and turn us towards the Father, rather than the inward-facing nature of sin.  License rejoices that sin won’t be held against me, but looks for a new opportunity to return to sin, like a clean pig returning to the mud or a dog returning to its own vomit.  
    But, struggling to accept that change is not license.  Many people get caught in sins, especially sexual sins, and while they truly repent for what they have done, and confess their sins, and open themselves up to God’s mercy, they find themselves returning to the same sinful actions, thoughts, and habits again and again.  The difference between presuming on God’s mercy and struggling to cooperate with the transformation that mercy points to is our intention and our desire: do we wish to be free and holy, or do we wish to remain slaves to sin, so long as we don’t have to suffer the consequences?

    Today we rightly celebrate God’s mercy, which is infinitely more powerful than any sin we could ever commit.  Today as St. Thomas sees and touches Christ, he is transformed from a doubter to a believer, just as when we truly encounter the mercy of God we are transformed from a sinner to a saint.  But we have to make sure we know the meaning of the word mercy in order for it to benefit us.  We cannot mistake mercy for license to sin.  God’s mercy draws us out, even if it takes some time, from the filth of sin into the purity of holiness.  Allow God’s mercy to transform you, a mercy that came at the price of the death of the Son of God, a gift of mercy that truly was “inconceivable!”  [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.]

Why Are We Running?

Easter Sunday

    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen].  Forrest Gump, after returning home from the Vietnam War, and after he sold his shrimping company, and after he had tried to figure out what to do with his life, got off his porch and, as he said, “That day, for no particular reason, I decided to go for a little run.  So, I ran to the end of the road, and when I got there, I thought maybe I’d run to the end of town.”  He ends up running through his county, through Alabama, and across the United States.  In reflecting on his super marathon, Forrest says, “For no particular reason, I just kept on going.”
    While I have run the CRIM once, and sometimes run as part of my cardio workouts, I’m more in the camp of those who run solely because they’re being chased or chasing after someone.  And as for being chased, as long as you’re not the slowest, generally you’re ok.  
    But John’s account of the first Easter Sunday talks about Sts. Peter and John running to the tomb.  They run there to see if what St. Mary Magdalene said was true: that someone had taken the Lord.  John, who wrote the Gospel, adds what I like to think was a little fun jab at Peter: “They both ran, but the other disciple [that is, John] ran faster than Peter and arrived at the tomb first.”  Peter would have been in trouble if they were running from a bear.
    But they both ran with a purpose: to see the empty tomb.  They saw the burial cloths, and the cloth that had covered the head in a separate area.  They believed Mary Magdalene, that someone had taken the body somewhere else, as St. John makes clear, “they did not yet understand the Scripture that he had to rise from the dead.”  It would not be until the Risen Lord appeared in the Upper Room that evening that they would know that He had risen from the dead.  
    Do we, like Peter and John, run towards the resurrection?  Or do we, like Forrest Gump, run for no particular reason?  As followers of Christ, we should run towards a goal, not aimlessly.  Our life should be a run towards the risen Christ in heaven.  If we’re just running, with no goal in mind, we never know where we might end up, and it might not be in heaven.  
    As we go through each day and the different activities of life, we can treat the parts of the day like smaller races: waking up and getting myself and/or the kids ready–100 meter dash; working in or out of the home–3200 meter run; making dinner and cleaning up the house–400 meter dash.  And as we begin each race, we should do so with a prayer.  Maybe it’s a simple prayer as you wake up, like a morning offering, of even the short pious phrase, “My Mother, My Confidence!”, entrusting our day to the intercession of the Blessed Mother.  Maybe it’s the sign of the cross as you enter your car to drive to work, or as you begin a load of laundry at home.  Maybe it’s the Angelus on your lunch break.  Maybe it’s Grace Before and/or After Meals.  Maybe it’s a pray of thanksgiving as you put your kids to bed or go to bed yourself.  But praying throughout the day makes sure that we’re running towards a goal, and not just running like a chicken with its head cut off.  
    If we don’t focus our energy, we run towards other goals than heaven–earthly prosperity, power, fame–which do not endure and will not save us.  Or, it’s more like running on a treadmill, which expends the same amount of energy, but without actually going anywhere.  To share in Christ’s Resurrection, we have to want to get there.  Simply making our legs go back and forth won’t necessarily get us closer to the new life that Christ wants for us and that fulfills our human nature.  How sad would it be to find out, at the end of our life, that we ran the wrong way, or even didn’t run any distance, but only ran in place.  

The empty tomb in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre

    Today, let us join Sts. Peter and John, running toward an empty tomb, because Christ has risen from the dead.  Let us run the race that God has put before us, not aimlessly, but with our eyes fixed on our goal: heaven.  Each day we can run the small and long races, which hopefully push us closer to eternal life.  We use prayer to make sure we’re on the right track, the path that leads to heaven.  
    Forrest Gump later in the movie says, “I had run for three years, two months, fourteen days and sixteen hours….I’m pretty tired.  Think I’ll go home now.”  He had run for years, but without a purpose, without reaching a goal.  May our race of life have purpose, like Peter and John, and, spurred on by the grace and mercy of God, lead us to heaven.  [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.]

New Life

Easter Vigil
    It is a special moment in a family’s life when a child first learns to walk.  The child usually takes the first steps a bit gingerly and awkwardly, but as the child’s leg muscles and core develop, and as the child learns balance, he or she gains more independence concomitant with more mobility.  While there is a period where the child will go back and forth between crawling and walking, with the mastery of the skill of walking, the child gains a new form of life, and parents have to exercise increased vigilance over the child in his or her new life.
    Tonight as we celebrate the beginning of Easter at this Vigil Mass, we celebrate new life.  All of our readings told of some form of new life.  We heard about the beginning and new life of literally everything in the first reading as we heard God create the heavens and the earth and all that is in them.  We heard about Isaac’s new life after his father, Abraham, was willing to sacrifice Isaac, though God stopped Abraham at the last minute.  In the third readings we heard about the new life that Israel received after passing through the waters of the Red Sea, with their oppressors, the Egyptians, being destroyed in the same waters after the Israelites made it through safely.  Isaiah prophesies about new life, as he spoke for God in the fourth reading: “For a brief moment I abandoned you, but with great tenderness I will take you back.”  Israel receives new life from its renewed covenant with God.  Likewise, in the fifth reading, Isaiah talks about the new life that comes when one receives the word of God, just like the fields receive new life from the snow and rain and the seed sown in the ground.  The prophet Baruch reminds the people that life comes from following the commandments of God, and abandoning their sinful ways.  And the prophet Ezekiel in the seventh reading speaks for God and tells the people that, while they turned away from God, and God let them feel the consequences of their sins, He will give them new life and prove His holiness and fidelity, so that the nations may know that He is the true God.  St. Paul talks about the new life that comes from baptism and dying with the Lord so that we can “live in newness of life” by rising with Christ.  And the Gospel is the climax of the focus on new life as we heard the angels proclaim that Christ had been raised, and Jesus Himself met the holy women on their way back to the Upper Room.

    My dear brothers and sisters, tonight is all about new life.  We enter into the new life that Christ won by His Death and Resurrection.  We renew our covenant with the Lord, the covenant began at Holy Baptism when we died with Christ so to rise with Him to newness of life.  And for some of our brothers and sisters, tonight will be the beginning of new life for them.
    Our Elect will receive newness of life through Holy Baptism, as God washes away all their sins, adopts them as His own children, and makes them members of His Holy Church.  Our candidates, those who were baptized in other Christian ecclesial communities, will join with our Elect in receiving the Sacrament of Confirmation, after they profess full faith with us, and they and even adults baptized as Catholics earlier who never completed the rest of the Sacraments of Initiation, will be given the new life that comes from the outpouring of the Holy Spirit.  And then all those who have not yet made their first Holy Communion will receive new life into them by sharing for the first time in the Body and Blood of Christ, the truly unblemished Lamb who saves us from death, just as the blood of the unblemished lamb over the lintels saved the Chosen People in Egypt from the Angel of Death, which wiped out the first born.  
    Whether we are receiving new life through the Sacraments for the first time, or renewing our covenant of new life with God tonight, God calls us to continue to live in new life, not in death.  It would be odd for a 5-year-old to return to crawling on the ground all the time, rather than walking.  We should approach our old, sinful way of life in the same way: it would be odd to go back to that.  Sin holds us down.  The new life of Christ gives us the freedom to run to God with the dignity of our heads held high on our own two feet.  The temptation will be to treat tonight as a beautiful ceremony, but only a ceremony that doesn’t change how we live.  Instead, God calls all of us to recommit to putting behind us our old habits of sin, and live in the new life of grace that Christ won for us.
    Tonight, Christ has risen from the dead.  Tonight, Christ takes your hand and invites you to walk with Him in the new life of holiness.  Tonight God reminds us that we should be dead to sin, and alive in the new life of Christ.  Alleluia!!

God's God-Forsakenness

Good Friday of the Passion of the Lord

    Most people, when they first learned it, were astonished to hear that a saintly woman like St. Teresa of Calcutta, Mother Teresa, suffered great spiritual desolation as she worked to build her Missionaries of Charity. She once said to her spiritual director, “The place of God in my soul is blank.  There is no God in me.”  For someone who loved others so much, in such dramatic ways, I think most struggle to understand how a person could love so generously without a daily experience of God who is love.  And yet, she did.
    As we hear the Passion Narrative–we get John’s version today and we heard Matthew’s version on Palm Sunday–we hear about how Christ took upon Himself the weight of sin.  Not just the sin of His contemporaries, or even the sin that had taken place from Adam and Eve to Him, but the sin of all time.  And since sin is the separation from God, in some mysterious way, the Father allowed the Son, in His human nature, to experience the full weight of sin, which is why, as we heard Sunday, Christ cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”  Christ goes to the limit of what Bishop Barron calls “God-forsakenness” for our salvation.

    When we think about the pain of Good Friday, we often think of the physical pain that the Lord endured.  We might think about the pain from the nails piercing His Sacred Flesh, or the crown of thorns, puncturing the skin around his head, his hair matting with dried blood.  Or the blood on His back from the scourgings, dried and attached to his tunic, which was then taken from His Body, re-opening those wounds.  We might consider how He struggled to breathe as His Body hung upon the cross, His lungs filling with fluid as He slowly asphyxiated.  Christ redeemed all human pain united to Him by taking it upon Himself.
    But Christ also redeemed all spiritual pain through his own spiritual suffering.  Again, it seems odd to think of co-eternal Son of God going through desolation.  How could God not experience God’s presence?  And yet, in some mysterious way, Christ was allowed to taste the full effect of sin, which separates the person from God and His sanctifying grace and love. 
    Perhaps we have not had such a strong and drawn-out experience like St. Teresa of Calcutta.  Maybe we have never had a moment where we felt like God abandoned us or left us.  But I’m willing to bet many of us have had at least a few moments where we wondered where He was when we needed Him the most.  I bet many of us have had times when we go to pray and we have no desire to be there, and we feel like no one is listening.  God through Christ redeemed even those experiences where we feel the farthest from God, so that, even though maybe we don’t feel anything, we can know that He is there, because He went there already through His own Passion and Death.  
    The temptation in times where we feel like God does not care or is not present is to give up.  We don’t feel like praying so we skip our prayers.  We pray, but we don’t get the response we want or get the response when we want it, so we stop praying.  We pray, but it doesn’t even have the feeling of satisfaction of rest, and there is a tangible lack of the presence of God, so we run away from that experience and change our prayer habits to pray less so we don’t have to feel that lack of presence.  This would be equivalent to Christ coming down from the cross, as the Pharisees jeered at Him to do, because of the pain of His Passion.  
    Instead, God invites us to know that He is present, even when He feels absent, because He has gone to the utter limit of God-forsakenness on the cross to prove His love for us, and to prove that we cannot go anywhere that He has not already been.  And not only that, but He’ll stay on that cross with us, even if we don’t feel Him there, to redeem the experience of desolation for us.
    As you come forward to venerate the cross today, bring any of those times when you haven’t felt good in prayer, or you haven’t received the response you wanted, or maybe you have even felt like God wasn’t there or didn’t care.  Because when we bring those experiences, and any other suffering, to the cross of Christ, we know that, in due time, God will raise us up and give us new life from what we suffered.  Come, let us adore.

Sacramentum Unitatis

Mass of the Lord’s Supper

    In 1971, the Hillside Singers released their version of a British popular song by Roger Cook and Roger Greenaway.  In the “Hilltop” version, as it was called, the producers of a Coca-Cola commercial used the song to promote their own pop, and suggested that if everyone would sing this song and buy each other a Coke the world could live in perfect harmony.  This commercial stood in the context of the on-going cold war with Communist Russia and the Vietnam War.
    Some 55 years later, wars still rage and the world and our country desire unity.  It seems like every election comes down to a slim majority determining the track of the country for the following years.  We equate compromise with cowardice.  Citizens in our country operate on very different philosophies about the human person and how society should operate, even including how to define men and women (if a person even admits that such a definition is possible).  We are a divided nation, perhaps not this divided since the Civil War.
    Our church, too, seems ever divided.  Some, even those who hold sacred office, seem to want to change unchangeable Church teaching.  Bishops and Cardinals sling verbal attacks at each other.  It seems we fight our own ecclesial war between progressivism and traditionalism, even if most of the soldiers are keyboard warriors.
    But singing a jingle and buying Coke (the drink, not the drug) will not bring unity.  The unity that we seek cannot come from our own making, though we do have to cooperate with it.  The unity we seek finds its source in Christ, not in us.  And as God assembles us tonight to celebrate the Mass of the Lord’s Supper, we celebrate the Sacramentum unitatis, the Sacrament of unity, and the one priesthood that our Lord established.

    The Eucharist is the sacrament of unity because it unites us with the one head of the Church, Jesus Christ.  When we receive worthily Holy Communion, unlike other food that becomes part of us, we become part of the Body of Christ, which we have just received.  Through the Eucharist, Christ brings together all those who believe in Him to be one with Him and one with each other.  The Didache, a second-century Greek ecclesial text talks about how many grains are gathered together to make the bread that becomes the Eucharist.  The many grains, ground into one batch of flour, join to each other through the water of baptism, and then bake in the fire of the Holy Spirit to become bread, which becomes the Body of Christ.  Likewise, many individual grapes are pressed through suffering to become juice which ferments over time to become wine, used to become the Blood of Christ.  Unity comes from diverse individuals, but all united through Holy Baptism, the Holy Spirit, and suffering, which joins us to Christ.  
    But unity with Christ can only come when we submit ourselves to Christ.  The reason why the non-baptized, and even the baptized who are not in full communion with the Catholic Church, cannot receive Holy Communion is because Christ is the ruler for unity, not us.  And Christ is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.  We cannot reject parts of the truth that Christ has revealed, and then claim unity with Truth Incarnate.  That would be a lie.  Unity does not come from rejecting what we know to be true until we get to a lowest common denominator of truth, but from embracing the truth has Christ Himself has revealed it through His teachings in the Scriptures and in the Church.  
    Both the Eucharist and the priesthood bring about unity because they find their source and power in the one Jesus Christ.  When we conform our lives to Him, we find the true unity because we can join ourselves, diverse as we are, to Him.  He brings us together as different parts of His Mystical Body to cooperate with each other and do what we cannot do on our own.  I do some things well, but other things not as well, or even poorly.  You do other things well, but not maybe the same things I do well.  When we bring our gifts to Christ, He allows them to work together so that we support each other, rather than combatting each other or each trying to do everything on his or her own.  
    Coca-Cola won’t bring us unity, catchy jingle or not.  Politics will not bring us unity, no matter who has the executive and legislative branches and how many laws they pass.  True unity, the unity that we desire, can only come from Christ, who both instituted the priesthood and the Eucharist tonight.  May our worthy reception of Holy Communion, made possible by my consecrated hands, but through no worthiness of my own, unify us so that we can find the peace and harmony we all desire.