Following Christ May Not be Easy

Septuagesima
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  One would be forgiven for thinking that, once one truly believes in Christ, everything goes easily.  We have a desire for doing right, and we want that desire and those righteous actions to carry with them the consequence of ease.  And certainly, even Aristotle in his Nicomachean Ethics points to how the truly virtuous person exhibits virtue without too much struggle.  A person who truly has the virtue of courage will exhibit courage, rather than cowardice or rashness, in his or her actions, and will not need to think about it much, because a virtue is a stable disposition or habit to choose a particular good.  
    At the same time, a person who exhibits every virtue is rare.  And so there is a kind of struggle that takes place as that person seeks to life a fully virtuous life.  A man may never struggle with remaining faithful to his wife, but he may struggle with telling the truth, or displaying magnanimity (greatness of soul), or tempering his desire for food.

    St. Paul talks about striving for self-mastery and living a virtue, and compares it to running a race.  He notes that only one person wins a prize for first place, and says that we should run so as to win, rather than simply seeking a participation trophy.  He even says that he competes and subjects his body to penances, in order that he might also win.  
    He then also talks about how all the Jews received a sort of baptism in Moses, whether through the cloud or through the sea, and all participated in a foreshadowing of the Eucharist through the spiritual food and spiritual drink that was Christ.  But the Apostle notes that most of them did not please God.  
    What we can understand from this is that just because we are baptized; just because we receive the Eucharist, doesn’t mean that we can rest on our laurels.  While both are important sacraments that, respectively, make us adopted children of God and give us spiritual strength to live as children of God, receiving sacraments doesn’t mean that the graces work in us necessarily.  The fault lies not with the grace that God gives, but with our receptivity to those graces: with how we allow the grace to operate in our lives.
    We refer to these two aspects of the sacrament with two Latin phrases: ex opere operato, and ex opere operantis.  Ex opere operato means “from the work having been worked,” and refers to the objective reality that the sacraments have, as long as they are celebrated as the Church intends (the right words, the right stuff, and the right minster).  Ex opere operantis means “from the work of the one working,” and refers to the subjective reality and fruitfulness that the sacraments have, which is based upon the holiness of the minister and the recipient.  The former steers us clear of the heresy of Donatism, which stated that an evil minister could invalidate a sacrament, even if he did everything else correctly, and the latter steers us clear of magic, which takes the approach that, no matter what, just say the right words and do the right things and a change takes place, no matter whether a person opens him or herself up to the graces that God wants to convey.  

    This helps us understand why some baptized Catholics do not live up to their call to be saints.  Did the baptism not take?  Of course it did (as long as the minister celebrated it validly)!  But that recipient might be putting up a block to those graces through personal sin after the fact, or maybe the minister gave bad catechesis and treated baptism like an empty ceremony that doesn’t accomplish anything.  
    This helps us understand why, after we receive the Eucharist, sometimes we still want to sin.  The joke is that in the church we’re all pious and grateful for the Body and Blood of Christ, but then as we try to pull out of the parking lot we lose our temper and act like heathens who do not know Christ’s command to love one another and be patient.  
    And this is why we do our penitential practices, especially in the upcoming season of Lent.  We don’t do penance to earn salvation; we can’t earn salvation.  That’s the heresy of Pelagianism.  But our penances help discipline us to open ourselves to the graces that God wants to give, because our sin puts up obstacles (the theological word is obex) to the fruitfulness of God’s grace.  When we fast, when we abstain, when we give alms, we recognize our need for deeper conversion and to rely on God, rather than on ourselves or the goods of the world.  We make more room for God so that the spring of grace He has given us in baptism flows unobstructed, and so that the sacramental grace transforms us from the inside out.  
    Some get this from the beginning, like the workers whom the master hired at the beginning of the day.  For others it takes a long time, like those who only worked for the last hour.  But if we allow God’s grace to transform us into the saints He wants us to be in baptism, even at the last moments, then our hope of eternal salvation can be strong.
    We all likely have ways that need to grow in virtue, and our upcoming Lenten season is the perfect time to open ourselves up more to God’s grace so that we can grow in virtue.  May we run so as to win the prize, knowing that it is God who makes any good work possible and completes any good work that we began by His inspiration: the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Clogging the Drain

Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time
    Growing up, my dad and I were outnumbered, three females to two males.  One of the practical realities of having three women in the house was that hair could be found everywhere.  In most places it was just an inconvenience (like on couches, countertops, etc.).  But, when it came to bathroom sinks and tubs, it had a more significant impact.  Yes, men also shed hair a little, but when long hair starts going down drains, it has the tendency to clump up and block the drain, creating a blockage that can slow or even stop water flowing down the drain, requiring Drano or snaking the drain, if it gets bad enough.
    Pride is like the clumps of hair that blocks the drain of God’s grace.  Pride puts up an barrier (the Latin word is obex) to the flow of God’s life that He gives through the sacraments and the sacramentals (like the Rosary, daily devotions, reading of Scripture, etc.).  The opposite of pride is humility, which comes up in all our readings today, if not explicitly, implicitly.  
    What is it about humility that makes it such a great virtue?  Our own times don’t seem to value humility, and probably would see humility as a denigration of our self-esteem.  We live in a world where, if I think it, it must be true.  That’s the logical reasoning behind the phrase, “live your truth.”  It makes the individual the judge of reality, rather than starting with reality and adjusting to what reality gives us.  Imagine for a second that your truth is that gravity doesn’t exist.  You will quickly learn that “your truth” doesn’t really matter as you try to walk off a cliff.
    Humility does not primarily consist, however, in self-deprecation.  Humility is, according to such saints as St. Thomas Aquinas, whose feast day we celebrated last Wednesday, and St. Teresa of Avila, the acknowledgment of the truth.  Pride goes above who we are; self-deprecation does not give ourselves enough credit.  The truth stands in the middle, where we recognize who we truly are and who we are not.
    So how does humility mean a clean pipe, not filled with clogs of the hair of pride?  Humility allows our hearts to be open to God’s grace because it recognizes that we stand in need of God’s grace.  And then, when God’s grace flows, it allows us to accomplish what God wants and what will truly make us happy.  If I don’t think I need God because of my pride, or if I don’t think God would ever want to work with me (self-deprecation), I close myself off to God’s grace, and therefore close myself off to the power that allows me to do truly great things, which are only possible by God’s grace.  If I act as if I am God, why would I open myself up to God’s help?  If I don’t think I have anything good or worthy in me, I wouldn’t think that God would send His grace to me anyway, and would miss out on those opportunities.  
    God chooses the humble because He knows He can work with them.  The people “humble and lowly” from the first reading receive refuge and safety from God because they know they need Him, rather than trusting in political power, whether of themselves or of neighboring kingdoms.  The ones the world considers fools, “the lowly and despised of the world” from our second reading, God elevates because His power can work through them.  If we could have saved ourselves we would have done it.  But we couldn’t.  Even the best couldn’t open up heaven, because pride is exactly what closed it off.  Adam and Eve wanted to be gods on their own terms, even though, when they didn’t try to be gods God walked with them and provided everything they needed.  They had a healthy love of God and each other, as well as the creation entrusted to their care.  Only when they strove to be gods on their own terms did they begin to hide from God and hide their bodies from each other, and eventually even the animals started to avoid them.  

Church of the Beatitudes in the Holy Land

   The Beatitudes of the Gospel show us ways to be humble.  The poor in spirit are those who know that they need God; those who mourn know that all true comfort comes from God; the meek do not strive after things beyond them; those who hunger and thirst for righteousness know that it cannot come merely from their own efforts; the merciful recognize they are not perfect and need to receive and show forgiveness; the clean of heart understand that not all their desires should be followed; the peacemakers aim for the peace that comes when people receive what is their due; those who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness know that they do not always have to restore right order on their own, but that true righteousness comes from God; those who are injured for the sake of Jesus understand that vengeance belongs to God, and He will repay, either through allowing repentance or in the justice which only God can perfectly give.  Those are tall orders, but when we live opposite the beatitudes, we clog our souls with blockages to God’s grace and we live in the misery that is the opposite of beatitude.  
    As we get closer to Lent, perhaps now is a good time to think of how your Lenten practices can help you grow in humility.  I know I still have a long ways to grow in this virtue that allows me to be a conduit of God’s grace.  May God, especially through the Sacrament of Penance, snake our souls with His mercy so that we can live a humble life, and allow God to do powerful things through us by His grace. 

Concerning Hobbits

Third Sunday after Epiphany
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Over the last week or two I decided to rewatch the trilogy movies of “The Hobbit” and “The Lord of the Rings.”  I’ve watched them countless times, but I find them very enjoyable and they have many connections to Catholicism, since J.R.R. Tolkien, who wrote the novels, practiced his Catholic faith devotedly.

    In “The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring,” at the Council of Elrond in Rivendell (an elven oasis) representatives from the major races of beings–dwarves, elves, and men–argue over who will take the One Ring, an evil talisman connected to the evil spirit, Sauron, to Mordor to destroy it by casting it back in the volcanic Mount Doom, thus also destroying Sauron.  As they argue, Frodo, a hobbit, steps up and says that he will take the ring to Mordor, though he does not know the way.  Frodo had brought the ring from his house (since his uncle, Bilbo had found it years ago while on his own quest) to Rivendell.  So he agrees to carry it even farther to its destruction.  Elves were very wise, dwarves were very crafty, and men were very strong.  But it was a hobbit, a small humanoid, who probably stood no more than 4 feet tall, who volunteered to take the ring to its destruction.  Frodo wasn’t the wisest, the craftiest, and certainly not the strongest, but he was the right one for this quest.

    The centurion from our Gospel today was as unlikely for a healing from our Lord as Frodo was to carry the ring to its destruction.  As a soldier, he likely worshiped false gods, and maybe even worshiped the Emperor Tiberius Augustus.  He represented the entire occupying force of Rome in the Promised Land, which had come in 63 BC to make it a client kingdom of Rome, but who took it over around 6 BC as simply a province of Rome.  The centurion did not belong to the Chosen People awaiting a Messiah, and in fact, he was part of the military machine the people expected the Messiah to wipe out.  And yet, Christ says of the centurion that he had not found faith like his in all of Israel.  This centurion was the right one to receive a healing.
    And he was the right one because he believed Christ could heal his servant, even without being present.  No doubt, there were healers that would pop up from time to time in the Promised Land, but they almost always had to be present to heal the suffering person.  The centurion knew that this rabbi from Nazareth was different, and trusted that if He said it would be done, it would be done, just as when the centurion gave orders the soldiers did them.
    The centurion is a great reminder that God often works with the unexpected, perhaps the same message Tolkien tried to convey by choosing a hobbit to carry and destroy the One Ring.  But the common factor that unites the unexpected comes from their reliance on God and not on their own power.  Abraham and Sarah were well past the childbearing age, and yet God made Abraham the father of many nations.  Hannah was barren and put up with ridicule from Penninah, Hannah’s husband’s other wife (apparently the rule on marrying only one wife wasn’t always followed closely), until God granted her request and gave her a son, Samuel.  Ruth, the grandmother of David, was a foreigner, and David was not the son of Jesse that Samuel thought at first glance God would choose as king.  Anne and Joachim were childless until they conceived the Blessed Mother immaculately in Anne’s womb.  Elizabeth and Zechariah were also too old to be though to be able to conceive.  The Blessed Mother was a quiet, young virgin without any real importance from a worldly point of view.  The Apostles, our Lord’s closest followers and the foundations of His Church, did not have the greatest education and the Gospels make clear that, more often than not, they didn’t get what He taught.  All of these people, and more, would never have been expected to do great things for God, or have such a major role in salvation history.  But here we are.
    I could list hundreds of saints whom no one expected to amount to anything, and yet we recall them each year in the canon, or list, of saints.  And that should give us hope.  If a poor friar, working in Detroit without faculties to preach or hear confessions, can be beatified, then we can become a saint.  God can work with us, small as we are, un-spectacular as we are, to accomplish His grand plan of salvation.  We don’t have to be the most powerful, the wisest, or the craftiest.  We simply need to acknowledge our nothingness, and rely on God to carry us through whatever mission He has for us.  Because when we acknowledge our nothingness, that leaves all the room for God and His power.  When we think we are somebody, or have some grand power or prestige, we block God out of our lives and lessen the space that He requires to do truly great things in our lives.

    “Hobbits…are quite content to ignore and be ignored by the world of the big folk….Hobbits must seem of little importance, being neither known as great warriors nor counted among the very wise….In fact, it has been remarked by some that hobbits’ only real passion is for food, a rather unfair observation, as [they] have also developed a keen interest in the brewing of ales and the smoking of pipe weed.”  This is not the likely description of the race to whom the great king of men, King Aragorn of Gondor, would say: “My friends, you bow to no one” because of their role in destroying evil.  Just so, God uses the most unlikely to accomplish His plan of increasing grace and destroying evil, be they young virgin, fisherman, a poor friar, or a man or woman from Genesee County.  May we leave space for God to work great things through us, unexpected as it might be. 

Sundays after Epiphany

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time
    In the 1962 liturgical calendar, these Sundays after Epiphany are called, inventively enough, Sundays after Epiphany, rather than what we call them now after Vatican II, Sundays in Ordinary Time, or Sundays through the year.  And while the pre-Vatican II name didn’t require much imagination, it also didn’t require any serious study to know what the focus of these Sundays would be: the unpacking of the mystery of the Epiphany.
    I bring this up because the theme of the Epiphany is how Christ reveals Himself as well as how Christ is the Light to the Nations.  And even though we call these Sundays the Sundays in Ordinary Time, the theme or focus is also how Christ reveals Himself.  Last week we heard St. John the Baptist point to Jesus and reveal Him to John’s disciples.  This week we hear how Christ reveals Himself as a light to the land of Zebulun and Naphtali, the area that we commonly refer to as Galilee, as well as how Christ reveals Himself to His first apostles: the brothers Peter and Andrew and the brothers James and John.
    First, we heard Isaiah and the actual prophecy that, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; upon those who dwelt in the land of gloom, a light has shone.”  God promises to bring his people to the light and bring them joy, rather than gloom.  When Isaiah wrote this, guided by the Holy Spirit, the immediate context was the return of the Jewish people from exile in Babylon.  But the Holy Spirit intended so much more than just a word of hope for a people who had lost their earthly homeland.  The Holy Spirit, the Divine Author of the Scriptures, intended to prepare the Jewish people for the day when the Messiah would come who would open up the possibility that those in exile from union with God in Eden, could return to an even better place than Eden, and could dwell with God in heaven.  At the Easter Vigil, which we will celebrate in about 10 weeks, we will hear in the Exultet how Christ is the light that dispels the darkness of sin and death, as the new Paschal Candle shines through the dark church and then we share its light to illuminate this temple.  
    How do we follow that light?  How do our lives go from exile from God to union with God?  Jesus proclaims the way in our Gospel: “‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.’”  God’s grace gives us the power to turn away from the darkness of sin, sin which causes death, and turn towards the light of grace and holiness, which gives us eternal life.  God offers a lit candle to us to give us light, but we have to choose to accept it.  When we choose our own will over God; when we choose whatever makes our bodies feel good, without reflection on God’s plan; when we seek to dominate others, we reject the light and continue to live in darkness and exile.  When we say with our actions, along with our words, “Thy will be done”; when we submit our earthly desires to what leads to heaven; when we see how we can serve others, even if we do exercise legitimate authority over them, we allow God to light our candle and move towards heaven, our true home.

    But Christ also revealed Himself to the apostles, Peter and Andrew, James and John.  And He called them to become fishers of men, rather than simple fishermen.  Having encountered Christ and accepted His light, God sends us on a mission.  That mission is to share the light and show others the way to heaven, rather than just keeping it for ourselves.  
    When we hear Apostles, we tend to think of bishops, and maybe even priests.  And that is a good instinct, as the bishops are the successors of the apostles, and the priests cooperate with the bishops in continuing the priestly ministry of Christ.  However, in the same way that we talk about St. Mary Magdalene as an apostle, we can also recognize our own call to be an apostle: to be someone who is sent out, as I mentioned last week, to proclaim the good news, the Gospel, to those who are still sitting in the shadow of death.  By Confirmation especially, we are called to share the light of Christ in our daily lives.  That might happen as a student in the way we treat fellow classmates; it might happen in the way that children obey their parents when told to do the dishes or clean their room; it might happen by parents who instruct their children in the faith and show them the love of God the Father; it might happen by sharing our faith at work to give guidance to a person searching for truth; it might happen by a small act of kindness for a person at a restaurant or on the street.  There are millions of ways that we can share the light of Christ, each tailored to the vocation to which God has called us.  
    In these first weeks of Ordinary Time, the first weeks after the Epiphany, I pray that we will continue to meditate on how Christ reveals Himself as the Light of the World.  I pray that we recommit ourselves both to receiving more light from Christ and sharing that light with others.  And through our reception and sharing of the Light of Christ, may we know abundant joy and great rejoicing, as the Prophet Isaiah prophesied!

No Sour-Faced Saints

Second Sunday after Epiphany
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  One of the things I often preach and sometimes counsel in the confessional is how helpful ascetical practices can be.  Though forgotten by most, the Church asks us to observe all Fridays, except when it is a solemnity, the highest level of feast day, as days of penance.  This traditionally has meant abstinence from meat, but can be observed in other ways.  I have tried to encourage, and observe myself, the Ember Days: four times of the year when do extra days of abstinence and fasting.  Fasting and abstinence from meat help to remind our bodies that they don’t always get what they want, even when what they want is good, and fasting and abstinence can be especially helpful in living a chaste life, though it isn’t a silver bullet.  As the Lord said in the Gospels, we fast while the bridegroom is away, waiting for his return.  We also fast for one hour before we receive Holy Communion, as a way to prepare our bodies, minds, and hearts to receive our Lord in the Most Blessed Sacrament of the Eucharist.
    Catholics are often known for their penances, and it can be a good witness to the world that even the best things in life pass away; only God and what is rooted in Him is eternal.  Yet, our Lord, though He did fast, did not always restrict Himself.  In today’s Gospel, in particular, we hear about the Savior attending a wedding.  And not only did He attend a wedding, when they had the sad misfortune of running out of wine (a very sad misfortune, indeed!), He created more.  And the wine wasn’t just common, likely similar to that which they had been drinking, but was excellent, choice wine, as attested to by the chief steward.  

Hillaire Belloc

    I’m not saying Christ was a party animal, but He knew how to rejoice.  He inspired St. Paul to write to the Romans, “rejoice in hope…Rejoice with those who rejoice.”  Living the Catholic life does not mean that we have to be sad and downcast all the time.  St. Teresa of Avila said something to the effect of, “God save us from sour-faced saints.”  There is a rightful place for rejoicing in the Catholic life.  The Catholic historian, Hillaire Belloc wrote, “Wherever the Catholic sun doth shine, / There’s always laughter and good red wine. / At least I’ve always found it so. / Benedicamus Domino!”  
    In this time before we enter into Lent, it’s good to take advantage of the joy of the Epiphany, which overflows from 6 January and continues to guide us in these weeks before Septuagesimatide.  On Sundays and Feast Days, especially if it’s a patron saint of ours, we should rejoice and have a more joyful mood and food, because the Lord has risen from the dead (Sundays) and we have brothers and sisters who are already in heaven and who not only give us an example, but intercede for us before the throne of grace to help us get there, too.
    As Catholics, we can sometimes flirt with the heresy of Manichaeism.  This heresy, which the Dominicans have fought so hard to combat, teaches that the material world is evil, while the spiritual world is good.  The Dominicans combatted this ever-present heresy by living an ascetical life, to show that one should not abuse the things of the world, but they also used the things of the world well and rejoiced in what God had created because He created the world good.  They preached against the excess of, for example, drunkenness, but also preached against the opposite excess of teetotaling.  Wine, the psalms say, gives warmth to the heart and joy to the face, and can be used to help us have a good laugh and enjoy the lighter side of life.

    Sometimes we need Heath Ledger’s Joker character from Batman to ask us: Why so serious?  Are there horrible things in our world?  Yes.  Does sin run rampant?  Yes.  Do tragedies strike us and our friends and cause legitimate sorrow?  Yes.  But there is also good in the world.  There are also people who choose virtue over vice.  God blesses us and our friends with so many good things each day, if we are attentive.  And God has overcome sin and death and opened for us the path to eternal salvation.  And if there’s any reason to rejoice, it certainly is that!  The war has been won!  Yes, little skirmishes still have to be fought, but Christ is victorious!  
    Even on the slopes of Mount Doom, Samwise reminds Frodo about the joys of home to temper the last, difficult steps of the journey to destroy the ring.  Joys, even simple joys, give us strength to continue the fight and recharge our batteries.  If all we ever do is muddle through, we’re missing out on the good things the Lord wants us to experience: the hug of a loved one or friend; the texture and flavor of a juicy steak or a nice strip of bacon; the sweet, silky mouthfeel of a fine bourbon; the smell and warmth of a fire, whether in the fireplace or outside on a cool, summer night.  Are there times where we need to give up those joys?  Yes.  But to everything there is a season, and a time for everything under the heavens, including joy.
    So, while we must do penance and cooperate in Christ’s own suffering, do not forget to embrace joy and the good things that God gives us in this life.  “Rejoice with those who rejoice.”  Drink from the good wine that the Lord has made for us, Jesus Christ, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit, live and reign for ever and ever.  Amen.  

A Polyvalent Prophecy

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

    In one scene in the “Star Wars” prequel movie “Revenge of the Sith” (Episode III, for those keeping track), there is an interaction between Obi Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu, and Yoda, all Jedi masters as they talk about Anakin’s assignment to spy on Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, due to a concern about how much power he is holding for himself.  Master Windu doesn’t trust Anakin (which turns out to be a good intuition, as Anakin, turned Darth Vader, will kill Master Windu).  Obi Wan asks, “With all due respect, Master, is he not the chosen one?  Is he not to destroy the Sith and bring balance to the force?”  Mace responds, “So the prophecy says.”  Yoda then chimes in, “A prophecy that misread could have been.”  Of course, for Star Wars fans, we know that Anakin’s son, Luke, will turn his father back to the light, and Darth Vader will kill Emperor Palpatine and bring balance to the force.
    We hear the prophecy of Isaiah today in our first reading, and we likely immediately direct that prophecy to Jesus.  And that is a fair reading.  Jesus is the servant who reveals the glory of God, who brings back Israel to her God, and is the light to the nations, as Simeon will say almost verbatim at the Presentation of the Lord, “A light to reveal you to the nations and the glory of your people Israel.”
    But while this prophecy is not misread, when prophecies talk about Christ, they can also refer to us.  And this makes sense, since through Holy Baptism God unites us to Christ and makes us members of Christ’s Mystical Body, the Church.  With the power of the Holy Spirit, given to us in Baptism and poured out afresh into us through Confirmation, God calls us to show His glory, and gather all His lost children back to Him.  God makes us a light to the nations to proclaim His salvation, a light that we should not hide under a bushel basket, but let shine so that others may come to know Christ and His salvation.

An icon of St. John the Baptist

    We do this by living like St. John the Baptist.  Yes, God called the Precursor to point out the Lamb of God on the banks of the River Jordan, and to call people to repentance because the Kingdom of God is at hand.  But that is our call, too.  God calls us to prepare the way for the Lord.  God calls us to point out Jesus, the Lamb of God, wherever we see Him.  As disciples of the Lord, we should recognize the way that He works, both from our knowledge of Scripture and the teachings of the Church, but also through our own experiences of how God has worked in and through us.  For someone who is not Catholic or maybe not even Christian, our understanding of Christ and how He works can help others believe in Him.  
    But God does not only call us to be like St. John the Baptist.  He calls us to be like St. Paul the Apostle, called by Christ Jesus by the will of God.  God may not call us to travel around as much as St. Paul, or even to write letters like St. Paul (though sometimes God can call us to communicate what God is saying through writing), but through Confirmation we have all been called to be an apostle.  An apostle in the ancient Greek world was like an emissary or ambassador, one who spoke for a person with authority, from the combination of the Greek words 𝛼𝜋𝜊, meaning off or forth, and 𝜎𝜏𝜀𝜆𝜆𝜀𝜄𝜈, meaning to send.  We should see ourselves as emissaries of the grace and peace of God, bringing it to those we meet by what we say and by what we do.  
    Too often, I think we can fall into the trap of thinking that all those holy things happened a long time ago.  St. John the Baptist was just a particular guy for his particular time.  St. Paul was just a particular guy for his particular time.  Or even that Jesus was so unique that no one can be like Him.  True, God does call people for particular times, and Jesus, as the Son of God, uniquely fulfills God’s prophecies about how He would save His people.  But God has made us for these times.  And God calls us to continue to complete the work of Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit.  The world is not yet how it should be.  The Kingdom of God has not finished installing in our world.  Can we do it ourselves?  No.  But with the foundation of the power of the Holy Spirit, and armed with the Gospel of Christ and the teachings Christ has made clear through His Mystical Body, the Church, we can cooperate in the work of salvation and bring Christ to full stature, as St. Paul says.
    It is as St. Teresa of Avila says:
 

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.
 

Will we continue the mission of Christ?  Will we, also, fulfill the prophecies of old so that the glory of God can be revealed and His salvation can reach the ends of the earth?

All that Baptism Entails

Feast of the Baptism of the Lord
    I’m not the biggest fan of cheese.  Yes, I’ll eat pizza, but it usually has to have some meat toppings on it.  The same goes for lasagna: I’ll eat it, but if it’s meat lasagna it’s much more enjoyable.  Some of my dislike for cheese is taste, but my body also doesn’t agree with it.  So if I go out to eat, I usually have to check if there is cheese, for example, on a salad, or in a particular dish where it can be removed.
    While picking and choosing at a meal does not mean a big deal usually (after all, Burger King ran with the slogan “Have it your way”), when it comes to the sacrament of baptism, the same does not hold true.  Baptism does come as a customizable sacrament.  One cannot pick and choose which parts of baptism one wants, and which parts one would rather not come with the meal.

    Perhaps not as much at this parish, but always a perennial danger, is picking which parts of baptism we want, and ignoring the others.  As a reminder, baptism washes away original sin, opens for us the path to salvation, makes us an adopted child of God, and make us a member of the Church.  Everyone takes seriously the first two effect of baptism.  In my fifteen years of being a priest, parents know that their child has original sin, which is not a personal sin but a state of being opposed to God.  As St. Paul says, before baptism we were enemies of God (see Romans 5:10).  That is what we mean by original sin.  Another effect is that baptism also opens the possibility of salvation, by granting us, for the first time, sanctifying grace: the grace that makes us holy, which allows us to stand in the presence of God who is Holiness Himself.  Before baptism we lack sanctifying grace.  While God can choose to grant sanctifying grace to whomever He wishes and however He wises, the only way we know that God gives us the grace that makes heaven possible is baptism.  Again, parents want their child to go to heaven, and realize that we never know what can happen, so they make baptism a priority.
    But part and parcel with the washing away of original sin and the opening of the possibility of heaven is becoming an adopted child of God and a member of the Church.  These two effects connect with each other because, when one becomes an adopted child of God, one becomes a part of the Mystical Body of Christ which is the Church.  To belong to Christ means to belong to the society He formed which helps us live out the call to continue in sanctifying grace.  Even those who receive baptism outside the Catholic Church (as long as their baptism is administered validly) are connected to the Catholic Church and only need to be received into full communion, rather than baptized.  
    Receiving adoption from God entails trying to live a Godly life.  St. Paul also says, “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.”  That is the goal, or should be, of every Catholic.  Our actions should be the actions that Christ would take were He in our circumstances.  They way I work, the way I rest and recreate, the way I live in a family, the friends I choose, what I eat and drink: all should be what Christ would do in my circumstances.  St. Paul talks about putting to death the old man (sinful man), and setting our minds on what is above (the new man, Christ) so that heaven is the natural consequence that follows the way we lived our lives.
    The last effect, becoming a member of the Church, also entails certain rights and responsibilities.  We have the right to the other sacraments, as long as we are well-disposed to receive them.  We have the right to expect the Church to help us form children in the faith (though as an assistant, not as a surrogate parent).  We have the right to make our needs known to the pastors of the Church–from me, your local pastor, to the bishop, and even to the pope, should it be necessary.  But every right carries with it a responsibility–the duty to support the Church financially according to our means; the duty to attend Mass each Sunday and holyday unless sick, caring for the sick, or work necessitates our absence; the duty to grow in our understanding of the faith according to our God-given intellectual gifts.  This last part is what parents usually ask to exclude from the sacramental meal, or at least to set it on the side so they can add it if they want it, and only in the amounts they want.
    But baptism is all or nothing.  Either we choose all the effects of baptism, and all that those effects entail for the person and, in the case of infants, for his or her parents, or we should not choose it at all.  A parent’s eternal salvation does not depend on his or her child remaining Catholic after adulthood, but is impacted by how much the parent raises the child in the faith while the child is still under the parent’s guidance.  Skipping Mass on a Sunday or holyday for no good reason not only harms the parent (skipping Mass is a mortal sin), but compounds when a person also has the responsibility of getting a young person to Mass on those days who cannot go on his or her own.  
    And the judgement of my soul connects to how I make sure that you understand what baptism means and how it affects you.  I do this through baptism formation classes before you have your firstborn, and occasional homilies like this where I remind you just how weighty a choice it is to have your child baptized.  Baptism is so beautiful, and I was honored to celebrate 32 baptisms last calendar year, but it is also my hope that each of those whom I baptized continue to practice the faith to the best of his or her ability.  

    Baptism is not a customizable sacrament.  We cannot ask the Divine Chef not to include certain parts that we don’t like, or set them to the side.  Baptism means new life and sanctification, and is the ordinary requirement for salvation.  But it also means making the life of Christ our own and living up to what it means to be a part of the one Church Jesus Christ founded.  May our celebration of the Baptism of the Lord today remind all of us just how important and weighty baptism is, so that we live up to the call that each of receives in baptism: to turn away from sin; to make choices that lead us to heaven; to live as a child of God; and to live as that child of God in the Catholic Church.

When I Call on God's Name

Holy Name of Jesus

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Recently, Vince Gill, the country music star, was honored with the Country Music Association Willie Nelson Lifetime Achievement Award at the 59th Annual CMA Awards.  Vince is known for his beautiful tenor voice, and numerous hits, including “Go Rest High On That Mountain.”
    But he also has another hit song entitled, “When I Call Your Name,” where the refrain sings: “Oh, the lonely sound of my voice calling / Is driving me insane. / And just like rain, the tears keep falling / But nobody answers when I call your name.”  As we celebrate the Holy Name of Jesus, it struck me that we have a God who, when we call upon His Name, listens and responds.  It’s almost the antithesis of Vince Gill’s sad, country song.
    Indeed, the phrase “nobody answers” reminded me of the story of Elijah in 1 Kings, chapter 18, where Elijah, on Mount Carmel, had challenged the prophets of Baal, the pagan god, to consume the sacrifice they had created without lighting the fire.  The prophets of Baal called out from morning to noon.  They hopped around the altar, and even slashed themselves and caused their own blood to flow.  But the sacred author notes, pithily, “but there was no sound, no one answering, no one listening.”  
    God listens to us every time we call upon Him, especially when we call out with the Holy Name of His Son, Jesus Christ.  Our Lord promised in the Upper Room on the night of the Last Supper: “‘Whatever you ask in my name, I will do, so that the Father may be glorified in me.’”  God responds to His Name, like a loving parent responds when a child calls out.  We should not take this privilege lightly, and use God’s Holy Name in vain, but neither should we never call upon the Holy Name of God and miss out on opportunities where He wants to shower us with His love, grace, and gifts.
    Does this mean that when I go to Meijer, and buy a PowerBall ticket, as long as I pray in God’s Name for the numbers that I will win the jackpot?  Certainly not, not even if you plan to share a large chunk of money with St. Matthew parish (which you should, if you win the lottery, by the way).  God’s Name is not a magic word that forces God to do whatever we wish.  God always answers our prayers, but as another country song sings, “Sometimes the answer is no.”  
    Still, it can be tough when we have faith, when we call upon the name of the Lord, and we don’t get what we want.  It can feel like the lyrics, “nobody answers when I call your name.”  So what is going on?  Is our Lord not living up to His Word from the Last Supper discourse?
    If we are children of our loving Father, then we should only will what God wills.  The Savior spoke these words to the Apostles, His closest friends.  And while at that point, they weren’t all set on doing God’s will, and they would also struggle at times (St. Peter is a prime example of this), after they were filled with the Holy Spirit, they became more attentive to doing God’s will rather than their own.
    It is childish, not childlike to cry when God does not give us what we want every time we want it.  God calls us to childlike trust in Him, but not to childish temper tantrums if we do not get our way.  Ours should be the attitude of Job: “‘The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord!’”  When we put on that mindset, we can better accept and understand when God does not give us exactly what we want, even when what we want is something good, like the life of a child, or the cure of a parent, or even basic financial stability.  
    But we also need to accept that sometimes God answers our prayers when we call on His Name, but we are not ready to hear His affirmative answer.  There is the parable about the drowning man who was on his roof, due to a flood.  A rowboat comes by to pick him up, but the man says, “No, I’ve prayed to God; He will save me.”  A few minutes later a motorboat comes by to pick him up, but the man says, “No, I’ve prayed to God; He will save me.”  A few minutes later a helicopter comes and lowers a rope, and the troopers shout down that they can take the man to safety, but he says, “No, I’ve prayed to God; He will save me.”  The helicopter leaves, and the man drowns.  When the man appears before God, the man complains, “I had faith in you, and prayed to you for safety, but you let me drown!”  God replies, “I sent you a rowboat, a motorboat, and a helicopter.  What more could I have done?”  If we don’t have a familiarity with the way God works, we can miss out on how God answers our prayers.
    The Holy Name of Jesus is not only the name by which we are saved, it is the name that demonstrates the love of God.  When we call on the Holy Name with faith, we can be assured that God will listen to us, and that He will answer us, even if the answer is not always the one we want, in the way we want, or in the time we want.  
    Life can sometimes seem like a sad country song, where the house is empty, our loved ones have left us, and nobody answers when we call their name.  But for us, as disciples of Christ, “Our help is the name of the Lord, who made heaven and earth”: the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

Drawn to Christ and Changed

Epiphany of the Lord

    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen].  I remember my first time I traveled to Rome, when I was a seminarian in the fall of 2004.  My classmates and I had flown from St. Paul, Minnesota, and arrived in Rome in the morning.  We took a train to Termini (the main train station), and then took the Metro to a stop near the convent we had to stay at because our rooms were not ready yet at the study abroad house.  The convent was just on the other side of Bernini’s colonnade at the Basilica of St. Peter.  I remember walking up the Via della Conciliazione and being amazed at the magnitude and beauty of St. Peter’s.  I thought the US Congress building was large; St. Peter’s is so much larger!  And then I walked inside, and though so exhausted from jet lag that I would soon start falling asleep while standing during the Gospel at Mass inside St. Peter, its beauty forever changed me in recognizing just what man could do to honor God and the saints.
    In many ways the Solemnity of the Epiphany also follows a similar pattern, at least with the wise men.  They are drawn to a far-off land, perhaps a land they had never seen before.  But when they actually encounter the goal of their journey, the young King of the Jews, they are not the same.  The Gospel relates that an angel warned them not to return to their country by the same way because of King Herod, but encountering Christ also made them go back not just on a different road, but changed.  
    Hopefully this rings true for us as well.  Christ always draws us closer to Himself.  Whether we are baptized as an infant and grow up in the Catholic faith, or whether we joined the Church as an adult, Christ draws us to Himself.  He drew the Magi by a star, because that is how they would come.  When Christ calls us, He does it through means that, more often than not, appeal to our natural predispositions.  Maybe we’re hurting and we recognize in Christ a source of healing.  Maybe we’re looking for meaning and we recognize in Christ a way of life that will satisfy us.  Maybe we’re reaching out for something greater to whom we can pledge our life, and we recognize in Christ the God who is worthy of all our loyalty and dedication.  Whatever way it is, Christ calls us to Himself.  And He often does it through means that we can accept.
    But this draw also continues throughout our life.  Accepting Christ means a great deal, but it’s not a once-and-done encounter.  Each day, each week, each month, each year Christ wants to draw us closer.  Until we get to heaven, we can always grow closer to Christ.  And the closer we get, the easier and harder it is.  Easier, because we have a solid foundation and at least can intellectually know that God will truly satisfy every need in our life.  Harder, because we sometimes have to walk away from things that also delight us, however less, and sometimes it is hard to let go.  But no matter how much we accept, or how much we delay and hedge our bets, Christ always calls us closer to Himself.
    When we have encountered Christ, whether for the first time or for the myriad of times after that, the encounter should change us.  Change is easier to note when it comes to monumental moments in our life, like when we were baptized or confirmed.  Whether we felt it or not, the power of the sacrament changed us from a pagan to a Christian (baptism), or from a mere follower to a soldier of Christ and proclaimer of the Gospel (confirmation).  Ontologically, which means at the level our being, God changed us.
    But we don’t always experience that change in our day-to-day life.  Even when it comes to the Most Blessed Sacrament of the Eucharist, which we receive at Mass, we don’t always recognize the change it has in us.  That can either be because it’s hard to notice little changes day by day, or because of lack of fruitfulness, which means that, while the Eucharist wants to change us, we’re putting up some sort of block because of our sins or our will that does not allow the change that God wants to affect in us.  God never forces His grace on us, so if we don’t want to accept the change that He wants in us, it will not happen.  
    But we can also experience God through means other than the sacraments, like daily prayer, reading Scripture, serving the poor, etc.  And sometimes we notice the change, but sometimes we don’t.  Sometimes we notice the change after months of our sacramental or devotional practices, like a virtue exhibited when earlier we would have given in to vice.  Patience is not a virtue at which I always excel.  I have noticed some growth though, and can appreciate it when I notice that earlier I would have chewed someone’s head off for some stupid thing, but now I’m more understanding.  I’m still growing, and wouldn’t call myself a paragon of patience, but I have noticed growth that has happened since I started working on being more patient.  

    Like the Magi, God draws us closer to Himself, not just once, but each day.  Like the Magi, God doesn’t want us to return to the same sinful habits and patterns, or even simply the same way of life that we lived before drawing closer to Him.  God leads us down a different road, even when it’s within the same vocation.  Follow Christ, the Morning Star each day, and allow your encounter with Him to change you, so that the glory of the Lord can shine upon you[: the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen].

Silence and Stillness

Sunday with the Octave of the Nativity
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  “When peaceful stillness encompassed everything and the night in its swift course was half spent, Your all-powerful word from heaven’s royal throne leapt into the doomed land.”  This is the translation of our Introit today, and it’s one of my favorite verses connected with our liturgical celebration of the Nativity of our Lord.  Which is funny, because it comes from the Book of Wisdom in the Old Testament.  And it forms part of a pericope about the Chosen People, while they were still enslaved in Egypt.  In the New American Bible, the title of this particular passage is: “Fifth Example: Death of the Egyptian Firstborn; the Israelites Are Spared.”  That may seem very fitting as we also commemorate the Holy Innocents today, but this Introit is not for the Holy Innocents, but for the Sunday within the Octave.
    But, the Church reads these two particular verses, numbers fourteen and fifteen, in light of the Nativity, when the All-Powerful Word, Jesus Christ, came to us from heaven in the middle of the night, into the land of sinners doomed to eternal death.  Like so many passages from the Old Testament, we didn’t come to know the true meaning, even though we could understand these verses in light of the plagues of Egypt, which is how the human author, no doubt, intended it, while the Divine Author intended so much more.

    Msgr. Romano Guardini, a magnificent Catholic teacher and author from the mid-twentieth century, has a beautiful Christmas meditation precisely on this passage.  And he makes the point that the great works of God happen in silence and stillness.  We can point to the creation of the universe, which happened without anyone else other than God there.  We can point to the Nativity of the Lord, which happened in a backwater part of the Roman Empire without any great human celebration.  We can point to the Resurrection of Christ, which happened without any human witnesses, except the guards at the tomb.  The great works of God happen in silence.  We can even point to the creative cooperation in human conception.  While the act which brings about children might not be so silent in terms of the spousal union, the moment the sperm fertilizes the egg happens in silence, without the parents knowing for some weeks after.  
    So if we wish to see the great things of God, we need to cultivate periods of silence in our lives.  Now, I’m saying this to a group of families who, each in their own way, have taken seriously God’s call to be fruitful and multiply.  Whether you have one child or ten children, you probably dream about silence for any amount of time, rather than the din of one or more children crying, screaming, or just making noise seemingly for noise’s sake.  Some of you parents may be thinking: “yeah, right, Father, I don’t get silence in my life; I have kids.”  
    But the silence in which the great things of God happens cannot simply equate with the lack of noise.  I love that we have so many children at Mass, and applaud you parents for bringing them to Mass, even when it’s very difficult and even when you spend half or more of Mass trying to keep them quiet, or keep them from crawling away, or taking them to the bathroom, etc.  Do I notice the noise?  I’m not deaf.  But it’s a great blessing.  St. Pius X, which closed in 2024 while I was pastor, had no noise because it had practically no kids.  If you don’t hear cryin’ your parish is dyin’.  
    But the noise generally doesn’t distract me.  As I’m celebrating Mass, I may hear it, but I can still stay focused on what’s happening and how I’m leading the worship of God by His Church.  And I don’t mean the way a husband says he’s listening to his wife while he’s watching a football game (because, generally speaking, he’s not really listening to you at that point).  I can create an atmosphere of silence even with the noise of children, bells, crashing kneelers, etc., by focusing on God.  And I think that’s not impossible for parents, either, though it does take practice.

    But even if you don’t feel you can find silence there, I know that there exists moments of silence that you can take advantage of each day.  The question is do we protect that time for God and prayer, even if it’s only the five minutes between a child starting to sleep and a child waking?  Or do we decide that doom scrolling, or finding every funny cat video on YouTube, or catching up on Facebook, or seeing what political parties are up to seems better to us than a quick five minutes of prayer?  As a parent, your vocation does not consist in praying like a monk or nun in a cloistered monastery or convent.  But God does want you to take even the few minutes you have throughout the day, or at the end of the day, after the kids are asleep, for Him, rather than simply looking to social media, the Internet, or the television to numb your minds.  It doesn’t mean we can’t find a funny cat video at all, or that we can never watch our favorite episode of “The Office,” but do we capitalize on the time that we have and utilize it for growing in our relationship with God?
    When God appeared to Elijah, He didn’t come in an earthquake, a fire, or a storm.  He came in a whisper.  God so often works in silence, an reveals Himself in stillness.  If we distract ourselves with noise (and I’m not talking about kids), we won’t attend to what God wants to say to us our wants us to do.  Take time for silence, as you can according to your vocation and circumstances, as often as you can.  Because in that silence and stillness, the All-Powerful Word will leap down from His royal throne in heaven and enter your heart, Jesus Christ, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit is God, for ever and ever.  Amen.