How Much or Little We Prepare

 First Sunday of Advent

    In one of the final building scenes of the movie, “A Few Good Men,” Lt. Daniel Kaffee, played by Tom Cruise, questions Col. Nathan R. Jessep, played by Jack Nicholson.  At one point, Lt. Kaffee asks Col. Jessep what preparations he made to travel from Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, to Washington, D.C., for the trial of two marines under Col. Jessep’s command who allegedly had killed Private Willie Santiago.  Col. Jessep says that he wore his utility uniform on the plane, but packed his dress uniform.  Lt. Kaffee continues asking if Col. Jessep brought his “Toothbrush, shaving kit, change of underwear,” which Col. Jessep confirmed.  Col. Jessep later states that he called a family member, a Congressman, and a friend in DC to let them know that he was coming.  Lt. Kaffee skillfully compares the preparation Col. Jessep made for a short trip to the total lack of preparations Pvt. Santiago made for being transferred from Gitmo for the rest of his life.  Without giving away the climax of the movie, the truth of what happened is revealed through the preparations, or the lack of preparations, made by Pvt. Santiago.
    As we begin our season of Advent, we are in a season of preparation.  We are not Marines begging to get away from a tough commanding officer, but followers of Christ, waiting to celebrate with joy the annual celebration of the Nativity of the Lord, and waiting for our Lord to return.  But our preparations, or the lack of preparations, tell us about how or if we will be prepared for when Christmas comes and when Christ returns.  Because the Gospels are clear, through many parables, that if Christ catches us off-guard, it will not be good for us.
    When we think about preparing as a Church, we generally put more emphasis on Lent as a penitential time to prepare for Easter.  But Advent, too, is a time of penance and denying ourselves so that we can be ready to celebrate with joy.  Advent is a kind of mini-Lent, shorter, and leading up to a celebration that is not as big as Easter.  But it is still meant to help us grow in prayer and the life of virtue.
    We may not always think of sacrificing as a good thing.  But we are good at sacrificing for things that we really want.  Perhaps you are working overtime during these weeks leading up to Christmas to pay for the extra expenses for family and friends.  Kids, who usually like to sleep in, will deny themselves those extra hours of sleep on Christmas morning to see what kind of presents they received.  When we treasure something, we are willing to change our lives for the thing we treasure.  Are we willing to do the same for our Lord this Advent?
    It is easy to get caught up in the hustle and bustle of these days leading up to Christmas.  Besides our usual responsibilities at work and/or home, there’s the decorations that will need to go up (or have already gone up), the parties with families and friends, and Christmas music has been playing on some radio stations since just after Halloween.  There’s also the stress of trying to find that just-right gift for the ones we love, the question of how much we can afford to spend, and how much we want to travel as snow starts to fall and make our commutes a bit more difficult than usual.  If we are not purposeful about taking time to prepare, before we know it, we’ll be getting ready to go to Christmas Mass and wondering where the time went.  I know that November, for me at least, has flown by; I’m not sure exactly why it went so quickly, but it did.  Even more so will December likely fly by.  So we should make plans now for how we can prepare, rather than fall into Christmas.
    Like Lent, the Church invites us to pray more during Advent.  During Lent we pray especially for mercy and recognizing our sins, as we “turn away from sin and be faithful to the Gospel.”  During Advent we can also pray for mercy and seek conversion, the avoidance of sin and the embracing of good.  But we do so with the view of preparing for Christ to return and wanting to keep our baptismal garments white with purity, as our parents or we were instructed to do at baptism.  
    We can also make our own the prayer of the early Church, marana tha, “Come, Lord,” and ask for Jesus to return.  We know that this world is not the way it is supposed to be.  And we know that when our Lord returns He will set everything right.  Our prayer should be for that to happen soon, so that pain, sorrow, and suffering do not have to last any longer, but can come to and end and wholeness, joy, and happiness can be the only thing that we disciples experience.  
    In Advent, we also focus on bringing more light into our lives, namely, the light of Christ.  In our part of the world, it’s dark–a lot–this time of year.  You wake up in darkness, and you eat dinner in darkness.  And yet, we are preparing for the Light of the World, Christ, to come forth from the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and to shine upon the darkness of our lives and our world so that we can see clearly.  Our Advent candles remind us of the growing light.  And again, Advent is a time to reflect on our baptism, when we received a baptismal candle and were told to keep it burning until the return of Christ in glory, like the wise virgins with their lamps in the Gospel parable.  How do we keep the light of faith alive in our hearts?  How do we share that light with others so that they, too, can see?  What guides are enlightening our pilgrim path through this world?  Is it simply worldly wisdom, which often leads us away from God, or is it the wisdom of Scripture and the teachings of the Church, which guide us to the sun that never sets in heaven, Jesus Christ our Lord?  
    Advent, like Lent, is also a time of almsgiving, of helping the poor.  We have our giving tree that is up at St. Pius X, and so many organizations collect money and toys for those who do not have the financial resources to celebrate this time of year with food or presents that many of us take for granted.  Especially in the cold, winter months, we can assist others with donating gloves, hats, and coats to keep people warm, especially if we no longer use them and they are just taking up space in our closet.  Service to the poor is a year-round call for us as disciples, but especially as we prepare to welcome Christ at Christmas.  In centuries gone past, the preparation for Christmas began closer to St. Martin’s Day, 11 November.  St. Martin was a soldier who became a bishop in France, but as a soldier he cut his cloak in two to give to a poor man who was cold along the side of the road.  That night in a dream, he saw Christ with that cloak, and knew vividly what our Lord said in the Gospel of Matthew: Whatever you do for the least of my brothers and sisters, you do for me.  Our own charity can mimic St. Martin’s in our shorter preparation for Christmas.
    Our end is in our beginning.  Our preparations dictate how the actual event will go.  Advent is an easily-missed season, because it is so short, and because we have so much going on.  But take time to prepare, not only for all that is going on in your work and personal life, but for our Lord’s Nativity and His second coming in glory.  Don’t let Christ catch you off-guard when He comes!

More Enduring than a Maytag

Last Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  I don’t feel that I’m that old, but more and more the cultural things that seem part and parcel of my life are more and more disconnected from the youth today.  For example, I remember the Maytag commercials, with the Maytag repairman sitting in his office, waiting for the phone to ring.  For me, when I think of things that last and that don’t break down, I think of the Maytag man.  I’m not sure young people today would even know who the Maytag man is.

    Our Lord today focuses on a lot of things that will happen at the end, or as the end approaches.  There are things that will come, and things that will go.  There will be great trials and tribulations.  False messiahs and false prophets will arise and do great wonders.  “The sun shall be darkened, and the moon shall not give her light, and the stars will fall from heaven.”  Then the angels will accompany the coming of the Son of Man, with a trumpet and a loud voice.  These are the things from which itinerant and television preachers make a lot of money and gain lots of fame.  They are all sure that they know that the end is coming very soon, even though our Lord Himself says that only the Father knows the time, not the angels nor even the Son. 
    But the last words of the Gospel today remind us, that while things will come and go as the end approaches (and the end is approaching; it’s closer today than it was yesterday), there is one thing that will not change.  “Heaven and earth shall pass away,” Christ says, “but my words shall not pass away.” 
    The word of God is enduing; it lasts forever.  It does not come and go based on empires and nations, based upon fads and societal norms.  It endures forever.  And if we wish to survive whatever trials and tribulations will come, whenever they come (which they will), we need to be grounded in the Word of God, which is the rock foundation upon which our house should be built if we don’t want it to be swept away with the floods.
    When Catholics use the phrase “Word of God,” we can use it in different ways.  We use it to describe the second Person of the Blessed Trinity, Jesus Christ.  He is the Word through whom all things were made, the eternal Word of God, whom we profess every time we say the Prologue of the Gospel of John.  Christ is the expression of the Father who reveals to us who the Father is.  He is the Divine Word who speaks words that help us know the way to the Father, which is the desired destiny for all those whom God has created in His image and likeness.  So when we talk abut the Word of God, we use that phrase par excellence to refer to Christ.
    We can also use it to refer to the words of writing that were inspired by the Word of God.  We speak of the Word of God as the Scriptures, the privileged communication of God throughout the centuries.  Most religions are humanity seeking after God.  In Judaism, and its fulfillment in Catholicism, God seeks after us, and communicates who He is, how He made the world, and how we are to find true and lasting happiness.  While we are described by Muslims as people of the book, we are really people of the Word, who treasure what God has revealed to us in the Scriptures.  The public revelation of God through the Scriptures leads up in the Old Testament to the coming of the Messiah in the Gospels, and then opens up the consequences of what the Messiah did for us through the rest of the New Testament.  We find a sure guide in the Scriptures of understanding God and knowing how we are to live as disciples of Christ.
    But the Scriptures need unpacking to help us understand which parts are to be taken literally, and which parts are different literary expressions of deeper truths.  Sometimes the same grammatical structures express two different types of truth.  For example, in the Gospel according to John, our Lord says that He is the Bread of Life.  And that is what we believe He is, especially in our understanding of the Eucharist.  We take that quite literally.  In another place, Christ says that He is the vine, and we are the branches.  But we don’t confess our Savior to be a plant.  Same grammatical structure, different interpretation.  And so the Word of God can also mean the authentically and authoritative interpretations of Scripture that we find in the teachings of the Church.  From the consubstantiality of the Son with the Father, to the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, God’s word is also made manifest when the Mystical Body of Christ the Word, also known as the Church, teaches something as necessary for true faith or morals.  Official Church teachings are also God communicating to us for our salvation, and are sure guides to being the disciples and saints that God calls us to be in baptism.  Ecumenical Councils, and magisterial teachings of the Pope and the Bishops continue to open up the Word of God and help us to know who God is in Himself and in His works. 
    The Word of God does not change, and we can safely build our houses on it, really, on Him, since Christ is the Word of God.  We don’t have to know exactly when the Son of Man will return.  But we do need to be attentive to the Son of Man and what He revealed to us.  And if we do, then we will be part of the elect who will survive the trials and tribulations that the Savior mentions in the Gospel.  If we build our life on the Word of God–Jesus Christ, the Scriptures, and the official teachings of the Church–then the end is not a fearful time, but the consummation of our Lord’s love for us and our love for the Lord.  If we build our life on the Word of God, and do our best to follow it each and every day, then it doesn’t matter when that great and glorious and terrible day of our Lord’s return is, because we are ready each day for Him to come back and take us to Himself. 
    Maytags were advertised as washing machines that were so reliable, that their repairmen had nothing to do.  But even more as something that lasts is the Word of God, which is the same yesterday, today, and forever, because the Word of God is Christ the Son, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit live and reign forever and ever.  Amen.  

Patience with the Kingdom of Heaven

 Resumed 6th Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Rhetorical question here, but how many of you have ever struggled with patience?  Perhaps some of you are better than I, but it’s been a long struggle to stay calm and not get easily frustrated.  I will say that I am better now than I used to be, but I’m still a work in progress.
    As our Lord talks about the kingdom of heaven, in today’s Gospel, he uses two images that require patience: a mustard seed and leaven.  One certainly involves more patience than the other, but both require patience.  If you plant the mustard seed in the ground, it takes a while for it to bloom and become that large bush where the birds dwell.  And even with leaven, it’s not like you add the yeast to flour and immediately the dough starts rising.  You have to wait, sometimes overnight, for it to really rise.  So, besides the fact that our Lord teaches us that the kingdom of heaven starts small, He is also teaching us that we need to be patient as the kingdom of heaven grows.
    This is important for us to remember as we see the numbers of Catholics who practice their faith decline.  In many ways we are impatient, we want to see huge numbers at Mass, living their faith in the public square, and transforming the City of Man to be more like the City of God.  But sometimes, God makes us wait.
    Now, this is not to suggest that we sit on our rumps and be passive.  The decline in the number of Catholics who are practicing is startling, and should shake us out of complacency.  In many ways, COVID exacerbated the problem, but even if we didn’t close down our churches for two and a half months, we would have still seen the same decline, just at a slower rate.  After all, do we really think that, but for COVID, lukewarm Catholics not living their faith and not allowing the faith to transform their private and public lives would have led to more people wanting to be Catholic?  I think we are fooling ourselves if we take that position.  Catholics who don’t live for the kingdom of heaven tend not to attract new Catholics, no matter how many come to Mass each Sunday.  It’s like pretending that we’re going to make a profit on selling a widget for $1 when it costs $2 to make, as long as we just sell a huge amount of widgets.  The math doesn’t add up.  So the spiritual math of expecting people in pews who aren’t committed to the faith to stem the tide of Catholics leaving the Church isn’t there.
    But, at the same time that we should recommit ourselves to living a Christ-centered life, and spreading the Gospel in our daily lives, both at home and at work, by word and by deed, we shouldn’t freak out that numbers aren’t growing right now.  That’s hard to do; I know.  As I mentioned, I’m impatient, and so when I looked at our October counts for St. Matthew, both the Ordinary and Extraordinary Form Masses, there was that quick sense of panic that things aren’t growing, which means I’m not making a difference, which means I’m not doing a good enough job or simply enough period; I need to do more (even though I was feeling like I was burning the candle at both ends).  It’s easy to get caught in the numbers game, and treat the Church like a corporation, where, if the profits don’t rise consistently every year, we aren’t doing something right (profits being akin to people in the pews for the church).  
    Growth of the kingdom takes time, and often happens in unseen ways.  In all reality, the Church started with less than 100 people at Pentecost, who spread the Gospel, and thousands were converted in that one day.  But those thousands were from around north Africa, the Holy Land, and Asia Minor.  When you get them spread out, you don’t really have a mega-church.  
    We probably tend to think about the churches St. Paul founded like dioceses (which many did later become) and presume that the diocese had lots of people, like the Diocese of Lansing does (we’re a smaller diocese, and we have, as of 2019, around 191,000 Catholics).  In fact, from what I have heard and read, the Church in Corinth likely had 50-150 people.  And they had so many problems that St. Paul wrote them two epistles.  The Church in Rome likely had more people, and spread more quickly, but there were more people in Rome, especially slaves and immigrants, who were very eager to hear the Gospel and put their faith in Christ.  I don’t have any sense of the numbers, but maybe no bigger than our diocese, and likely smaller.  It took time and fidelity for the Church in Rome to blossom into the populated metropolitan diocese that it is today.  In almost every place where the Gospel has been planted, like the mustard seed, it took time to grow before it became a large bush in which the birds to dwell.  As we are now living in pagan times once more (if not officially, than de facto), we should not be surprised that it will take some time for things to grow once more.  

    Pope Benedict XVI, Pope Emeritus, stated in 1969: 

[The Church] will become small and will have to start pretty much all over again.  […] The reduction in the number of faithful will lead it to losing an important part of its social privileges.  It will be a more spiritual Church, and…will be poor and will become the Church of the destitute.

He also said, “Men in a totally planned world will find themselves unspeakably lonely.  […] Then they will discover the little flock of believers as something wholly new.  They will discover it as a hope that is meant for them, an answer for which they have always been searching in secret.”  Again, that was said in 1969.  
    We cannot be complacent in sharing the Gospel, but as the Lord said, the kingdom of heaven starts small, and takes time to grow to its full stature.  May the Lord grant us patience and fidelity in the meantime, and help us to be those faithful witnesses that will draw others to the joy and hope of the Gospel.  In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Confutatis and Lacrimosa

 Thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time
    One of my favorite pieces of classical music is Mozart’s “Requiem” Mass.  I first heard it by watching the movie “Amadeus,” which is the story of Mozart’s troubled and amazing life.  Part of the music which is, in my opinion, angelic, are the two movements: “Confutatis maledictis” and “Lacrimosa.”  These two movements come from the larger sequence, “Dies irae,” which used to be used in every funeral, or requiem Mass.  
    At first you might think that “Day of Wrath,” (which is what Dies irae means) may not be the music you want to hear at a funeral.  And that first verse is, “Day of wrath!  O day of mourning! / See fulfilled the prophets warning, / Heaven and earth in ashes burning!”  These images come from the Biblical images that we heard about in today’s readings.  In our first reading, we heard the Prophet Daniel prophesy, “it shall be a time unsurpassed in distress since nations began until that time.”  And even Jesus says the end shall include a time where “the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from the sky, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.”  That is somewhat sounding like a Dies irae. 

   These very stressful images comes from God making things right again.  The world has a way it likes operating in its fallen mode.  It has become comfortable with sin and death.  But as Christ returns, sin and death will be brought to an end, which will be traumatic on the system of sin and death.  It’s like the world is a car driving 70 mph on the freeway, and Jesus’ return is kicking it into reverse while driving.
    But it’s not just the world.  As we think about the end, we can also examine our own lives.  In what ways have we become comfortable with sin?  What sins do we excuse as “natural” and “everyday” issues.  This is not to say that some sins are not more egregious than others; that’s why we delineate between mortal and venial sin.  But even the smallest venial sin is not part of God’s original or final plan for humanity and the world.  Even a venial sin offends God and made Jesus’ sacrifice on the Cross necessary.  So in our own life, if we are comfortable with sin, the change to no sin will seem quite traumatic for us, as traumatic as death is in the face of life.  We know death is not supposed to happen, and it pains us deeply.  In fact, we fight against it with all we have.  That will be like what happens when Christ comes to undo the reign of sin and death in us.  And that is why the Church talks about Purgatory as a purification.  Purgatory is that process after death of changing us from a life of sin to a life of holiness.  It’s a total overhaul.  And overhauls can be painful.  The end result is always worth it: eternal life.  But until the end product is achieved, it’s painful to be retooled.  
    Still, the end is worth it, and it’s not all pain and suffering.  Even in the Dies irae we hear verses such as: “Think, kind Jesu! –my salvation / Caused Thy wondrous Incarnation; / Leave me not to reprobation.” and “With Thy sheep a place provide me, / From the goats afar divide me, / To Thy right hand do Thou guide me.”  And the sequence even ends with, “Lord, all-pitying, Jesus blest, / Grant them Thine eternal rest.  Amen.”  
    The end of the change from a world of sin is the final completion of what Jesus achieved on the cross: the end of sin and death forever.  But, as with so many things in life, the peace only comes after the struggle.  However, with Jesus, the struggle isn’t a competition where we wonder who will win.  Jesus has already won, and we’re just waiting to taste the fruits of that victory.  
    So when we talk about the end times, do we, as Catholics need to fear?  We are, each day, one day closer to Christ returning in glory to judge the living and dead, as we profess each time we say the Creed.  Should the Day of Wrath be something that we fret about?
    That depends on how we’re living our life.  The more we live like we’re in heaven, the less that we will experience a Day of Wrath at the end.  The more that we’re responding to God’s will, saying yes to the invitations of God each day, the less painful it will be at the end of our lives.  The more we live like earth is all there is, the more we will be on a trajectory for “when the wicked are confounded, / Doomed to flames of woe unbounded,” and “that day of tears and mourning,” as the Confutatis and Lacrimosa state in the Dies Irae.  
    And the good news is that Jesus is there to help us.  He stands at the right hand of the Father, as we heard in our second reading, interceding for us, and showering His grace upon us so that we can live the heavenly life here on earth, and put to death on earth our fallen, sinful nature, while we rise to our glorified, heavenly nature.  For in the end, only Christ’s grace will be able to transform us.  Pie Iesu Domine, / Dona nobis requiem.  Merciful Lord Jesus, grant us eternal rest.  Amen. 

National Vocation Awareness Week

 Resumed Fifth Sunday after Epiphany
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  This week the Church in the United States focuses on vocations in National Vocation Awareness week.  We are invited by our bishops to focus our attention on vocations to the priesthood, diaconate, and consecrated life, and to pray for those considering it.
    Vocations to holy orders and consecrated life are such important parts of the Church’s life.  Through priests, we have access to the Eucharist and the Sacrament of Penance, by which our sins are forgiven.  Deacons assist with baptisms and funerals, as well as at Mass, and are of great service to the Church in many other ways.  Consecrated men and women remind us that this world is not all there is, and that we should always keep our minds and hearts on heaven, where all the People of God will be poor (relying on God for everything), chaste, and obedient.  A sign of a healthy parish is when men and women consider these forms of life.  We will be blessed in a little over a month to have one of the sons of St. Matthew parish, Deacon Jeff Raths, ordained to the priesthood for the Augustinians.  I know that we have other men who are considering a vocation to the priesthood, as well.  
    As with any vocation, a call to the priesthood, diaconate, or consecrated life is a call from God, a gift, which cannot be earned.  A vocation is a way to build up the Church and to serve the Church to assist in the spreading of the Gospel and the salvation of souls.  No one is worthy of the call, but Christ makes worthy those whom He calls.
 

Bishop Boyea anoints my hands in my ordination to the priesthood

   In my own life, my discernment was not some audible voice from the heavens, nor did I get struck by lightning.  It came through perseverance in prayer, openness to doing, first and foremost the will of God, and a dialogue with the Church to see if I would be a good priest. I didn’t hear an answer when I wanted (God was teaching me patience, I think).  But through daily prayer, going to Mass when I could (beyond Sundays and holydays), and even listening to others, I was able to discern that I had to apply to go to seminary.  And in seminary, by following the formation program, I was able to discern that I wanted to be a priest, and the Church decided that I would be a good priest.  That’s a super simplified version, but it’s the gist of what I went through.  There were no really big moments in my life that pushed me, but the daily openness to the will of God and trying to do His will as best as I knew it.
    The month of November is also dedicated to prayers for the dead.  The priest is the one who can help usher a soul to God at the end of life, and can help save souls.  The priest is invited in to the life of a parishioner at the last moments, and through the last sacraments of Penance, Anointing of the Sick, and Viaticum, as well as the plenary indulgence of the Apostolic Pardon, can change the trajectory of where a soul is headed.  Without priests, we are left to our own virtue, which is not always promising.  Without priests, I know families would be more distraught at the loss of a loved one.  And without priests (and deacons), there would be no one to commend the soul to God in a funeral.
    The priesthood requires a real man.  It is not for the faint of heart.  I certainly could not imagine doing anything else with my life, nor could imagine being truly happy in any other vocation.  But there are hard days (just like there are in marriage and family life), and like any vocation, it does require sacrifice.  But the sacrifices are worth it, and are easily borne because of love.  I would hope that any young man here would consider a vocation to the priesthood.  If it does work out, it is a great service to the Church.  Or, if God calls you to another form of life, discerning the priesthood is always beneficial to knowing what God wants you to do and having that certainty that you knew the vocation God was calling you to, rather than simply defaulting to marriage because it is most common.  
    So, too, consecrated life, which includes monks and nuns, brothers and sisters, and consecrated virgins, is a call that takes courage.  In a society that values money, sex, and one’s will over almost everything else, the call to be poor, chaste, and obedient is a kind of revolt against the fallen values of the secular world.  But, again, it is a special form of life to which Christ calls some, and any young man or woman should consider if God is calling you to it.  The religious men and women I know are some of the happiest people I know.  We have our sisters here, the Servants of God’s Love, and I know some of the Sisters of Mary, Mother of the Eucharist, as well as a few consecrated virgins.  They exude happiness; and not the passing happiness from having what one wants at the moment, but the longer-lasting happiness of doing the will of God and living that vocation with others.  In addition to the evangelical counsels of chastity, poverty, and obedience, the blessing (and challenge) of community life is one of the marks of so many consecrated men and women.  They know that they are not alone as they seek to imitate the poor, chaste, and obedient Christ.  I certainly also encourage young men and women of the parish to consider consecrated life.  We need that witness of those who live the heavenly life already here on earth.
    And in order to have good priests, deacons, and consecrated men and women, we need good and holy families that encourage discernment.  Vocations don’t fall out of heaven in a gift box; they are the fruit of a family seeking to do the will of God and developing good habits of discernment like daily prayer, devotion to the Eucharist, and frequent reception of the sacraments.  It also does take the encouragement (but not forcing the issue) of vocations in the family or among friends of parishioners.  Never be afraid to tell a young man or young woman that you think he or she would be a good priest, deacon, or consecrated man or woman.  You don’t have to tell them every time you see them, but mention it once in a while, as a way of letting them know that it’s a good thing to consider in life.
    This week the Church invites us to assist others in discerning a vocation.  May our lives and our witness help others to consider a life that puts service to the Church as a real possibility to be the man or woman that God is calling them to be.  In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Giving God Your Nothing Left

 Thirty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time
    People think priests have a hard life.  And, in some ways, we do.  We’re on call 24/6 (I do get one day off per week), it’s not uncommon to have evening meetings after a full day of work, because that’s when people are most often free to meet.  Because people have their own ideas (sometimes based in theology, sometimes not) about how long homilies should be, how warm (or cold) the church should be, what songs should be sung, etc., the priest often gets peppered with complaints from all sides.  So yeah, it is tough at times, but we are also taken care of and loved pretty well.
    I think parents have a hard life.  If it put myself in their shoes, I wouldn’t want to be working all day, probably putting up with many similar things as priests in terms of working conditions, complaints, expectations, etc., and then come home, only to have to prepare some dinner, often from scratch, clean-up after dinner, help the kids with homework, and then, hopefully, have some time to catch up with a few things around the house, maybe have a little alone time with the spouse, before going to bed to start all over on the next day.  That sounds like a tough vocation!!
    I know I have been, and I’m sure parents have been, at the point where I feel like I’ve got nothing left.  Maybe it’s been a long day, or there’s a long day coming on the following day, or an earlier start, and I’m exhausted, and then there’s a call to go to the hospital, or, because I work with MSP, to go out to a homicide or meet with a Trooper who can use some comforting words.  And I know parents are in a similar boat so frequently.  So you give, even though you think you’ve got nothing left to give, and somehow, it works out to be enough.
    The same was true for the widows we heard about in the first reading and the Gospel.  Can you imagine being in a famine, and all you have left is a handful of flour, just enough to make a couple of cakes for you and your son, and then this man of God comes and asks you to make some for him?  I think if I did that, I’d be run out of the house, maybe even the parish and county!  But the woman gives, and Elijah makes sure that the woman doesn’t run out during the famine.  She gave beyond what she thought she could, and God rewarded that generosity.

Examples of the widow's coins

    Or in the Gospel, the widow is giving two coins that she needs probably to feed herself to the temple, to offer to God something.  The value wasn’t large, but the sacrifice was her everything.  She gave, even after she had nothing left.  And yet, the Lord commends her gift, more than those who were putting in large amounts of money, because she was giving when she had nothing left, while the others were giving while making sure they had something left over.  
    God invites us to trust in Him as we give to Him.  And I’m not talking only about money (though, we’re always happy to receive that from you).  I’m talking about giving to God time and energy and whatever is going on in your life, even if you don’t think you’re giving God much, even if you feel like what you have to give to God isn’t worth giving.
    Maybe life is crushing you right now, and it takes all you can muster to come to Mass.  It would be so much easier to stay home and rest.  And yet, you came to give God that little bit.  And God will reward that.  Or maybe you’re just trying to make sure your kid doesn’t run away during Mass, or trying to make sure that he or she is not a major distraction (though, truth be told, I am rarely distracted by kids and love having them around at Mass).  You don’t think you’re getting much out of Mass, but you’re giving to God what little attention you can call up while you supervise your child at Mass.  And God accepts that and makes it a loving sacrifice, received with gratitude because it’s your gift.
    Parents often get gifts from their children that are made at school that are not that expensive, and maybe are not Michelangelo sculptures or Rembrandt paintings.  But those are still treasured gifts (how many moms have kept those little gifts throughout the years!?) because the child is giving what he or she can.  The same is true for God: when we give God what we can, He treasures it as the perfect gift.
    God even receives the fallen parts of us, our sins.  Through the Sacrament of Penance (aka confession or reconciliation), God deigns to take our brokenness and failings from us, so that we can be made whole.  I know that sometimes it seems like the sins may be small, or maybe the sins are awkward to acknowledge, or maybe it’s just that we confess the same sins over and over again.  In any case, God wants to receive that as our small gift, the last little bit we have left, so that it doesn’t stand in the way of our relationship with Him.  Obviously our sins are not good; they’re not our finest moments as human beings.  But God takes it upon Himself so that we might have life in place of death, grace in place of sin, light in place of darkness.
    I don’t know about you, but I feel like more and more people are at their wit’s end these days.  I meet people who feel like they have nothing left to give.  At that moment, offer to God that nothing, that fatigue, that exhaustion.  It may not seem like much, but neither did the two coins offered by the widow in the Gospel, or the handful of flour offered by the widow in the first reading.  But if it’s what you have, God will accept and bless it, and will make it enough.

Loyalty to our Team

 Feast of Christ the King
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Yesterday there was a big game, at least if you’re a college football fan in the State of Michigan.  Undefeated University of Michigan Wolverines, ranked 6 in the US, played the undefeated Michigan State University Spartans, ranked 8 in the US.  While there are other universities and colleges in the State, there does seem to be a general division between Michigan and Michigan State.  In fact, that was one of the first questions Bishop Boyea was asked when he was announced as the newest bishop of Lansing back in 2008 (to which he demurred).  

    It is interesting that we put so much weight on loyalty to a particular football team.  Some have loyalty because they attended that school.  Others like a winning record, or the history of a particular program.  I must admit that I have supported both schools in the past, as my parents both went to Michigan State, but I have some very good friends who attended Michigan.  Some, like me, go back and forth, or try to split their loyalties, especially if you have kids who go to either university.
    But today, as we celebrate the Feast of Christ the King, and the thirty-second anniversary of the Traditional Latin Mass community in Flint, we deal with something much bigger than college football.  We are invited to renew our loyalty to Christ the King, to a King who will suffer no rivals, at least not in the end; to a King who is head and ruler of His Mystical Body, the Church; to a King who has myriad of angels waiting on His command; to a King who suffered and suffers our rejection patiently, hoping for us to convert.
    Those may seem like contradictions, but in Christ what would normally be a contradiction is held in the tension of the truest reality that exists.  Christ is both King who has no equal, but who also humbles Himself.  We see it in His exchange with Pontius Pilate.  St. John is very clear in His Gospel that Christ is always in control.  And yet, He engages in a kind of dialogue with Pilate, sometimes responding, sometimes in silence, which propels Christ to the Cross, which is His perfect throne on earth.  He admits that He has angels who would protect Him from any harm.  And yet, a chapter later, He will allow His sacred hands and feet to be pierced so that our rejection of our King could be healed and forgiven.  
    Christ is a patient king, and that should give us hope.  He allows us time to turn back to Him after we have turned away, because we are part of Him, and He wants us to be a part of His Kingdom.  This is not an excuse to be lax, or to presume on His mercy, but it does encourage us that, when we are not the subjects that we are supposed to be, because Christ wants to be generous with His mercy.  
    Further, since Christ is the Head of His Mystical Body, and we are members of that Mystical Body by baptism, Christ wants us to remain part of Him, reigning in heaven, just as we would like to retain all of our body.  Only those parts of the body that are dead need to be cut off, so Christ does all He can to nurse back to health ailing parts of the body.  So we should never be afraid of running to Christ for mercy when we have sinned.
    But at some point, both individually and collectively, our opportunity for mercy will come to an end, and our decisions about which kingdom we are loyal to–the kingdom of darkness, as St. Paul says, or the kingdom of light–will be a final decision, with no chance of turning back.  For many, that comes after death, when our loyalty or disloyalty to God will be locked in for all eternity.  Or it could come when Christ returns in glory at the end of time.  But we don’t know when that will be, in either scenario.  And that calls us to prepare.
    As we enter into November, we can spend especially the next month (and every day of our life) we call to mind the four last things: death, judgement, heaven, and hell.  We shouldn’t be neurotic about it, and so concentrated on death that we lose the joy of life and the blessings Christ our King gives to us.  But, as we are faced with temptations, when we consider that we are choosing our loyalty to heaven or hell with each choice, it helps us to make better choices and become more and more each day a part of the Kingdom of Christ.  
    Yesterday, before the game at noon, no one knew who would win: Michigan or Michigan State.  People had their loyalties based on their own reasoning.  But when it comes to the Kingdom of Christ, our Lord has already won; there is no competition or challenge left from the enemy.  But while our Lord has won, we are still in the last seconds of the contest of eternal salvation, and these last seconds will decide, not who wins, but whether or not we’re on the winning team.  Choose your loyalty carefully.  Be sure you know which kingdom you’re trending towards.  Long live Christ the King!  In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Simple, and Yet Complicated

 Thirty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time

    So simple, and yet so complicated.  Love God and love your neighbor.  It’s as easy and as difficult as that.  And even simply understanding the two great commandments is key to being on the right path to heaven, as Jesus tells the scribe in the Gospel today.  But, while it’s easy to say that all we have to do is love God and love our neighbor, it does require some unpacking.
    First of all, we need to understand what love is.  Modern culture is less than helpful when it comes to defining love.  We are told: love is never having to say you’re sorry; love is a feeling or an emotion; what is love? Baby don’t hurt me; love is love; to quote a somewhat contemporary movie: “Love is like oxygen.  Love is a many-splendored thing.  Love lifts us up where we belong.  All you need is love.”  
    Love, though, from a Catholic point of view, and I’m stealing here from Bishop Barron, is willing the good of the other.  Love is an action that pursues the true happiness of the other.  To quote St. Paul (a bit more solid than a secular definition), “Love is patient, love is kind.  It is not jealous, [love] is not pompous, it is not inflated, it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests, it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over injury.”  Love means working for the good of the other, even when it means the denial of personal goods.  And if we want an image of love, we need look no further than Jesus on the crucifix, which is love made incarnate.  Jesus acted for our good, even when it meant His own death, just so that we could enter heaven and have eternal happiness.  That is certainly willing the good of the other, acting for the good of the other.
    So how do we love?  St. Augustine says, “Love, and do what you will.”  Does this mean that we can do anything as long as we feel like it’s good for the other?  No, and Augustine would not agree with that.  If God is love, as the Scriptures say in St. John’s first epistle, then there is a measure of what love does, which cannot contradict the nature of love.  I cannot say that I am loving God or neighbor if it involves breaking a commandment.  I cannot say that I am loving God or neighbor if my actions go against something we are taught as a matter of faith or morals in the Bible or authoritatively by the Church.  If God is love, and Jesus is God, and the Church is the Mystical Body of Jesus Christ, then when the Church teaches something with authority (as a matter of faith and morals), we are learning what love is, and how to love (and sometimes what love is not, and how not to love).  
    So how do we know if we’re loving God and loving our neighbor?  Do we will the good that God desires?  Do we will the true good of our neighbor, not just acting in a way that makes our neighbor feel good?  Sometimes homilies can be a bit broad and vague, so let’s break it down a little further.
    If you skip Mass out of laziness or prioritize something else (e.g., sports) as more important than worshiping God, you are not loving God fully.  You may love God in other ways, but you are not loving God in that way.  If you reject one of the dogmatic teachings of the Church, or think that the Church cannot tell you what to do in a particular area of your life, like the bedroom, then you are not loving God fully.  You may love God by giving your obedience of faith and morals in other areas, but you are missing out on loving God as God wants to be loved.  
    If you give someone the bird while driving, you are not loving your neighbor fully.  If you gossip about your fellow employee who gets on everyone’s nerves, you are not loving your neighbor fully.  If you see you neighbor falling into sin and do not correct him or her in a charitable and prudent way, you are not loving your neighbor fully.  If you have sex before marriage or live with your girlfriend or boyfriend, or even fiancé before marriage, you are not loving your neighbor fully.  In all those ways, and many more, you are not willing the good of the other.  It may feel good; it may feel very good.  But it is not, in the end, the actual good of the other.
    Family life is a great analogy for understanding love.  You cannot say you fully love your spouse if you hold back in an area of your life from him or her, or do something that you know upsets your spouse.  You may love in other ways, but you are not fully willing your spouse’s good.  Or if you let your children do whatever they want, like eating ice cream every day for dinner, or never making children go to school or help clean the house, you are not fully loving your children.  You may love them in other ways, but you are not fully willing their good, since the good of the other often includes not following every desire that we have.  Love–willing the good of the other–does not always feel good, but it is always directed toward what is truly good.  
    Sometimes we struggle at knowing what is truly good, and that is what makes loving God and our neighbor so difficult.  We can easily confuse what is good and what is delightful.  The best guide for knowing what is truly good is God, and God has spoken to us to help us know the good through the Scriptures and through the Church.  If you’re ever wondering if you are willing the good of God or your neighbor, look towards the Bible and the Catechism of the Catholic Church.  Those two books will help you to know if you are being truly loving, and if you are “not far from the kingdom of God.”