Paralyzed, Friends, Scribes, and Jesus

Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  When we hear the Gospel passage today, we hear about two, maybe three, individuals or groups: the paralyzed man and his friends; the scribes; and our Lord.  For today’s homily I’d like to focus on those three as we meditate upon the Word of God, and seek what the Lord is saying to us.

   The first is the paralyzed man and his friends.  The paralyzed man is lying in the bed, and one presumes that his paralysis is at least his legs, but perhaps his arms as well.  He can’t take care of himself by himself.  He is utterly dependent on others to eat, to drink, to clean himself, and even to get somewhere.  Left to himself he has nothing.  Isn’t that us before Holy Baptism?  And really even after Holy Baptism.  Left to ourselves, we can do nothing good.  Our Lord says in John, chapter 15, “‘Apart from me you can do nothing.’”  Any good that we can accomplish only happens because of God.  Any good that is done by a non-believe is still a gratuitous gift of God, and made possible by His power.  We are paralyzed because we are fallen.  We need to be healed.
    Think of his friends, too.  In this passage we don’t have any sense of who wanted to see Christ.  Did the paralyze man hear about this itinerant rabbi who healed people?  Did the friends have some experience of the Savior, and then want to bring their paralyzed man to see if Christ would heal him?  We don’t know.  But we do know that, whoever desired it, or desired it more, the friends brought the paralyzed man to Jesus.  They did what he could not.  They became one of the causes of his healing.
    I preach about friends on a pretty regular basis, partly because of what a treasure friends are.  I have used the quote of St. Thomas Aquinas: “There is nothing on earth more to be prized than true friendship.  Friendship is the source of the greatest pleasures, and without friends even the most agreeable pursuits become tedious.”  I think the Angelic Doctor here is not talking about a mere acquaintance, someone you know and with whom you enjoy spending time, but especially a true friend, someone who helps you to grow in virtue.  Any friend who brings us to Christ is a friend worth having.  Any friend who can rejoice with us and commiserate with us, but who directs both back to God and His Divine Plan supports us in our desire to be saints.  
    Do your friends bring you to our Lord, or do they pull you away from Him?  Can they help you find healing, the healing that you desire and even maybe the healing of which you are not even fully aware?  Friendship is a great means of spreading the Gospel.  It may not happen all at once, and sometimes trying to force the issue of faith can strain a friendship.  But do we share Jesus with our friends?  One of the things I enjoy doing as a Michigan State Police chaplain is sharing my faith with others.  And the conversations come quite easily because they know I’m a priest.  But your friends should be able to ask you about the Lord, too, and should presume that you know Him, because you are His friends.  Conversion may take place over a long period of time.  Or maybe it won’t happen at all, as people have free will and can walk away from the Lord, even if He invites them to follow Him.  But do we participate in sharing our faith with others, and bringing them to Christ?
    The third group is the scribes.  They are not the favorites in almost any Gospel passage.  And we can see why.  Our Savior heals the paralyzed man, and what is their response?  Not, “That’s wonderful!” or “Praise God!”  Nope.  They accuse Him of blasphemy.  To be fair, if Christ isn’t God, then it is blasphemy.  But if Christ isn’t God, or at least a great prophet of God, could He heal a paralyzed man?  The scribes immediately accuse Christ of one of the worst sins.  Their hearts are closed to the work of God.
    We can also sometimes be like the scribes.  If something good happens, we get suspicious if the person doesn’t fit into our categories, or doesn’t have the same expression of faith that we do.  We set ourselves up as judge of what God can do, and what He cannot do.  To be fair, St. John the Apostle was in that same group once.  In Mark, chapter nine, John says, “‘Teacher, we saw someone driving out demons in your name, and we tried to prevent him because he does not follow us.’”  You can almost imagine the Savior cocking his head to the side with a quizzical look.  I mean, what was the other option?  Letting the people continue with their demonic possessions?  Maybe John should have thought it through a little more.  Christ does answer John, saying, “‘Do not prevent him.  There is no one who performs a mighty deed in my name who can at the same time speak ill of me.’”
    Lastly, we have the Person of Jesus.  Liberal Scripture scholars will often pedal this nonsense that He never claimed to be God.  They must have missed this passage.  And a lot of others.  Here, and elsewhere, our Lord takes as His own that which was proper to the Lord, the way that the Jews would refer to God.  In this passage, He forgives sins.  The scribes are right in asserting that only God can forgive sins.  But that’s exactly our Lord’s point.  He reveals Himself as God through the forgiveness of the paralytic’s sins.  This was the first and primary miracle that the Lord worked for the paralytic.  But, as a sign that He can forgive sins, Christ also heals the man and allows him to walk.  
    Do we accept that God is God and we are not?  I know that seems like it has an obvious answer, but how many times do we, whether directly or indirectly, say to God, “I can handle this.  Let me take care of this one.  I know what’s best here.”  Pride always lurks, seeking to have us put ourselves in the place of God, just as the devil tempted Eve in the Garden of Eden.  We put ourselves, or some other material good, in place of God, and set up our little altars to worship our will or our possessions.  But that’s not respecting who God reveals Himself to be.  Our approach should always be, “Thy will be done.”  
    As you go home today, think about who you identify with the most in this passage.  Is it the paralytic?  Is it his friends?  Is it, and be honest here, the scribes?  Most likely, we go back and forth among the three.  For those times when you’re like the paralytic, ask God to heal you, especially your spiritual paralysis.  For those times when you’re like the friends, ask God to identify for you those whom you can bring to Him for healing.  For those times when you’re like the scribes, ask God to heal the hardness and blindness of your hearts so that you can recognize God’s work, even when it happens in ways you’re not expecting.  Have faith that you can be healed, no matter who you are, by the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Staying and Going

Twenty-Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time
    Last week I gave a difficult homily.  I am not in the habit of giving difficult homilies, so it was a shock to many of you for that reason alone.  But, and probably more weighty, the question I asked was also startling: was the preference we expressed to stay open until we spent all our money in line with how a disciple thinks.  I appreciate the people who came forward and told me what they found so distressing about last week’s homily.  I do not claim now, nor have I ever, that I am perfect.  I did my best to communicate what I felt the Holy Spirit speaking to me, but I understand that the words I used may have gotten in the way of the point of the entire homily.  I also know that some of you felt that the survey you took after our Town Hall was a vote that determined what was going to happen to our parish.  I know I said it then, but I’ll repeat it now, that your input is a consultation, not a determination.  It’s a consultation that Bishop Boyea wanted to hear, and is glad you provided.  But it wasn’t like a ballot issue where the vote would determine the outcome.  I apologize for not emphasizing that enough. 
    I honestly hope that you have been thinking about the homily all week.  I hope you re-read the homily on the internet.  Because the question is an important one, not just for this parish and its future, but for all our lives: what determines the decisions we make?  Is it what gives more comfort or requires less change?  Or is it what helps spread the kingdom more? 
    Jesus challenged His Apostles and disciples.  His parables, while we are used to them, upset many people, because they turned people’s pre-conceived notions upside-down, and in some cases did not make the hearers sound all that good.  Last week, Jesus said that those who were Johnny-come-latelys would get the same inheritance as those who followed God all their lives.  And today, He tells the chief priests and elders that tax collectors and prostitutes are getting into heaven before them because the tax collectors and prostitutes are actually doing what God wants, even though they had earlier said no by their sinful actions.  The tax collectors and prostitutes converted; the chief priests and elders were stuck in their ways and would not change.  Do you think the chief priests and the elders quietly took that admonition with pious and serene faces?  Certainly not!  This passage is from Matthew 21.  Jesus dies in Matthew 27.  That’s no literary coincidence. 
    What matters most, we hear today, is to do the will of the Father.  Sure, it would be better if we said “yes” to God and followed through on it, but what is most important is that we actually do the will of God, no matter what our earlier response. 
    And what is the will of the Father?  To share the Gospel.  Not just with other Catholics, but with those who do not know the Gospel, or do not know the fullness of the Gospel.  Our church, our parish, has one purpose with two parts: to sustain you so that you can evangelize others.  We’re really good at the first part.  Our Divine Mercy group, our Men’s Faith Group, and our other faith formation groups help you to grow in your faith.  But frankly, we’re not doing a great job at the second part.  And I can say that because we are not bringing people into the church.  Yes, part of what God wants for this parish is to feed our souls.  But He feeds our souls so that we have the spiritual energy to evangelize and bring others into the faith. 

    Pope Francis described it this way from an audience he had in February of this year in Rome:
 

First of all, there is no going without staying: before sending the disciples forth on mission, Christ–the Gospel says– “calls them to himself” (cf. Mt. 10:1).  The proclamation is born from the encounter with the Lord; every Christian activity, especially the mission, begins from there….Witnessing him, in fact, means radiating him; but, if we do not receive his light, we will be extinguished.

We are good at the “staying” in this parish.  You are the faithful few who keep coming back, week after week, to be refreshed by God’s Word and by the Eucharist, and that is a good thing!  Praise God that you recognize the need to be fed by God in order to survive.
    But Pope Francis continues:
 

Equally, however, there is no staying without going.  In fact, following Christ is not an inward-looking fact: without proclamation, without service, without mission, the relationship with Jesus does not grow.  We note that in the Gospel the Lord sends the disciples before having completed their preparation: shortly after calling them, he is already sending them!

If the entirety our faith life is about coming here; if our faith life is only about my daily prayer, whether by myself, or with my spouse, or with a small group; if my faith life is only about my individual actions; if my faith life does not have an opening to share with others the joy that I have found in following Christ, then I’m not fully following Jesus.  There is an aspect, the going, that I am missing.  And being a disciple means staying and going.
    There are ways that our parishioners do “go” after staying.  Some serve in the North End Soup Kitchen; some have baked cookies for Catholic Charities; others care for the physical needs of the buildings.  We all say with our lips that we want to follow Jesus, but He tells us to “go” and make disciples.  With few exceptions in my 6 years here, we have not welcomed others into our faith, for whatever reason.  That’s not a judgement, just a fact.  We are comfortable talking to other Catholics about our faith, but we have not invited many others into the faith, at least very few that have decided to join the Catholic Church. 
    In spite of all this, God still invites us to follow His call, no matter how we have answered before.  Just because we haven’t done something before, doesn’t mean we can’t start doing it now.  Indeed, if we at first said no, but then changed our mind and did the will of God, we would be the ones entering heaven before those who said yes originally, but did not do anything. Each day is a new chance to spread the Gospel.  No matter how long our parish has, can we each commit to living both aspects of a disciple: staying with the Lord to be nourished by Him, and then going to the world to proclaim the Good News?

God's Favorite?

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

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

Vision and Ventilators

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

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

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

Too Old for Silly Stuff

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

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

The Virtuous Life and the Fruits of the Spirit

Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost

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

So You Had a Bad Day

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

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