Tu Es Petrus

Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time
    “Annuntio vobis gaudium magnum.  Habemus papam!  Eminentissimum ac Reverendissimum Dominum, Dominum Robertum Franciscum, Sanctae Romanae Ecclesiae Cardinalem Prevost, qui sibi nomen imposuit Leonem decimum quartum.”  I still remember hearing those words on 8 May 2025, and the shock of realizing that an American-born man had been elected Supreme Pontiff.  I pealed the bells at St. Matthew for numerous minutes and could not contain my excitement.  And then later to learn that Fr. Prevost had baptized a child here at St. Matthew even added to that joy.  If you haven’t seen our font since last year, you should take a look at the commemorative plaque that tells visitors that Pope Leo XIV celebrated baptism here in 1999.

Statue of St. Peter in front of the Basilica of St. Peter 

    There’s something about Peter.  We heard about Christ choosing Peter as the leader of the apostles, the one upon whom Christ would build His Church.  And after Pentecost, St. Luke takes great care to show that Peter leads the apostolic college.  He speaks for all at Pentecost and calls the people gathered there to believe in Jesus and be baptized for the forgiveness of sins.  As Peter and St. John the Apostle go to the temple, in the name of Christ Peter heals the man who was crippled, for which the Sanhedrin arrests Peter and John, who both say that they cannot help but proclaim Jesus as the Messiah, and the Sanhedrin tells them to stop, but Peter and John still share the Gospel.  St. Luke continues in Acts 5:15, “Thus they even carried the sick out into the streets and laid them on cots and mats so that when Peter came by, at least his shadow might fall on one or another of them.”  We see similar things even today as strangers will hand their infants to the pope as he rides in the popemobile, just to have the successor of Peter bless their child.  
    Christ set up His Church with Twelve Apostles, the new princes of the new Israel, just as the twelve sons of Jacob were the leaders of the nation of Israel as they migrated to Egypt.  But among these twelve Apostles, Christ gave special authority to St. Peter.  Jesus says in today’s Gospel that Peter holds the keys to the kingdom of heaven of binding and loosing, an authority of authentic teaching and forgiveness that all the Apostles would eventually receive, but Peter first.  In Luke 22:32, after prophesying that Peter would fall away, Jesus tells him, “‘once you have turned back, you must strengthen your brothers.’”  And in John 21:15-18, after hearing Peter say that he loved Jesus three times (ostensibly to make up for Peter’s threefold denial), Jesus commands Peter to feed Jesus’ lambs, tend His sheep, and feed His sheep.  And even at the Resurrection, St. John the Apostle waits for Peter to enter the empty tomb, even though John ran faster and arrived there first.  
    As Catholics, part of our faith, what it means to be Catholic, is that the pope is the visible sign of unity, with special authority, for the entire Church.  Certainly many other Christians do not recognize this, but it does not make it less true.  Even bishops, successors of the apostles, need someone to help them know when they are right and wrong, and the pope does that.  Does that mean the pope is always holy?  Certainly not.  Our own history bears this out, sadly, time and again, where popes had illegitimate children or “made tombs more splendid than the houses of the living,” to attribute a “Lord of the Rings” quote from “The Return of the King” to the dark times of the papacy.
    But still, we believe Christ’s words, that “‘the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against” the Church: that the pope will never teach anything authoritatively contrary to the will of God.  And we look to Peter as a sure guide of faith, though he is a man, just like any man, but still endowed with the greatest authority on earth, because it also touches into heaven.  
    So while the exercise of papal authority, especially in matters of discipline, ebbs and flows, what can never change is that Peter and his successors are the visible head of the Church, the Vicar of Christ for all who profess faith in Christ.  He is the Bishop of Rome; Vicar of Jesus Christ; Successor of the Prince of the Apostles; Supreme Pontiff (which means High Priest or Supreme Bridge-Builder, hearkening back to the role of the pagan Roman priests);  Patriarch of the West; Primate (or head bishop of a Catholic country) of Italy; Metropolitan Archbishop  of the Roman Province; Sovereign of Vatican City State; Servant of the Servants of God.  This last title, added by Pope St. Gregory the Great, reminds the pope that his special authority is not for him, but for us, as a way of serving the Church and giving us a true guide of what to believe and how to live.  As with any authority in the Church, it serves a greater purpose, and only is what it should be when the office-holders view their authority in view of service.  

    Why is the pope so special?  Because Peter was special.  Why was Peter so special?  Because of personal holiness?  Because of a special earthly wisdom?  Next week we’ll hear Jesus refer to his first pope as “Satan,” as Peter advises Jesus not to suffer for us and our salvation.  So no, it had nothing to do with special holiness or earthly wisdom.  Peter is special because God makes him special, and gives him greater responsibility as a sure guide for all in the Church.  Is it exciting that an American-born man ascended to the Chair of St. Peter?  Certainly!  But no matter whence the pope comes, the pope reminds us that we are connected to Jesus through the apostles, and especially through the Blessed Apostle Peter, Prince of the Apostles and Vicar of Christ.  Pray for Pope Leo XIV that he can live up to the great authority which has been bestowed upon him by the cardinals of the Church, and that he can truly be our visible sign of unity among all who follow Christ in truth and charity.

Being Carried to Mount Doom

Good Friday of the Lord’s Passion

    One of the many moving scenes in the third movie, “Return of the King,” of  the trilogy “The Lord of the Rings,” is when Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee are on the slopes of Mount Doom, the mountain in which the One Ring has to be destroyed in order to end the growing strength and power of the evil Sauron.  Frodo has almost no strength left from the weight of the ring on a chain around his neck, as it grows heavier the closer it gets to destruction.  Sam, too, is tired, but is doing all he can to help his friend complete the quest, without which all of Middle Earth will fall into darkness and despair.
    Even though Sam has offered to carry the ring to help, Frodo has made very clear (to put it lightly) that the ring can only be borne by Frodo.  It is his burden to bear.  So, as Frodo is exhausted on Mount Doom, full of despair and darkness, and cannot take another step, Sam says, “‘I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you.”  And Sam carries Frodo up the slopes towards a small door that grants passage to the fires that will destroy the One Ring.  You can watch the rest of the movie, or, better yet, read the book, to learn how it all turns out.

    J.R.R. Tolkien demonstrates his genius and masterful Catholic storytelling by not having any one character always correspond to one person in salvation and the Scriptures.  Many often compare Frodo to Christ, because he carries the ring like Christ carries the cross and our sin.  And in this sense, we are called to be like Sam, a friend who never leaves the side of the one he loves.  We are to be like the Blessed Mother, John the Apostle, St. Mary Magdalen and the other holy women, Joseph of Arimathea, and Nicodemus, who stayed with Christ through His entire Passion, His entire agony on the cross.  And we are here today to do precisely that.  Through this long, ancient liturgy, begun last night at the Mass of the Lord’s Supper, we show our love for Christ, who showed His love for us by dying on the cross.
    And it’s not much.  We’re not fighting against the soldiers who nailed Jesus to the cross.  We’re not arguing with the Pharisees and the Sadducees who convinced Pilate to crucify the Lord of Glory.  We’re just here, with Jesus, in the liturgical presentation of His last hours before He dies.  We remain here, mourning, recognizing that our sins led Jesus here and made this day necessary.  
    But, Samwise Gamgee also represents Christ.  We are like Frodo, with the weight of sin around us.  We know that sin has to be destroyed, and we have done all we can to destroy it, but without any success.  The weight is too heavy for us to bear.  Sin clouds our vision so that we can no longer remember our home of heaven, union with God.  Sin gives the devil clear sight of us, a gaze which burns our souls and causes us to lose hope.  But Christ does not abandon us, though we have no strength to carry on.  He lifts us up on His shoulders and carries us so that sin can be destroyed and hope can be restored.  
    So today, we stand at the foot of the cross, remaining here with our Lord so that He does not have to be alone.  We see the cost that our sins have created.  But, let us make our own the words of Samwise Gamgee, the words Christ encourages us with as He suffers for our salvation: “Then let us be rid of it, once and for all.”  As Christ destroys sin and death: come, let us worship.

Seeking the Lost

 Third Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  I think that we all have had moments like the woman who lost her coin.  It may not have been for money, but I’m willing to be we have all had those times when we are looking for something, we can’t find it, and our mind won’t rest until we do find it.  So we tear the house apart looking for our lost item.  I would remind you that St. Anthony of Padua is a great resource when we have lost something.
    How amazing is it that our God tells us that He is like that woman, searching for us like she searches for a lost coin?!  Of course, unlike coins, we can move ourselves away.  I suppose the metaphor for us would be more like searching for a small frog that likes hopping around the house.  After all, it’s not like we get put somewhere and just stay there.  When we’re lost, it’s because we’ve walked away from God.
    But God keeps coming after us.  He never gives up on us.  Even if we try to run far away from Him, He is always right there behind us, beckoning us back, like a parent of a toddler whose child tries to run away, while the parent never lets the toddler out of his sight or reach.  This devotion to us makes sense only with the logic of love, in the same way that a shepherd going after one lost sheep and leaves the ninety-nine.  The math doesn’t add up, unless one is calculating with love.
    But, as we are called to be those disciples, that is meant to be our mentality, too.  As followers of Christ, God calls us to go after the lost sheep who have wandered away, or even the sheep who have not been part of Christ’s flock, but whom God desires to be one of His own.  This is one way that we live out the spiritual works of mercy: to counsel the doubtful, instruct the ignorant, and admonish the sinner.  
    When we do this, it must be with love.  God is love, and so if we wish to draw others to Him, we will only be successful to the degree that we counsel, instruct, and admonish with love.  To tell someone that it’s stupid to question the faith, or to condemn someone’s ignorance, or to yell at someone for something wrong that he or she has done does is not to seek after a lost sheep, but to hunt for one with a rifle; is to trash a house while searching for the lost coin.  
    I know that sounds obvious, but when we love the faith and treasure our relationship with God, as I know we do, it can seem painful to us when that is rejected.  It’s like parents who are so hurt when a child rejects what they say that they discipline in anger, rather than out of love.  Sometimes disciplining in anger, not is love, is not even intended, but it happens.  And so, when we know we’re going to talk to someone who disagrees with us on the faith, or is questioning something near and dear to us, or maybe has left a life of virtue for a life of sin, we should pray for that gentleness of Christ, and to show our love, even when correction is necessary.
    When we counsel the doubtful, instruct the ignorant, and admonish the sinner, we also imitate God when we not only acknowledge, but respect, a person’s free will.  Love never forces itself on another.  It always respects the other person’s freedom.  As Bonnie Rait sang, “I can’t make you love me if you don’t.”  We cannot force another person to see the light.  This is especially frustrating, and I know I have metaphorically banged my head on the wall when there’s someone who doesn’t see how their actions are leading them away from God, or hurting themselves, or, most often, some form of both.  It’s especially hard when it’s someone who is close to us, perhaps a family member or dear friend, who doesn’t see the lies that they’re buying.  

    The analogy that comes to mind is fromthe movie “The Return of the King,” when Samwise, Frodo, and Gollum are climbing the stairs of Cirith Ungol.  Gollum has been poisoning Frodo’s mind to suggest that Sam will try to take the One Ring away and will hurt Frodo.  Gollum then, while Frodo and Sam are sleeping, throws away their food supply, and when Sam awakes to see this happening, starts attacking Gollum.  But Frodo takes Gollum’s side, and sends Sam, who has been nothing but loyal to Frodo, away.  Sin darkens our minds, and doesn’t let us see clearly the pain that we are causing.  And often we don’t see that until we’re snapped out of it through recognizing how bad things have gotten, just as Frodo finally realizes that Sam has been his friend and the one who has truly helped him when Gollum leads Frodo into the lair of the giant spider-like creature, Shelob, so that Shelob can kill Frodo and Gollum can take the ring.  
    Because God desires the lost with a great passion, that should be our passion, too.  As we hear about all the fallen-away Catholics, think of the great numbers our parish could swell to if we were able to bring back even a percentage of those who have strayed.  Pray for those who are away, especially if you’re going to talk to them later.  Pray to both your own and the other person’s guardian angel to protect the conversation from any outside diabolical influence.  Pray for that love of God to be communicated in what you say and how you say it.  Pray to be as convincing as possible, while also respecting the other person’s freedom.  And then pray afterwards that the words you have spoken will be confirmed by the Holy Spirit and that the same Holy Spirit will open that person’s heart to the truth and love of God.  In that way, we will be like our God, who desires not the death of the sinner, but that he repent and live.  In that way we will be like the one who searches for us when we sin, God the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.