Giving Up

Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

    When we think about giving up stuff as Catholics, probably our mind first turns to Lent.  That’s the season when we specifically give up particular foods or practices in our life.  If we were to think about it even more, we might think about religious sisters and brothers, nuns and monks, priests and bishops who give up certain things through their vows (for consecrated men and women) and promises (for priests and bishops). 
    And Jesus talks about giving stuff up in the Gospel today.  He says, “‘Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me,’” and “‘Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.’”  He says this to His apostles, and so it can be easy to think that lay people don’t have to give up any of that stuff.  That’s for those people who take vows and promises.
    This is not to say that the life of a consecrated man or woman, or a priest or bishop is nothing but denial.  Our first reading may be the first example of inviting the priest, er, prophet over for dinner.  But getting back to giving up stuff, it’s truly for everyone, not just me, Bishop Boyea, or the sisters.  The call to follow Christ and to abandon certain things is for all who call themselves disciples, not just those who have made a special commitment through vows or promises.  Now, it’s true that not everyone vows or promises to abstain from marital relations (otherwise we’d never have any children); or to obey a superior (though some husbands may argue that, for all intents and purposes, they have a vow of obedience to their wife, with very harsh penalties for disobedience!); or to live simply (like priests and bishops) or not have their own bank account or grasp on to personal possessions (like sisters, nuns, brothers, and monks).  But when we were baptized, we all committed to, or our parents committed us to, give up certain ways of life and certain practices which are inconsistent with being a follower of Jesus.
    That’s why St. Paul can say that we died with Christ in baptism.  Yes, His Death was given to us, so that we could have life, but we also died to anything which is contrary to Him.  And by dying to anything contrary to Him, we live by all the things which are united to Him: life, joy, peace.  Death, which comes from sin, no longer has power over us who are baptized, unless we invite death and sin back into our lives through our individual choices.
    There are two ways that I would invite us to think about living for Christ and dying to that which is opposed to Him this weekend.  The first is thinking about our relationship with Christ in a consumerist mentality.  Almost everything we do today is touched by the reality we have in our economic life, where I get what I want or I go somewhere else.  I am the judge of what is best, and I get what I want, when I want it, how I want it.  That’s not horrible when we’re talking about a restaurant, or a clothes store.  But when it comes to our faith, that approach is an approach of death and the antithesis of what it means to follow Christ.
    We do not follow Christ on our own terms.  We do not get to decide exactly where I want God’s grace, when I receive it, or how I receive it.  That consumerist mentality makes us the master and Christ our lackey.  Or, to use another analogy, the Church is not a country club to which we can belong, where, if we don’t get the service we want, we end our membership and go elsewhere.  Christ offers us eternal life, but He offers it to us in His way, because He is the way.  And if we do not like how Christ offers us life, we cannot find it anywhere else.  When we seek to make Christ and His Church change to our fleeting whims and fancies, we are trying to find our life, but will lose it.  But when we lose our life to conform it to the way Christ shows us, then we actually find eternal life. 
    [Especially here at St. Pius X, we know that there will be changes in the near future and the coming months.  It is fine and natural to mourn a Mass time that we loved and a parish that we loved that has declined in population.  But if we allow that pain to say uncharitable things, to pout like toddlers, and to abandon our practice of the faith altogether, then our desire for what we want has actually become an obstacle to Christ and the grace He desires to give us, especially the grace that comes from suffering with Him patiently.]
    The second way to think about living for Christ and dying to that which is opposed to him is how we view Sunday.  Growing up, there was, for me, two parts of the week: weekdays, and weekends.  But for a follower of Christ, each week usually has two parts: Sunday and every other day.  Sunday is the day that belongs to the Lord, that we assemble to worship God at Mass, that we spend time with family and friends, or doing works of charity, and that we rest.  Our day of rest as followers of Christ is Sunday.  God wants us to rest in Him, to give Him fitting worship, and to build up the relationships of love among ourselves, especially on His day.  But too often it’s just another day of the week, another day of work, another day of sports. 
    Don’t get me wrong, some have to work on Sunday, either because of their field of work, or because of a shortage of workers.  But, to the best of our ability, do we accomplish our chores on the other days of the week?  Do we take time to get off our phones and spend time not with the FaceTime app, but with face time with our family and friends in person?  I am convinced that if we treated Sunday as the Lord’s day, if we died to this secular idea that it’s just another day for work, and rose to the idea that it’s time that we get to eat together as family and friends and share how life is going, many of our problems would go away.  There will always be work to do; there will always be chores that need finishing.  Let Sunday be a day that your worship God at Mass, and relax with each other and with God. 
    When we were baptized, we died with Christ.  The rest of our life is following-up on that dying to everything which is not of Christ, so that we can live for Him.  All of us are called to give up something for Christ.  Will we find eternal life by giving up the works of death?

What We Offer to God

 Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

    While the news has moved on to what it considers to be “juicier” stories, there was quite a bit of digital and literal ink spilled about the US bishops recently, who decided to write a document on our belief in the Eucharist.  Of course, the press focused on the political issues, especially with a baptized Catholic as president of the United States.  But the document that the bishops are drafting goes beyond Catholic politicians, and is meant to help teach us about the Eucharist.  Given that our next few weeks of readings will be focusing on the Eucharist anyway, I thought I would get a head start, and preach about the Eucharist.
    If you look at stats about how many Catholics actually believe what the Church teaches on the Eucharist, it’s pretty depressing (at least if you work for the Church).  From a survey taken in 2019 or so, I think it’s something like 33%.  That’s horribly low!  So the need is there.  I’ll try not to make this too academic, though.
    Before we get to the Eucharist in itself, we can look at what we’re giving God.  In today’s Gospel, the people are hungry, and Jesus wants to feed them.  But there’s only five loaves and two fish.  Still, God takes what the people has, miraculously multiplies it (this whole junk about sharing is trying to force a different message into this Gospel, rather than reading what the Gospel truly says), and then returns it to them.  And in our first reading, bread is brought to Elisha, who multiplies it for the people to eat.  So the people bring what they have and offer it to the Lord, who makes it enough for all who desire to eat.  
    At face value, what we offer for the Eucharist is bread and wine (aren’t you glad it’s not bread and fish??).  When we think of why we use bread and wine for the Eucharist, there is, of course, the reality that bread and wine were common items in Judea at the time of Jesus (and well before that, and well after that, as well).  Bread and wine were also already part of the sacrificial system of the Jews.  There was showbread, which was in the presence of the Lord in the inner temple.  And there were also libations, drink offerings, poured out to God.  So bread and wine were common, not only for food, but for sacrificing.
    But when we look at what we use for the Eucharist, there’s also the reality of how bread and wine are made, which also helps us understand something of why they are used for the celebration of the Mass.  Think of how bread is made.  For our Eucharistic bread, the hosts, it can only be made from flour and water.  Flour comes from wheat which is finely ground.  After baking the mixture of flour and water, we have unleavened bread.  
    Wine is made from grapes.  But you can’t just leave grapes on your counter and magically get wine (you’ll get raisins, I suppose).  You have to crush the grapes in a wine press, and let the juices ferment.  Then you get wine.
    In his 2006 homily on the Solemnity of Corpus Christi, Pope Benedict spoke about the cooperation between God and humanity that is required to get bread and wine that we use in the Eucharist.  God has to provide the fertile fields, and even the water itself in order for wheat to grow.  But then we need to grind the wheat to make the flour.  God has to provide rain and sun for the grapes to grow on the vine, but then we have to press the grapes.  So what we need for the Eucharist is a cooperation between us and God, which is the original intent of God in the Garden of Eden: God and humanity working together to sanctify the world.
    Another text called The Doctrine of the Twelve Apostles, which was written around the year 100, also says, “Even as this broken bread was scattered over the hills, and was gathered together and became one, so let Thy Church be gathered together from the ends of the earth into Thy Kingdom.”  The gathering of the different heads of grain is itself an image of the diversity of the human race coming together, and then being offered to God for Him to bless and transform it into something new.  
    But beyond the bread and wine that we offer, Jesus invites us to give all of who we are to Him, to allow Him to transform us into something new.  From the beginning, in the sacrificial system, humanity was invited to give God their all, represented by some earthly thing.  So we, as Catholics, are invited to give all of who we are, and unite it to the bread and wine offered by me on your behalf to God the Father through Christ the Son in the power of the Holy Spirit.  We are invited to give God the good and the bad.  Did you have a horrible week, where nothing went right, where you lost friends or family, where the car broke down, where it rained every day on your vacation?  Offer it to God!  Did you have a great week, where you hit every green light when you were late, when your kids and grandkids visited, where you received an unexpected compliment or word of praise?  Offer it to God.  
    God wants all of it, the good and the bad.  He wants to transform it from something simply earthly, to something heavenly, like the Eucharist.  But He will not transform what we do not give Him.  If we do not give Him our life, the daily ups and downs, then they remain simply ours; they remain earthly and limited.  But if we give him what has happened since the last time we came to Mass, He will bless it, transform it, and return it to us as something that helps us draw closer to Him and experience the heavenly life.  
    The invitation has been extended.  Today, and at every Mass you attend, offer to God whatever you have, no matter how little you think it may be.  Let God transform your daily life, as He will shortly, through my ministry, transform the bread and the wine we offer Him, into the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity, of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Like Fr. Mulcahy

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Whenever I ask my parents what they want for their birthday or Christmas, they usually say they don’t need anything.  There may be a few things that they might pick-up for themselves, but they’re usually not that communicative about what those things are.  And the things that I usually think of that they probably would enjoy, are a bit out of my price range for gifts. 

As we begin our five-week trek through John chapter 6 today, we start with Jesus feeding the 5,000 plus.  We heard a similar story in our first reading from the Second Book of Kings with the Prophet Elisha.  Elisha has twenty barley loaves for 100 people, and Jesus has five loaves and two fish for over 5,000 people.  When Philip says that they don’t have enough, Andrew replies that they only have a little, and certainly not enough for everyone.  But Jesus takes that little, and miraculously multiplies it so that everyone has enough, and, in fact, there are twelve wicker baskets left over.  God provides for His people, even when all they have is just a little gift.

I’m a pretty big fan of the TV show “M*A*S*H.”  And, as you might imagine, I identify a bit with Fr. Mulcahy.  But it goes beyond the fact that he’s a priest chaplain in the show, and I’m a priest and chaplain in real life.  Fr. Mulcahy is a little naïve, doesn’t get the big crowds for Sunday services, and doesn’t have much that is spectacular about him.  In one of the episodes, he has to compete against a great runner for a competition between two different units.  And even though the other runner is far superior, Fr. Mulcahy does not back down and runs his best race anyway.  I won’t spoil the episode for you by telling you what happens, in case you want to watch it.

I’m a bit like Fr. Mulcahy.  I’ve lived a fairly sheltered life.  People don’t generally look at me with the word “spectacular” on their mind (in fact, one of my great disappointments in life is how little time I have spent and spend on my own physical fitness).  I’ve got no great talents (one of my classmates has a special charism of healing).  I enjoy learning but I’m not a great student or teacher (one of my other classmates learns foreign languages with ease and has his doctorate).  I work hard at preaching, but I’m no Bishop Barron or Fulton Sheen, let alone St. John Chrysostom.  I’m just Fr. Anthony Strouse, with a few small talents from a small town, doing his best to lead people to God and run a parish.

But, like Fr. Mulcahy in “M*A*S*H,” I can honestly say that I try to give what little I have to God, and He uses them to bring about some good.  I know it’s God, because it’s far beyond what I could have ever done on my own.  God takes this pipsqueak of a man, with an average amount of small talents, and does great things, just like He did almost 2,000 years ago when He fed all those people.  There’s nothing spectacular about five loaves and two fish.  But God made it more than enough through Jesus.  

Maybe some of you are the brightest in your field, or the richest, or the strongest, or the most socially connected.  Praise God for those things and use them for His glory.  But if you’re like me, and don’t have much to offer the Lord, I would invite you today to give it to Him anyway.  How? you say.  Well, as you might have noticed in my three years here, I’m big on the liturgy, and celebrating it well.  And part of celebrating that well is for all the people at Mass to give Jesus everything, even the smallest thing, that has happened since you last came to Mass.  Just give it to Jesus.  Tell him about it in your prayer before Mass begins.  Visualize putting whatever it is you have with the bread and the wine that are brought forward.  And as you listen in silence to the Eucharistic Prayer I say, see the angels taking those small things and big things to God the Father in heaven, through Jesus Christ His Son, in the power of the Holy Spirit.  And then God will do something great with it.  I don’t know what it will be, but when we give our best gifts to God, no matter how small they are, He always receives them as the best gift from His children, and transforms us and the world by it.  

Maybe I’m wrong.  Maybe letting the liturgy transform us by offering ourselves to God the Father through Christ the Son in the power of the Holy Spirit won’t have a huge effect.  Maybe its just a cockamamie belief of mine that I picked up through years of study.  But I don’t think I am wrong on this.  And I think the Mass can transform us if we truly offer ourselves with the bread and the wine.  Now, it hasn’t made me a strong stud, I still don’t have the gifts that many of my brother priests do, and I’m certainly not a saint yet.  But I know it’s helping to change me, for the better, and helping me become the saint that God wants me to be.  

So maybe try it out yourselves, if you’re not already.  In these moments of silence after the homily, think of what you want to give God, no matter how insignificant you think it might be.  After all, if God can feed 5,000 plus with five loaves and two fish, imagine what He could do with you!

"With What Shall I Come Before the Lord?"

Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The study of Canon Law, the law of the Church, is one of the least popular disciplines for priests to study after they have been ordained.  Recently, Bishop Boyea appointed one of my good priest friends, Fr. David Fons, to study Canon Law in the University of St. Thomas in the City (more commonly referred to as the Angelicum) in Rome.  Bishop Boyea’s two other choices were either Fr. Gary or Fr. Todd Koenigsknecht, the twins from Fowler who were ordained a couple of years ago.  They were very happy when Bishop Boyea chose Fr. David.  I joked with Fr. David that he should tell Frs. Gary and Todd: “Someday, and that day may never come, I’ll call upon you to do a service for me,” quoting the famous line at the beginning of the movie “The Godfather.”

We don’t have to be in the mafia to want to do something kind for those who do something for us.  We hear about the Prophet Elisha who is taken care of by a woman of influence as she gives him room on the roof “with a bed, table, chair, and lamp.”  And without her asking, Elisha wants to do something for her to repay her generosity.  And he promises her that she will conceive a son with her husband, since she was childless and her husband was an older man.

Jesus Himself in our Gospel talks about how those who serve the servants of God will receive their reward: 

“Whoever receives a prophet because he is a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward, and whoever receives a righteous man because he is a righteous man will receive a righteous man’s reward.  And whoever gives only a cup of cold water to one of these little ones to drink because the little one is a disciple–amen, I say to you, he will surely not lose his reward.”

Now, this isn’t a homily about trying to butter Father Anthony up in order to get something in return.  I may call my bulletin article Don Antonio’s Dispatch, but I’m not Don Corleone.  You, my parishioners, my family, are very generous, but you’ll never hear me say, “Someday, and that day may never come, I’ll call upon you to do a service for me.”

If we really think about it, we have received everything from Jesus.  I dare you to think about one thing, other than your sins, that you have not received from God.  Your talents–from God; your family, spouse, and children–from God; your house–God gave you the talents that helped you find a job that paid you that helped you to get the house, so from God; this building–it was built by the generosity of our parishioners who went before us, and some still here, who paid for it with the money they made from the jobs they worked using the talents they received…you guess it, from God; your priest–some of you might be saying from the devil, but I was sent here by Bishop Boyea, who, when it comes to parish assignments, speaks for God.  Everything except our sin, which is when we try to do things on our own without God, is a gift to us from God.  We are in God’s debt.  There is no two ways about it.  We owe everything to God.  So how can we repay God?

One of the choral anthems played at my first Mass of Thanksgiving and at both my installations as pastor is based on Micah 6:6-8: 

With what shall I come before the Lord, and bow before God most high?  Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves a year old?  Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, with myriad streams of oil?  Shall I give my firstborn for my crime, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?  You have been told, O mortal, what is good, and what the Lord requires of you: Only to do justice and to love goodness, and to walk humbly with your God.

But Jesus, as He so often does, raises the stakes.  He says that we must give Him everything of who we are.  If we love even our family more than Jesus, then we are not worthy of the gifts He has given me.  Only if we give away our life to Him will we find it.

And in this Mass we have the opportunity to do exactly that, at least as a beginning to our week.  Every Mass we are invited to offer all of who we are–our joys, sorrows, excitements, fears, job, family, vacation, and all that has happened since the last time we went to Mass–and unite it with the bread and the wine that is offered to God and changed into the Body and Blood of Jesus.  I know I’ve said that before, but have we done that?  Have we really put ourselves into what is offered on the altar?  I can tell you that when I do that, especially if I have something heavy on my heart, then as I hold the host in my hands and say, “This is my Body,” and as I hold the chalice in my hands and say, “This is my Blood,” there is a great weight lifted from my shoulders and I almost want to cry because of the great gift of freedom that Jesus gives me as I give Him my all.  And then God transforms it and gives it back to me as something that no longer weighs me down, but that gives me life.  But it’s not just for the tough stuff; it also applies to our joys.  And then, having given God our all in the Mass, we are then much more likely to give Him our all during the week. 

You might think that this is just my shtick as a guy who studied the liturgy–the Mass and the Sacraments.  But I truly believe it.  Give your all to Jesus, because He has already given His all for you.  And He doesn’t want a favor or a service like a mafia don.  The only thing that Jesus wants the thing only you can provide: you.

From Pippen to St. Thomas

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

            One of my favorite movies is the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy.  While the purists may argue about the real value of the movies, I like them.  One of my favorite comedic dialogues from the Trilogy, is between Aragorn, Pippin, and Merry, as they’re going to Rivendell, the home of the Elves.  Pippin wants to stop for breakfast, but Aragorn tells them that they have to keep going, and besides, they’ve already had breakfast.  Pippen then says, “We’ve had one, yes.  But what about second breakfast?”  Merry chimes in, “Don’t think he knows about second breakfast, Pip.”  To which, Pippen replies, “What about elevensies?  Luncheon?  Afternoon tea?  Dinner?  Supper?”

            In the overall picture of destroying the One Ring and defeated Sauron, all those meals, as good as they are, were not as important.  There are greater goals which trump the goods of “nice, crispy bacon.”  The same can be said for our Gospel passage today.

            Today marks the beginning of a continuous reading of John 6, called the Bread of Life discourse, as we hear about the Multiplication of the Loaves.  The Multiplication itself was prefigured in God giving the Israelites manna in the dessert (though, as we’ll hear in the next few weeks, the people later thought it was Moses who gave them manna), as well as in our first reading, when Elisha fed one hundred people with only twenty barley loaves.

            But the Multiplication of the Loaves was not the goal.  The goal was the teaching on the Eucharist, a tough teaching indeed.  In fact, it was so tough, that most of Jesus’ disciples abandoned Him.  But we’ll hear about that in a few weeks.

            Still, the problem is that we can be more like Pippen than we’d like to admit.  The story of the food can distract us from the point of the miracle that Jesus performed.  And John is quite clear that Jesus is the agent, not the people.  John writes, “[Jesus] himself knew what he was going to do” and “Jesus…distributed [the loaves] to those who were reclining,” after he had first given thanks (in Greek eucharistesas…it sounds like Eucharist).  But, as will hear later, the people get stuck with the feeding, and they don’t understand the spiritual truth for which the miracle was meant to prepare the way.  And that spiritual truth was that Jesus was to give Himself as the Bread of Life for the people in the Eucharist, which is truly His Flesh, and the Wine of Salvation which is truly His Blood.

            Sadly, many Catholics today get stuck with the food, and don’t realize the truth.  Too many Catholics see bread and think…bread.  Or taste wine and think…wine.  Some surveys say that only 30% of Catholics believe that the bread and the wine, given by the people to the priest, to offer in their name to God, really becomes, for as long as it exists, the Body and Blood of Jesus.  And even if we didn’t have a scientific study, actions speak louder than words.    

            For example, I have often heard people say, “I prefer going to the Lutheran service, or the Evangelical service, because they have better music and better preaching.”  They might have better music (arguments can be made), and there are a great deal of priests that struggle with preaching (you may think you’re looking at one).  But what others don’t have is Jesus’ Body and Blood.  They may celebrate communion, but no Protestant theologian would ever say that they believe in Transubstantiation: that the substance of the bread and wine change into the substance of Jesus, that is, His Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity.  They might believe it becomes a symbol of Jesus’ Body and Blood, or even that it’s in the bread, with the bread, underneath the bread, and around the bread, what some call Consubstantiation, but that it remains, in essence only bread.  But, getting back to the point, it breaks my heart when people go to a service elsewhere and don’t go to Mass, because they’re missing out on union with Jesus through the Eucharist, a special union where we become one with Him in a way that cannot happen through any other means, as good as those other services may be.

            Or, when people drink coffee or eat food right before Mass starts, or chew gum, even during Mass itself!  The reason why the Church tells us to fast 1 hour before receiving communion is to prepare not only our souls, but also our bodies (since the two are integrally connected) to receive our Lord.  Practically, an hour before receiving communion is about 20 minutes before Mass, which is not that long.  Not fasting before the reception of Holy Communion can demonstrate a lack of understanding of what the Eucharist truly is.  We get stuck at the food part, and don’t consider the reality that what looks like bread and wine is not bread and wine, but Jesus.   

            If we truly believe that the Eucharist is the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ, then no other service, no matter how much we enjoy it, is ever the same, because we lack that intimate connection that comes only through the Divine Liturgy of the Mass.  If we know that we are going to become one with our Savior, then holding off on food or drink (except water and medicine), as long as it does not truly injure our health, is a way of saying that nothing matters more than Jesus, and that we will hunger and thirst for Him.  Even though it looks like bread and wine, let us not be deceived by our senses, but affirm with our faith that the One we receive is none other than Jesus Himself.  As the beautiful hymn Adoro Te, Devote by our parish patron, St. Thomas Aquinas, says about the Eucharist,

Seeing, touching, tasting are in thee deceived:

How? says trusty hearing that shall be believed;

What God’s Son has told me, take for truth I do;

Truth himself speaks truly or there’s nothing true.