Following Christ May Not be Easy

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

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

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

Walking through Pagan Lands

Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  By now we’re probably all aware of the debacle that was the opening ceremonies of the Paris Olympics.  I didn’t watch it (I’m honestly not that big of an Olympics fan).  And I’m sure there were some nice parts to it.  However, the story quickly became how the opening ceremonies mocked Christianity by mimicking da Vinci’s “The Last Supper” with drag queens, transitioning to a mostly-naked man depicting Dionysius, the pagan god of revelry and debauchery.

    Bishop Barron had some good commentary on the whole thing, including the so-called apology after the fact.  And bishops from across the United States and the world have condemned this unnecessary antagonism towards Christianity, some noting that no such thing would have every been done concerning Mohammed or the Buddha.  I’ll let those commentaries speak for themselves.
    What struck me is how we really do live in pagan times.  I’m sure I knew this subconsciously, but the opening ceremonies certainly cemented it in my mind.  None of us lived during the first few centuries of Catholicism, before the Emperor Constantine legalized it in the early fourth century, but I doubt it was much different from what we saw on our screens (there’s just an easier way to share the depravity now with television and social media).
    So what do we do?  How do we live our lives in a post-christendom age?  I would suggest our Gospel gives us a clue.  The pagan world is like the man who was deaf and mute.  It is a world that is alive, but is not as it is supposed to be.  It lacks the ability to live up to its fullest potential.  The Decapolis was a group of ten city-states not far from the Sea of Galilee that had some Jewish population, but was mostly pagan.  The Lord, though his primary mission was to the lost sheep of the house of Israel, walked through a thoroughly pagan territory (this is one example; the other famous is His journey where He encountered the Gerasene demoniac).  So Christ then, like us today, walked through pagan lands.
    What did Christ do?  He opened the deaf and mute man’s ears and loosened his tongue.  In this way, the man could then hear the Gospel and share it.  Now, at this point, I do have to address the admonition that Christ gave the man who He healed to tell no one.  Mark’s Gospel is full of these warnings not to speak about what the Redeemer had done.  Why?  Part of St. Mark’s point, I believe, is that the Lord wants belief through faith.  The miracles He works demonstrates who He is, but they cannot take the place of faith.  And so He wants to draw the people to true and abiding faith in Himself as the Son of God, not just amazement and the miracles.  
    But back to the man, who, in some sense, represents paganism.  He needs someone to open his ears and to allow him to speak.  And not just speak anything, but speak the truth.  Paganism, a rejection of the true God, struggles to hear what is true and speak what is true.  It has some truth (think of Aristotle, Plato, Socrates, for example), but that truth is muddled in with so much error.  Only when Christ come can the truth that the pagan world recognized be purified so that it doesn’t lead others astray (think of the Christianization of Plato and Aristotle by St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas, respectively, for example).  
    So, our role, as little christs, little anointed ones, sealed with the Holy Spirit to proclaim the Gospel, is to go to paganism and open their ears to the truth so that their lips can proclaim the Gospels.  Our mission is to take the water of baptism and apply it to paganism as we cry out to God and say Ephpheta, that is, be opened.  This is done, not by force, but by the witness of a life lived in fidelity to what Christ has taught, and sharing the reason for our hope.  That is how the Christians of the first few centuries secretly and very successfully converted much of Roman society, which was itself marked by polarization between the rich and poor, the increased stretching of the Roman military apparatus across the known world, and the licentiousness of those who had power and money (sound familiar?).  
    The early Catholics were known for not discriminating between Jew and non-Jew (Gentile was the word used, also sometimes Greek).  They didn’t practice enslavement.  They didn’t consider women and children property, but equal sharers in the new life that Christ won by His Passion, Death, and Resurrection.  This is what St. Paul meant when he wrote to the Galatians, “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free person, there is not male and female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”  He wasn’t talking about gender identity or power struggles.  He was talking about how everyone was welcome to follow Christ, on Christ’s terms, and that the most important identity was that of a disciple.  In our invitations to others, we should have the same approach–invite everyone, regardless of race, religion, gender, socio-economic status, etc.–to follow Christ as He instructs us.
    Early Catholics drew people in by the way that they were happier because they didn’t worry about the power struggles, and the never-ending pursuit of riches.  An ancient Christian apologetic letter called The Epistle of Diognetus, showing how Catholics were not subversive but followed a higher law, wrote that Catholics “share their food by not their wives.”  They care for the poor, they exercise hospitality, but they do not share the perverse Roman sexual mores.  We, too, can live in such a way that we care for the poor, we show kindness to others, and exercise chastity and modesty in our relationships with others.  
    This was the way that pagan Rome became Christendom (albeit over centuries).  This was the way that the Church moved from being a bunch of small communities of maybe 30-50 people to metropolises of Catholic life and culture.  It worked then, and I believe it will work now.  We may not have the power we used to; we may not be able to keep public debauchery and indecency at bay anymore; but we can witness to Christ and the freedom and joy that come from living the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit, live and reign for ever and ever.  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.