Verso l'alto! The Exercise of the Gospel

Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time
    An object at rest stays at rest.  This is Newton’s first law of motion.  And it’s not only true for things.  It’s true for people.  A resting person doesn’t like to have to get active if at all possible.  A few years ago I saw an ad for a belt that you put around your abs with little electrodes that shock you.  The idea is that the electrodes would simulate exercise, and would strengthen your abs so you can get that six-pack look, rather than the pony keg that is all too common.  Or I recently saw a reel that said if you just do this stretch for 30 days in a row, you will lose that beer belly that is so hard to shrink.  I think if we spent as much time actually working on getting fitter as we do finding lazy ways to get fitter, we might actually see some changes.
    But the struggle is real.  Real change doesn’t happen on accident or without effort.  And our readings today remind us of that fact.  It would be nice if following Jesus meant everything goes well for you.  But we all know that isn’t the case.  In fact, the more we follow God, the harder some things seem to become.
    Take Jeremiah in our first reading.  God gave Jeremiah some tough messages to deliver.  Jeremiah told the people they needed to abandon their false gods and their injustice, or else the temple would be destroyed and they would be exiled.  What does Jeremiah get for this?  He’s thrown into a mostly-dry well, but with mud at the bottom, so he starts sinking in.  They do pull him out, but then Jeremiah is put under house arrest, until all that he says comes true.  And even after all that he prophesies happens, the people still don’t listen to Jeremiah.
    And in our Gospel, Jesus says that following Him will not always cause rainbows and lollipops.  Families will divide over following Christ.  Elsewhere He promises that those who follow Him will have to take up their cross each day, which meant real and humiliating suffering for the Gospel.  Following Jesus will not always be easy because it means putting to death all that is fallen in us, and all that is fallen in us doesn’t want to die; it fights for its existence.
    This does not mean we can go picking fights with family, nor that we should blithely say difficult things that people don’t want to hear.  Our focus should be on following God, no matter what the costs, and let the consequences fall where they will.  Our goal is to do what God wants in all circumstances.  
    And that takes perseverance.  The Letter to the Hebrews talks about continuing to run the race.  Our race is not a sprint; it’s a marathon.  Or, to use the popular phrase from the Disney movie, “Finding Nemo,” “Just keep swimming.”
    But we’re not in this alone.  Christ never calls us to something without giving us the grace to get through it.  The Sacraments of Baptism and Confirmation give us an indelible mark, which not only claims us for God, but gives us a stream of graces every day so that we can believe in God (Baptism) and share the Gospel (Confirmation).  Likewise, receiving the Eucharist in a state of grace each Sunday is so important because it is our spiritual nourishment which gives us the spiritual nutrition we need to run the race well.  It’s like the Elven lembas bread from Lord of the Rings that provides super substantial strength to keep going.  That is one reason why the Church has a precept that you have to go to Mass every Sunday and Holyday under pain of mortal sin, unless your sick or more than 30 minutes away from a church: we cannot follow Christ as He wants without the Eucharist.  To absent ourselves from Mass means that we spiritually starve ourselves.
    And, as the Letter to the Hebrews reminds us, we also have the saints to encourage us onward, the “great…cloud of witnesses,” that show us what it means to persevere in the faith even in the midst of struggles.  In a few weeks, Pope Leo will canonize Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati, who was a young man and a Third Order Dominican who lived the Beatitudes in a real way in the early 20th century.  While from a rich family, he dedicated his life to serving the poor in Turin, Italy, where he grew up.  He ended up dying of polio at the age of 24.  His parents expected many noble people of Turin to come to help them mourn their son, but they were shocked when they saw the streets lined with thousands of mourners who were the poor that he had served on the streets, a service he did not trumpet to his family.

Bl. Pier Griogio Frassati

    Bl. Pier Giorgio especially had two phrases that are memorable, though one is longer and I had to look up to get it exactly right.  The first and easiest to remember is: “Verso l’alto!” or “To the heights!”  Bl. Pier Giorgio was a mountain climber, no easy task, but he encouraged everyone to climb to heaven by engaging their faith, not just letting it be a passive part of their lives.  The second is a bit longer, but also inspiring: “To live without faith, without a patrimony to defend, without a steady struggle for truth, that is not living but existing.”  
    Just like when it comes to exercising our bodies, many find it easier just to veg on the couch and hope that they will get fitter through new inventions and the least amount of work as possible.  But that is not living, that is just existing.  God has given us faith, has given us a patrimony to defend, has asked us to struggle steadily for the truth.  That is the life God calls us to live, a heroic life, a life lived to the heights, verso l’alto.  God grant that we may engage, even through the struggle is real, and not just remain at rest because it’s easy.  Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati, pray for us!! 

Patience with Us and Others

Resumed 5th Sunday after Epiphany
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  I am a perfectionist.  I strive always (even if not always wholeheartedly) to do tasks correctly, without any errors.  In some ways it’s virtuous, but in other ways it is a thorn in my side.  But every human person, whether a perfectionist or not, desires perfection.  That desire for the perfect is really a desire for God, implanted in our soul.  It is, as St. Augustine of Hippo says, that our hearts are restless until they rest in the perfection of God.
    But if this is so, why the reality that the Lord’s parable points to today?  Why does God allow weeds to grow up among the wheat?  Why not deal with evil as it comes up, when it is smaller, rather than waiting until the end to deal with it?
    St. Peter gives us some guidance in his second epistle.  He writes about how some are wondering if Christ ever will return, because it’s not happening as quickly as they would like.  The first pontiff responds, “The Lord does not delay his promise, as some regard ‘delay,’ but he is patient with you, not wishing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance.”  In the mysterious plan of God, weeds can become wheat.  The smallest opening to God’s grace can allow one to move from being a sinner on the highway to hell to a saint climbing the stairway to heaven.  If, by the power of God’s grace, bread can become the Body of Christ, then it should not surprise us that, by the power of God’s grace, a limb separated from the Mystical Body of Christ, the Church, can be restored to that perfect society.  So God allows the wicked chances to repent.

    But we should not only look outside at the world and see weeds sown amongst wheat.  We should not only look to the Mystical Body of Christ, which is a corpus permixtum, a body mixed with saints and sinners, as St. Augustine says in his work, The City of God.  But we should also look to ourselves and our own soul, which is itself a corpus permixtum, a mixture of good and evil.
    We can say with St. Paul, “I do not do what I want, but I do what I hate….I do not do the good I want, but I do the evil I do not want.”  We are not always, as St. Paul encourages us to be, “holy,” or acting with “heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving on another.”  We are not always ruled by the peace of Christ; we are not always thankful to God or to others.  Our lives are not always governed by the Word of God.
    And yet, God is patient with us.  He gives us time to repent.  He gives us time to change our ways to become more like His.  He always gives us sufficient grace to choose the good, but our wills do not always see the benefit of living according to Christ’s rule for our life, though it be an easy yoke, and a burden that is light.
    And that patience even extends after we die.  Purgatory is a dogma of the Church.  It is part of the reality of the afterlife.  And it demonstrates God’s mercy for us, who are mixed fields.  Now, to be sure, if some of the types of weeds in our soul are deadly, then they cannot enter, as we hear from the Apocalypse of St. John: “Then the angel showed me the river of life-giving water…On either side of the river grew the tree of life that produces fruit twelve times a year, once each month; the leaves of the trees serve as medicine for the nations.  Nothing accursed will be found there anymore.”  If we die in a state of mortal sin, we cannot go to Purgatory or Heaven.  The Catechism of the Catholic Church states in paragraph 1035 states, “Immediately after death the souls of those who die in a state of mortal sin descend to hell.” 
    But should we not have deadly weeds in our souls, but smaller venial weeds, God is patient with us and allows those “who die in God’s grace and friendship, but [who are] still imperfectly purified…[to] undergo purification, so as to achieve the holiness necessary to enter the joy of heaven.”  He does not exclude us from the Beatific Vision if, after our life, we have not achieved the perfection proper to our nature.  As long as we have not made a conscious choice to reject Him through a mortal sin, God can extend His patience to us even after we die, so that we can be united to Him for eternity in heaven. 
    I have said this before, but it’s worth repeating: the fact that Purgatory exists as an example of God’s patience and mercy should not make us aim for Purgatory.  Go to the heights, as Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati says, and aim for heaven.  Because at least if you don’t quite make it, you can still make it to Purgatory.  But if you don’t quite make Purgatory, there’s no consolation prize, but only wailing and gnashing of teeth. 

Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati

    And besides God’s patience spurring us on to utilize the opportunities for growth in holiness for ourselves so that we can go to heaven, God also invites us to be patient with others.  If God is patient with us, so we should extend that patience to others.  And that only happens if we love others.  How many times does a parent put up with those small, but frequent, bad decisions of their children (or sometimes even larger bad decisions as they go through adolescence)?  They discipline their children to help them to know the consequences of doing what is wrong, but they don’t throw them out on the street after the first time they hit a sibling, tell a lie, or break curfew.  Because of the love that parents has for their children, they endure multiple bad decisions and keep working to achieve the desired good behavior.  God does the same for us because of His great love for us.  We, too, are called to love with God’s love, which we call charity, as best as we can, not only with our family members, but even to those whom we do not know.  Patience is, as my spiritual director has told and tells me, and exercise of love for the other.
    The desire for perfection is good.  God calls us to be perfect, that is, to follow His will in our lives according to our human nature.  And our desire for the perfect comes from our desire for God, who is the perfect source of all goodness.  Still, when we see a lack of perfection, whether it be from others or in ourselves, we should not despair, nor should we go on Sherman’s march to the sea, destroying everything along the way.  The Lord invites us today to have patience, to mimic His own patience with us, because change can happen; weeds can become wheat; any sinner can become a saint.  And sometimes the sinner just needs a little more time to repent.  God is patient with us; be patient with others, so that we, and they, may enjoy the eternal peace of heaven, where God reigns eternally: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

Saints Like Us

 Twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time
 

St. Teresa of Calcutta

   In 2006 when I was studying in Rome on a study abroad, I was required to work with the Missionaries of Charity, the order that St. Teresa of Calcutta founded, each month at a shelter where they fed the hungry and housed the homeless.  Before we started to work with them, though, a priest from Minnesota, who was our chaplain for the study abroad program, who had worked with Mother Teresa, told us about her.  Most of what I heard was not surprising: her love for the poor, her encounter with Jesus who told her, “I thirst,” and how she was to quench Jesus’ thirst through her care for the poorest of the poor.  But he also mentioned that, for most of her adult life, she didn’t receive any good feelings in prayer, what we call consolations.  This was a huge shock for me!  How could someone so holy not feel good about praying!  Not long after my study abroad, a book came out called Come, Be My Light, which detailed how Mother Teresa, after her encounter with Jesus to found the Missionaries of Charity, rarely had any experience that God was even present, let alone good feelings in prayer.
    When we think of the saints, we often think of the finished product.  We think of the incredible stories that are told of the saints doing marvelous things.  We often gloss over the struggles and the ups and downs that they had in their life, even while trying to be a saint.  But throughout the Scriptures, and throughout the stories of the saints, we see people who were very much like we are, prone to the same temptations, who, the vast majority of the time, chose God over self, but who, nonetheless, sometimes struggled.
    Our Gospel today is the perfect example of the similarity of the saints to us.  We hear St. Mark’s version of the commission of St. Peter to be the first pope.  We have heard the story before: Jesus asks His Apostles who others say that He is, and they give the common understanding at the time.  Some say that Jesus is John the Baptist back from the dead.  Others say that Jesus is Elijah, or another one of the prophets.  But then Jesus puts the question to them, and St. Peter, not on his own, but by the grace of God, proclaims that Jesus is the Christ, in Aramaic he would have said something like messhichah, in English we say Messiah.  Matthew’s account is the one with which we are more familiar, and fills out that, after that proclamation, Jesus tells Peter that Jesus will build His Church on Peter, and the gates of hell will not prevail against it, and gives Peter the keys to the Kingdom of Heaven.  This is the great moment that we are used to encountering with the saints!  
    But then, Jesus tells the Apostles that He will suffer, be rejected, and be killed, but then rise on the third day.  St. Peter takes Jesus aside to tell him that this is not what should happen.  Jesus gathers all the Apostles, and rebukes Peter in the midst of them, and calls Peter, the one upon whom Jesus had just said He will build His Church, Satan.  This is not the image of our first pope upon which we like to dwell, or that we are used to sharing with others.  But St. Mark (like St. Matthew) does not hide it, or make Peter seem better than he is.  In fact, by ancient tradition, St. Peter helped St. Mark compose this account of the Gospel, so St. Peter doesn’t even hide his failure.
    The saints were people just like ourselves.  It would be easy to think of them as people who had superpowers, like the Avengers, because we do hear many amazing stories of how they witnessed their faith in word and deed.  But superheroes are easy to honor, but easy to write-off, because they are not like us.  I can excuse myself for not doing the things Captain America does because I didn’t get an injection that increased my muscle mass (despite my hopes that the COVID vaccine would do exactly that!).  I don’t worry about not doing what Captain America does because he and I are so different.
    But the saints are not different than we are.  They are exactly the same, except they end up responding to God’s grace, whereas we often reject those same graces.  But still, they don’t have any super-human advantages that we don’t have.  They are exactly like us.  They, though, did what Jesus said: they denied themselves, took up their crosses, and followed Jesus, in a myriad of different ways.  Some, like St. Boniface, were great missionaries.  Some, like St. Elizabeth Ann Seton, taught in schools and founded religious orders.  Some, like Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati, quietly helped the poor.  Some, like Sts. Louis and Zelie, the parents of St. Thérèse, became saints as parents.  And the list goes on and on.  They had some different challenges, based upon the times in which they lived, but they had the same kinds of temptations that we have.

Sts. Louis & Zelie

Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati

    

Living as a saint always takes work; it doesn’t happen through osmosis or simply by letting each day pass by as normal.  To be a saint means that we “set [our] face like flint” to the challenges that approach us each day, “knowing that we shall not be put to shame,” as we heard in our first reading.  When we choose to follow God, we choose to take up our cross, our death, but God sustains us, and will always raise us up to new life; He will never abandon us, even if the whole world does.  But it’s possible, and the saints show us, through their ups and downs. that if we follow Christ, even if we do not do it perfectly (as St. Peter didn’t do it perfectly), if we remain faithful to God and do everything we can to follow Him, then we can be the saints that we are all called to be, just like St. Peter and St. Teresa of Calcutta. 

Both...And Not Either...Or

Thirty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time

One of the first things Bishop Boyea was asked in 2008 when he was introduced as the newest Bishop of Lansing, and one of the things that priests are often asked in their first weekend as they begin at a new parish is the four word question: Michigan or Michigan State?

We often tend to put things into an “either…or” category.  In academia we all this a dichotomy, a choice between two different things.  In our politics: Republican or Democrat; in our fountain drinks: Pepsi or Coke; in our schools: Catholic or public; in our housing choice: rent or own; in our cars and beer: domestic or foreign.  Maybe it’s easier for our mind to operate this way, but we tend to put people in one of two camps.

So today, given our predilection for dichotomies, perhaps we think of it as love of God, or love of neighbor.  We probably don’t think of it that way, exactly, but we tend to focus on one, and perhaps we don’t focus on the other.  Maybe we like going to church, we love a beautiful liturgy, we love learning about our faith; or we like serving the poor, working at food pantries, promoting social justice.  

But to the scribe who comes up to Jesus and asks him the first of all the commandments, Jesus doesn’t try to pigeon-hole His answer into simply one or the other.  He says both love of God and love of neighbor.  Love of God is from the first reading we heard today in the Book of Deuteronomy.  Love of neighbor as oneself is from the Book of Leviticus.  Both are the most important commandments.  Both are part and parcel of following Jesus.

One could rightly point out that serving God is more important than anything else.  Part of what is radical in Jesus is that He demands total obedience, even above family, which only God could claim.  Being a do-gooder is not the same as being a disciple.  There are people who serve the poor, and yet reject God, and while I’m not the judge, rejecting God on this earth, especially in a purposeful way, is probably more on the road to Hell than Heaven.

But still, St. John, in his first Letter, says that we cannot serve the God that we don’t see, if we do not serve our neighbor (he uses the word brother) that we do see.  Being a philanthropist does not assure us of heaven.  But ignoring Jesus in the least of His brothers and sisters (to paraphrase Matthew 25) is also not helpful in us receiving eternal salvation.  St. John Chrysostom, one of the saints in our icons, says it this way: 

Do you want to honor Christ’s body?  Then do not scorn him in his nakedness, nor honor him here in the church with silken garments while neglecting him outside where he is cold and naked.  For he who said: This is my body, and made it so by his words, also said: You saw me hungry and did not feed me, and inasmuch as you did not do it for one of these, the least of my brothers, you did not do it for me.

Jesus instructs us of the great Catholic principle: both…and.  Both love of God and love of neighbor, not either or.

Most people focus on one or the other, love of God or love of neighbor.  So today Jesus challenges us to make sure that a focus on one does not mean the exclusion of the other.  Do you love worshipping God here in the church, being formed by the Mass and by our faith formation groups, learning more and more about what God has revealed through Scripture and Tradition?  Wonderful!  But remember: those clothes that you never wear in your closet or dresser: those belong to the poor; they have a right to them.

Do you love being with people and bringing them the love of God through your actions?  Do you feed them, clothe them, work for justice on their part?  Wonderful!  But if you skip worshipping God at Sunday Mass to serve the poor, then you are making an idol of the poor and worshipping them rather than God.

St. Theresa of Calcutta, Mother Theresa, is an embodiment of both…and.  Yes, most of her day was spent working with the poor, the outcast, and the dying.  But she never missed her opportunities for daily Mass and a Holy Hour of Adoration in front of the Blessed Sacrament.  That was the most important part of her day, and it gave her the strength to serve the poor, the outcast, and the dying.

Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati is another embodiment of both…and.  He loved being outdoors, enjoying the beauty of God’s creation, being sustained by the Eucharist in Mass, but he secretly did work with the poor, contracting and dying of polio that was so prevalent among the poor he served.  And his secret was so well kept, that his rich parents had no idea who all the people were who attended his funeral, though the poor knew Pier Giorgio as a person who cared for them and their needs.  

Life is too complicated to be simply divided into two things.  Our faith is too rich to be simply divided into two things.  It’s not Scripture or Tradition, it’s both Scripture and Tradition; it’s not faith or reason, it’s both faith and reason; it’s not Word or Sacrament, it’s both Word and Sacrament; it’s not love of God or love of neighbor, it’s both love of God and love of neighbor.

Saintly Instructors

Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

            Catholics are not generally known for their knowledge of Scripture.  This is particularly sad because the entire New Testament was written by Catholics, guided by the Holy Spirit.  But still, Catholics do not do well in Bible memorization compared with our Protestant brothers and sisters. 

Still, if there’s one passage from Scripture that every Catholic knows, it is certainly the passage from today’s Gospel: “‘You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind…[and] you shall love your neighbor as yourself.’”  Not a bad quote to have memorized, as “‘the whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments.’”

But, we have to admit, the Law of Love, as it has come to be known, is pretty broad.  It lacks a certain amount of details.  What if I think that it’s perfectly fine, even if I’m not sick or homebound, to sit in my back yard all day Sunday, admiring God’s beautiful creation, but never going to Mass?  Is that loving God with my whole heart, soul, and mind?  Some would certainly say so, though probably not those who are here, because they’re probably outside, in their back yards, admiring God’s creation instead of coming to Mass.  But who’s to say?  Or what if I think that it’s quite loving to steal a little bit of money on an irregular basis, because I need the money more, and my large company won’t really miss it; they have enough profit without this little bit of cash?  Is that loving my neighbor as myself? 

Certainly, if this were the only thing Jesus had said, then we could rightfully critique his vagueness.  But, of course, we have the rest of Scripture which helps us to know exactly what is the loving thing.  We hear a little bit about that in the Book of Exodus, as God tells us that loving our neighbor means not oppressing the foreigners, widows, or orphans, because their cries to God are precious and are always heard, and God will repay.  We certainly also have the Church, the Body of Christ, which teaches with Jesus’ authority on earth as to what we should or should not be doing, believing, etc.  It is the Church’s particular mission to guide Her children, that is, us, into a life of truth and holiness.  And in order to do this effectively and without error in matters of faith and morals, Christ gives a special charism, a special gift, to His Church, so that she never errs in faith or morals so that we can have a true compass to help us to know what exactly it means to love God and love our neighbor.

But another guide comes from our second reading.  St. Paul states that the Thessalonians became imitators of him and of the Lord.  St. Paul in his first letter to the Corinthians also said, “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ.”  St. Paul puts himself out there as a model to be followed, because he is modeling his life on Jesus.

We have tons of options for role models today.  We have American Idols, athletes, actors and actresses, musicians, family members, and many others.  And while I would certainly encourage us to learn follow the example of our secular role models when they are worth following (when they are living according to the Gospel), as Catholics we have family members, long since dead in many cases, who say to us by their deeds, if not by their words, “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ.”

St. Monica & St. Augustine

These role models that we should have, these Catholic ancestors of ours, are the saints.  They are the true role models, the people that we should truly be following.  Many years ago it was “Christian cool” to have a bracelet that said WWJD—What Would Jesus Do?  But, as Catholics, we could have just as easily had bracelets that said WWMD—What Would Mary Do? or WWPD—What Would Peter Do? and those are only two saints.  Each day of the year the Church puts before us a saint: some we celebrate at Mass, others are more local saints and never get big celebrations.  But all of them help us to know what it means to love God and love our neighbor. 

St. Thérèse

      Are you a mother or grandmother whose children have fallen away from the faith and lived not such a holy life?  Look to St. Monica, who won the conversion of her son, St. Augustine, by her tears after Augustine had wondered into just about every main heresy, had a child or two out of wedlock, and was far away from home for a while.  Are you a young man who loves adventure and the outdoors?  Look to Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati, who was secretly very generous to the poor, and who loved to explore God’s beautiful creation (while still attending Mass on Sundays), and whose famous phrase “Verso l’alto” means to climb towards the top, to be the best not only in competition, but especially in love of God and of neighbor.  Are you daddy’s little princess?  Look to St. Thérèse, who was her dad’s princess, and knew that, although she could never do big things in her life, she still wanted to do small things with great love.

Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati

The Church is full of the example of saints who show us in their own circumstances how to love God and love our neighbor, according to their state in life: whether priest, deacon, wife, husband, king, queen, poor person, wild person, religious, child, you name it.  They are models to us of a life of holiness, sometimes after very sinful parts of their life.  The more we read about the lives of the saints, the more we will understand in any given situation what it means to truly love God and truly love our neighbor as ourselves because we will have learned how saints have loved in similar circumstances.  And then, if we love God and love our neighbor, then maybe others, centuries from now, will look to us for help from heaven, to show them what it means to love God with our whole heart, soul, and mind, and to love our neighbors as ourselves.  All holy men and women of God, pray for us!!