Changing our World

Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time/Third Sunday after Pentecost
    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen].  I doubt anyone would argue that the world is not as good as it used to be.  In my own life time (I was born in 1983), the world seems to have become more violent, more antagonistic, less concerned about one’s neighbor.  Certainly, the world wasn’t perfect in my youth.  And yet we have made some amazing strides in protecting innocent babies in the womb.  In 1983, the rate of abortions was 28 per 1,000 women.  In 2023 it was 15.9 per 1,000.  The US was involved in wars and was the victim of terrorist attacks even in the 80s and 90s.  But it seemed less prevalent, less sustained.  While parents still had to be careful in protecting their children in public, I can remember riding my bicycle to school in 5th and 6th grade, traveling the 4.5 miles each way without worrying that some creep would pick me up and traffic me.
    What changed?  There are too many factors to create an exhaustive list, but certainly one thing that has changed is how Catholics participate in their faith.  There are even factors within this factor.  Most didn’t know it at the time, but the Church was suffering through a sexual abuse crisis that certainly turned a number of people away from living their faith.  Catholic schools had teachers who openly opposed Catholic teaching, and CCD didn’t so much mean the Confraternity of Catholic Doctrine as Cut, Color, and Draw.  Catholics didn’t know their faith and were settling for dribble, not only in the classroom, but also liturgically, where sisters would dress up in leotards and prance up the aisle at Mass with streamers.  In the early 1980s, Catholic weekly Mass attendance was in the mid-30% range.  By 2023, again with numerous drivers of this stat, weekly Mass attendance had dropped to somewhere around 20%.  

    Doesn’t everyone feel good on this Sunday morning?  Probably not the most uplifting start to a homily.  But do we just mope around and bemoan the bad numbers?  What can we do to change, not only our Church, but also the world?  To quote King Théoden of Rohan from The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers: “What can men do against such reckless hate?”  
    In order to change the world, we need committed, serious Catholics.  What changed the Roman Empire from a greedy, violent, debaucherous society into a place where basilicas could be built, universities could develop, and peace could generally exist (though, to be honest, no time in Church history has ever been perfect)?  Committed, serious Catholics who lived in the way Christ taught them and shared that way of life with others.  In the Gospel of Matthew [that we heard today] Christ not only chooses His twelve Apostles who will lead His Church, but says that, “‘The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few; so ask the master of the harvest to send out laborers for his harvest.’”  Christ wants more people to share the Gospel and to live the Gospel so that all can come to salvation.  There are never enough; we always need more.  You are the ones Christ wants to share the Gospel.  Not just me as a priest.  Not just professional missionaries in remote parts of the world.  Christ wants us all to work at His harvest of collecting souls, souls who know that this life is not as it should be and who seek happiness but do not find it in power, fame, or money.  Without cost we have received the Gospel; without cost we are to give the Gospel.

    And I know this is a change.  We didn’t know it at the time, but the cultural Catholicism that had pervaded the Church for decades in the United State, and probably for centuries before that in Europe was fading.  And now, you have to choose to be Catholic and live according to the teachings of Christ and His Church; it doesn’t happen without some effort and struggle.  No longer do we just have kids and make sure they’re baptized.  We have to raise them in the faith purposefully, and invite others to join the faith through word and deed.  In the Gospel of Luke [that we heard today], our Lord talks about how we should search out the one lost sheep, rather than be content with the ninety-nine who are safe.  He talks about how we should seek out the lost coin, upturning everything to find it.  Do we have that approach to living our faith and sharing our faith?
    We traditionally talk about Confirmation making one a soldier of Christ.  It would be odd for a soldier not to fight when the battle is right in front of him.  We should approach non-believers as the lost sheep or a lost coin.  Now, this doesn’t mean we need to be weird or creepy about sharing the Gospel.  But it does mean we do our best to live in a way that others notice the difference following Christ makes in our life.  And when we have opportunities, like something very good that happened to someone, or even something bad that happened to someone, we should be ready, as St. Peter says in his first epistle, to give a reason for our hope in Christ.  I work with Troopers who don’t always believe, and even some who never have practiced a religion.  It’s not every day, but there are times when they ask me about why I believe what I do.  They’re not looking for a doctoral dissertation, but just the basics, that every Catholic should know.  And if you don’t know, don’t be afraid to tell them that you’ll find out, or maybe even find out together over coffee or a beer or bourbon.  
    What will change the world to be a better place to raise a family, to work, to recreate, and generally to live?  People who follow Christ, who provides the key not only to happiness in the next life, but even joy in this life.  We may not always see the change, but by understanding our faith and by living our faith, we can change the world.  The harvest is abundant, but those who are willing to seek out the lost sheep are few.  Tell the Lord that you’re ready to work in His field and find the lost sheep that He wants you to find and bring back to good pastures.  Be the soldier of Christ God called you to be through Confirmation.  “Go and announce the Gospel of the Lord” [who with the Father and the Holy Spirit is God, for ever and ever.  Amen].

The Generosity of the Sower

Sexagesima
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Conservation of energy: in the world of physics and chemistry, this law states that the total energy of an isolated system remains constant and is conserved over time.  In my world it means that I want the least amount of work for the greatest amount of results.  I don’t want to work any harder than I have to work.  Whatever effort I put in should yield some positive result. 

    God does not seem to operate that way, as Christ tells us in the parable.  We have a farmer who has seeds, from which he expects some sort of yield of crops.  But he’s sowing seed on the road, and on rocky soil, and among thorns, and finally, among good soil.  What a waste!  Any simple person trying to plant grass would know that if you throw seed on the road, it will get trampled upon or eaten by birds; if you throw seed on rocks it won’t have enough place to expand its roots and gain nutrients; if you throw seed among thorns it won’t grow above the thorns.  Here is the farmer putting all this work in when it, most likely, will not yield any results.  And remember that, in our Lord’s day, you couldn’t simply go to Home Depot and pick up a pack of seeds.  The seeds you had were likely from the harvest the year before.  You were working with a limited quantity.
    Most often when I’m preaching about this Gospel, I focus on the type of soil that our souls are.  And it can yield real spiritual fruit to meditate on how open we are to receiving the word of God and letting it take root in our lives.  But today I want to focus on the farmer, and how it reveals to us how God operates and, therefore, how God wants us to operate.
    God is wasteful when it comes to His Word.  He does not scrimp and save.  He shares His Word in ways that otherwise would make no sense.  And why?  Because, as St. Paul tells us in his epistle to St. Timothy, God desires all men to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth.  God shares His Word with those who probably will not receive it, but just in case they can, He sows those seeds anyway.  And, unlike soil, people can change.  Roads and rocks and thorns can become good soil.  So God thinks nothing of scarcity of resources, but shares His life with everyone, in the hopes that something will bear fruit.
    And we see this in other parables, too.  In the parable of the lost sheep, the shepherd leaves behind the 99 sheep who are doing just fine in order to find the 1 who is lost.  No shepherd in his right mind would do this.  The math doesn’t make sense, unless, of course, you are the lost sheep whom the Good Shepherd finds.  In the parable about the lost coin, the woman tears her house apart looking for that one coin, and on finding it throws a party, which probably would cost more than that coin.  In the parable about the lost son, more commonly known as the Prodigal, or Wasteful, Son, no father with any sense would have welcomed back a son who told him to drop dead and give him his share of the inheritance now, then wasted it on loose living, and then returns to live as a servant.  But the father runs out to meet his son, and throws a party at his return.  In all these parables, God does what in earthly calculations seems inconceivable.  He is generous to the point of absurdity. 
    This would be too good to be true, if not for the fact that the description of the Father, the First Person of the Blessed Trinity, comes to us from the Son, the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity.  When Truth Incarnate tells you something, you can take it to the bank.
    But the parables are not meant only to give us the warm fuzzies about how God acts.  If we are truly disciples of the Lord, and the Lord reveals to us the Father, then we are called to act as Christ depicts the Father in each of these parables.  We are called to be pazzo d’amore, as St. Catherine of Siena says, crazy in love.  When a person is in love, a new logic takes over, and the love of the beloved becomes the most important. 
    So with our faith and work at evangelization: how do we spread God’s word and God’s grace?  Are we penny-pinchers, very careful with whom we share the Word?  Or are we generous, even to the point of wastefulness, with trying to gain others for Christ?

Fr. Gerard Timoner, OP

    I saw a talk from the Master of the Order of Preachers, Fr. Gerard Timoner, and I can’t even give you the exact context or date, but it fits well here.  He is addressing Dominicans, and especially their charism to preach.  But he uses two examples of those who have care for others in the Gospel: shepherds and fishermen.  To paraphrase and summarize, he talks about how shepherds are those who care for what is already there.  Their responsibility is to make sure that the sheep are safe from the wolves, and even to go after lost sheep when they wander away.  A shepherd has to make sure the sheep are led to good pastures.  It is, in some sense, more static.  A fisherman, instead, has nothing to guard.  He has to go fishing.  His role is going out to catch the fish and bring them into the nets; he cannot stand along the shoreline and wait for the fish to come to him.  In reality, the Dominican Master says, the vocation of a Dominican is both shepherd and fisherman: both to guard what is already there, as well as to go out and catch what is not there yet.  I would argue that our vocation as disciples mimics that of the Dominicans: we have a duty to guard the truth in our lives–family, friends, etc.  But we cannot simply hope that other people will simply come to us because we guard the truth so well.  We also have to go out and catch others and bring them into our nets.  In a sense, we are called to catch fish, and then turn them into sheep.  We invite people to follow Christ, and then help them stay in His one Church. 
    When it comes to our secular life, I’m all about doing the least to get the most results.  But when it comes to our life of faith, when it comes to sharing the Gospel, Christ invites us to mimic our extravagant Father, who shares His grace and His Word even when it doesn’t seem to make sense, and who lives and reigns with the Son and the Holy Spirit, God for ever and ever.  Amen.  

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.

Birth Order

Twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Various studies have shown that there is a general trend about the personality of a child based upon their birth order.  Of course, I’m sure there are exceptions to the rule, but, speaking for myself, I have found most of the attributes to be true.  Parents.com says the following (and it’s on the internet so it must be true!): “As the leader of the pack, firstborns often tend to be: reliable; conscientious; structured; cautious; controlling; achievers.  Firstborns bask in their parents’ presence, which may explain why they sometimes act like mini-adults.  Firstborns are diligent and want to be the best at everything they do.”  As a firstborn, I would say most of those are true, though I would use the word administrative rather than controlling.  I think firstborns, but also others, certainly want to be the best at everything we do.  We, as with others, can tend to be perfectionists.  

The challenge for any perfectionist, whether firstborn or not, is that when we mess up, we can take it very personally.  Perfectionists are certainly tough on others, but are, more often than not, tough on themselves.  And so, in our spiritual lives, when we sin, as all people do (even the firstborn, perfect child), it can be hard to accept the Lord’s mercy.  Pope Francis once said that the Lord is sometimes more willing to forgive us than we are ourselves, and that can certainly be true.  We fall, like the Israelites in the first reading, and we can feel like God should start over with someone else.  In those moments, we need to trust in the Lord, and remember that He does want to have mercy on us.  He does not want to destroy us.  In the first reading, God was seeing how Moses would respond to God’s justice (for turning away from God the Israelites did deserve death), and God was pleased that Moses was becoming more like God and asking for mercy for the Chosen People.  We, too, should be like Moses when it comes to others and even to ourselves.  We should not beat ourselves up, but acknowledge our sin (pretending we didn’t sin does not solve anything), and then ask God for his mercy in the Sacrament of Penance.

The other challenge with firstborns and other, as we heard in our Gospel today, is to hold others’ faults over their heads.  The firstborn, and others, strive to please God, and work hard to stay on the straight and narrow.  But without a sense of God’s mercy, that desire for perfection can become hardhearted and lead to looking down on others who don’t succeed.  It can, as in the Gospel, lead to disdain when others are merciful to them.  We don’t want Jesus to go after the lost sheep; we don’t want Him to find the lost coin; and we certainly don’t want Him to throw a feast for those who wasted their spiritual inheritance on the fleeting pleasures of life.  We want justice.  Being merciful will only show others that it’s ok to do all those bad things; they need to be held accountable!

God, instead, invites us to be like Him, and show mercy to others.  Certainly, God cannot be fooled by fake contrition.  If we are not truly sorry, God will not forgive us.  When God gives His mercy, it is meant to lead to a change of heart, a conversion.  The Prodigal Son truly was going to change, and that change was made possible by the father’s love.  Even the worst people can change, and our mercy to them can help them experience God the Father’s love.

Who knows if the birth order/personality traits correlation is right.  But this week the Lord invites us to know ourselves, and see how ready we are to be like Him, to be merciful to those we meet.  Knowing ourselves is not always easy.  It is often easier to concentrate on someone else’s faults than our own, because we don’t have to deal with the pain and sorrow when we’re not focusing on our own failings.  As St. Basil the Great says, “In truth, to know oneself seems to be the hardest of all things.  Not only our eye, which observes external objects, does not use the sense of sight upon itself, but even our mind, which contemplates intently another’s sin, is slow in the recognition of its own defects.”  

But knowledge of our own failings is not for the sake of beating ourselves up.  Rather, it is meant to push us towards God, the all-merciful, who gives us the grace to change our lives.  No matter what our birth order, the Lord invites us to receive His mercy so that we can be more like Him, we can be divinized.  And, if we strive with all our hearts to accept God’s transforming and divinizing grace, then at the end of our life, we can hope for God the Father to run out to meet us, clothe us in the white garment of the saints, and welcome us into the great celebration of the wedding feast of the Lamb of God.