Remembering a Past (and Current) Teaching

Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

    Sometimes, after a number of years or decades, if the meaning of something is not refreshed in the minds of the people, things once taken for granted are forgotten.  Take Veterans’ Day: you may or may not know that Veterans’ Day is always 11 November, no matter on what day of the week that date falls.  But many people probably don’t know that 11 November wasn’t a random day chosen for this federal holiday.  11 November marked the end of World War I in 1918, and was celebrated as the end of the war to end all wars.  Of course, we know that World War II followed, and so, in 1954, rather than simply celebrating Armistice Day and the end of World War I, the name was changed to Veterans’ Day, honoring all those who served in war.  
    Today in our second reading, we heard about a particular sin: that of withholding wages from laborers.  St. James writes, “the wages you withheld from the workers…and the cries of the harvesters have reached the ears of the Lord of hosts.”  This is one of a list of sins that Scripture notes cry to heaven for vengeance.  The full list is: the blood of Abel (homicide); the sin of the Sodomites (homosexual activity); the cry of the people oppressed in Egypt (slavery); the cry of the foreigner, the widow, and the orphan; and injustice to the wage earner, which we heard today.  You can find this list in paragraph 1867 of the Catechism of the Catholic Church.
    We probably don’t use this phrase that often, and because we don’t use it, we forget that it still holds true.  Certain sins cry out to God for His divine justice.  And even though one may think that he has gotten away with it because no one has noticed, God has taken notice; He has heard the cry from that sin, and will repay accordingly if there is no repentance.  Some make sense, especially homicide and slavery.  Others, like the sin of Sodom or maybe even the sin that St. James mentions today, may not seem serious.  In fact, some would not even call them sins.  But they are gravely against God’s plan for human happiness and the justice that He desires exist among all people.
    In the Gospel, Jesus also reminds His disciples, which includes us, that while good deeds, even the smallest ones, can echo into eternity, so can evil deeds.  Jesus advises us to take seriously the punishment for sin, because one will account for the evil done in the “unquenchable fire” of Gehenna, another name for Hell.  Jesus even notes hyperbolically, that if a part of our us is causing sin, then cut it off.  Of course, he’s not asking us to perform surgery and mutilate ourselves.  But He is encouraging us to figuratively cut out the parts of our life that separate us from God, so that we can enter heaven.  
    We don’t talk about sin too much, because talking about sin makes us admit that we are wrong, and no one likes to do that.  We don’t talk about the consequences of sin because we prefer to think about God as more of a grandparent who never tells us no, and who will welcome us into His home no matter what we may have done at ours.  Sin has an effect on us, and draws us farther away from God.  God, who is Justice Himself, cannot ignore unrepentant sin, anymore than light can allow darkness to continue in its presence.  The light always destroys the darkness whenever it is present.  This doesn’t take away from God’s mercy, which is also who God is, but somehow in God justice and mercy meet perfectly.
    Dr. Peter Kreeft, a Catholic apologist, notes:
 

If you really think that you can endure and enjoy the full light and fire of God for a second after you die, being essentially the same kind of being you are now, without any kind of divine operation on your soul, then you dangerously underestimate either your sinful nature, God’s holiness, or the gap between them.

It’s not as if God can let sin go, in the sense that He can allow sin to persist in His divine presence, like it’s a permission He can grant.  God, being holiness itself, burns away sin, which is why God told Moses that he couldn’t see God face to face on earth and live.  Instead, God had to shield Moses in the rock, and only let Moses see God as He passed by, so that Moses would not be destroyed.  
    So, for us, all unrepentant sin will receive its consequence.  Venial sins will not be treated harshly because they were not a strong turning away from God and His life.  But God will still deal with them.  And even more harshly will God deal with mortal sins and the sins that cry out to heaven for vengeance, because they signify serious, even deadly repudiation of God’s presence in our life.  We can deal with those mortal sins in confession, where the Blood of Jesus washes those sins away so that they are no more, or we can deal with them at our judgement, at which point, as the Church teaches, we have no hope of salvation if we have not yet repented.  Again, we don’t talk that way often, but the Church teaches, and I quote, “If [mortal sin] is not redeemed by repentance and God’s forgiveness, it causes exclusion from Christ’s kingdom and the eternal death of hell.”  
    So today, it’s a good thing to ask ourselves, do I have serious sin that needs to be forgiven through sacramental confession?  Do I participate in or encourage any of the sins that cry to heaven for vengeance?  Am I forming hatred in my heart for another that can lead to homicide?  Do I encourage human trafficking through the viewing of pornography?  Do I oppress those who have no one to help them, like the foreigner, the widow, or the orphan?  Am I just to those who work for me?  Are there other mortal sins, even simple ones like taking God’s name in vain or skipping Mass out of laziness or preference for other things that are endangering my eternal salvation?  If so, today is the day for repentance.  Today is the day to return to the Sacrament of Penance so that the mercy, rather than the justice, of God can wash over you and save you.  
    Just because we don’t talk about sin as much does not mean that it has gone away, or that it no longer matters.  May we not forget just how serious sin is, but rather accept God’s grace to turn away from our sin, and turn to God to be wrapped in His divine mercy.  

Transformation through Trial

 Second Sunday of Lent
    In many a great story of literature, we find a hero who has to undergo a great trial, or many great trials.  After going through the trial(s), the hero is changed, for the better; transformed, we might even say.  This is true of ancient literature, like “The Odyssey,” where Odysseus, on his way home from war, has to conquer many trials on various islands as his ship is tossed about the seas.  This is true of classical literature like “A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens, where Ebenezer Scrooge has to grapple with his past, his present, and even a possible future in order to be changed from a miser to philanthropist.  This is true in the great Catholic trilogy, “The Lord of the Rings” by J. R. R. Tolkien where Frodo is put through many trials trying to destroy the Ring of Power in the fires of Mount Doom.  This is even true in J. K. Rowling’s novels about Harry Potter, who discovers who he is and how to stop the evil wizard Voldemort through many tribulations.  
  

 That is true also for Abraham in today’s first reading.  After being promised a son to inherit everything; after his wife, Sarah, getting impatient with God’s plan and telling Abraham to conceive a child with her slave, Hagar; after finally having that son through Sarah, God asks Abraham to sacrifice his son, his only son (at least of the promise), the son whom he loves.  Abraham’s willingness to abandon himself to God’s plan, however mysterious, is his great trial, for which God greatly rewards Abraham.
    As for the greatest story ever told, the story of Jesus, He doesn’t have to do anything to be great; He is great because He is God.  And yet, Jesus, too, in humility, undergoes a great trial in His Passion and Death, in order to be transformed, to be raised from the dead and receive a glorified body.  And in today’s Gospel, we hear about a foretaste of that glorified body as Jesus is transfigured before Peter, James, and John.  It is a rest before the great struggle begins, and the apostles will need that reminder as they go through an unexpected journey of their own with their Master.
    What about our story?  I dare say that everyone over the past year has had trials.  And many people had trials before COVID.  And we will all have trials after we’ve gotten a handle on this pandemic.  How do we view those struggles in the light of faith?  Do we view those struggles in the light of faith, or are we fatalists, just letting life happen to us?  
    God does not call us to be fatalists, as if suffering is beyond the control of God and so we have no one to turn to during our tribulations.  God calls us to be sons and daughters in His Son, who gives us everything that we need, including allowing us to undergo trials to help us to grow.  
    There is, I would also dare say, a part of us that cringes from the trials and tests.  We would rather have the Resurrection without the crucifixion.  We would rather have abs of steel without going to the gym and eating well.  We would rather have infused knowledge than going to school for so many years.  But that’s not the way the world works.  In God’s mysterious plan, somehow the struggle is good for us, and builds us in ways that cheap grace never could.  There is no such thing as cheap grace; it is never earned (because grace is a gift), but it’s also not encountered passively; it always requires some death to self, which is a struggle.  
    And the attitude to have through it all is the attitude of Abraham, of Isaac, of Jesus: God will provide.  We can imagine how much the thought of sacrificing his son tore up Abraham.  We can imagine how confused and perhaps even scared Isaac was.  And in a few weeks we’ll hear the reaction of Jesus to His known, impending suffering and Death as He asks His loving Father for another way, if it is possible.  But, and these words are key, Jesus says, “Not my will, but yours be done.”  
    The trials and tribulations of life, the sufferings we encounter, especially if they are not of our own making, are the ways that we pass through death to life.  Lent is a long time of truly entering in, as we are called to do year round, to the Paschal Mystery–to the Passion and Death of Jesus–so that we are share in the Resurrection and Ascension of Jesus.  And if we go through whatever struggles we have with God, they do strengthen us, they transform us, they even transfigure us to be more like Jesus in glory.  
    We have a choice: do we want to get to that glory that Jesus showed His apostles on Mt. Tabor?  If so, there’s only one way to get there: through the cross; through suffering and death to our own wills and to our own sinfulness.  St. Rose of Lima put it this way: “Apart from the cross there is no other ladder by which we may get to heaven.”  The ladder may be difficult to climb, but the reward at the top is joy beyond imagining!  In the story of your life, follow the path of so many literary heroes: go through trials so that you can be transformed!

Would that All God's People Were Prophets!

Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Sometimes reading the Bible is difficult.  Sometimes it’s difficult because of unique names.  The two we had in the first reading, Eldad and Medad, aren’t too bad, but when you get to names like Melchisedech, Rehoboam, Abinadab, etc., it’s easy to see why some people get a little nervous.  It’s also tough because some parts of the Bible are read differently than others.  In some cases, we can follow the literal meaning that is easily recognizable at face value.  Other times, God speaks more figuratively.  And, if you’re just reading the text, you can’t always tell the difference.  It’s not like there are brackets around the literal phrases and italics for the more figurative statements.  But that’s why we have a Magisterium, an official teaching office entrusted to the Pope and the Bishops to help us understand how the Word of God is to be interpreted.  And that’s why we offer Bible studies at our parish: to help you understand what the Word of God means. 

Back in the late-second to the mid-third century, there was a guy from Alexandria, Egypt, and his name was Origen.  Origen was a firebrand of a guy.  He really wanted to be a martyr to witness to how much he loved Jesus.  But his mother wasn’t so keen on the idea.  Origen was bound and determined to die for Jesus, and was ready to run off to die for Jesus.  So his mother hid all his clothes, guessing (correctly, as it turned out) that he would not run out of the house naked.  Origen was known for his interpretation of Scripture, and he is one of the most prolific theological writers of the third century.  But, he could not always tell the difference between literal and the figurative senses of Scripture.  In one big mix-up, Origen took the passage we heard today much too literally: “‘If your hand causes you to sin, but it off.  It is better for you to enter into life maimed than with two hands to go into Gehenna, into the unquenchable fire.’”  But Origen’s issue was sexual sins, so it wasn’t his hands he cut off, and I’ll leave it at that.

While that part of our Gospel is not literal, our first reading can be taken literally.  God sent His spirit, that He had previously bestowed on Moses, and gave it to seventy elders.  God told the seventy to be in a certain spot to receive His spirit.  Of course, two of the seventy didn’t make it, or didn’t get the message.  So they were in the general camp, when they started prophesying.  Joshua, Moses’ assistant, complains because they didn’t follow directions.  But Moses said, “‘Would that all the people of the Lord were prophets!  Would that the Lord might bestow his spirit on them all!’”  Moses wanted, and God wants, all His people to be filled with the Holy Spirit so that we might all be prophets, so that we might all speak God’s message.  But perhaps we take this passage a bit too figuratively.  

After all, we might say, the priests are the ones who are supposed to be prophets and speak God’s word.  Or religious sisters; they’re supposed to be prophets and speak God’s word.  Or missionaries in Africa and tropical islands: they’re supposed to be prophets and speak God’s word.  That’s not us!  But, that’s not what God is saying here.  God is saying He wants us all to speak His message for Him.  We can’t pawn it off on priests or deacons or sisters or missionaries.  We are all called to be prophets, as I preached last Sunday.

But what, then, are we meant to say?  I think all of us can start with the basics of Catholicism.  And in case you’re rusty, here it is: we’re sinners; we cannot save ourselves; God sent His Son Jesus to save us from sin and death; Jesus did this by His Death and Resurrection; we can be saved by believing in Jesus and following Him; if we believe in Jesus and follow Him, we’ll be ready for heaven, which is perfect happiness and the goal of our life.  That’s it.  

And you know what?  People need to hear it.  People are generally miserable.  Sometimes they hide it.  Sometimes they try to distract themselves with temptations or shortcuts to happiness: sensual pleasure, power, and glory.  All of them, but especially the first one, is the Johnny Lee song: “Looking for Love in All the Wrong Places.”  The second one is when we strive to be in control–of the world, of people, of work, of ourselves–when in fact we have control over almost nothing.  The third one is about being known, being famous, being popular.  And while all of them will give us pleasure, and may even distract us for a while, they will never give us true happiness.  

And since this is what everybody needs, Bishop Boyea has proclaimed another Year of Prayer.  This time the Year of Prayer is focused on helping us become a community of Missionary Disciples.  Not just that we believe in Jesus (which is a necessary first step), but that we share that news for others.  So, to be clear, when the Bible says would that all of God’s people were prophets, it’s not symbolic language, it’s not figurative language.  God wants all of us to hear His message of salvation and truth; and then proclaim it to others.  So go and announce the Gospel of the Lord!

Transfiguring Society

Second Sunday of Lent

In the afternoon of Ash Wednesday the nation was alerted to what became the most-deadly school shooting in US history in Parkland, Florida.  There were so many tragic pictures and videos, many of them the result of almost everyone these days having a phone or tablet that can take pictures.  Last weekend we prayed for both the survivors and those who were murdered at our weekend Masses, and we certainly need to keep that entire community in our thoughts and prayers.

In the hours and the days after the shooting, there were many suggestions on how to stop such a tragedy from happening in the future.  Different suggestions included more gun control legislation and more help for the mentally ill, among others.  I’m not here to endorse or reject any suggestion that was offered on news sites and television programs.  But as we celebrate today the second Sunday of Lent, we are given a few reminders from God that are very poignant given what has happened in our country in the past couple of weeks.

In our first reading, we heard from Genesis about the well-known almost-sacrifice of Isaac.  While child sacrifice sounds so foreign to us, it was not so foreign to Abraham, as it was practiced in many of the local, near-Eastern religions that surrounded Abraham in the land of Canaan.  Abraham’s faith is tested by God, to see if Abraham is willing to give his most precious treasure up for God.  But before the sacrifice, God stays Abraham’s hand, and provides a sacrifice in Isaac’s place.  In God’s stopping Abraham, we see that God never wants any of His children to sacrifice their own children.  Child sacrifice is condemned (as God will condemn it again and again when the Israelites re-settle in the land of Canaan, the Promised Land), but it also looks forward to when God will allow what He would not require of Abraham, the death of His Son, His “only one,” whom God loved above all.  St. Paul reminds us in the second reading that God did not spare His own Son so that we could be raised from the dead and have our sins forgiven.

From the Church of the Transfiguration on Mt. Tabor

In our Gospel, though, Jesus is not dying, but being transfigured, being transformed so that His body takes on the quality of a resurrected, not a crucified, body.  “His clothes became dazzling white,” and the prophets Elijah and Moses stood next to Jesus.  And the voice of the Father instructed Peter, James, and John, “‘This is my beloved Son.  Listen to him.’”  And in the transfiguration, we find the key to putting an end to the horrible destruction of life that so plagues our society.

So many of the suggestions to put an end to school shootings, no matter how good they are, treat only the symptoms, and not the disease that has infected the body of society.  The key to ending such horrors is to be transfigured by Christ.  We, individually, and, as more and more individuals are, collectively, have to be transformed by Christ.  Without this transformation, we will sadly see our past national carnage repeated again and again.

How can we be transfigured?  By being open to the work of the Holy Spirit to become more like Jesus.  That’s what the Sacraments are meant to do.  That’s what going to Mass is meant to do.  God wants to change us to be more like Jesus, and we need to be changed by God in order to find happiness and peace and wholeness, and therefore holiness.  Being transfigured by God is the medicine that wipes out the virus, rather than simply treating the symptoms.  

But to be transfigured a certain openness is required on our part.  God will not transform us without our permission.  St. Augustine of Hippo, one of the saints on our icons, said exactly that in Sermon 169: “God who created you without you, will not save you without you.”  If we come to Mass simply to put a butt in a pew, without any desire to hear God’s Word, to be formed and change our lives, no matter how long it may take us, then we will not be transfigured.  If we receive the Eucharist simply as something we were told to do since second grade, without first discerning if we should receive the Eucharist, then, as St. Paul says, we may be eating and drinking condemnation, not transformation, upon ourselves.  We should want to partake of the Body and Blood of Christ each Mass, because that very food transforms us, as St. Augustine also says in Sermon 227, “If we receive the Eucharist worthily, we become what we receive.”   But if we have committed a grave sin and have not gone to confession; if our marriage is not faithful to the teachings of Christ; if we’re chewing gum, reading the bulletin, checking email, or playing games during Mass, then we will not be transformed.  

And if we do not take the graces that we receive in the sacraments, especially baptism, penance, the Eucharist, and holy matrimony, and live them in our day-to-day lives, in the choices we make in our family life, in our jobs, in our driving, in as many aspects of life that we can think of, then we will continue to see horrendous images continue to plague us.  

How do we stop Parkland from happening again?  Formed by God, filled with His grace through the Sacraments, love your spouse more than yourself; love your children enough to be their parent, not their friend, and say no to them and love them even more when they want something destructive; reach out to the people who have just lost a loved one and remind them how much you and God care for them; live and model a life that is based on the Word of God, not the changing ideas and trends of a culture that is based solely on pleasure and opinion.  In short: be transfigured.

Holy Competition

Twenty-fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Competition seems to be part and parcel in our lives these days.  Maybe it starts as siblings.  I imagine that those of you who have brothers and sisters have argued about who is mom and/or dad’s favorite, who’s the smartest, most athletic, etc.  I am, in case you were wondering.  We have competitions in schools to attend the most days and get the highest grades.  Sports are über competitive, with people vying for the top spot and the starting position.  The arts are similar, as musicians vie for first chair or the lead in the play or musical.  

Hyper-competitiveness can be a problem.  It can lead to cheating, or doing anything to get that top spot.  It can create the mentality that if you’re not a winner, then you’re a loser, which is not true.  Of course, sometimes we go to the opposite extreme and try to eliminate all competition.  We give everybody a trophy, whether they were first or last.  In my Italian classes in Rome when I was doing a study abroad, the director of the program was so afraid of competition that instead of calling the Italian classes Italian A and B, or Italian 1 and 2, based upon the language proficiency of the students in two groups, our two classes were called Italian A and Italian 1, to make sure that it didn’t seem like one group was smarter than the other.

Jesus seems to support the lack of competition in the Gospel today, and St. James in the epistle backs Jesus up.  Jesus gives silent chastisement (maybe all Jesus had to do was give “the look” that parents are so good at giving) when he asks the disciples what they were arguing about as they walked.  And He instructs them that to be the greatest, they have to be the last and the servant of all.  And St. James talk about the exterior conflicts come from the interior conflicts, from jealousy and selfish ambition.

But if we give more than just a passing glance, Jesus is not condemning competition.  He is just asking for a conversion of competition.  Jesus doesn’t say, “Nobody’s first, because first doesn’t matter.”  He says, “‘If anyone wishes to be first, he shall be the last and the servant of all.’”  Jesus teaches that we should compete for being the greatest servant, because the greatest in the kingdom of heaven is the one who is looked upon as the least in the eyes of the world.  We could even broaden what Jesus says and say that, if we are competing about anything, we should compete about being saints, about being followers of Jesus.  Not that we compete about who has the most power or authority, but that we compete about living life in accord with what Jesus taught in our different vocations and avocations in life.  Imagine if the thing we competed for the most was the eternal prize, the trophy of being in heaven with God, which we won through giving our all to be like Jesus as a priest, consecrated man or woman, husband or wife, father or mother, child, and classmate.  Imagine if we converted our view of success so that, we weren’t concerned first and foremost with getting the best job that pays the most and has the most power and prestige, but instead if we were working with all of who we are to use our gifts and talents that God has given us to further the kingdom of God.  We may still be in the same job, but it wouldn’t be about getting the title, but rather about doing all we can to share our talents for the betterment of our city, church, State, and country. 

Competition is not bad.  But like all things in life, it has to be converted according to the pattern of Jesus.  If we compete to get the most publicity, the most honor, the most money, then St. James will continue to be right and we will continue to have wars and conflicts among each other.  Instead, if we compete to be saints, to be the best servants of the church and the building up of society in justice, truth, and integrity, then many of the wars would probably cease, and our cities would be better instances of how living according to the Gospel is the means of happiness for all people.  

Where's the Animal?

Second Sunday of Lent

What is our reaction to the first reading today?  What thoughts cross our mind when we hear about God asking Abraham to sacrifice his beloved son, Isaac, on Mount Moriah?  Perhaps we weren’t really thinking about it too much because we’ve heard the story before.  We know that the angel will stay Abraham’s hand and the ram will take Isaac’s place.  But when we do that, we lose the force of this passage.  What if God asked you to sacrifice your child or one of your children?  What would your reaction be?  Would you start marching up the mountain?

This story should make us shudder.  Part of the story wasn’t so strange for the Jews and pagans hearing it, because the sacrifice of the son was part of a few pagan worship practices.  In fact, the Israelite and Judean kings will be blamed by God later for taking upon themselves the worship of Moloch; and the way Moloch was worshipped was by immolating, killing, the first son by throwing him into the fire.  But even while Abraham was probably not surprised that a god might ask for the sacrifice of the son, that didn’t make it any easier for Abraham.  He had sent away Ishamel, his son by the slave woman, Hagar.  He and Sarah were even more past the age for bearing children than when Isaac had been conceived probably around twelve years earlier.  And yet, God had promised that Abraham’s descendants would be more numerous than the stars in the sky or the grains of sand by the sea.  You can imagine the question Abraham has going through his mind: ‘How could this be?  How will I have all these descendants if God is asking me to kill my son?’  

Maybe some of the children could relate to Isaac, too.  Hopefully not because they think their parents would kill them!  But imagine what must have been going through Isaac’s head: ‘Dad says we’re going to offer sacrifice to God today.  And here I am carrying the wood, and the knife, and everything to make the sacrifice, but where’s the animal that we’re going to sacrifice?  It’s just me and dad walking up the mountain!!’  With each step, maybe Isaac got a little more nervous about what was going on.  And Isaac is even forced to set up the wood for the sacrificial fire.  And Isaac even lays down, no doubt asked by his father to do so, as Abraham was an old man, and there was no way he could have caught up to Isaac if he decided to run away, or fight off Isaac if he decided to resist being sacrificed.  Hopefully we’re starting to feel the tension, like in a movie where the hero is about to die, but you’re not quite sure the hero is going to be able to escape and wondering how the plot can continue without the hero.

Even though this account that we hear today is a true account, it also foreshadows a future event to which St. Paul refers: the crucifixion of Jesus.  Isaac becomes a prefigurement of Jesus: he carries the wood for his own sacrifice; he willingly lays down upon the wood to be sacrificed.  But, instead of an angel appearing at the last minute to stop Abraham from killing his own son, God the Father allows Jesus to die.  The scourges fall on Jesus’ back; the nails pierce through Jesus’ hands and feet; the spear punctures Jesus’ side.  There is no ram to take Jesus’ place.  Jesus Himself, the only Son of God, the Beloved, dies, the sacrifice of the Lamb of God to take away the sins of the world.  The hero of the disciples dies, as an unexpected twist in the plot of their lives and in salvation history (at least from our point of view).  

With such drastic suffering that the disciples were going to experience in watching their master be arrested, scourged, and put to death by evil men, God did not want the disciples to be without hope.  And that’s where the Gospel comes in today.  God gives the disciples a preview of the end of the movie: the Resurrection and Ascension as Jesus is transfigured before their eyes.  Peter, James, and John get a preview of the heavenly life and what a glorified body will look like to help carry them through the dark days of the Passion of our Lord.  Of course, they don’t understand that it’s meant to carry them through.  Especially in the Gospel of Mark (by tradition Mark’s source for Jesus’ life was St. Peter) the disciples never seem to understand what’s going on, with a few brief exceptions.  But afterwards, they see how God was preparing them for suffering by seeing a taste of glory.

That preparation is important for us, too.  For many of us, there is suffering in our lives: unemployment; loved ones with diseases; dysfunctional families; a lack of friends.  God doesn’t say to us: deal with it!  He does, sometimes just in fleeting moments, give us a foretaste of the joy that awaits us in heaven.  Mass is supposed to be something of that, as we come together to worship God with precious metals and vestments that remind us of heaven, where we will see God face to face and be embraced by His love and by all those who have been faithful in following Christ.  God gives us the Eucharist to give us strength to make it through suffering, as food for our pilgrimage.  And He shares glory with us in so many other small ways, that we often don’t recognize them until later.  

The same could be said for Lent.  During Lent we focus on suffering: on Jesus’ suffering; on uniting our own suffering and penances to Jesus on the cross.  But it’s not meant to be all suffering.  Even this early, in the second week of Lent, God gives us a foretaste of the glory that comes after suffering through Him, with Him, and in Him.  Lent is not the end of the story.  Jesus’ death is not the end of the story.  God has prepared glory for us, just as He prepared glory for Jesus and raised Him from the dead.  May we recognize the foretastes of glory that God gives to us, so that the joy of Easter carries us through the Good Fridays of our lives.

Be a Prophet!!

Twenty-Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

            So often I think when Catholics hear the word “prophet,” we think of someone who can foretell the future.  In fact, in the Biblical accounts, while prophets do sometimes tell people what will happen as a result of their sin or conversion, the prophets are the ones who speak for God.  Their job is not to say on what exact date the world is going to end (apparently that job was already taken by the Mayans), or which lottery numbers to play, but to speak for God.  And in our first reading, we hear how God pours out a spirit of prophecy of 70 elders.  Towards the end of the passage today, Joshua gets a little envious, and is upset that Eldad and Medad, who were outside the camp when they were supposed to be with Moses, still received the spirit of prophecy.  Moses then prophesies, “‘Would that all the people of the Lord were prophets!  Would that the Lord might bestow his spirit on them all!’”  That prophecy was fulfilled at Pentecost, when the Lord poured out His Spirit upon the Blessed Mother, the Apostles, and the Disciples gathered in the Upper Room.  And then the Lord poured out His spirit on the new believers. 

            We, for our part, have also been made prophets.  The Lord has poured out His Spirit on us in Baptism and Confirmation.  At Baptism we were anointed with the Sacred Chrism, which reminded us that we are now a member of the Anointed One, the Messiah, the Christ, and we share in his priestly, prophetic, and kingly ministry of all the faithful.  In Confirmation, the Bishop or Priest called down the Holy Spirit upon us through prayer, and then anointed us again with the Sacred Chrism to seal us with the gift of the Holy Spirit.  And so, the prophecy of Moses was fulfilled in us as we were made prophets, those who speak for God.

            As a good examination of conscience we can ask ourselves: how do we speak for God, both by our words (the prophets of the Old Testament are always saying, “Thus says the Lord”) and by our deeds (like when Jeremiah made the clay pot, or Ezekiel acted as if he were in exile)?

            Are we a prophet when it comes to defending the dignity of the poor and truly assisting them?  People can debate the best way to help the poor legitimately.  But, as prophets, we must ensure that the poor, widows, and orphans, those whom the Lord favors, are protected from neglect and are not punished for their lack of means.  Are we a prophet when it comes to defending the dignity and definition of marriage?  Our culture is really confused about marriage right now.  But we know that marriage was created by God as the union between one man and one woman for life, and that good, happy, holy marriages should be protected because of the important role they play in forming good, happy, and holy societies.  Are we a prophet for the infant in the womb and the homebound, who are so often neglected?  Do we give those who do not have a voice our voice and speak for God so that mothers and fathers can make the only good choice, the choice for life, and so that the homebound are not “done away with” because they are a burden to society?  Are we prophets for religious freedom, the God-given right that we have to worship and to take what we have received in worship into the public sector and not be punished for our beliefs or for serving those who are not Catholic?

            Are we prophets by what we say and what we do (and in this election year, being a prophet includes speak for God when we vote)?  When we are not prophets, by what we say and by what we do, then we causes others to sin by assisting them in thinking that God’s message does not really matter; that we can separate what we believe and how we live.  That is the sin of scandal, and it occurs when, by our words or actions, we provide a witness that does not live up to our prophetic call to speak for God, so that others do not consider, for example, protecting the poor, the infant in the womb, the homebound, the true definition of marriage, and religious freedom.  When we don’t exercise our prophetic vocation that we received in Baptism and Confirmation, others notice: when they know that as Christians we are called to assist the poor as an act of charity, and yet we make wealth and possessions our little idols; when we say we’re pro-life but then our actions don’t reflect that belief; when we don’t assist married couples, especially when times are difficult for them; when we are silent in the midst of the government telling us that they will decide who qualifies for conscience protection; then we cause scandal and lead others to think that those issues don’t really matter.  And if that happens, woe to us, because Jesus is quite clear what we can expect: “‘it would be better for him [or her] if a great millstone were put around his neck and he were thrown into the sea.’”

            But, when we live up to our prophetic call to infuse the culture, our families, our neighborhoods, our jobs, politics, and all aspects of life with the message of God, the Gospel, then we will not lose our reward.  When we speak for God and not for ourselves, then others will know what God wants for this world in order that all people might life in peace, justice, and the love of God.  The Spirit of the Lord is upon you, because He has anointed you.  Go and announce the Gospel of the Lord.

Sophomores

Twenty-Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

            I was talking to a high school student from Lansing Catholic a couple of weeks ago.  He was showing me his iPod and all the songs he had on it, and talking about how the songs he had were true music.  So, I showed him my iTunes library on my phone to compare.  As it turns out, according to him, I only had a few songs that were actually “music.”  The rest was just “noise,” apparently.  Now, sometimes high school students in any grade know it all.  But if there’s one class that epitomizes the attitude that they know it all  (because, after all, they’ve studied) it would certainly be a sophomore.  You see, in general, freshmen know that they don’t know anything and that they’re just starting out.  Juniors and have studied enough to realize that, while they know a lot in their particular area of interest, that they have only scratched the surface of available knowledge.  Sophomores, on the other hand, think they know it all, but haven’t learned enough to realize that they don’t: a particularly dangerous combination.  But that’s why we use the word sophomore to describe their class year: it comes from the Greek words sophia and moros, meaning wisdom and fool.  Sophomores are, again in general, wise fools.

            The Word of God in today’s readings talks about wisdom, and sets before us two types of wisdom: the wisdom of the wicked, and the wisdom from above.  Our first reading focuses on the wisdom of the wicked.  In their mind, the just one needs to be eliminated, or “taken care of,” as a wise guy might say.  The wicked consider a holy person obnoxious, and they are insulted by his correction of their faults.  They are ready to put the just one to the test and see if all this “God talk” adds up, and if God will really protect His so-called servant.  The wicked see a holy life as a threat and a danger to their way of life, and so they have to destroy it so that they can continue in their own way. 

            The wisdom from above, on the other hand, is “pure, then peaceable, gentle, compliant, full of mercy and good fruits, without inconstancy or insincerity.”  It is a different way of looking at the world.  It does not waver in the face of threats, and is always sincere and true.  It seeks peace, not just an absence of conflict, but true justice for all.  It forgives wrongs and does not go looking for a fight.  Jesus also tells us in the Gospel that the wisdom from above turns the wisdom of the world on its head.  Whereas in the view of the world the truly great person is the one who is in charge of everything, in the wisdom from above, the great person is the one who is the servant of all. 

            If it were that easy to pick out the two types of wisdom, our world would probably be a better place.  But we are beset by weakness, but concupiscence, the desire for lesser goods, and the wisdom of the wicked often looks more enjoyable, more attractive.  When it comes to skipping class, or alcohol, or sex outside of marriage, the wisdom of the wicked seems much more appealing.  But wisdom from above gives true happiness, not just passing pleasure.

            If we are truly convinced that Jesus is the Way, the Truth, the Life, rather than just one way, or one truth, or one life, then we who have the wisdom from above should seek to share it with others.  If the Gospel truly is Good News, and true wisdom, than to keep it to ourselves not only does us harm, but also does those who need to hear that Good News and that wisdom harm.  That is one way that we serve others: by sharing with them the wisdom and joy that we have in Christ.  Have you asked a roommate or a friend, whom you know is Catholic but is not coming to Mass, to join you on Sundays for Mass, or for men’s or women’s group?  We are not called to condemn, but to invite.  We warn others about the dangers of the wisdom of the wicked, but we do not cajole others into joining us.  We simply extend an open hand of love and joy. 

            When those who are wise in wickedness are confronted—by a friend, a family member, or religion—it’s always portrayed as people just trying to rain on the parade.  We may be called obnoxious by our friends.  Laziness, drunkenness, and debauchery look like a ton of fun.  And they certainly are pleasurable.  But they do not lead to happiness.  They quickly fade, and often leave a path of destruction in this world.  Meanwhile, the just, those striving for holiness, often put up with a lot more suffering, a lot more pain, certainly less pleasure in the eyes of the world.  But, if God created the world, and He knows best how it works, and He is the best answer for the desire of every human heart, then following the wisdom from above makes sense, not just in this world, but also in the world to come.  A life of restraint and service is what makes for a great life, not a life of license and using others.  It’s upside down from our view.  But if we take it from God’s perspective, then it’s just the way God intended it. 

            We can stay sophomores in our faith; we can be wise fools.  God gives us that freedom.  We can pretend that we can do whatever we want now, and just make up for it in some possible future act of repentance that we may never make.  Or, we can be truly wise, and move beyond our sophomoric ways, and live by the wisdom that comes from above, that gives us and those around us true peace and joy.  And then, being truly wise, we will see the need to serve others by sharing with them the wisdom from above, so that they can find that peace and joy that we have by living a truly wise life.

The Sacrifice of the Beloved Son: From Mount Moriah to Mount Calvary

Second Sunday of Lent

            Have you ever been at a movie theater, you’ve got your popcorn and pop that you’re enjoying during the movie, and then, at what you know will be a key part of the movie, you feel like you have to go to the bathroom?  You squirm a little, hoping you can remain in the theater until the end.  But then sometimes you just can’t wait.  So you leave the movie, only to get back, and you wonder, “What did I miss?!?”

            Well, today’s first reading leaves some very important parts out, and if we didn’t read the whole thing, we might miss what the Word of God is trying to tell us in this passage.  So, let me fill in some of the blanks.  Abraham and Isaac are about to go up the mountain where, unbeknownst to Isaac, Abraham has been given a command to sacrifice Isaac (a command which sounds very weird to us, but to the people of Abraham’s time was sadly not uncommon).  It reads,

Thereupon Abraham took the wood for the holocaust and laid it on his son Isaac’s shoulders…As the two walked on together, Isaac spoke to his father Abraham: “Father!” he said.  “Yes son,” he replied.  Isaac continued, “Here…[is] the wood, but where is the sheep for the holocaust?”  “Son,” Abraham answered, “God himself will provide the sheep for the holocaust.”  […]When they came to the place of which God had told him, Abraham built an altar there an arranged the wood on it.  Next he tied up his son Isaac, and put him on top of the wood on the altar.

Then our passage continues, when the angel stops Abraham from killing Isaac.  Now, a lot is going on in this passage.  This is the great test of Abraham’s faith, as St. Paul recalls in the Letter to the Romans, and by which Abraham was justified, or made right in the eyes of God.  But, listen to the details again, this time paraphrased: We have a father who sends his son, his beloved son, up Mount Moriah, carrying wood on his back that will be used for the sacrifice of that same son.  The son is then fastened to the wood for the sacrifice to begin.

            This should remind us of Jesus’ sacrifice.  Jesus, the Beloved Son of the Father takes the wood of the cross, the instrument of His one, salvific sacrifice, upon His back, carries it up Mount Calvary, and is fastened to the wood of the cross for the sacrifice.  Except this time, instead of being stopped by an angel, Jesus dies on the cross, of His own free will, and brings us salvation.  We cannot miss this point of the passage, and we need to read this passage in light of Jesus’ sacrifice.  Otherwise, we end up thinking that God can command us to do some horrible things.  And, as Pope Benedict commented in his first year as pope when trying to dialogue with the Muslim community, God cannot command us to do that which is evil.  Did God ask Abraham to sacrifice Isaac?  Yes, we have that in Scripture.  But seeing that Abraham’s faith was so strong that it would even be willing to sacrifice his son, God stopped Abraham before it actually happened, because God never wants us to kill an innocent person, either someone else or ourselves, especially not in His Name.  Instead, God used the sacred author to communicate in this story that God loves us so much, that He prefigures in this passage the death of His own Beloved Son, who was not prevented from dying, as was Isaac, but freely chose to give Himself over “for us men and for our salvation,” using the words of our Creed.

            But the darkness of the cross which looms over this story for us for whom the veil has been lifted, is not the end.  Isaac was saved from death, and found life.  Jesus, though He truly died, was also saved from death through the resurrection, and given a glorified body.  And it was a foretaste of that glory which Peter, James, and John saw on another mountain, Mount Tabor.  On that mountain, God the Father reaffirms what was said at Jesus’ baptism, that Jesus is the Beloved Son, and Jesus gives those three chosen apostles the great gift of seeing what was in store for Jesus and all His faithful disciples after death.  But, of course, Peter, James, and John didn’t understand what was going on, and it wasn’t until after the resurrection that they understood what a great gift Jesus had given them in letting them see the end of the story with the effects of the resurrection.

            But, to get to that glory of which Jesus gives us a foretaste in the Transfiguration, we cannot escape the sacrifice and death that comes before.  Resurrection is only possible for those who have died.  The glory of Mount Tabor is only available to those who are willing to sacrifice all on Mount Moriah.  So, the question for us is, what are we willing to give up?  What is God asking us to sacrifice?  Now, again, God is not asking us to sacrifice our children or any other innocent.  But God does ask us to give our best to Him, just as He gave His best, His Only-Begotten, Beloved Son, for us.

            I can hear you thinking, “Oh great!  Here comes the money talk again!  Time for Fr. Anthony to tell us to give of our time, talent, and treasure, but especially our treasure!”  And, with this being our DSA kickoff weekend, I certainly do want to encourage you to prayerfully consider how much you’re giving both to DSA and to our parish.  It’s tough.  Money’s tight.  It’s no different for me.  I have things that I want to do, vacations that I would like to take, and giving more would certainly get in the way of that.  But can I die to myself and be generous with the money with which God has already blessed me?  That’s a question we all have to ask ourselves.  For some, the answer is certainly yes.  For others, there’s no more else to give without endangering the basic goods of life. 

            But, let’s be honest: for some of us, money is all too easy to give.  It’s just a few more dollars, without any real commitment of mind, heart, and soul.  For you, consider what it is you really don’t want to give up.  It was tough for Abraham even to take his son up that mountain.  But, each slow step, Abraham reaffirmed his faith in God who had called him to leave his family behind in Iraq, and now was asking him to sacrifice the very son who was supposed to be answer to God’s promise to make of Abraham a great nation, more numerous than the stars in the sky.

            So what is it that God has called us to give up?  Not just candy, or gum, or chocolate, but things that really are precious to us, but that we don’t need.  What do we need to sacrifice to reaffirm that we trust that God who calls us His sons and daughters will never abandon us and will not let us want for any good thing?  Is God calling us to sacrifice more of our time to spend with Him in prayer?  Is God asking us to make more of an effort to learn about Jesus so that we can love Him better?  Is God asking us to take the time to learn about the teachings of the Church?  If we can sacrifice what is precious to us, truly give it up, then the shadow of Mount Moriah does not have to be the end of the story, but we can continue on to Mount Tabor, and to the glory which is to come in the resurrection for those who were willing to give all they had to God and hold nothing back.