Zeal and Patience

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
    For priests in the Diocese of Lansing, 1 July (or around there) is a special day.  It’s new pastor assignment day, meaning that priests who are moving into a new parish (whether as the first pastor assignment or from a transfer of assignments) usually start on or around that day.  As with any change, it can be stressful, both on the priest and on the people. What is the priest like?  What are the people like?  What is the staff like?  Social media has added a new dimension to the whole process, as future parishioners can “Facebook stalk” their new priest and see what they can learn from his pictures and posts.

After the Easter Vigil at my first pastorate in Adrian

    One of the many questions when a parish receives a new priest is how much he will change.  From a priest’s perspective, the question is how much he feels he needs to change, and when to make those changes.  From the people’s perspective, the question is basically the same, but perhaps with a bit more trepidation.  And different priests will give different advice on how fast a new priest should move on changes.  On the one hand, some priests say don’t change anything for the first year.  On the other hand, people often are prepared for some things to change when getting a new priest, so it may be easier to make changes right at the beginning, rather than waiting to change.  And, of course, it depends on what the new priest wants to change, and if it is a sacred cow to parishioners.
    Stereotypically, young priests in their new pastorate want to change a lot, and they often want to move quickly.  They may have good reasons and good intentions.  But, having been a pastor a few times, my advice is to move slowly on changing things that can wait, and only change things quickly that are of the utmost importance, though I will admit I’m not sure I’ve always followed my own advice in the past.  And we hear that general theme of patience in the Gospel today, though not precisely aimed at new pastors.  
    Christ again and again urges patience.  Whether it’s weeds growing among the wheat, or the growth of the mustard seed, or the rising of dough from yeast, all these require patience.  The master allows the weeds to grow so as not to harm the wheat.  The mustard seed starts small but grows large, as long as one has patience to let it grow.  The yeast mixed in the dough rises, but you have to wait over night or throughout the day.  As I have become known as the “Bourbon Priest,” I will admit that I associate yeast more with distilling than baking, but that’s just me.
    Impatience leads to problems.  I’m a fan of pita bread, but if you want sourdough bread, you can’t rush things without ruining the batch.  You can’t rush a tree growing.  And if you pull up the weeds too early, it might destroy your crop, and then you have nothing to show for all your work.  But, of course, the main point is not agriculture; it’s souls.
    Haste makes waste.  Too much zeal, especially if applied without patience, can turn people off from the Gospel.  Patience allows others to develop their faith, even if certain corrections are required from time to time.  Zeal is a good thing, as it drives us to seek the truth and help others live that truth.  But when zeal is misapplied, it can destroy progress made.  Now, perhaps we are sometimes too patient with others and give too much time, but we shouldn’t go from one extreme to the other.  Virtue stands in the middle.  Not too much, not too little.  Like Goldilocks, we need just the right amount of zeal and patience.
    And while we often think about zeal and patience with others, which is good, we should also exhibit both zeal and patience with ourselves.  Do we push ourselves to be more open to God’s grace and follow His teachings?  But do we also allow for the fact that we won’t do so perfectly?  So often we go to extremes with others but also with ourselves.  We might be overzealous and expect unrealistic change or growth in our spiritual life in a short period of time.  We have conversion of mind and commit ourselves to living in the truth, or encouraging others to live in the truth, but then when we fall short, as we often do when it comes to change and lofty goals, we crash and give up.  Or, we might be over-patient and figure that Christ is so merciful and understanding that we don’t really need to worry about the fact that we keep falling into the same sins and vices and never seem to make any progress.  In reality, Christ calls us to set lofty goals for our spiritual life, and to seek His grace to get us there, but to be patient if we don’t reach that goal perfectly.  

    [This is certainly true for you, my dear Catechumens.  You have experienced a call from Christ to follow Him.  You have recognized the parts of your life that need to change to be configured to Christ.  But perhaps you have also experienced some discouragement because you’re not there yet.  That’s ok.  Don’t slack, but don’t give up, either.  There’s a reason why we ask you to wait around a year before we baptize you.  We want you to know what you are doing, and to be able to commit to the new life of a disciple, rather than rushing in with too much zeal, and then backing out after baptism because you changed your mind or don’t feel like you can live the Gospel.  God calls you to deepen your relationship with Him, but He is patient with you as you walk away from your sinful past and walk towards holiness with God.]
    Zeal is good.  So is patience.  Both are necessary for real and long-lasting spiritual growth.  Don’t be too zealous and turn others or yourself away from slow, but real change and growth.  Don’t be too lazy and miss out on real changes and growth that will help you be a better disciple.  Be zealously patient with others and with yourself.

Getting the Right Message

Twenty-ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Perchik from "Fiddler on the Roof"

    Sometimes you can get the wrong message from a story.  In the musical “Fiddler on the Roof,” which I just mentioned two weeks ago, there is a scene where a student, Perchik, from the university in Kyiv, is teaching Tevye’s daughters how to read from Biblical stories.  One day he says, “Now after Jacob had worked for Laban for seven years, do you know what happened?  Laban fooled him and gave him his ugly daughter, Leah.  So to marry Rachel, Jacob was forced to work another seven years.  So you see, children, the Bible clearly teaches us you can never trust an employer.”  Not perhaps the message God tries to convey through the account of the patriarch Jacob in the Book of Genesis.
    I feel like the first reading and Gospel passage that we heard today can also be misinterpreted if we don’t approach it well.  From the first reading we might think that we just have to do the right thing and keep the right action up in order to win, as the Israelites win whenever Moses’ hands are raised.  From the Gospel we might think that if we pester God enough by asking him again and again, like the widow from the parable, then God will give us whatever we want.  But I don’t think either of those are what God wants to communicate to us.
    Because the first approach is basically magic.  Magic seeks to control the physical and/or spiritual world by our own efforts.  If I say the right words or do the right things, certain actions have to follow, as if they’re in causal relationship like adding baking soda to vinegar.  I can manipulate the results if I do the prescribed actions.  Magic is an offense against the first commandment, because we seek to take control rather than let God be in control.  
    The second approach is arrogance and pride.  If we ask God for something and we don’t get it, clearly God must have a different plan.  To presume that we know better than God is the ancient vice of price, seeking to elevate us over and against God, rather than submitting to His will and Divine Providence.  God is not a parent that we, like a toddler, can wear down if we just keep pestering Him, so that we eventually get what we want.

    Instead, the message, or at least a message, that God wants to communicate is a phrase my spiritual director says to me almost every time we meet: patient perseverance.  In our relationship with God, we need to approach God with confidence that He hears our prayers, even if they’re not answered immediately, and as long as they are truly what God wants.  St. Monica had to pray around 30 years before her son, Augustine, received the Sacrament of Holy Baptism from St. Ambrose.  God certainly wanted St. Augustine to become an adopted son of God in Jesus Christ and a member of the Church and have original sin washed away, but Monica had to persevere in asking God for that gift.  St. Augustine also had to be open to that gift, as conversion requires the free response to God’s grace that is given for conversion.
    We put forward our best work according to what we believe is God’s will.  We ask God to bless our work, whether it be an earthly or a spiritual endeavor.  But then we have to wait for God to grant it, all the while asking for it to happen, if it is God’s will.  It’s like the distiller who puts together what he thinks is a good mash bill, based upon what he thinks people want to drink.  He ferments the grains with the yeast, purifies the distillate to remove any harmful impurities, then puts it in a barrel to age in a good location in the rick house.  He waits for years, maybe four, eight, ten, twelve, or even twenty or twenty-three, praying that his hard work pays off and produces a tasty bourbon that people will enjoy.  But there is a certain freedom in patience, commending the endeavor to God’s providence.
    All too often, though we don’t begin by asking for God’s input as to whether we should even start something.  I know in my own life I can struggle because I have something I want to do, and I don’t ask God if it’s part of His plans, and then sometimes get frustrated when it turns out they’re not part of His plans, and I don’t find the success I wanted.  Before we begin any action, especially any new undertaking, we should ask God if this is part of His will.
    If we sense that God wants something to happen, that’s when we patiently persevere.  We continue to pray to God to give success to the work of our hands, to paraphrase Psalm 90.  And we wait until God answers that prayer in some way, shape, or form.  We don’t meddle, as if somehow our work can outdo the plan of God.  We don’t act like a toddler and keep asking, “Can I have it?  Please?  Please?  Please?  Please?”, hoping to wear God down.  We patiently, persistently bring our request before the throne of grace and lay it before the feet of God for Him to decide how and when to grant our prayers.  And we do it as a child who trusts his or her father.      Don’t misunderstand the readings we had today, as Perchik did with the story of Jacob, Leah, and Rachel.  Don’t pretend that we are in control and God has to do what we want if we just say the right words or do the right thing.  Let God be God, submit to His will and Divine Providence, and trust that what needs to happen will happen, according to the plan of our loving Father.  

Rejoicing and Patience

Third Sunday of Advent
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Patience is not a virtue at which I generally excel.  While we had posted the Office Manager job, I wanted good candidates to immediately apply for the position.  My best friend is sometimes bad at responding to texts, and I struggle when he doesn’t respond to me quickly enough (at least quickly enough in my mind).  And, generally, I respond pretty quickly, whether to an RSVP, a request for information, or to a text or a phone call.  In fact, I’m becoming a bit of a cause celeb among the Diocese of Lansing priests because I usually pick up my cell phone on the first ring, which somehow means it hasn’t even rung once for the person calling (I don’t know how that happens).

    So, as we hear the word “rejoice” today in the introit and in the epistle, which both come from Philippians chapter four, verse four, I’m all for it!  We rejoice because soon we don’t have to be patient anymore!  The celebration of our Lord’s Nativity, the day when our salvation became known in the flesh, is closer than the beginning of our time of waiting in Advent.  Our waiting is closer to finishing than when we first began waiting.
    But, we rejoice, not because we don’t have to exhibit the virtue of patience.  We rejoice because we can celebrate soon.  And that goes for our celebration of the Nativity (which will become an even greater focus in the readings in the coming days), but also for the return of Christ in glory.  The second coming is closer today than yesterday.  And that second coming is when all will be made right, the righteous will be welcomed into heaven to enjoy eternal bliss.
    But, we can even rejoice today because we know that Christ has come to save us, and that the salvation He offers us we can receive at any time.  Christmas is near.  The return of Christ is near.  But Christ offers us the gift of salvation now.  All we have to do is take hold of it and make it a part of our lives.  
    We see this most especially in two important Advent sacraments: Penance (confession) and the Eucharist.  Through the Sacrament of Penance, God reconciles us to Himself.  Twice in two verses in his second epistle to the Corinthians, St. Paul talks about how God reconciled the world to Himself in Christ.  That was the good news of Christmas and the Incarnation.  But that good news still applies today.  God is still reconciling the world to Himself through Christ.  And in the Sacrament of Penance, we participate in that reconciliation.  God takes our sins, like my impatience, and He removes it from us, and gives us in its place His grace, which is really His life.  He breaks down all the barriers between us and Him that sin creates, “so that we might become the righteousness of God in him,” to use the words of St. Paul from that same second epistle to the Corinthians.  In the Sacrament of Penance, the Holy Spirit accomplishes in us what Christ accomplished when He died on the cross.  And that is certainly a reason to rejoice.
    Likewise, in the Eucharist, we receive our salvation.  Christ gives Himself to us under the sacramental signs of bread and wine which truly become the Body and the Blood of Christ, so that we can have, in the most special way on earth, Christ living within us.  The same Second Person of the Blessed Trinity who, by the power of the Holy Spirit, took flesh and humbled Himself to be born with our human nature, again humbles Himself by allowing bread and wine to become Him, and allowing us to see His Sacred Flesh and Precious Blood with our eyes of faith.  The same Incarnate Lord whom St. Joseph, his foster father, held in his arms, I get to hold in my hands and give to you.  The same Suffering Servant who offered His life for the salvation of the world by dying on the Cross, joins us to that same sacrifice on Calvary through the Mass.  As I invite you to “Behold the Lamb of God,” (“Ecce Agnus Dei”), I remind you how near the Lord is to you and encourage you to rejoice as you behold your salvation.  And this is certainly a reason to rejoice.
    Patience is not my greatest virtue.  I continue to work at growing in that virtue which is described by St. Thomas Aquinas quoting Tully, “the voluntary and prolonged endurance of arduous and difficult things for the sake of virtue.”  And this virtue will help us to wait these next ten days until we celebrate Christmas, and these next days, however many, until Christ returns in glory.  But, what we will celebrate at Christmas, and what we await at the end of time, we also have now: Christ our God, reconciling us to the Father, who with the Son and the Holy Spirit is God, for ever and ever.  Amen.  

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.  

Thinking Smaller

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

    Perspective can change a lot.  There’s a comedic movie from 1989 called “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids,” where a scientist shrinks his kids (didn’t see that coming from the title, did you?) and two neighbor kids.  Small little crumbs of food become huge smorgasbords of sustenance.  Puny ants become both a large mode of transportation as well as elephant-like enemies.  Drops from the sprinkler go from small globs of refreshment to gigantic showers of death.  What once was small and insignificant, is now a matter of life and death.
    As we hear this parable about the weeds sown amongst the wheat, I know I often think of the big scale.  And, in fact, Jesus Himself uses this macro scale.  The sower “is the Son of Man, the field is the world, the good seed the children of the kingdom.  The weeds are the children of the evil one, and the enemy who sows them is the devil.  The harvest is the end of the age, and the harvesters are angels.”  And this reality is very present to us.  As we seek to live according to the Gospel, we also notice that others do not.  But God is patient, and allows even evil to exist, because the work of removing the “weeds” could destroy the good crops as well.
    But I would encourage us to shrink the parable a bit.  Don’t look at it so much from the macro scale as from the micro scale.  Because when we stay at the macro scale, it can be very easy to be self-righteous and to presume that we’re all the children of the kingdom simply by virtue of our baptism.  But, unless you’re very different than I, we do not always live as children of the kingdom.  Sometimes we live more like children of the evil one, choosing to sin when we know we should do good, and choosing to listen to the temptations rather than to our heavenly Father.
    I would hazard a guess that most of us are a mixed-bag.  We are not all good, but nor are we all bad.  Our souls have good seed sown, by virtue of our baptism and the sacraments we receive, but we also allow weeds to grow in our souls by virtue of the times when we give in to temptation and do not do the good we know we should do, but instead do the evil we know we should not do. 
    Because of this, God demonstrates His great mercy in giving us time to pull up the weeds that exist in our souls little by little, rather than destroying the entire crop by spraying Round-Up.    He sees the good that we desire, and suffers the evil that we do, hoping that, in time, He can harvest more fruit from good seed than weeds that will be thrown into the fire.  God doesn’t approve of the evil, and certainly less so desires that it grow.  But He also knows that the good that we do can sometimes be quite fragile, and if the weeds are withdrawn too aggressively, it may also take out what good we could accomplish.
    Does this mean that we should continue in our sinful choices and actions, because God may let it slide anyway?  Certainly not!  God shows His patience so that we can have more opportunity to do good, not so that we can have more opportunity to sin.  And, in fact, as any gardener will tell you, it is still good to try to make sure the weeds don’t overtake the good seed.  But it has to be done carefully, often with painstakingly small successes, and the we often have to pull weeds from the same spot over and over again, because we have not pulled out the roots, but have only gotten the part of the weed that made its way above the ground level.
    How do we pull weeds gently, to increase the room for the good seed to spread, without being so aggressive that we pull up the good and the bad?  Part of it means being patient with ourselves, as God is patient with us.  If we have a bad habit, whether it’s a major sin or a small sin, it will take time to uproot that habit.  If we expect to stop it immediately, we are more often than not fooling ourselves.  Do the little things each day to try to stop the habit.  If you do it each day, try to reduce it to every other day.  If you act on the bad habit each week, try to make it a week and a half, or two weeks. 
    Secondly, God’s grace is, for the weeds of our soul, better than Round-up.  By opening ourselves up to God’s grace by frequent confession, reception of Holy Communion in a state of grace, and daily prayer, we make start pulling up those weeds one by one, and loosening the soil with the water of the Holy Spirit to soften the ground and make it more likely to succeed in getting not just the symptom but also the disease.
    Thirdly, persevere.  When you’re weeding a large flower bed, and the weeds have been allowed to take over a section or even the whole bed, it takes a while.  Maybe start with the bigger weeds, the bigger sins, first, but then go back and start pulling up even the smaller weeds, because, if they are allowed to grow, they, too, will become big weeds.  You may only progress through a few square inches of that flower bed, but at least you know that’s ready for the good seed to grow, and you can move on to the next section.  Don’t be afraid that you’re not seeing great progress, as long as you are cooperating with God’s grace and making what progress you can.
    I am a firm believer that God desires our salvation.  He doesn’t want us to fail, and enjoys seeing us make what progress we can.  Any success is due to His grace, accompanied by our cooperation.  If we keep striving to do the will of God, God will bless that effort, and will help us find success.  Yes, the world is a mixture of weeds and wheat.  But so is our soul.  Before condemning the world, start weeding out the parts of your life that need conversion.  It may be slow work, but it will also help the wheat grow even more, as we witness to the power of God’s grace in our lives.  

Measuring Faith and Virtue

 Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  At the house of former parishioners in East Lansing who have become like an extended family to me, there are marks at one of the closet doors with names and dates.  Maybe your family has a similar tradition, where the grandchildren’s heights are measured from time to time, and noted on the frame of a door.  It’s been fun to see the grandkids come back and see their heights at different stages of their life.
    Of course, as a kid, you’re always making sure you’re standing up nice and strait, trying to get every extra centimeter that you can.  And, if you measure yourself too closely in time, you’re not going to see much, if any difference in your height. It may appear that you’re not growing at all!
    In our Gospel today we hear about a man who didn’t have to see to believe.  He first approaches the Lord for the healing of his son, and our Lord somewhat rebuffs his request: unless you see signs, you will not believe.  Already, the Savior is noting that the people won’t believe unless He does something spectacular.  Still, the man has faith, and begs our Lord to do something, otherwise his son will die.  Christ assures him that his son will live, though the man cannot see the proof of his faith until he returns home, and his son is fine.  In fact, the son is healed at the moment that our Lord had said to the man that his son would be healed.  That sign (the term the Evangelist John uses for miracles) then leads others to believe.
    Still, think about the man walking back to his home.  We don’t know how far it was, but the walk must have taken at least a day, as the man inquires when the healing happened, and at which hour it took place.  The answer was that it took place a day earlier.  From what we can tell in the Gospel, the man never doubted that what our Lord said would happen would, in fact, happen.  Walking home, perhaps we would wonder if our faith would really be rewarded, if this Jesus was truly able to do something, especially so far away.  Would we doubt?  Would we lower our expectations so that we wouldn’t be disappointed?  None of these things the man seems to do.
    When it comes to our faith and our trust in the Lord, are we like the man who has faith?  Or are we like the crowds that need to see signs before we believe?  Do we have confidence when God says something will happen, even if we do not immediately see the results?  
    In some ways, we can be like kids who want to measure faith every day like we measure our height.  And, like our height, we may not see very noticeable results.  We pray for trust in God, we pray to be open to His will, but each day we don’t seem to make much progress.  Or maybe it’s working on a particular virtue, or eliminating a particular vice.  We ask God to strengthen us to choose the good, or support us in times of temptation so that we don’t fall, but we see no real movement.  Are we willing to be patient, not only with God, but also with ourselves, in growth in holiness?
    I do not consider myself a millennial; nor do I see myself as part of generation X.  I’m the micro-, in-between generation that some call xenials (with an x).  I know life before everyone had a cell-phone; I’m comfortable with cassette tapes and VHS.  We couldn’t simply pause TV if we had to go the bathroom; you had to rush to the bathroom and hope you finished your business by the time the commercials were ending.  But I have, like many millennials and later generations, gotten used to getting what I want immediately, thanks to the Internet and having a phone with me almost all the time.  And so patience is not always my strong suit.  I do work at patience, and I ask God to help me, but day-by-day, I didn’t seem to make any progress.  
    One day, a few years ago, I flew to Australia, to visit a priest friend of mine in Sydney.  My flight left in early November.  The day my flight left was the day in 2019 when we got pounded with 8 or so inches of snow.  I arrived at Bishop airport in Flint, and my flight was delayed.  I waited all day in the airport, only to find out that the flight was cancelled, and I would lose a day of my vacation, as United tried to rebook a whole plane of customers who had to go to Chicago, and then continue their travels.  Normally I would have been upset and frustrated.  I would not have normally been calm and collected when talking to the gate agents.  But, for whatever reason, I was patient.  And that virtue that I had been working on, I noticed that I was better, after all those years of praying for more patience.  God had answered my prayers, but I had to trust in His timing, and the work that had to be done in my soul before I would be open to that virtue.  
    Can we trust God, even when we don’t see miracles, even when we don’t see the work that He is doing?  God’s work is so often invisible, and so our cooperation in that work is also an act of faith.  We do have to go out on a limb to have confidence that God will change us, He will perfect us, as and if we allow Him to do so.  We may not see much progress day-by-day, but after a year or more, I’m willing to bet that we will notice that we are different, that we have grown in virtue.  Be like the man in today’s Gospel: no matter how long the walk takes to see the fruit of your faith, do not doubt God, but have confidence that, if we but trust in God to transform our lives, He will not disappoint us.  He will, in fact, outdo our expectations: the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Humility, Gentleness, and Patience, Even When We Disagree

 Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  We are in the midst of the midterm elections.  And both in the partisan elections and in the ballot proposals, there are high stakes and heavy consequences for the outcomes.  Whether in the debates or in television ads, we see all kinds of name-calling and mud-slinging, accusing the opposition of being the worst kinds of people.  In the midst of this rancor, we hear from St. Paul today: “live…with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another through love, striving to preserve the unity of the spirit through the bond of peace.”  
    We may think that this admonition is easy to make for St. Paul, because he doesn’t have to deal with “those kind of people” in his letter.  But, in almost every Pauline letter, there is division in the Church, and not simply divisions between rich and poor, but divisions in faith and morality.  Indeed, St. Paul exhorts the faithful in Corinth to excommunicate a member for his egregious behavior.  But still, he calls for gentleness and humility here, along with patience and unity.

    Fast forward a few centuries to St. Augustine of Hippo.  St. Augustine was no wilting flower.  He fought heresy whenever he found it.  Indeed, he fought heresies that sometimes made him seem to be contradicting himself, in order to emphasize either God’s grace or our participation with it.  The Pelagians taught the heresy that original sin has not tainted us, and so we can do good works simply by our nature, rather than by the grace of God.  The Donatists taught the heresy that sin was everywhere and made us wretches and the priest had to be a saint in order to validly confect the sacraments.  St. Augustine also fought the Manichaeans, who taught the heresy that the world was divided into good and evil, the spiritual being good, and the material being evil.  
    But St. Augustine, even while being tough on heresy, strove to follow the words of St. Paul that we heard today.  The Doctor of Grace wrote of those who denied the validity of Catholic baptism (no small accusation):
 

when we do not repeat their baptism but acknowledge it to be our own, we are saying to them: You are our brothers.  […] And so, dear brothers, we entreat you on their behalf, in the name of the very source of our love, by whose milk we are nourished, and whose bread is our strength, in the name of Christ our Lord and his gentle love.  For it is time now for us to show them great love and abundant compassion by praying to God for them.  […] They respond with the same Amen, not with us, but still the same.  And so pour out your hearts for them in prayer to God.  

This guardian of orthodoxy (right belief) and orthopraxy (right practice or worship), neither gave up the faith, nor gave up charity to those who had wandered away.
    Christ shows us the basis for what St. Augustine taught and lived.  He was very hard on the Pharisees, who had twisted the words of Sacred Scripture in favor of their own traditions.  They executed a sham trial of Him for blasphemy, and led Him to be put to death by the Romans, all the while mocking Him as He offered Himself for us on the altar of the cross.  Christ did not give in to their lies and perjury, but He also prayed for them as He offered Himself to the eternal Father.  
    So how are we are unity?  How gentle and humble are we, especially with those whom we oppose?  Do we automatically condemn and excise from our life, or do we seek reconciliation and peace, whether from afar when it is not possible due to antagonisms when in person, or even close up when we have the chance?
    And this goes, not only for political opponents, many of whom profess the same faith, even if their actions show a lack of understanding of that faith and a lack of integrity in living out that faith, but also for fellow Catholics and priests and bishops.  It is easy to ostracize those with whom we do not agree, and sometimes we must take harsh action.  But are we willing to pray for them, and even to meet and dialogue with them, not giving up the truth, but being willing to hear their position and agree where we can, and be charitable where we can?
    Last weekend I was in Chicago for the Annual Investiture Weekend of the Equestrian Order of the Holy Sepulcher of Jerusalem.  I am honored to be a member, and was glad to welcome one of our parishioners, Kishore, to this august group that supports the Christian presence in the Holy Land.  The spiritual leader of our North Central Lieutenancy is the Cardinal Archbishop of Chicago.  He and I likely disagree on a number of priorities and prudential decisions when it comes to our Catholic faith.  There may even be areas where we disagree on the faith.  But, during one of our evening socials, he was suddenly right in front of me, and extended his hand in greeting.  I introduced myself, told him that I was a priest of Lansing, and we joked a bit about Bishop Boyea, who followed the Archbishop at the Josephenum as Rector.  We had a short, but pleasant conversation, before he moved on to other members to greet them.  I was struck by His Eminence’s sincere interest in meeting us, his charm, and his willingness to give of his time to be with us, when he likely has other more important matters (at least in his estimation) with which to deal.
    Meeting him didn’t change my disagreements with the head of the Church in Chicago.  It didn’t convince me that his prudential decisions were well-made.  I’m not signing up to be a member of his fan club (if he has one).  But it did bring home the Apostle’s admonition today, to be gentle and humble, patient, and to strive for unity where one can find it.
    Many Catholics today are quick to write-off those whom we feel are heterodox or heteropracticers (I just created that word for those who practice heteropraxy).  We can demonize them in words on blogs and Facebook posts, and then advocate all kinds of hateful actions, justified, in our minds, by seeking to maintain orthodoxy and orthopraxy.  But I think we would do well to follow the method of St. Augustine, who followed the method of St. Paul, who followed the model of our Lord: profess the truth, without giving in to error; hold fast to what God has revealed, even when it means suffering; but do all this with charity towards others, seeking forgiveness for those who have wandered away and who persecute us, simply for following and conforming ourselves to God.  Pour our your hearts for them to the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Praying Like Veruka Salt

 Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time
    It seems to me that recently, Hollywood in general does not know how to make good movies anymore.  They simply rehash old ones that were popular.  A case in point in the newer version of “Willy Wonka” released in 2005, called “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory,” which re-told the story of the movie released in 1971.  For me, Willy Wonka is always Gene Wilder, not Johnny Depp, even though the 1971 has some pretty scary scenes in it.

    In both movies, though, we see all sorts of bad character in children.  One in particular, Veruka Salt, is very demanding and self-centered.  She wants what she wants and she wants it now.  She often wants it without any personal labor.  Indeed, to find the golden ticket, her dad forces his workers to open thousands of bars of candy, until it’s found.  And then, when she’s on the tour with Willy Wonka, she wants a goose that lays a golden egg (in the 1971 version), demonstrated by her song, “I Want It Now," which ends with her standing on a scale, that determines that she’s a bad egg, and sends her to garbage chute.  
    While we don’t prefer to think of ourselves this way, this approach, that we want what we want and we want it now, can creep into our faith life.  We heard in the first reading from the Prophet Habakkuk, who probably wrote this book in the 7th century (600s) BC.  Perhaps, in our prayers, we have even used words like his: “How long, O Lord?  I cry for help but you do not listen!”  God, I’m praying to you!  You’re supposed to give me what I want as soon as I ask for it!!  Habakkuk, expressing that cry of his people, was not asking for anything bad.  The Babylonians are about to capture Jerusalem, God’s Holy Dwelling.  So they’re asking for His protection.  This is not a bad thing.  But remember, God had previously sent prophets to instruct the people to turn away from their evil, and they had not listened.  The consequences of their rebellion against God are about to fall on their own heads.
    Sometimes, we, too, ask for things that are not bad.  We seek some good that God can give us.  We feel that something should be in accord with God’s will.  And so we want it now.  Of course, we know that God allowed the Babylonians to sack Jerusalem, and the Jews went into exile from 587-539 BC.  But, God conveys through Habakkuk, that “the vision still has its time, pressed on to fulfillment, and will not disappoint; if it delays, wait for it, it will surely come.”  God will answer the cries of the people, but it will be on His schedule, not on theirs.  
    God invites us to be patient, and to trust that He will give us what we need, even if it’s after when we think we need it.  That takes faith, which Jesus encourages in the Gospel.  But there’s the curious follow-up to Jesus’ invitation to us to have faith, where He talks about us as servants, who need to wait for the Master’s schedule of dining.  Still, with ears to hear, we can see how often our prayers requests can come from an attitude where we are in charge, and we are the ones around whom God should make His plans.  But we are not the Master, but the unprofitable servants, whose job it is to serve the Master.  God’s will doesn’t have to conform to ours; quite the opposite: our will needs to conform to God’s.  
    I admit, I do not always exemplify that trust in God’s timing and the priority of God’s will over mine.  Because of my strong will (which can help me cling to God even in difficult times), I struggle saying “Thy will be done” and acknowledging that if it didn’t happen, then it’s not for the best.  When I want something, I automatically presume it’s for the best.  But, compared to God’s omniscience, we are like children who want dessert all the time, rather than eating our peas and carrots first.
    I think this struggle to accept God’s will and timing is most evident when someone we love is struggling with poor health and is approaching death.  There’s nothing wrong with seeking alternative treatments and second opinions, to make sure that we have explored every option.  But sometimes there is no other outcome than death.  Still I have seen adult children struggle greatly with accepting that reality, and wanting to keep trying every new medicine and prolong life, even when doctors are clear that there is no cure, beyond a miracle, and death is the only end to a disease or condition.  It’s not wrong to pray for miracles and have faith that God can accomplish mighty deeds, but are we willing to accept when God’s plan is different than ours, no matter how hard that is to accept?  
    And it is hard, especially when the answer we want in prayer deals with someone we love.  Love, we so often think, is doing everything we possibly can for the beloved.  But sometimes love is also accepting that God’s will is not ours, that what we love will not continue in the same way as before, and that love will simply treasure the days, weeks, or maybe months that we have left.  
    Faith is hard; faith requires us to battle our own desires and wills.  If it were easy, everyone would have faith, and it wouldn’t be so important for us in our relationship with God.  But today God invites us to make that move from “I want it now!” to “the just one, because of his faith, shall live.” 

Patience with the Kingdom of Heaven

 Resumed 6th Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Rhetorical question here, but how many of you have ever struggled with patience?  Perhaps some of you are better than I, but it’s been a long struggle to stay calm and not get easily frustrated.  I will say that I am better now than I used to be, but I’m still a work in progress.
    As our Lord talks about the kingdom of heaven, in today’s Gospel, he uses two images that require patience: a mustard seed and leaven.  One certainly involves more patience than the other, but both require patience.  If you plant the mustard seed in the ground, it takes a while for it to bloom and become that large bush where the birds dwell.  And even with leaven, it’s not like you add the yeast to flour and immediately the dough starts rising.  You have to wait, sometimes overnight, for it to really rise.  So, besides the fact that our Lord teaches us that the kingdom of heaven starts small, He is also teaching us that we need to be patient as the kingdom of heaven grows.
    This is important for us to remember as we see the numbers of Catholics who practice their faith decline.  In many ways we are impatient, we want to see huge numbers at Mass, living their faith in the public square, and transforming the City of Man to be more like the City of God.  But sometimes, God makes us wait.
    Now, this is not to suggest that we sit on our rumps and be passive.  The decline in the number of Catholics who are practicing is startling, and should shake us out of complacency.  In many ways, COVID exacerbated the problem, but even if we didn’t close down our churches for two and a half months, we would have still seen the same decline, just at a slower rate.  After all, do we really think that, but for COVID, lukewarm Catholics not living their faith and not allowing the faith to transform their private and public lives would have led to more people wanting to be Catholic?  I think we are fooling ourselves if we take that position.  Catholics who don’t live for the kingdom of heaven tend not to attract new Catholics, no matter how many come to Mass each Sunday.  It’s like pretending that we’re going to make a profit on selling a widget for $1 when it costs $2 to make, as long as we just sell a huge amount of widgets.  The math doesn’t add up.  So the spiritual math of expecting people in pews who aren’t committed to the faith to stem the tide of Catholics leaving the Church isn’t there.
    But, at the same time that we should recommit ourselves to living a Christ-centered life, and spreading the Gospel in our daily lives, both at home and at work, by word and by deed, we shouldn’t freak out that numbers aren’t growing right now.  That’s hard to do; I know.  As I mentioned, I’m impatient, and so when I looked at our October counts for St. Matthew, both the Ordinary and Extraordinary Form Masses, there was that quick sense of panic that things aren’t growing, which means I’m not making a difference, which means I’m not doing a good enough job or simply enough period; I need to do more (even though I was feeling like I was burning the candle at both ends).  It’s easy to get caught in the numbers game, and treat the Church like a corporation, where, if the profits don’t rise consistently every year, we aren’t doing something right (profits being akin to people in the pews for the church).  
    Growth of the kingdom takes time, and often happens in unseen ways.  In all reality, the Church started with less than 100 people at Pentecost, who spread the Gospel, and thousands were converted in that one day.  But those thousands were from around north Africa, the Holy Land, and Asia Minor.  When you get them spread out, you don’t really have a mega-church.  
    We probably tend to think about the churches St. Paul founded like dioceses (which many did later become) and presume that the diocese had lots of people, like the Diocese of Lansing does (we’re a smaller diocese, and we have, as of 2019, around 191,000 Catholics).  In fact, from what I have heard and read, the Church in Corinth likely had 50-150 people.  And they had so many problems that St. Paul wrote them two epistles.  The Church in Rome likely had more people, and spread more quickly, but there were more people in Rome, especially slaves and immigrants, who were very eager to hear the Gospel and put their faith in Christ.  I don’t have any sense of the numbers, but maybe no bigger than our diocese, and likely smaller.  It took time and fidelity for the Church in Rome to blossom into the populated metropolitan diocese that it is today.  In almost every place where the Gospel has been planted, like the mustard seed, it took time to grow before it became a large bush in which the birds to dwell.  As we are now living in pagan times once more (if not officially, than de facto), we should not be surprised that it will take some time for things to grow once more.  

    Pope Benedict XVI, Pope Emeritus, stated in 1969: 

[The Church] will become small and will have to start pretty much all over again.  […] The reduction in the number of faithful will lead it to losing an important part of its social privileges.  It will be a more spiritual Church, and…will be poor and will become the Church of the destitute.

He also said, “Men in a totally planned world will find themselves unspeakably lonely.  […] Then they will discover the little flock of believers as something wholly new.  They will discover it as a hope that is meant for them, an answer for which they have always been searching in secret.”  Again, that was said in 1969.  
    We cannot be complacent in sharing the Gospel, but as the Lord said, the kingdom of heaven starts small, and takes time to grow to its full stature.  May the Lord grant us patience and fidelity in the meantime, and help us to be those faithful witnesses that will draw others to the joy and hope of the Gospel.  In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

A Pilgrimage to Bethlehem

 

Manger Square

First Sunday of Advent
    One of the great blessings in my life is that I have been to the Holy Land three times: once as a seminarian, and twice as a priest.  And while the climax of the trip is the visit to the Basilica of the Holy Sepulchre, where Jesus died, was buried, and rose from the dead, also one of the major stops is the Church of the Nativity of the Lord.  Like a lot of other holy sites, a church was built in Bethlehem at the site of the Lord’s birth during the reign of Emperor Constantine, after his mother, St. Helena, had traveled to the holy sites.  Like other churches built during that time, it was destroyed.  But, a new church was built, around 529.  Unlike other churches, that same church structure from 529, though built up with additions, still remains.  As we were told, one reason why this church survived where others didn’t was because when the Persians attacked in 614, they spared this church alone, because above the church entrance were three Persian-dressed men.  It’s important to recall that, at the Epiphany, we celebrate Magi, wise men from the east.  And what is east of Judea?  Persia.  
    The Church of the Nativity has always been busy each time I went.  You enter through a door that makes you bend over to enter, called the “Door of Humility,” since you have to lower yourself to enter.  Then, as the antechamber opens up to the main nave of the basilica, you see how long the line is, and how long it will take you to wait in line to see the place where Jesus was born.  As a seminarian, I think I waited two hours or so.  This last time I went, I think I only had to wait 45 minutes.  

Door of Humility

    The line leads to a descending stair case, again, where one has to bow down to go through the archway above the opening, towards the Grotto of the Nativity, where Jesus was born.  At the location, in a small chapel, there is a silver star surrounded with a Latin inscription: Hic De Maria Virgine Maria Jesus Christus Natus Est, which means, Here, of the Virgin Mary, Jesus Christ was Born.  Across from there is the Grotto of the Manger, where Mary laid Jesus down to sleep after giving birth.  
    Why do I mention this church and my experiences?  Not only to highlight that it’s my intent to lead another pilgrimage to the Holy Land in 2022, but because I remember that wait.  At first you start praying, maybe a rosary, especially the third joyful mystery of the Nativity of the Lord.  And you’re trying to stay quiet (because otherwise the Orthodox monks will shush you), but eventually you want to talk a little bit.  There’s lots to see as you wait, as some of the columns still have saints painted on them.  There are mosaics from earlier times beneath the current floor, which you can see through plexiglass-covered openings in the floor.  Everyone wants to get in as soon as possible, so the idea of the line is basically morphed into a clump of people as you get closer (which does get precarious on uneven and semi-circularly shaped descending stairs).  There are icons everywhere, as most of the Church is controlled by the Orthodox Patriarchate of Jerusalem.  And the smells oscillate between the beautiful aroma of incense which is used in the Orthodox prayers, and the less than beautiful scent of BO of pilgrims who have been in the heat, or from other cultures who may have other approaches to deodorant.  But, through it all, you’re waiting to get to the cave, the niche where Jesus was born (we Latins tend to think of the creche, due to St. Francis of Assisi).  

Place where Jesus was born

    

So this Advent, we’re on our way to the cave.  We’re waiting, not only for our celebration of Christmas, but for Jesus to return, not as a babe but as a victorious King.  Jesus tells us to watch, because we don’t know when it will happen.  As we go on our way to Bethlehem, our celebration of Christmas, the first step in is always humility.  We cannot make our way to the cave, to Jesus’ birth, unless we humble ourselves before God.  If we try to get there with our pride, we won’t be able to enter in to encounter God.
    There will be times, on our way to the cave, when we know we want to pray, and there will be times when we are tempted to stop watching and waiting, and put our minds on something else.  As we go our minds will sometimes be lifted with the smoke of the incense into the heavens.  And sometimes we’ll be brought quickly back to earth by smells that are all to earthly, and not divine.  
    On our way to the cave, it’s important to recognize, as we heard the Prophet Isaiah say in our first reason, that part of the reason we don’t watch so well is because of our sins.  We miss seeing God because our sins have grabbed our attention.  So let’s confess our sins to the Lord, and ask for His mercy, confident in His love for us.  And having received the mercy of God, may we, with St. Paul, give thanks to God, who has given us His grace to become more and more like Him, who became like us in all things but sin.  
    Today we start our pilgrimage to Bethlehem.  Our path is humility, prayer, contrition, and patience.  It may take us a while, sometimes it may seem like a very long time, but we’ll get there.  And if we are ready, watchful in prayer, then as we celebrate God-with-us at Christmas, and as we watch and wait for Jesus to return, we will find such joy at seeing the star, Jesus, the Morning Star, who will return to inaugurate the day that never ends.  Venite, adoremus–Come, let us adore!

Nave of the Church of the Nativity

I'm Not 25 Anymore

Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Powers Catholic Soccer Team after
winning the State Championship

    Many of you will probably remember that, about 2 or 3 years ago (the time flies by so quickly), I broke my thumb while practicing soccer with our Powers JV soccer team.  We were doing 3 v 2 drills, and I had tripped a little, and was on the ground, but I didn’t want a sophomore or freshman to beat me, so I hyper-extended my thumb pushing myself up, and got a little chip fracture.  As George Strait sings in his 2008 hit song, “Troubadour,” “I still feel 25 / most of the time…”  But that day was a good reminder that there’s a big difference between being a teenager soccer player and a 30-something priest. 
    When it comes to our spiritual life, sometimes we’re as much deceiving ourselves as I was thinking that I could still hang with even a JV soccer team.  We think that spiritual progress–deepening our prayer life, combating certain sins, growing in virtue–is something that we have to muscle through by ourselves.  It’s the theory of holiness that we simply pull ourselves up by our bootstraps.  This mentality of doing it ourselves is ingrained in us from a young age.  It is, as we might say, a quintessentially American trait.  That American spirit to do it ourselves led us to declare our independence 244 years ago; it led us blaze pioneer trails across the Appalachian mountains; it pushed Lewis and Clark to find passage from St. Louis to Oregon; it rocketed us to the moon in the 1960s.  So when it comes to building and growing a nation, it’s not a bad thing, but when it comes to building our spiritual life, it’s not the way the spiritual order works. 
    Our readings talk to us of humility, and that virtue is nothing more than the recognition of the truth.  It’s not pretending that we’re not as good as we are, but it’s also not puffing ourselves up on our own, either.  Jesus fulfills the prophecy of Zechariah by entering Jerusalem on a donkey.  He does so, not to say that He’s not a king, but to demonstrate that His kingdom isn’t one of force, but that His kingdom is established in peace. 
    Jesus also said today that the wisdom of the spiritual life has been hidden from the wise and learned, but has been revealed to the little ones.  The wise and the learned don’t get it, because they are used to doing things on their terms, to working with the mindset of the world where a person has to do it all by him or herself.  But the little ones realize how little they can do on their own, and always turn to their parents to help them achieve their goals. 
    Jesus also invites all who labor and are burdened to come to Him, because His yoke is easy and His burden is light.  Again, this is a clear demonstration that the spiritual life is not meant to be pursued on one’s own, but is to be striven for in partnership with the Lord.  A yoke is not meant for one ox, but for a team of oxen.  So the yoke that the Lord offers us, an easy and light burden, is meant for us to carry with Jesus, not apart from Him.
    So when we want to deepen our prayer life, look to Jesus to guide your prayer.  It could be a formal prayer (the Church certainly has a treasury of beautiful prayers that have been prayed over the centuries), or it could simply be talking with Jesus as one talks with a friend.  Maybe ask Jesus to help you add an extra 5 minutes to your daily prayer routine.  Or maybe try adoration from 7-7:45 a.m. on Fridays.
    When we’re trying to root out a sin from our life, whether it’s big or it’s small sins, a lot of times we think that if we only tried harder, then we’d get better results.  But often times sins can be so deeply ingrained in our lives that we don’t know how to get them out on our own.  It may be sin like gossip; it may be a sin like pornography; or maybe it’s a different sin altogether.  But the Lord doesn’t want us to try to rid the sin from our lives on our own.  His grace is effective at casting sin out of our life, just as light casts out darkness.  It may not happen all at once, but with the Lord’s help, we can find the freedom from the slavery that sin brings.  Invite Jesus to help you get rid of whatever sin is enslaving you right now.
    When we’re trying to grow in virtue, it’s much easier with the Lord.  A virtue is a stable disposition to act in the right way.  It comes through habitual actions of doing the right thing.  So we have to cooperate.  But the Lord’s grace can make it easier for us to do the right thing when we have the opportunity to do the wrong thing.  I know that patience has often been a difficult virtue for me, especially when traveling.  It seems like my plane is always delayed, or having mechanical problems, or the flight is cancelled due to bad weather.  And for years I would get so worked up and frustrated when my travel plans wouldn’t go as I had prepared or wanted.  Last November my vacation to Australia was delayed by a day because of weather; and then in January my trip to Dayton was delayed due to weather as I missed my connecting flight by mere minutes; and even my most recent trip to Nashville was delayed by a day due to weather.  But, in all those circumstances, I could see the Lord’s grace at work, supporting and sustaining my own efforts, to keep me calm and entrust myself to the Lord’s will.  I’m not perfectly patient, but I can see progress working with the Lord, rather than by myself.
    We’re often tempted to do things by ourselves, for a variety of reasons.  But to think that we can be fully successful by ourselves in the spiritual life, is about as realistic as thinking that I can keep up with high schoolers in soccer.  Don’t strive for holiness on your own.  Work with Jesus to be a saint; you won’t be disappointed.

Late to the Party?

First Sunday of Advent

It may seem like the Church is a little late to the party.  Here we are, beginning the new liturgical year with the beginning of Advent.  There are no Christmas trees up (except our giving tree in the narthex); we have no poinsettias around; there are no manger scenes.  Yet in malls, at businesses, and it seems everywhere else, Christmas has already come.  And not only has it already come, it has been here for four weeks already!  Many places decorated for Christmas the day after Halloween.  So why doesn’t our Church get with it?!?

Because our Church knows the human condition better than the secular world, and, as a loving Mother, is helping Her children to grow in virtue, especially the virtue of patience and watchfulness.  She gives us this season of Advent to prepare.  And we only prepare, if we are not ready right now.  And we aren’t ready right now to celebrate the Nativity of Jesus.  We need time to wait and to watch.

Because, after all, we are still waiting and watching for Jesus to return.  The word “Advent” comes from the Latin word adveniens, which means coming, or coming to.  Ever since Jesus ascended into heaven, we are waiting for Jesus to come back, to come to us again.  These four weeks of Advent are a microcosm of the state of life for all Christians for their lives: waiting for Jesus, waiting to celebrate His coming.

And we wait and we watch because we “do not know when the Lord of the house is coming.”  Waiting and watching for this long is hard.  Perhaps we have become drowsy and fallen asleep, in the sense that we don’t really think that Christ is ever going to return.  It has been 1,984 years since Jesus ascended, with angels promising to return in the same way that He left us.  But it is not the right time yet, and so we can forget that Jesus will return.  We can live in such a way that shows that we think we have months, or years, or decades, or maybe even centuries before Jesus returns.  But in honest, we do not know the day, nor the hour.  

And so in this season of Advent, we do in an intense way for four weeks what we should be doing in our lives always: waiting for Jesus.  As a Church we don’t put up Christmas decorations until the last possible moment because we need to prepare our hearts.  Our first reading from the Prophet Isaiah gives us a clue on how to do that: we need to acknowledge our sinfulness, and ask God to return.  When we recognize that we have not lived like Jesus calls us to, we prepare a way for Jesus to come to us, because a heart that is repentant, that is contrite, is a heart that recognizes its need for Jesus.  And Jesus will not force Himself upon us.  If we do not feel we need Jesus (even though we, of course, always do), then He will not come to us.  And when we call out to Jesus to “return for the sake of your servants,” He hears our prayer and comes to us in love and mercy.  For what sibling would not come to the aid of His brother or sister, if that brother or sister pleaded for the presence of the brother.  Our Divine Brother, Jesus, is waiting to hear us cry out to Him in our need so that He can come and save us, but He will wait for us to ask.

Certainly in our homes and maybe our places of work, we are starting to decorate and we are beginning to celebrate Christmas in a secular way.  We have parties, we put up trees, we may even get together with family because of different schedules on Christmas day and after.  But let’s not forget that we’re not there yet.  There is virtue in waiting to celebrate because it helps us truly keep watch for Jesus’ second coming in glory.  In this time Jesus comes to us in mercy.  At the end of time Jesus will come to us in judgment.  In this time, we wait to celebrate the Nativity of Jesus as a tiny, helpless baby in Bethlehem.  At the end of time Jesus will come as a conquering King who will finally vanquish all the effects of sin and death.  May we truly be watchful in our daily lives, especially during this Advent season, so that Jesus may not come suddenly and find us sleeping.  “‘Be watchful!  Be alert!’”

Being Patient with God and Ourselves

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Probably each of us has been on the receiving or the giving end of the question, “Are we there yet?”  If we’re on the receiving end of that question, maybe we responded with some form of, “No; and if I hear that question one more time…”  Especially as kids, we may not always have a lot of patience, but even as adults patience can be difficult.  It never seems to fail; whenever I’m in a rush, I always seem to end up behind a person who wants to drive 5 mph lower than the speed limit without a safe way to pass, or I manage to hit every red light.  

Whether we’re young or more advanced in age, we can also struggle with being patient with the world.  We see so many bad things that happen, so often to good people, and we get impatient.  We wonder why these bad things are allowed to happen.  Maybe we even get impatient with God as we get upset that someone we know and love goes through a difficult time and the person causing them a difficult time seems to have everything going right for them.

Things were not much different 2,000 years ago when Jesus preached in Palestine.  He tells this familiar parable about a farmer planting good seed, but an enemy going through the field and planting weeds that start to come up with the wheat.  Those working the fields ask if they should pull the weeds, but the sower tells them not to, lest the wheat get pulled up prematurely as the weeds are pulled up.

It is not a surprise to us that good and evil are so often intertwined with each other.  We may like this good trait of that particular person, but dislike the bad trait of the same person.  Maybe we see a good thing happening, but then it leads to someone else suffering.  Our world seems to be one large, mixed field of weeds and wheat.  And that may frustrate us to no end.  We just want the pure good, we want evil to be defeated and eliminated from the earth.

That desire is good.  It shows that we have a desire for heaven.  In the Book of Revelation, the cry of the martyrs under the throne of God is how long will God allow the evil to continue and His servants to suffer?  But God is more patient than we are, and His patience is meant to allow for conversion, for a change of heart and life.  God’s forgiveness is there to give time, as long as the person still lives, to turn away from evil and turn toward God.

Because it’s not just the world that is a mixed bag; it’s not just the outside world that is weeds sown amongst wheat.  Our own hearts are the same way.  There are parts of us that seek to do God’s will, that are full of His grace and love.  There are also parts of us that prefer our own will, that are full of wickedness.  It can be very easy to demand the justice of God, that evil be finally vanquished.  But if we look into our hearts, how much of us would be destroyed if God were not patient with us, if God exacted His justice upon us rather than His mercy.  I know I would be in trouble.

It is easy to think that the Church herself is a place for good people.  And in one sense, the Church, the Mystical Body of Christ, is untrained by sin, because Jesus is untainted by sin.  But, in a different sense, the Church on earth in her members, is what St. Augustine of Hippo calls a corpus permixtum, a mixed body which has both saint and sinner.  The Church on earth is not simply for the righteous, but is also for sinners.  Pope Francis used the image of the Church as a field hospital that goes out to treat the mortally wounded.  We might extend that analogy to also say that in a field hospital, some are wounded in minor ways from the ricochet of shrapnel, while others have missing limbs and life-threatening injuries.  That is who we are as a Church.  Some of us are more injured than others, but we all suffer from the wounds of sin.  And if we don’t know that, if we think that we’re good, then we no longer need a Savior.  And if we don’t need a Savior, then we don’t need Jesus.  And if we don’t need Jesus, then we are the most pitiable people of all, and heaven is not the place for us.

Now, all analogies limp, and even as Jesus talks about the weeds and the wheat, and even as our hearts are fields mixed with weeds and wheat, it doesn’t mean we let the weeds go.  We cannot simply ignore our sin because God is merciful and patient with us.  We need to ask ourselves how the weeds got in our fields, and try to make sure they don’t get there again.  In reality, each morning of our life is the time for sewing seed, and each evening of our life is the time for harvesting.  Every day we can ask ourselves what good we did, and thank God for that.  Every day we can ask ourselves what evil we did, big or small, and ask God to forgive us, and help us to avoid those sins tomorrow.  It is especially effective if we confess those evils in the Sacrament of Penance, aka confession, because we receive the very life of God in order to help prevent the weeds from being sewn in our hearts.  

We may struggle with patience, especially when it involves someone else suffering evil.  But if we are impatient with others, then we should ask if God should be that impatient with us, or if we’d rather receive His mercy and give us time to turn back to Him.  And if we want God to do that with us, so we should do with others.