War and Peace Begins with Us

Fifth Sunday after Pentecost

Pope Pius XII

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  “Nothing is lost by peace; everything may be lost by war.”  Who do you suppose said this?  Pope Leo XIV?  Pope Francis?  It was Pope Pius XII in 1939, a week before historians say that World War II began.  “It is hardly possible to imagine that in an atomic age era, war could be used as an instrument of justice.”  That was Pope St. John XXIII in his Encyclical, Pacem in Terris.  As we hopefully find ourselves at the end of another war, this time with Iran, and given the readings today, I thought it important to reflect on violence and peace on this fifth Sunday after Pentecost.
    To be fair, declarations of war are the proper authority of governments.  Yet the Church has something to say about war and the moral questions and implications of war.  But today’s homily is not for members of Congress nor for heads of state.  Today’s homily is for you, not so much as a one-sided talking to about whether or not we should have entered into a war (declared or not) in Iran, but what we contribute to war or peace.  
    St. Peter, our first pope, tells us today in the epistle that Christ does not call us to return evil for evil, and that we “must turn from evil and do good, seek peace and follow after it.”  Why?  Because, frankly, we’re bad at meting out just punishment.  It doesn’t mean that we can’t, but we’re not very good at it.  And we see this from a young age.  There you are, a young child, minding your own business, riding in a car with your parents on a beautiful sunny day, maybe even on your way to or coming from church, and your sister decides to push your buttons by poking you in the arm.  Now, you know your parents have told you to use your words, so you tell your sister to stop.  But this only eggs her on all the more, and she keeps poking you.  So you hit her, to show her that she can’t pick on you without repercussions.  But she doesn’t want to look like a weakling, so she pushes you back, until you’re in a full-on car fight and your parents look back and tell you both to cut it out, and your dad says, “If I have to pull this car over…”
    When we respond to perceived wrongs, we tend to give a little more than we got, as a deterrent to the person wronging us.  In our attempt to be just, we tend to go a little beyond justice.  But then the other person feels aggrieved, and has to respond to us, and goes a little beyond what we deserve.  And so the cycle starts and sometimes even goes to a point we never would have imagined.
    St. James asks in his epistle, “Where do the wars and where do the conflicts among you come from?  Is it not from your passions?”  Our Lord knew that we often don’t hit the target of justice and tend to give more punishment than others deserve.  And so, while the Decalogue forbade murdering another (“Thou shalt not kill”), Christ the New Moses teaches us that we have to nip anger in the bud in order to stop unjust force, and change our hearts so that we act from a place of peace, not a place of wrath or vengeance.  

G.K. Chesterton

    “But,” you may say, “what about the Nazis?  Shouldn’t we have fought them?”  Before answering that, if you have to use Nazi’s to justify your argument, you probably haven’t developed your arguments well enough, and simply disagree with the conclusion without having an issue with individual propositions that lead to the conclusion.  But, having said that, the Church does allow, in some limited cases, that war, primarily in self-defense, is necessary.  And this finds its basis in our individual right, and sometimes duty, to defend ourselves and others.  A parent who doesn’t defend their child from violence is a coward, not a virtuous person.  But, again, what is the motivation?  Is it because we really don’t like the aggressor and we’re glad we finally have a reason to knock his lights out?  Or is it because we love our children and don’t want any harm to come to them.  G.K. Chesterton wisely wrote, “The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.”  The motivation comes not from antagonism towards others, but love of those he or she is bound to protect by some obligation, be it a parent of a child, a law enforcement officer of a community, or a soldier of a nation.  
    When we “give it to them” to prove that we are the victors and the stronger person, we tend to perpetual the cycle of violence.  Even looking at World War II, most historians agree that the ingredients for the rise of the Nazi party came from an overaggressive and punitive response to Germany and Austria in the Treaty of Versailles.  The allies were so hurt by the people and materials lost in World War I, that they allowed vengeance to govern the resumption of peace, rather than trying to truly bring back justice and not going beyond that.  
    In our lives, we have to ask ourselves if we, or probably how we, perpetual a cycle of violence.  Even if I am simply acting only out of anger or animus towards another, I am contributing, even in a very small way, to a mentality that might makes right and violence is the only answer that works.  While we don’t have to make decisions on going to war, we do have to decide how we respond to injustices.  Are we willing, without denying our right to self-defense and defense of others, especially the vulnerable, to seek good rather than evil, peace rather than conflict?  Do my insults and harsh words of others build up the common good, or make others feel victimized so that they have to get back at me?  If every person learns to give better than you get, will the people who get elected to positions of government just carry that over into international relations?  
    God does not call us to be doormats and allow others to victimize us without consequence.  But if we can die to our passions which seek retribution; if we can truly seek the good of the other, even if we have to do so from afar, then we can, in our own small way, promote peace, which comes when people feel they are treated with dignity.  If we wish to stop wars, violence, and hatred, then we cannot simply state that we have not murdered anyone.  As Christ teaches us, we have to first work on eliminating the anger and hatred in our own hearts, and love others as Christ has loved us.  Who with the Father and the Holy Spirit is God, for ever and ever.  Amen.   

Truth: Proposition and Person

Fourth Sunday after Easter
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Math is not my thing.  Math is good, but it’s not something I focus on or am drawn to in my life.  There were many days in high school that I wondered whether I would ever use what I learned in Algebra I, Geometry, or Algebra II later in life.  But today, at even if just in this homily, it seems like math is once again useful.
    The math that came to mind when reading over the Gospel was the Transitive Property of Equality.  This law states that if A is equal to B, and B is equal to C, then A is equal to C.  What does that have to do with the Gospel?  Well, our Lord states that when the Spirit of truth comes, He will teach us all truth.  But the Christ Himself also says, “‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life.’”  So the Spirit of truth will lead us to truth, but Christ is truth, so the Spirit will lead us to Christ.
    Pope Francis, may he rest in peace, emphasized this point in his weekly audience in May 2013, when he said:
 

Jesus himself told his disciples: the Holy Spirit “will guide you into all the truth”, since he himself is “the Spirit of Truth”.  We are living in an age in which people are rather sceptical [sic] of truth.  Benedict xvi [sic] has frequently spoken of relativism, that is, of the tendency to consider nothing definitive….And yet Jesus is exactly this: the Truth that, in the fullness of time, “became flesh”, and came to dwell among us so that we might know it.  The truth is not grasped as a thing, the truth is encountered.  It is not a possession, it is an encounter with a Person.

We often think of truths like we think of mathematical laws: propositions that explain reality.  But truth cannot be limited to propositions, but desires to be encountered in the Divine Person of our Lord.
    We can try to limit truth to mere propositions.  We might say: you must believe this fact; or you must live in that way.  But for Catholics, these propositions do not exist simply as Platonic ideas in a far away heaven.  For Catholics, our beliefs and our morality reveal to us who Christ is, which is important because Christ reveals who we can be to us.  Gaudium et spes, the Pastoral Constitution of the Church in the Modern World from the Second Vatican Council puts it this way: “The truth is that only in the mystery of the incarnate Word does the mystery of man take on light….Christ, the final Adam, by the revelation of the mystery of the Father and His love, fully reveals man to man himself and makes his supreme calling clear.”

    And the Church Fathers from the earliest times recognized this revelation of who God desires us to be so clearly.  At the end of this month, we will celebrate in this church, with our Orthodox brothers and sisters in Genesee County, the 1700th anniversary of the First Ecumenical Council of Nicaea.  At this first ecumenical council in the life of the Church, the 318 bishops affirmed that Christ is consubstantial with the Father (‘𝜊𝜇𝜊𝜊𝜐𝜎𝜄𝜊𝜍 is the Greek term; we say consubstantialem in Latin), rather than what the heretic Arius taught, which was that Christ was an exalted part of God’s creation, but merely a created being.  But the fathers recognized that if Christ was not co-equal God, then He could not save us.  As St. Athanasius said, “God became man so that man might become God.”     So Christ reveals to us, in this proposition of truth, that we are those saved by God Incarnate.  We encounter the mystery of God-made-man, which allows us to understand that we are worth saving, that God would come to us and take on our human nature so that our human nature could be united to God.  While there are propositions that are true, we can more easily reject cold axioms.  But if Truth is a Person, then our connection to that axiom becomes a relationship with a brother, an opportunity to love and be loved and become the fullest version of ourselves, revealed by the one who created us.
    And Truth in flesh calls us to go deeper than merely the recitation of facts or axioms.  This becomes clearer when you think about your spouse or your best friend.  I could tell you that my best friend has brown hair, is six-foot-something tall, is muscular, works for the State Police, is married with children, likes to joke around and poke fun at me for mediocre homilies.  You might know those facts, but if you haven’t met Anthony, you wouldn’t fully appreciate who he is and how he is.  I could list all the facts in the world, but the encounter with him gives a reality that stating facts never could.  The same is truth for our faith: we could give all the facts about our Lord, but until you encounter Him, you cannot truly love Him, and only in encountering Him can that love blossom so that it gives us the fullness of joy that God desires for us.

    Yes, the Holy Spirit, the gift of the Father and the Son to the Church, leads us to understand propositions and axioms of how God made the world and how we are to live in it to find happiness.  But the Holy Spirit leads us to so much more than that!  The Holy Spirit leads us to encounter the Truth that surpasses propositions, because the Truth is not an “it” but a “He,” a Person that loves us, has shown us how to be truly happy, and that desires our love in return, Jesus Christ, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit is God for ever and ever.  

Our Mission Statement

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time
    We are all used to mission statements in work.  Many business have some written mission statement.  As a parish, we have a purpose statement that is on the front of our bulletin each week: “Our parish purpose is to use beauty and truth to inspire and develop disciples to transform the secular order by the grace of God, for His glorification and the edification of man.”    We’re also used to it on certain TV shows.  For example Star Trek: “Space: the final frontier.  These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise.  Its continuing mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before.”  

    In the Gospel today we hear both the purpose statement of St. Luke and the mission statement of Jesus.  St. Luke tells us that his purpose is “to write [a narrative of events] in an orderly sequence for you…so that you may realize the certainty of the teachings you have received.”  He writes his Gospel account in order to help us believe in what we have heard about Jesus, because he collected the information from those who knew the Lord.  He took his part in the Mystical Body of Christ, the Church, by sharing in written form the good news, the Gospel, of Jesus.  
    Jesus, for His part, quotes the prophet Isaiah, as St. Luke tells us, as He explains in Nazareth, His home town, that He is the long-awaited Messiah.  He tells the people: “‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor.  He has sent me to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord.’”  And, in case there was any doubt about what He was saying, He tells the people there, “‘Today this Scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing.’”  

    Perhaps this is from where the practice of bishops choosing a motto stems, though those are usually much shorter.  For example, Pope Francis chose Miserando atque eligendo, or “by having mercy and also by choosing.”  Or Pope Benedict XVI chose Cooperatores veritatis–cooperators of the truth.  Or Pope St. John Paul II’s famous motto, Totus tuus–Totally yours (referring to the Blessed Mother).  Bishop Boyea has In manus tuas–Into your hands, taken from Luke’s Gospel, as the final words of Jesus on the cross, which He quotes Psalm 31.  Even I have one for my coat-of-arms: In spiritu et veritate–In spirit and truth, which comes from Jesus’ interaction with the Samaritan woman in St. John’s Gospel, and references how we are to worship.  In seminary as jokes, we would sometimes suggest mottos for our brothers when they were ordained, taking out of context other Scripture passages like, “Surely, Lord, there be a stench” and “And Jesus wept,” both from the account of the raising of Lazarus.  
    But it’s not a bad idea for us to have some Scripture that guides our spiritual life, even if it changes from year to year.  Because, like the Blues Brothers, we are all on a mission from God.  Our mission is generally the same, to bring others to believe in Jesus as well as to go to heaven ourselves.  But, as St. Paul reminds us in the second reading, we each have different parts to play in the Church, which does not diminish each person and their role, but helps each of us to shine in what God has called us to do.  Some are apostles; others, prophets; others, teachers; others do mighty deeds; others have gifts of healing or assistance or administration; others, speak in tongues; and other gifts, as well.  But God desires each of us to use the gifts that we have, which He has freely given us, to help us go to heaven and to help build up the Church.  
    Again, that role that we have may change over time.  Maybe at one point of our life we are really strong in apologetics; maybe at another time our role in building up the Church is raising a family as disciples of Christ; maybe at another time it’s helping with different groups in the parish; maybe at another time it’s bearing witness to the faith at work.  The list goes on and on.  But God desires that we, throughout our life and especially after we are confirmed, do what we can to share the Gospel and help the Church grow.
    So what would your motto or mission statement be?  What Scripture passage guides you at this time in your life?  You may not have thought of this before, so I encourage you this week to open up the family Bible (hopefully it’s not hard to find and isn’t simply collecting dust), and read through the Psalms or Gospel passages or the epistles of St. Paul to choose a Scripture passage that will guide you this year.  Maybe it will be part of what we heard in the Gospel today: “to bring glad tidings to the poor.”  Maybe it will be from our first reading: “rejoicing in the Lord must be your strength.”  Hopefully it’s not a joke, like the taken-out-of-context phrase from the second reading, “‘I do not need you.’”  Whatever Scripture passage you discern the Lord wants to guide you with this year, may it shape your activities in work and rest, and home and abroad, to help spread the Gospel and build up the Church, which continues the mission of the Lord by the power of the Holy Spirit. 

Pray, Hope, and Don't Worry

Seventh Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Recently more and more journalists are reporting that sometime around the middle of this month, Pope Francis will further restrict celebrations of the Mass using the Missal of Pope St. John XXIII.  And while I’m loathe to accept rumors and gossip as fact, two previous similar situations have proven that, at times, rumors and gossip do have a ring of truth.
    I cannot and will not go into detail now about speculating on what will happen after Rome releases this document, if there will be, in fact, a document as feared, because we don’t know what it will say.  I have, through the Diocese of Lansing’s Office of Worship, asked Bishop Boyea to release a pastoral letter to the communities that celebrate using the Usus antiquior if further restrictions are levied against us.  Certainly, in times of upheaval and strife, the words of the spiritual father of our Diocese are most important.
    But what do we do until then?  One temptation is to worry.  But our Lord told us quite directly not to do that.  “Do not worry about your life…” he said in Matthew, chapter 6.  “Can any of you by worrying add a single moment to your life-span?”  Worry is what the enemy seeks to have us do, because when we worry we try to take the place of God where everything has to be in our own hands for an appropriate answer and resolution.  No amount of worrying will change anything, but it will exhaust us and cause us to lack trust in God, who can do all things.

    St. Pio of Pietrelcina, more commonly known as Padre Pio, would say it this way: “Pray, hope, and don’t worry.”  Prayer is something we can do.  When we pray we take our concerns to God, for whom all things are possible.  Whether we pray Rosaries, or litanies, or novenas, or simple Paters and Aves, prayer draws us closer to the Sacred Heart, which always benefits us.  In prayer we become like the beloved disciple, St. John, who leaned his head against the breast of our Savior at the Last Supper.  And that is not a bad place to be.
    Obedience is also key.  St. Augustine of Hippo once wrote, “If you believe what you like in the Gospel, and reject what you don’t like, it is not the Gospel you believe, but yourself.”  Analogously, we could say that if we only obey what we like, and disobey when we don’t like something, then we are not truly obedient.  Pope Francis, whatever we may think about the reasons for any upcoming decision, is the Pope.  He was validly elected.  If he weren’t, I’m sure Cardinal Burke, who was present for the election, would have said something by now.  I don’t have to agree with all of Pope Francis’s decisions.  I don’t have to find that his words or actions always to help foster faith.  But I do owe him, as Supreme Pontiff, religious submission of will and intellect.  And Popes have always retained the authority to adjust the form of the sacraments and the way the Mass is celebrated.  Pope St. Pius V did so in eliminating rites that were less than 100 years old.  Pope St. John XXIII did it when he added St. Joseph’s name to the Canon.  Pope Benedict XVI (who should be canonized) did it when he gave all individual priests that authority to celebrate using the pre-Conciliar liturgy. 
    In my time here, I have observed almost none of the criticisms which Pope Francis has leveled against those who prefer the Traditional Latin Mass.  Very few deny the dogmatic and doctrinal authority of the Second Vatican Ecumenical Council, even while some (quite rightly) do point out issues in its implementation.  Very few do what Cardinal Burke has condemned: lacking respect and obedience to the Holy Father by simply referring to him as Bergoglio or using other words to describe him which are not fitting for Catholics when referring to the pontiff.  Most, if not all, even while struggling with some of the things Pope Francis says (as do I, at times) pray for him and seek only to be good Catholics who appreciate the entire 2,000 year history of the Church, and prefer to worship using the older Mass.  We have united well in our parish with those who worship using the Missal of Pope St. Paul VI, and I truly believe we are united as one parish, not a divisive group within a parish.  So the attacks that some level against us are not true, and we suffer quietly those detractions, as St. Peter, our first pontiff, encouraged us to do.
    We also remain true to our conscience.  Conscience is a word that has been warped in the past decades.  Right now, most consider conscience as simply what they want to do or what they feel in their gut is right.  But conscience is the voice of God, and so God cannot contradict Himself, nor what He has revealed as true for the past 2,000 years.  Conscience has to be aided by the study of Church teaching, both in the Scriptures and in the Magisterial pronouncements.  Conscience is our practical application of those teachings in individual circumstances, not the changing of teachings to fit individual circumstances.  And the Church is very clear: whoever knows the Catholic Church to be necessary for salvation, but purposely chooses to leave her, cannot be saved.  We must follow our conscience, even if it errs.  But we have the responsibility to make sure our conscience is formed so that we can hear God’s voice and not rely only on our gut or instinct.
    When a recent parishioner who attends this Mass brought up to me the now-more-pervasive stories about further restrictions, his approach was an inspiring act of faith.  He simply said that he would trust God and not worry about what was ahead, because God is in control.  He said he chose not to worry because worrying wouldn’t accomplish anything productive, and could prove quite destructive.  I applaud that man’s faith, and hope that we can all emulate it. 
    Be assured of this: as your local shepherd, your pastor, and your spiritual father, I will never lead you away from what I believe to be the truth and the best course of action.  I will ardently yet gently encourage you to stay with the Church, even as waves sometimes seem to pummel the barque of Peter.  I will never encourage anything which I believe will endanger your eternal salvation, and I will do whatever I can to make sure that the Mass is still celebrated reverently according to whatever legitimate laws we need to follow.  I pray that you will not worry, but you will pray and entrust this present trial to God.  I pray that we will all have the wisdom to know when to be obedient and how best to do that.  And in this way, we can be assured that we are not simply those who say, “Lord, Lord,” but are truly those who do the will of our heavenly Father, and so prepare ourselves for heaven, where He lives and reigns with the Son in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God for ever and ever.  Amen.  

Staying and Going

Twenty-Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time
    Last week I gave a difficult homily.  I am not in the habit of giving difficult homilies, so it was a shock to many of you for that reason alone.  But, and probably more weighty, the question I asked was also startling: was the preference we expressed to stay open until we spent all our money in line with how a disciple thinks.  I appreciate the people who came forward and told me what they found so distressing about last week’s homily.  I do not claim now, nor have I ever, that I am perfect.  I did my best to communicate what I felt the Holy Spirit speaking to me, but I understand that the words I used may have gotten in the way of the point of the entire homily.  I also know that some of you felt that the survey you took after our Town Hall was a vote that determined what was going to happen to our parish.  I know I said it then, but I’ll repeat it now, that your input is a consultation, not a determination.  It’s a consultation that Bishop Boyea wanted to hear, and is glad you provided.  But it wasn’t like a ballot issue where the vote would determine the outcome.  I apologize for not emphasizing that enough. 
    I honestly hope that you have been thinking about the homily all week.  I hope you re-read the homily on the internet.  Because the question is an important one, not just for this parish and its future, but for all our lives: what determines the decisions we make?  Is it what gives more comfort or requires less change?  Or is it what helps spread the kingdom more? 
    Jesus challenged His Apostles and disciples.  His parables, while we are used to them, upset many people, because they turned people’s pre-conceived notions upside-down, and in some cases did not make the hearers sound all that good.  Last week, Jesus said that those who were Johnny-come-latelys would get the same inheritance as those who followed God all their lives.  And today, He tells the chief priests and elders that tax collectors and prostitutes are getting into heaven before them because the tax collectors and prostitutes are actually doing what God wants, even though they had earlier said no by their sinful actions.  The tax collectors and prostitutes converted; the chief priests and elders were stuck in their ways and would not change.  Do you think the chief priests and the elders quietly took that admonition with pious and serene faces?  Certainly not!  This passage is from Matthew 21.  Jesus dies in Matthew 27.  That’s no literary coincidence. 
    What matters most, we hear today, is to do the will of the Father.  Sure, it would be better if we said “yes” to God and followed through on it, but what is most important is that we actually do the will of God, no matter what our earlier response. 
    And what is the will of the Father?  To share the Gospel.  Not just with other Catholics, but with those who do not know the Gospel, or do not know the fullness of the Gospel.  Our church, our parish, has one purpose with two parts: to sustain you so that you can evangelize others.  We’re really good at the first part.  Our Divine Mercy group, our Men’s Faith Group, and our other faith formation groups help you to grow in your faith.  But frankly, we’re not doing a great job at the second part.  And I can say that because we are not bringing people into the church.  Yes, part of what God wants for this parish is to feed our souls.  But He feeds our souls so that we have the spiritual energy to evangelize and bring others into the faith. 

    Pope Francis described it this way from an audience he had in February of this year in Rome:
 

First of all, there is no going without staying: before sending the disciples forth on mission, Christ–the Gospel says– “calls them to himself” (cf. Mt. 10:1).  The proclamation is born from the encounter with the Lord; every Christian activity, especially the mission, begins from there….Witnessing him, in fact, means radiating him; but, if we do not receive his light, we will be extinguished.

We are good at the “staying” in this parish.  You are the faithful few who keep coming back, week after week, to be refreshed by God’s Word and by the Eucharist, and that is a good thing!  Praise God that you recognize the need to be fed by God in order to survive.
    But Pope Francis continues:
 

Equally, however, there is no staying without going.  In fact, following Christ is not an inward-looking fact: without proclamation, without service, without mission, the relationship with Jesus does not grow.  We note that in the Gospel the Lord sends the disciples before having completed their preparation: shortly after calling them, he is already sending them!

If the entirety our faith life is about coming here; if our faith life is only about my daily prayer, whether by myself, or with my spouse, or with a small group; if my faith life is only about my individual actions; if my faith life does not have an opening to share with others the joy that I have found in following Christ, then I’m not fully following Jesus.  There is an aspect, the going, that I am missing.  And being a disciple means staying and going.
    There are ways that our parishioners do “go” after staying.  Some serve in the North End Soup Kitchen; some have baked cookies for Catholic Charities; others care for the physical needs of the buildings.  We all say with our lips that we want to follow Jesus, but He tells us to “go” and make disciples.  With few exceptions in my 6 years here, we have not welcomed others into our faith, for whatever reason.  That’s not a judgement, just a fact.  We are comfortable talking to other Catholics about our faith, but we have not invited many others into the faith, at least very few that have decided to join the Catholic Church. 
    In spite of all this, God still invites us to follow His call, no matter how we have answered before.  Just because we haven’t done something before, doesn’t mean we can’t start doing it now.  Indeed, if we at first said no, but then changed our mind and did the will of God, we would be the ones entering heaven before those who said yes originally, but did not do anything. Each day is a new chance to spread the Gospel.  No matter how long our parish has, can we each commit to living both aspects of a disciple: staying with the Lord to be nourished by Him, and then going to the world to proclaim the Good News?

When Do We Receive?

 Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  So here we are, at the last of the five precepts of the Church: You shall receive the sacrament of the Eucharist at least during the Easter season.  This precept coincides in a tangential way to our readings about the glory of the new covenant, and about our eyes being blessed to see Christ in the Eucharist, as many of the patriarchs longed to see Christ.  But, there has also been a lot of talk about receiving the Eucharist, who should, who shouldn’t, etc.  So a timely message, too.

    For most Catholics today in the US, the idea of receiving the Eucharist at once seems outdated, a holdover from previous centuries when people would attend Mass, but not receive the Eucharist.  In some countries, though (Mexico comes to mind), it is still very rare to receive the Eucharist regularly at Mass.  Why this hesitation?  Traditionally, there has been an emphasis on a worthy reception of Holy Communion, and many have not deemed themselves worthy (rightly or wrongly).  Pope St. Pius X labored tirelessly to promote frequent reception of Holy Communion (as long as one was not aware of any mortal sins).  Pope Francis has also spoken about Holy Communion not being the prize of the perfect, but the medicine for the sick.  Properly understood, both popes are right.  Receiving Holy Communion is not something that we do only after we have achieved the heights of sanctity.  It is what helps to make sanctity possible.
    At the same time, receiving Holy Communion presumes that we are in union with Christ and His Church.  The word communion means union with.  So when we receive the Eucharist, we are seeking to have union with Christ and His Mystical Body.  To maintain Eucharistic integrity, the Church does also teach that those who are in mortal sin should not receive the Eucharist, nor should those who are persistently living in a public way contrary to the teachings of Christ (the phrase is grave and manifest sin) be given Holy Communion.  

Bishop Vincke

    Some see this as treating the Eucharist as a prize.  But Bishop Vincke, formerly a priest of our diocese, put it well when he wrote in his diocesan publication:
 

Imagine a woman whose husband goes to strip clubs and repeatedly sleeps with many other women, and she knows about it.  The husband comes home and wants to have dinner with his wife, acting as though nothing was wrong.  He is indifferent to the many ways he has hurt and wounded her. […] Let’s take this a step further.  The cheating husband now wants to be intimate with his wife.  Again, he shows no remorse for the ways he has hurt her.  At the very least, shouldn’t the husband first apologize to his wife?  Shouldn’t he take ownership of what he has failed to do and tell her he is sorry?

Telling those who have “cheated” on the Lord by seriously damaging their relationship to Him that they cannot receive is not treating the Eucharist as a prize, but treating it as it is: the act of greatest intimacy between a person and Christ that can be achieved in heaven.  Intimacy is only appropriate when the love that the intimacy reflects is accurate.  So, no matter how powerful, influential, or public a person is; or how weak, unknown, and private a person is; no one who has been unfaithful to Christ in a major way should receive or be given Holy Communion, unless repentance has first taken place.  
    But it might not simply be mortal sin which keeps  a person from receiving on a particular day.  A person may find himself or herself so distracted that they have missed the readings, the homily, and the prayers, and do not feel adequately prepared to receive.  Or, a person may have arrived at Mass later than the Gospel, and so should not receive (because that person hasn’t joined in the first major part of the Mass, the Mass of the Catechumens (now often called the Liturgy of the Word).  This does not mean that parents of babies and toddlers can never receive (caring for them is part of your vocation, even if you’re not getting every word from the readings or the homilies, or kneeling during the Canon).  This also does not mean that, if you leave on time to arrive for Mass but get stuck by a train or an accident of another car, that you cannot receive.  But, all things being equal, if we are not mostly attuned to what is going on, drawing strength from the preaching of the Word and uniting ourselves interiorly to the offering of the priest, then perhaps we do not partake for that day.  Or, perhaps we forgot to fast for one hour before receiving Holy Communion, so we are not prepared in that way.  There are other reasons, other than mortal sin, why a person might not receive.  That is a decision between the person and his or her conscience (with some authority given to the priest, as well), which should not be presumed by others.
    I know that it is tough not to receive at Mass.  Others may look at us and wonder why we’re not going up in line (the Italians, I believe, have it right; they just go up whenever they’re ready, not always pew by pew).  People may presume that we have done something horribly wrong.  But frankly, that’s none of their business.  It would be better to be wrongly judged by others, than to commit a sacrilege by receiving in the state of mortal sin.  And, of course, we try to offer confession regularly enough so that you have a chance to go each week, whether at scheduled times, or, if those times don’t work, you can always schedule time with me throughout the week.  But, as you’re saying with me, Domine, non sum dignus, take a chance to decide: Am I ready to receive Holy Communion today?  Or do I need to abstain, for whatever reason?
    Because the reception of Holy Communion should also not be just a routine that we don’t consider.  This is the moment of greatest union with Christ on earth.  It should be done with the greatest of intentionality of wanting to be united with Christ and thanking Him for His sacrifice which made this union possible.  Yes, receiving the Eucharist is the greatest way to participate in Mass, and the summit of what the Mass is for.  Therefore, it’s not to be done as if we were standing in the check-out line at Meijer’s, waiting for our turn at the counter.
    The Church commands us to receive Holy Communion at least once per year, in the Easter Season.  As Pope St. Pius X and Pope Francis encouraged, if we are prepared, we should receive Holy Communion regularly, frequently even.  Receiving Christ into us strengthens us to be able to live as the disciples and saints God calls us to be, and without that great gift, holiness is so much more difficult.  Avail yourself of this treasure from heaven when you can.  Receive the Body of Jesus Christ, His perfect sacrificial offering to the Father in the power of the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

How to Survive the Storms

Fourth Sunday after Epiphany
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Years after a major council, there are still disagreements about how to implement it.  Parishioners from a major church participating in idol worship.  Sexual immorality at which even pagans would blush.  People trying to buy influence in the Church.  A well-known archbishop telling the pope he’s wrong.  Believers claiming they have access to what Jesus really meant.  Faithful bishops being killed.  Heretics infiltrating dioceses and claiming to speak with apostolic authority. 
    You might think I’m talking about the Church after the Second Vatican Council.  Instead, I’m talking about the apostolic days of the Church.  In our mind, we easily think that the first days of the Church were easy and trouble free.  We often like to think of them as the golden age of Catholicism.  And certainly God blessed His Church abundantly in the days of the apostles first spreading the Gospel.  But Paul talks about how not everyone agreed with the Council of Jerusalem, which said that Greeks did not have to become Jews and obey the Mosaic law to be a follower of Jesus.  People were buying meat sacrificed to idols.  Paul condemns those in Corinth who are practicing immorality and tells them to be cut off for a time for their own good.  Peter flip-flopping on whether or not he would eat with Gentiles.  The early beginnings of gnosticism, claiming a secret knowledge of the true teachings of Jesus.  Apostles being martyred at an alarming rate.  Circumcisers saying that they are super-apostles, and that others should listen to them, not Paul.  This was the early Church; not exactly a bed of roses.
    In the State Police, each Trooper Recruit School feels like it was the last truly difficult recruit school, and that all the others that came after are easy in comparison.  Inversely, we tend to think that our suffering is the worst, whether personal, economic, or ecclesiastical, and no one has had it as hard as we have.  Do we have it hard?  Certainly.  There is still disagreement about the implementation of the Second Vatican Council, or some even doubt if it’s a real council (in case you’re wondering, it is).  Pachamama.  We are definitely reaping the fruits as a society of the sexual revolution.  Economic scandals and worse are in the Church.  Bishops arguing with each other and the Pope.  Faithful Catholics of all states of life being martyred.  Confusion about who speaks with authority in the Church.  The waves are certainly crashing around the barque of Peter.

    Whether in the Church, or in our own personal or business life, we might feel like the apostles in the boat.  We’re doing all we can, using our best knowledge and skills to keep the boat afloat, and it seems like the Lord doesn’t care; He’s asleep.  We’re taking on water, we’re afraid of capsizing.  So we call out to the Lord to save us.
    Did you notice in the Gospel that Christ’s first course of action is not to calm the waves.  The first thing our Lord does is question the faith of the apostles.  Why are you afraid?  Why are you doubting?  Then He commands the storm to be still, and it is.  We keep calling out to the Savior, but maybe we feel like he’s not doing what we want Him to do.
    Psalm 107 (106 in the Douay-Reims), verses 27-29 says
 

They reeled, staggered like drunkards; their skill was of no avail.  In their distress they cried to the Lord, who brought them out of their peril; He hushed the storm to silence, the waves of the sea were stilled.

Christ, in calming the sea, was proving that He was God.  He was proving His command over the  waters, which were the ancient symbol of chaos and disorder.  
    But often times, we think that we should take the place of God and handle things ourselves.  Again, this can be in our personal, work, or church life.  Maybe we’re struggling with a family member, and rather than turning to prayer and the guidance of the Holy Spirit, we make a plan of action without consulting the Almighty.  Or perhaps a fellow employee is not doing his or her job, and we feel upset that we are working hard, while the other person is not.  Do we immediately “turn him or her in”, or do we pray for guidance and seek to understand if maybe that person has some other issues outside of work which are affecting his or her ability to do the job.  Perhaps maybe we can even assist that person and help resolve what is going on, rather than simply seeking termination for him or her. 
    I know that many are upset with the recent suggested restrictions on the Extraordinary Form from Pope Francis and the Congregation for Divine Worship and Discipline of the Sacraments.  Even though Bishop Boyea has been quite generous in continuing this Mass and the access to sacraments celebrated in the usus antiquior, I also know that some have considered going to Masses celebrated by the Society of St. Pius X if they don’t have the access they desire.  That approach isn’t staying in the boat and waiting for our Lord to help.  That approach is jumping ship into a dinghy that is partially tethered to the boat.  When there is no other option to celebrate the sacraments validly within a 30-60 minute drive, then yes, the Church does allow for sacramental participation in schismatic groups, like SSPX and even the Orthodox (if they allow it).  But outside of that scenario, which does not exist currently here, participating in the sacramental life of a schismatic church is a sin against the unity of the Church, and I would advise, in the strongest way possible, not even entertaining that sinful attitude. 
    Is Christ no longer God?  Has His promise to protect His Church suddenly failed?  Can He who stilled the storm and waves not ensure the safety of His Bride, our holy Mother, the Church?  If we leave, even for a day, we are implicitly saying that Christ cannot provide for us, that Christ cannot protect us, and that we must turn to those who have rejected union with Rome for the sure path.  But those who have rejected Rome have never been the sure path, not even in the darkest days of the Church throughout the centuries. 
    Our current times may seem like the worst ever.  For us, they may be.  But it is not the end.  Christ promise that the gates of hell will not prevail against His Church is not unfulfilled.  Yes, the storms rage around us.  Yes, the waves are breaking over the ship, and we are, in some ways, taking on water.  But if we stay in the boat in Jesus, then we need not fear, we need not doubt.  If we leave, we can be sure that Christ will say to us, “Why do you fear, O you of little faith?”  But if we remain, connected to the perennial truths of the faith which cannot change in the Church which always remains the Bride of Christ, we can merit to hear, “Well done, good and faithful servant.  Come, share your Master’s joy!”

What Makes Us Catholic

 Eighth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Due to my retreat I had tried to get ahead of the game and write my homily before I left, which I successfully did.  And then Friday the sixteenth happened.  So, back to the drawing board.
    This past Friday morning, as I was finishing up our usual Friday morning adoration, I received a text from a brother priest of mine in the Diocese who knows how to celebrate the Extraordinary Form, or whatever we’re going to call it from now on, about Traditionis custodes, the new Motu Proprio.  We spoke after the 8 a.m. Mass about the details and the law of the new document (this brother priest is also a canon lawyer).  I then called Bishop Boyea, only to be reminded by his secretary that he is on retreat this week with the bishops of Michigan and Ohio.  I then had time to read over the document myself.
    I have to admit that, even though I only started celebrating according to the Missal of St. John XXIII a couple of months ago, my heart ached at what looks like more restrictions (we’ll see what Bishop Boyea has to say when he gets back with me).  Even in this short time I have come to see the beauty and transcendence of this form of celebration.  I will say that I also think that a priest can celebrate according to the Missal of St. Paul VI beautifully and transcendently, in its own way.  We’ll have to see what future lies in store for us, though I neither want to freak you out with specious speculations, nor presume that everything will be exactly the same.
    But Pope Francis, who is our validly elected Supreme Pontiff, Vicar of Christ, and head of the Universal Church, also reminds us of important points about our Catholic faith, that I believe are worth speaking about here.

   The first is a general point about what makes us Catholic.  We are Catholics because we believe that Jesus founded His Church in a particular way, namely, upon apostolic foundations, with the successor of St. Peter as the Prince of the Apostles, and the visible sign of unity and head of the apostolic college.  Certainly I understand and sympathize (suffer with you) in feeling hurt by our Holy Father, and likely there are feelings of anger, betrayal, or others.  But to say that the pope is not the pope, or that we do not owe him religious submission of will and intellect because he has hurt us, because he has made decisions with which we do not agree, in a matter that is not de fide or part of the moral life of the Church, is not Catholic.  As your spiritual father I understand your pain, but also want to warn against a schismatic attitude that can separate you from the Body of Christ, which is the ordinary means of salvation.  We will continue to see what this new document means, but we have to do so with respect for Pope Francis, lest we endanger our immortal soul.  Does this mean that this legislation of his is the best or even simply right?  I think we can reasonably disagree in charity with this legislation.  But he is still our pope, allowed for us by Christ Himself.  And if St. Catherine of Siena can give that same respect to popes who were wrongly living in Avignon, we can give respect and pray for Pope Francis.  I certainly mention his name every time I pray the Roman Canon.  If you want to be in a parish that is schismatic, separated from visible unity with the Church, then this is not the parish for you.  We are Latin Rite, Roman Catholics, and too many martyrs died to uphold the papacy for us to reject it because of what we consider a hurtful and wrong piece of legislation.  I invite each of you to storm heaven with your prayers, and pray a Chaplet of Divine Mercy for Pope Francis.  
    Secondly, Vatican II.  The jokes about the Spirit of Vatican II being the scariest Halloween costume are funny because they contain a bit of truth.  Many people have taken Vatican II to mean a variety of things which the Council Fathers never intended nor desired.  I was born in 1983 (yes, I’m young), so I have only known a post-Vatican II world, and I have seen some of the negative effects of wrong implementation on the Church.  Many people saw Vatican II as a jettisoning of everything that had come before.  
    But Vatican II, especially in the Constitutions, and even in some of the documents which have less authority (e.g., decrees and declarations), was not a rejection of what came before, but a re-application of what came before.  Lumen gentium itself contains over 200 quotations and 92 references to Pope Pius XII.  As you look through Lumen gentium, the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, there is a beautiful collection of citations from Sacred Scripture, St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas, and the conciliar documents of Trent and Vatican I.  I didn’t have time to count them all, but the references to solid Catholic saints, previous holy popes, and previous councils, is impressive.  
    Further, Pope St. John XXIII, whose missal we use, declared it to be an ecumenical council, and it was confirmed and approved, in the ways ecumenical councils need to be, by Pope St. Paul VI.  So we cannot ignore Vatican II and its documents, without ignoring an ecumenical council called for and confirmed by the successor of St. Peter.  To do so would be to make the same mistake as Luther, Zwingli, Melanchthon, and other so-called reformers of rejecting what we don’t like and keeping what we do.  St. Augustine says this of the Gospel, but the same could be said for ecumenical councils, that if we accept what we like and reject what we don’t like, we do not have faith in God but in ourselves.  
    Further, while everyone likes to quote Lumen gentium, 16 which says that those who, “through no fault of their own do not know the Gospel of Christ or his Church, yet sincerely seek God and moved by grace, strive by their deeds to do his will as it is known through them through the dictates of conscience” can be saved, there is another quote, I would say that is even stronger, about the necessity of belonging to the Church.  Lumen gentium, 14 says, “Whosoever, therefore, knowing that the Catholic Church was made necessary by Christ, would refuse to enter or to remain in it, could not be saved.”  I think all here know that the Catholic Church is a necessary connection to Christ (inasmuch as our Lord Himself said that persecuting His followers was persecuting Him as He spoke to Saul on the road to Damascus).  In the same way, then, we must hold fast to the Church, even when the barque of Peter seems to be adrift and taking on water, or risk damnation, as Vatican II clearly teaches.  
    I know these are hard days.  I know that it seems like the Church may want to abandon us.  But, St. Paul tells us, that we are not called to fear, but to have courage.  And Jesus reminds us in the Gospel, to do whatever it takes to be saved, even if it means suffering greatly.  We can likely see ourselves in the boat in Mark 4 with the apostles, as the storm is pounding us, and the waves are breaking over the boat, so that it seems like it will capsize.  But our Lord is in the boat, and He will not let it sink.  Our duty, even in our pain, frustration, and betrayal, is to stay in the boat with Christ, hold fast to Him, and have faith that He will see us safely to the harbor of heaven, where God, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, reign eternally, world without end.  Amen.

Familiarity with Jesus

 Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time-St. Pius X
    Apparently phrases that I have heard used and have used myself are now a bit dated.  I was shopping with a friend at Home Depot, and we couldn’t find everything we needed.  But he had found one of the things he needed.  So he was wondering out loud if he should buy the part at Home Depot, or put it back and hope that the next hardware shop had it.  I said, “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,” and he looked at me like I was speaking in a foreign language.  At the same time, a Vietnam vet was walking by and said that he hadn’t heard that phrase in a long time.  Perhaps it is a bit old.  

    We’ve probably all heard the cliché phrase, “Familiarity breeds contempt.”  And that’s what we see going on in the Gospel today.  Jesus is teaching in the synagogue in his home town, and people are shocked at the authority with which He is speaking.  And they write Him off, because he’s just a local boy, the son of Mary.  
    Now this isn’t like other local boys.  In my home town, people know what I was like before I was a priest.  I wasn’t bad, in fact, I tended to behave myself quite well, as you might have guessed.  But one could understand how the neighbors might sometimes not give a local boy his due, as they know his faults and failings.  But Jesus didn’t have faults or failings.  They couldn’t point to some scandal as the excuse why they shouldn’t listen to Him.  But still, they lacked faith, and so Jesus was not able to do many miracles there, which probably only added to the sense that He wasn’t all that special.
    In our first reading, God warns the prophet Ezekiel that, though God will send Ezekiel with a message he needs to speak, the Israelites will not listen, because their hearts are obstinate.  They do not want to hear what God has to say.  But, God does promise that they will know that a prophet has been among them, even though they won’t listen.
    I think we often have this perception that if there are holy people around us, people whom God is sending, then we will listen to them and believe.  But the entire Bible is proof that, more often than not, people do not listen to God’s messengers.  They find some excuse not to listen.  It could be that they are too close to the messenger, or that their hearts are stubborn and hard, or that it’s not the message that they think God wants to send to them.  And so they close their ears and hearts to the Word of God, which is actually what will bring lasting happiness.  
    We can sometimes do this when we read the Bible.  We read the parts that we like, that are what we want to hear, but then we reject the parts that are hard, or that we don’t think sound right.  We all love hearing that God loves us.  We love hearing about Jesus forgiving the woman caught in adultery, or healing the lepers, or curing the man born blind.  But then when we get to the part about only marrying once or else a person commits adultery; or the part about turning away from sin and being faithful to the Gospel; or the part where Jesus says the way is narrow that leads to salvation, and few find it; or the part where Jesus establishes His Church with the apostles exercising authority over it, we do all sorts of mental gymnastics to excuse why we don’t have to listen to that part or why it doesn’t mean what it clearly says.  St. Augustine once wrote, “If you believe what you like in the Gospel, and reject what you don’t like, it is not the Gospel you believe in, but yourself.”  And faith in self does not lead to salvation or heaven.
    Even more than we do it in the Bible, we do it with the way God continues to speak authoritatively in His Church.  We like it when Pope Francis talks about loving, caring for the poor, and not judging, but when he talks about marriage being only between one man and one woman for life, or that the diaconate, priesthood, and episcopate are reserved for men, we write him off.  The same could be said when the Church teaches about how artificial contraception is wrong, or that people are the gender that they are born with, or that abortion is wrong and we should not support those who support abortion.  We decide that we know better than the Mystical Body of Christ.  And yet, the Church, when speaking on faith or morals, does speak with the voice and the authority of God, since Jesus Himself said to His Apostles, “‘He who hears you, hears me.  And he who rejects you, rejects me, and he who rejects me rejects Him who sent me.’”
    Does this mean that we should not be familiar with Jesus, because we’ll hold Him in contempt?  I would suggest the opposite.  The more we draw closer to Jesus, the more we hear God speaking through Him, and the more that we come to love His word, even when it’s difficult.  As we come to know Jesus better, we understand the wisdom that He shares with us, even when it goes against our culture or our mindset.  Be open to the word that God speaks through His Word and His Church.  Do not rebel against God’s prophets!

Three Words or Phrases

 Second Sunday of Easter
    Here’s an interesting experiment: thinking only to yourself (not out-loud), what three words would others use to describe you?  Again, this is a rhetorical question, but what words did you think others would use?  Are they different from the words that you would use to describe yourself?  Were there mostly positive or mostly negative?  
    This weekend, as we close out the Octave of Easter, there are three words that should describe every Catholic.  It may not (probably should not) be an exhaustive list, but these three words or phrases should describe every Catholic.  And these three words come from our celebration today.  Those three words or phrases are (in no particular order): a believer; concerned for others; merciful.
    The first reading, second reading, and Gospel all talk about believing.  To be a Catholic is to be a believer.  Bishop Mengeling loves to use this word.  But what do we believe?  At the heart, we believe that Jesus is who He says He is–the Son of God–and we trust in His words about how we are to live our lives.  Our belief is sometimes based upon observable realities, like St. Thomas seeing the risen Christ.  Sometimes our belief is not based on things that we can see.  But we are believers in the promises of God and the teachings of God, both as recorded in the Scriptures and as recorded in the teachings of the Magisterium, the teaching office of the Church entrusted to the Pope and the Bishops united with him on matters of faith and morals.
    Jesus claims everything in our life.  He claims our love, our obedience, our fidelity.  The only one who can do that is God.  So our belief that Jesus is God affects how we live.  If we feel that we can ignore Jesus when we disagree with Him, we’re not believers.  Fully believing in Jesus is a challenge to which maybe we don’t always live up, but it’s our goal.  It’s one thing to fail at a goal; it’s another altogether to have a different goal.  Our goal as Catholics should be to believe in Jesus, not just as a mental exercise, or a pious thought, but in ways that truly change the way we live.
    As an example of putting belief into action, our first reading from the Acts of the Apostles describes the first Catholics as being of one heart and one mind, not claiming any possessions as one’s own, and, in fact, selling property and putting the proceeds at the disposal of the Church for those in need.  This is where some might say, “See?!?  The first Catholics were socialists!  They owned everything in common!”  Wrong.  The first Christians weren’t socialists.  But they were concerned for others.  Rather than thinking about themselves, and because they believed in God, they thought about the needy as much or more than themselves.  And some on their own volition would decide to share what they have with the poor and live a life radically detached from ownership, relying on the each other to support themselves.  There is no evidence that the government or the Church instructed them to sell their house.  And some didn’t sell their homes, as this was where the first Christians would meet for early examples of Christian-style synagogue services, and perhaps even the Mass.  No one was compelled, but people freely gave.
    This is the witness that many of those in consecrated life still give.  They give up personal ownership of property and their own bank account to live as a brother or sister, monk or nun.  They rely on the community to care for their needs, so that they are more devoted to serving Jesus.  
    But before you sell your house to live with me in the rectory and let me take care of you with the money you donate, let me consider other ways to live as a man or woman concerned about others.  We all have a responsibility to care for ourselves and our families.  The Church teaches that the government should only get involved in providing for people’s needs where family and friends and local charities are unable.  But, while providing for our needs, we should also look to support those, to be the family and friends and local charity for those who, through no fault of their own, cannot provide for themselves.  People today are good at providing for programs.  But we are called, to the extent that we’re able, to help people out personally.  This is what Pope Francis means when he talks about serving the poor by being with them and looking into their eyes, and not simply letting an NGO (non-governmental organization) worry about the poor and needy.
  

  Lastly, the first Catholics were merciful.  Today, the Second Sunday of Easter, is also called Divine Mercy Sunday.  Pope St. John Paul II instituted this feast in order to help us all know of God’s mercy towards us.  Pope Francis declared a Year of Mercy in 2015.  The revelation to St. Thomas the Apostle of Jesus’ wounded hands, feet, and side, were really a revelation of His mercy, that He forgave us and did away with our sins when He shed His Blood on the cross.  Mercy does not pretend that a past offense did not occur.  Jesus did not pretend the wounds of His crucifixion were not there.  But rather than letting those wounds become an opportunity for vengeance on all those who led Him there, and all those who abandoned Him during His most needful hour, Jesus simply greets the apostles and disciples with the Hebrew word, “Shalom,” “Peace,” which means more than just non-conflict, but a wholeness and fullness of life.  
    Jesus earlier had told the parable of the unforgiving steward, and told us that we are to forgive as we are forgiven.  He also told us that the measure of forgiveness that we give to others is the measure that will be given to us.  Our reception of God’s mercy is the catalyst that allows us to be merciful to others, and that should most definitely be a hallmark of our life.  
    Certainly there are other aspects to being Catholic.  There are other qualities that should be present in our life.  But this week, let’s work on being a believer; concerned about others; and merciful!

Year of St. Joseph

 Feast of the Holy Family

     On Tuesday, 8 December, to the surprise of many (there wasn’t any Catholic gossip that this was going to happen of which I was aware), Pope Francis proclaimed a special Year of St. Joseph, on the 150th Anniversary of Pope Bl. Pius IX naming St. Joseph as Patron of the Universal Church.  As St. Joseph is part of the Holy Family, I thought it would be good to preach about him today, as we begin this special year dedicated to the Spouse of the Blessed Virgin Mary and Foster-Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.  While the entire homily won’t be directed only at men, ladies, I would ask your forbearance for those parts that address only the males.
    I had seen a post on Facebook that jokingly challenged everyone to memorize every word that St. Joseph said in the Gospels by the time the holy year ends on 8 December 2021.  The joke is that St. Joseph, while mentioned numerous times in the Gospel, never has a recorded word spoken in the gospel accounts.  This lack of talking may make him, in the view of many wives, the perfect example of a husband: always silent.
    What can we learn from a man who never had a word that he said recorded?  There is much we can learn from this saint, and I’ll highlight one in particular.
    St. Joseph was a man who had a deep relationship with God.  Before even Jesus was born, Joseph was attune to God speaking to him in dreams.  Joseph took Jesus and Mary to the temple 40 days after the birth of Jesus in accord with the Law of Moses.  And the Holy Family traveled to the temple for the pilgrim festivals of the Jewish faith, like Passover and the Feast of Booths.  While we have no direct evidence, Jesus seemed very familiar with the synagogue and how the services were conducted, so Joseph must have taken Jesus to synagogue throughout Jesus’ life.  
    Fathers: in many ways, we fathers have lived up to our call to help our families have a relationship with God.  This is certainly true of certain spiritual fathers, priests who preyed on the vulnerable and led them away from God.  But it’s also true of biological fathers.  How many children consider religion to be a things that mostly girls do?  How many times is it the mother who is making sure that the kids go to Mass, while the father makes excuses about golf, watching sports or sleeping in?  
    I encourage you, fathers, to make sure that your families (including you!) are going to Mass every Sunday and Holyday, except in case of illness (or a pandemic).  Why don’t kids practice the faith after they leave the house?  Because, in so many cases, the faith clearly wasn’t that important when they were living at home.  It certainly isn’t the only part of being Catholic and developing a relationship with Jesus, but it’s an important part.  Most people who attend Mass will tell me that they never had a choice when they were growing up about attending Mass; it was non-negotiable, even on vacation.  I dare say that most people, at some point in their lives, do not want to go to church.  But that habit of going is so important.  Because when life gets rough, as it always does, without faith, it’s so much harder to get through and to know where to turn, than it is with a practice of going to Mass.  
    Another part of our faith is daily prayer.  The Mass is necessary for our relationship with God, but so is daily prayer.  Sometimes that prayer can be formal prayers that we learned, like the Our Father, Hail Mary, and/or Glory Be.  Maybe during this year of St. Joseph we can learn the Memorare of St. Joseph.  But prayer isn’t always formal.  Yes, in the Mass, we use special, elevated language to communicate with God.  But in our daily prayer we are encouraged to use everyday language to share with the Lord our hopes and fears, our desires, our struggles, our needs, and everything that is a part of our life.  If you can talk with a friend, you can talk with God.  And, like with our friends, we also need to learn how to listen, so that we can hear God’s voice.  Fathers: teach your children (or grandchildren) to pray.  Teach them to be able to speak to Jesus and to listen to Jesus.  
    There are so many other ways that St. Joseph is a great model for all Catholics, especially, but not only, for men.  He is a great intercessor for chastity, for work, for the importance of fathers in a family, as well as the patron of a happy death, which is not something to be neurotic about, but something for which we should always be prepared by living the best life that we can, centered around God.  I’ll close today with a prayer to St. Joseph, which closed the Apostolic Letter, Patris corde, with which Pope Francis inaugurated the Holy Year of St. Joseph:


Hail, Guardian of the Redeemer,
Spouse of the Blessed Virgin Mary.
To you God entrusted his only Son;
in you Mary placed her trust;
with you Christ became man.

Blessed Joseph, to us too,
show yourself a father
and guide us in the path of life.
Obtain for us grace, mercy and courage,
and defend us from every evil.  Amen.

Thanos and Gamora

 Second Sunday of Advent
    Before COVID, we had these things called movie theaters that gathered lots of people together in a single place, sitting within two feet of each other, without masks, watching a movie on a giant screen, while eating food and drinking beverages.  Some of you may remember this distant, past phenomenon.  I remember going, each year, to see the newest movie that featured comic book heroes from the Marvel universe.  And one of those movies, called “Avengers: Infinity War,” came to mind as I prepared for this week’s homily.  Since it’s been out since 27 April 2018, or 687 days before the COVID-19 first lockdown, I don’t think there’ll be any spoilers in the homily, but if you haven’t seen it, you may want to cover your ears a bit (or at least now you don’t have to make up your own excuse not to listen to the homily).
  

Thanos & Gamora

In that movie, as part of the build-up to the climax, Thanos, the villain, in search for the Soul Stone to increase his power, is told that he has to sacrifice something he loves in order to get the Soul Stone.  Thanos has with him Gamora, his “adopted” daughter (I say adopted because in reality, Thanos killed her parents as he destroyed half the population on her planet, including her parents).  So Thanos kills her, and in doing so, gains the Soul Stone, part of his quest to gain all the six Infinity Stones which will give him the power to destroy half the life in the universe.  
    Perhaps not the cheery image you were looking for on this second Sunday of Advent.  But then again, maybe the word “repent” is not one that you associate with Advent, either.  And yet, that is the proclamation of St. John the Baptist, which prepares the way for Jesus.  We probably prefer the rosy, cozy message that we heard from Isaiah: “Comfort, give comfort to my people…Speak tenderly to Jerusalem.”  And that is also the message of Jesus.  But the comfort comes once we acknowledge our sins.  
    How does that work?  In order to our Lord to heal in us that which is sick and wounded, we first, by His grace, have to admit that we are sick and wounded.  Otherwise we’re like the Black Knight from “Monty Python and the Holy Grail,” whose arms and legs are being chopped off as he battles King Arthur, but pretends it’s not serious and says, “It’s just a flesh wound.”  The primary and first proclamation of the Gospel is that we are sick and wounded, and we cannot heal ourselves, but Jesus can, and will.

And people know that they’re not alright.  In the Gospel, people “of the whole Judean countryside and all the inhabitants of Jerusalem” were going to St. John the Baptist to acknowledge their sins and be baptized.  They all knew that they were not how they were supposed to be.  Who ignored their sins?  The Pharisees.  They were convinced that they didn’t need healing, so they reject the message of St. John the Baptist, and consequently, the message of Jesus.  The people, on the other hand, can accept the message of Jesus because they first accepted the message of repentance.  Repentance prepares the way for the Lord.
    It’s as if we’re Thanos, and in order to gain the Soul Stone, we have to sacrifice something that we love.  But we’re not to sacrifice a person, but our sins, in order to gain our soul.  In Greek, the word for death is 𝛩𝛼𝜈𝛼𝜏𝜊𝜍.  Those in death, 𝛩𝛼𝜈𝛼𝜏𝜊𝜍, in order to gain life, has to give up what they mistakenly treasure–sin–in order to become full of life or immortal, 𝛢𝜃𝛼𝜈𝛼𝜎𝜄𝜊𝜍 in Greek.  
    Which is why, as we assemble for Mass, we begin by acknowledging our sins.  We don’t pretend we aren’t sinners (at least hopefully we don’t).  We don’t have to be major sinners; but all of us sin.  Pope Francis himself said in one interview when asked who he is, “I am a sinner.  This the most accurate definition.  It is not a figure of speech, a literary genre.  I am a sinner.”  Or, as has been claimed, Pope Francis said when accepting the papacy, “I am a sinner, but I trust in the infinite mercy and patience of our Lord Jesus Christ.”  If Pope Francis can admit that he’s a sinner, then we all can.  I certainly am a sinner, in need of the Lord’s mercy.  And because I know I need the Lord’s mercy, I am much more likely to accept it.  Again, like the Pharisees, those who do not think they need the Lord’s mercy will not be able to accept it when it comes.  
    What do we value above God, or place before our love for God?  What is more important to us than God?  What sins, big or small, are we grasping onto as if our life depended on them?  If our hands are grasping onto our sins, then our hands are not open to receive the mercy of the Lord.  Whatever the sin, bring it to the Lord in confession.  Express sorrow for your sins (the asking is itself a gift from God), and open your hands and your hearts to the mercy of God.  You may not gain the Soul Stone, but you will allow God to save your soul.

What Good is the Word?

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time–Sunday of the Word of God

    This year, Pope Francis has inaugurated a new focus for this third Sunday of Ordinary Time.  He has decreed that the third Sunday of Ordinary Time is especially to be centered on the Word of God.  In his Apostolic Letter that created this celebration, Pope Francis writes, “without the Scriptures, the events of the mission of Jesus and of his Church in this world would remain incomprehensible.  Hence, Saint Jerome could rightly claim: ‘Ignorance of the Scriptures is ignorance of Christ.’”
    For Catholics, especially of a particular age, the Scriptures may be a bit foreign.  Indeed, some of you have even told me that, while growing up, you were discouraged by priests, nuns, and others, from reading the Word of God.  While we do have some active Bible study groups here, some of you may be thinking: what good would it do me to read the Bible more?  I’ve gotten along without it just fine for this long!
    The Word of God, as divinely revealed in Sacred Scripture, and faithfully communicated and interpreted through the teaching of the Church, is meant to be the guide for our life.  In the Dogmatic Constitution on Divine Revelation, entitled Dei Verbum, of the Second Vatican Council, the Church teaches:

both [sacred tradition and Sacred Scripture], flowing from the same divine wellspring…merge into a unity and tend toward the same end.  For Sacred Scripture is the word of God inasmuch as it is consigned to writing under the inspiration of the divine Spirit, while sacred tradition takes the word of God entrusted by Christ the Lord and the Holy Spirit to the Apostles, and hands it on to their successors in its full purity, so that led by the light of the Spirit of truth, they may in proclaiming it preserve the word of God faithfully, explain it, and make it more widely known. […] Therefore both sacred tradition and Sacred Scripture are to be accepted and venerated with the same sense of loyalty and reverence.

When we sang, with the Psalmist, “The Lord is my light and my salvation,” what we were saying is that the Lord illuminates the path that I am to take towards heaven.  The Word of God gives us a great light, whereas without it we walk in darkness.  It brings us “abundant joy and great rejoicing.”  It gives us freedom from the yoke of sin that burdens us.
    The Word of God is also meant to bring about the unity of Jesus’ followers, and all those who are created in the image and likeness of God.  Humanity tends towards disunity; it is, we might say, the communal law of entropy.  Even in St. Paul’s time, he writes that divisions are creeping in among the Christians of Corinth: “each of you is saying, ‘I belong to Paul,’ or ‘I belong to Apollos,’ or ‘I belong to Cephas,’ or ‘I belong to Christ.’”  When we are left to our own machinations, we tend to divide.  The Word of God, given to us through Sacred Scripture and faithfully interpreted by the teaching office of the Church, holds together what Satan wants to sift apart.
    Lastly, as we hear from our Gospel today, the Word of God calls us on to mission.  Jesus, the eternal Word (in Greek: Logos) of God the Father, calls the first apostles, Simon and Andrew, and also James and John, and invites them to follow Him, so that He might make them “fishers of men.”  It’s not as if the Word of God is meant to stay stagnant in our lives.  It is meant to change us, and to urge us on to making other disciples.  If our engagement with the Word of God doesn’t draw us to make other disciples, then we’re not getting all that God wants to share with us through His Word.
    Now, I know, those are a lot of high-level ideals.  But does the Word of God make a difference in my real life?  It can, if we are open to its effects.  In the first way, it helps us to make decisions on how we spend our time and money, helps us to know how to interact with others, and assists us in making both big life decisions and the smaller daily decisions by shining the light of Christ on the path we are seeking to travel, to see if it’s a good path or a dangerous path.
    In the second case, there are a lot of people who claim to follow Jesus, but the Word of God can help us evaluate whether their encouragements of what to believe and how to live are truly from God and live up to His wisdom, as expressed in Sacred Scripture and the teachings of the Church.  Both are necessary, as we see Christian communities who were historically founded on the Scriptures as the only rule of faith, now allowing and sometimes even promoting activities which are in direct contradiction to the Sacred Scripture.  We avoid division by staying faithful to the Word of God as expressed in the Bible and faithfully interpreted by the apostles and their successors, the bishops, teaching in union with the Pope. 
    In the third case, the more that we hear the Good News expressed in the Word of God–that God loves us, God has a plan for us, God forgives us, God has saved and is saving us–the more we want others to hear that news.  Bible studies cannot be ends in themselves, but should push us to share with our family and friends and neighbors that Good News, and how following God can change our lives for the better. 
    Today God reminds us that His Word is light, unity, and mission.  May our hearing of the Word of God, and our daily engagement with it, bring that light, unity, and mission to our lives, that we may share that light, unity, and mission with those that we encounter each day.