Wasting our Life for God

Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

    Bishop Mengeling, God rest his soul, was the consummate story teller.  And his life had many, interesting stories.  One in particular I remember is his vocation story.  Bishop Mengeling’s father, Carl H. Mengeling, was Lutheran, while his mother, Augusta, was Catholic.  Both were German immigrants to the United States.  Young Carl Mengeling (the one who became the bishop of Lansing) attended public schools, but still heard God calling him to be a priest.  But to go to seminary, he needed his dad’s permission.  In the 1940s in the Mengeling household, Carl was mostly business.  He loved his family, but didn’t often show affection.  For that reason, young Carl was concerned about telling his Lutheran father that he wanted to be a Catholic priest and go to seminary.  But, somehow, he related, he found his nerve and one day, on the front porch, young Carl told his father, Carl, that he wanted to go to seminary and become a priest.  His father said, “Why would you want to waste your life like that?”  Young Carl, guided by the Holy Spirit, found the courage to say, “You wasted your life when you married mother, because you loved her and wanted to spend your entire life with her.”  Bishop Mengeling said he had never talked to his father that way.  But, as you know because he became our bishop, Carl the elder gave his blessing, and Carl the younger went to seminary, became a priest, welcomed his father into full communion with the Catholic Church, and then became our bishop in 1996.
    Are you willing to waste your life for God?  Christ says today that if we wish to save our life, we have to lose it.  Following Christ takes a commitment, and sometimes we may have commitment issues.  Society definitely is changing, and people are marrying at a younger age, but until recently, and still to an extent, many adults didn’t want to make the commitment to marry.  They wanted to have the perfect job first; the perfect house first (where, all too often they sinfully cohabited with their significant other).  Or, they had concerns that if they committed to one person, they might miss out on someone better or more compatible.  Or, they just wanted to sow their wild oats and live unchaste lives before committing to one person.  No matter the reason, people had commitment issues.
    And this fear of commitment can easily translate into our relationship with God.  The world promises us so many things–power, money, pleasure, fame–and we chase after it like a mirage in the desert.  We may even come so close, only to experience those fleeting things poof away or cascade through our fingers.  
    Even if we gained everything the world offered, this life is fleeting, and so Christ warns us not to gain the world but lose our soul.  And, in reality, we cannot serve two masters.  We can either commit to the world or to Christ.  But even a person who gains the entire world and lives to the age of 100 has a short time of pleasure, power, fame, and riches compared to the eternity of suffering when one rejects Christ for fleeting goals.  
    But, if we love God–Father, Son, and Holy Spirit–no sacrifice is too great.  Jeremiah, God’s suffering prophet, mentions how his love for God and speaking God’s word is like a fire in his heart which he cannot hold in.  He realizes that remaining faithful to God caused him suffering, but he couldn’t help but remain faithful because of his love for God.  Jeremiah experienced calumny, ostracizing, and even captivity in a muddy pit.  But God’s love enticed Jeremiah to stay faithful and proclaim God’s word, however unpopular that word proved to be.
    In the end, nothing else satisfies us other than God.  We return to the familiar quote from St. Augustine’s Confessions, “You have made us for yourself, O God, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.”  That’s true on this side of eternity, but even more so after our death where our hearts are perfectly and eternally fulfilled in the presence of God, or are eternally restless in Hell, separated from our final end.  As King David said about God today in our psalm, “for you my flesh pines and my soul thirsts / like the earth, parched, lifeless and without water.”  

Statue of St. Peter from the Holy Land

    So are we willing to commit ourselves to God?  Peter, at the moment of the Gospel today, did not think Jesus should go through with what Jesus already knew was the will of God: to suffer and to die.  There was something else that Peter thought was more important than God’s will.  Later, he would change his heart, and even find himself willing to suffer for God, dying as a martyr while suffering crucifixion upside-down.  Maybe God won’t ask that of us, but God does us ask to give Him everything, to offer, as St. Paul said, our bodies to God as a living sacrifice, which really means offering all of who we are–body, mind, soul–to God, trusting that He is worth the price, and that He will not let our gift be offered in vain.  
    While Bishop Mengeling was not perfect and we should certainly continue to pray for the repose of his soul, I would dare say that he wasted his life for God.  Certainly, Bishop Mengeling loved God, and so no price was too much to pay, even when it meant giving up his own family as a priest, and even when it meant giving up his life to serve the Diocese of Lansing as our bishop.  In whatever vocation God calls you, are you willing to waste your life to serve God?

Tu Es Petrus

Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time
    “Annuntio vobis gaudium magnum.  Habemus papam!  Eminentissimum ac Reverendissimum Dominum, Dominum Robertum Franciscum, Sanctae Romanae Ecclesiae Cardinalem Prevost, qui sibi nomen imposuit Leonem decimum quartum.”  I still remember hearing those words on 8 May 2025, and the shock of realizing that an American-born man had been elected Supreme Pontiff.  I pealed the bells at St. Matthew for numerous minutes and could not contain my excitement.  And then later to learn that Fr. Prevost had baptized a child here at St. Matthew even added to that joy.  If you haven’t seen our font since last year, you should take a look at the commemorative plaque that tells visitors that Pope Leo XIV celebrated baptism here in 1999.

Statue of St. Peter in front of the Basilica of St. Peter 

    There’s something about Peter.  We heard about Christ choosing Peter as the leader of the apostles, the one upon whom Christ would build His Church.  And after Pentecost, St. Luke takes great care to show that Peter leads the apostolic college.  He speaks for all at Pentecost and calls the people gathered there to believe in Jesus and be baptized for the forgiveness of sins.  As Peter and St. John the Apostle go to the temple, in the name of Christ Peter heals the man who was crippled, for which the Sanhedrin arrests Peter and John, who both say that they cannot help but proclaim Jesus as the Messiah, and the Sanhedrin tells them to stop, but Peter and John still share the Gospel.  St. Luke continues in Acts 5:15, “Thus they even carried the sick out into the streets and laid them on cots and mats so that when Peter came by, at least his shadow might fall on one or another of them.”  We see similar things even today as strangers will hand their infants to the pope as he rides in the popemobile, just to have the successor of Peter bless their child.  
    Christ set up His Church with Twelve Apostles, the new princes of the new Israel, just as the twelve sons of Jacob were the leaders of the nation of Israel as they migrated to Egypt.  But among these twelve Apostles, Christ gave special authority to St. Peter.  Jesus says in today’s Gospel that Peter holds the keys to the kingdom of heaven of binding and loosing, an authority of authentic teaching and forgiveness that all the Apostles would eventually receive, but Peter first.  In Luke 22:32, after prophesying that Peter would fall away, Jesus tells him, “‘once you have turned back, you must strengthen your brothers.’”  And in John 21:15-18, after hearing Peter say that he loved Jesus three times (ostensibly to make up for Peter’s threefold denial), Jesus commands Peter to feed Jesus’ lambs, tend His sheep, and feed His sheep.  And even at the Resurrection, St. John the Apostle waits for Peter to enter the empty tomb, even though John ran faster and arrived there first.  
    As Catholics, part of our faith, what it means to be Catholic, is that the pope is the visible sign of unity, with special authority, for the entire Church.  Certainly many other Christians do not recognize this, but it does not make it less true.  Even bishops, successors of the apostles, need someone to help them know when they are right and wrong, and the pope does that.  Does that mean the pope is always holy?  Certainly not.  Our own history bears this out, sadly, time and again, where popes had illegitimate children or “made tombs more splendid than the houses of the living,” to attribute a “Lord of the Rings” quote from “The Return of the King” to the dark times of the papacy.
    But still, we believe Christ’s words, that “‘the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against” the Church: that the pope will never teach anything authoritatively contrary to the will of God.  And we look to Peter as a sure guide of faith, though he is a man, just like any man, but still endowed with the greatest authority on earth, because it also touches into heaven.  
    So while the exercise of papal authority, especially in matters of discipline, ebbs and flows, what can never change is that Peter and his successors are the visible head of the Church, the Vicar of Christ for all who profess faith in Christ.  He is the Bishop of Rome; Vicar of Jesus Christ; Successor of the Prince of the Apostles; Supreme Pontiff (which means High Priest or Supreme Bridge-Builder, hearkening back to the role of the pagan Roman priests);  Patriarch of the West; Primate (or head bishop of a Catholic country) of Italy; Metropolitan Archbishop  of the Roman Province; Sovereign of Vatican City State; Servant of the Servants of God.  This last title, added by Pope St. Gregory the Great, reminds the pope that his special authority is not for him, but for us, as a way of serving the Church and giving us a true guide of what to believe and how to live.  As with any authority in the Church, it serves a greater purpose, and only is what it should be when the office-holders view their authority in view of service.  

    Why is the pope so special?  Because Peter was special.  Why was Peter so special?  Because of personal holiness?  Because of a special earthly wisdom?  Next week we’ll hear Jesus refer to his first pope as “Satan,” as Peter advises Jesus not to suffer for us and our salvation.  So no, it had nothing to do with special holiness or earthly wisdom.  Peter is special because God makes him special, and gives him greater responsibility as a sure guide for all in the Church.  Is it exciting that an American-born man ascended to the Chair of St. Peter?  Certainly!  But no matter whence the pope comes, the pope reminds us that we are connected to Jesus through the apostles, and especially through the Blessed Apostle Peter, Prince of the Apostles and Vicar of Christ.  Pray for Pope Leo XIV that he can live up to the great authority which has been bestowed upon him by the cardinals of the Church, and that he can truly be our visible sign of unity among all who follow Christ in truth and charity.

A Multiplication for the Gentiles

Sixth Sunday after Pentecost

Mosaic of the Multiplication, Tabgha

   In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  When I hear about the multiplication of the loaves, the miraculous feeding, my mind immediately turns to John, chapter 6.  And that miracle of multiplying 5 loaves and 3 fish finds itself in all four Gospel accounts: Matthew, chapter 14; Mark, chapter 6; Luke, chapter 9; and John, chapter 6.  But today’s Gospel passage is different.  Our Lord doesn’t feed 5,000; He feeds 4,000 people.  And whereas the larger miracle has twelve baskets of leftovers remaining, today’s miracle has seven baskets left over.  Liberal scripture scholars would first of all dismiss the miracle as an example of Christ calling people to share, and then might simply say that Mark (and Matthew, who also includes this second multiplication story) wanted to demonstrate again how important it is to share.
    But, for us who believe in miracles, who take the text as it is written, not according to our own preconceived notions, is there more?  Why would Sts. Mark and Matthew include two stories about miraculously multiplying food, with different details for each miracle?
    One scholar notes that the location has everything to do with the different miracles and the different amount of leftovers.  In the multiplication story for the 5,000, our Lord performs the miracle in Jewish territory.  In the multiplication of the 4,000, our Lord performs the miracle in Gentile, non-Jewish territory.  With the 5,000, there are twelve wicker baskets leftover, which, when connected to Judaism, reminds one of the twelve tribes of Israel.  With the 4,000, there are seven baskets leftover, which, after some study, connects to the seven Canaanite, or Gentile, kingdoms.  So, as the analysis goes, St. Mark recorded both miracles to show that Christ’s Church was meant to include both Jew and Gentile, as shown by the location of the miracle and the amount of bread left over.
    Ok.  So a pretty neat connection with how Christ did two miracles to demonstrate that His Church was meant to include all peoples, Jews and Gentiles.  It wasn’t just filler that Mark and Matthew added to take up more space.  But how does that affect me?  How is that supposed to change my life?
    I think it’s a good opportunity to think about how we evangelize.  Or maybe better put: with whom do we share the message of salvation: Jews (representing my fellow Catholics) or Gentiles (representing non-Catholics)?  
    Let’s be honest, it’s easier to talk with fellow Catholics (generally speaking) about the faith because we start from the same basic starting point.  We share cultural phrases and celebrations.  We’re generally on the same page, even if there are some teachings that tend to divide some Catholics from other Catholics.  So it can feel comfortable just to stay in the Catholic lane and determine that God has called me to strengthen the faith of fellow Catholics, and maybe even venture out to those who have stopped practicing their faith, what we traditionally called the lapsed.
    And we might even find some Scriptural basis for this, as we read in Galatians, chapter 2, “the one who worked in Peter for an apostolate to the circumcised worked also in me for the Gentiles.”  So we might feel like we don’t really need to go to non-Catholics for evangelization.  That’s for other people.  
    But while it may seem easier, or feel more comfortable, if Christ went both to Jews and Gentiles, then that is our mission, as well.  And even St. Peter went to Gentiles, as he went to the house of Cornelius, a Roman centurion, and baptized his entire household after he saw that they had accepted the faith and saw the work of the Holy Spirit among them.  And St. Paul, though the Apostle to the Gentiles, would most often start at the local synagogue as he proclaimed Jesus as the Christ.  Both…and, not either…or.
    And the harvest is abundant.  There are many people in our daily lives who are not Catholic and have had no connection to the Catholic Church.  And if we believe that the Catholic Church reveals the fullness of truth that God has revealed, the truth we need for salvation, then how can we not share the Gospel with others?  I’m not talking about being the annoying person who goes up to everybody all the time and says, “Have you thought about being Catholic?”  Or, even worse, “Can I tell you how not to go to Hell?”  Those approaches tend to turn people away.  
    But, if we’re living our life as faithful Catholics, and then we take opportunities when the situation arises to talk about Christmas Mass, or why we have a black cross on our forehead, or why we don’t eat meat on Fridays, that can help people start looking into the Catholic Church.  Or sometimes it just means praying with someone who is going through a difficult time, and showing them that we care by our attention and by praying with them.  While some may not be open to hearing the teachings of the faith, very few are not open to people praying with them, especially if they or their loved ones are struggling.
    Christ had two miracles of multiplication in order to show that He intended the Gospel for the Jews and for the Gentiles.  Each day we have opportunities to interact with fallen-away or lukewarm Catholics and non-Catholics.  Do we take the opportunity to share the Gospel with them?  Are we committed to sharing the Good News of Jesus Christ?  Who with the Father and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns for ever and ever.  Amen.

Drawing Near the Unworthy

Fourth Sunday after Pentecost

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Last week we had the profession of faith by St. Peter that our Lord is the Christ, the Messiah, and this week we get a second dose of St. Peter, but this time we hear about his call.  What strikes me in this Gospel passage is that Peter acknowledges his own sinfulness, and yet the Lord does not draw back.  In fact, the Lord draws in Peter and gives him a new mission, no longer to strive to catch fish, but to work at the catch of men, captured in the nets of the love of the Lord.
    We’ve all, I believe, been in the position of Peter.  We sin, whether venially or mortally, and we don’t feel worthy for Christ to be around us.  I think this is especially true of mortal sin.  Mortal sin, as we hopefully remember, is when we commit a grave sin (something serious); we know it’s wrong; and we freely choose to commit that sin anyway.  All three characteristics have to be present in order for a sin to be a mortal sin.  Mortal sin separates us from God and takes away sanctifying grace, the grace that allows us to go to heaven.  Mortal sin is ordinarily removed by sacramental confession, though it could be removed if we had perfect contrition (though I’m not sure you want to take a chance that you had perfect contrition if you have the chance to go to confession).  The Church teaches that if a person were to die in a state of mortal sin, we do not know a way that that person could go to heaven.
    But, some may espouse the view that if we are in mortal sin, God stops loving us.  Or that, if we are in mortal sin, we should stop praying, because God won’t hear our prayers anyway, since we’re not in a state of grace.  But that’s not what our Gospel shows us today.  Who knows if the sin Peter thought of was mortal or venial.  But to fall on his knees makes me believe that there was something big, maybe even just his lack of faith in our Lord’s command.  Still, the Savior doesn’t say, “Sorry, I can’t hear you; your sin is blocking my hearing.”  The Savior doesn’t say, “You should have thought about the consequences before you chose to do what you did.”  The Savior didn’t say, “I can’t love you if you choose to sin.”  Our Lord told Peter not to be afraid, and called him to mission as His Apostle.
    We shouldn’t give sin more power than it has.  We shouldn’t give sin more power than God, which is what we do if we think that God stops loving us or God cannot hear us or will not answer our prayers if we are not in a state of grace.  Anything good only happens by the grace of God, including repentance.  Otherwise, we fall into a kind of semi-Pelagianism, where we earn our own salvation.  Feeling sorry for what we have done can only happen by God’s grace.  The movement towards the confessional can only happen by God’s grace.  And God does not stop being our loving Father when we have been sinful children.  
    Think about it in human terms.  If your child comes to you with an obviously broken arm, but is also covered in mud, do you make your child shower off before you address the broken arm?  Do you yell at the child because he’s making the house a mess when your child just wants you to take care of his fracture?  Do you tell your child you won’t listen to her request until she takes off her dirty clothes and cleans up the mud she has tracked into the house?  “‘If you then, who are wicked, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heaven Father give good things to those who ask him?’”  
    Now, this is not to ignore sin, or say that mortal sin is no big deal.  Some of the saints have said that they would rather have excruciating pain than commit a mortal sin.  But if we fall, do not push the Father away because you feel unworthy.  To be clear, you are not worthy.  But the Father doesn’t care about your worthiness.  He cares about your salvation, and will do whatever He can to affect your healing.  
    And, having been healed, the Lord also wants us to become fishers of men.  Some are called to be fishers of men in the sense of a call to a vocation to the priesthood, where they will join others to Christ through the Sacraments, especially Holy Baptism, Holy Penance, and the Most Holy Eucharist, though certainly the other sacraments as well.  But God calls all of us to seek out those who have strayed from their Catholic faith and to invite in those who are not Catholic so that they can have union with Christ and His Mystical Body, the Church, so that they can be saved.  Is it possible to be saved without baptism, or without full union with the one Church that Christ founded?  God can save people however He wants.  However, our more certain way towards heaven is through the narrow way that Christ shows us through what He teaches us in the Scriptures and in the Church.  How sad it would be if others missed out on salvation, or maybe even just had a longer time in Purgatory because we were unwilling to invite them to become Catholic, or to return to the practice of the faith of their childhood.  
    Does that mean that all whom we invite will accept the invitation?  No.  Sadly, sometimes when we present people with the joy of following Christ, they walk away.  It happened in the Gospel; it will happen in our interactions with others.  But woe to us if we do not at least invite people convincingly and joyfully show them how much we love Christ and how it makes our life more fulfilling.
    Our Lord did not depart from Peter when he acknowledged his sinfulness.  Our Lord does not depart from us when we sin.  May we do all we can to avoid sin, especially mortal sin.  But if we do fall, may we run back to our loving Father and trust in His mercy.  And then, strengthened by His mercy, may we invite others to run to the Father and His merciful love, and find the joy and peace that all people desire, because they are made in the image and likeness of God: the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.   

St. Peter: An Icon of Hope

Solemnity of Sts. Peter and Paul

St. Peter

    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen].  Today we have one my favorite liturgical celebrations.  It helps that I have seen the Papal Basilica of St. Peter in Rome, and the amazing, giant letters of the Gospel that we heard today (in Latin): TU ES PETRUS AND SUPER HANC PETRAM AEDIFICABO ECCLESIAM MEAM.  It helps that I have been to the Holy Land and visited the Church of the Primacy of Peter, which commemorates another Petrine dialogue with Jesus on the shores of the Sea of Galilee.  But mostly I love today because I love Peter.  I love Peter because he gives me hope.
    Now, this is not to leave out St. Paul.  St. Paul preached the Gospel with boldness, suffering greatly as he traveled.  And I have also visited the Papal Basilica of St. Paul Outside the Walls and the smaller church called Tre Fontane, where the Roman soldiers beheaded St. Paul.  His life, too, is encouraging and inspiring, especially his conversion.
    But Christ calls Peter to greatness, almost in spite of himself.  Peter always seems to be tripping over himself, from his first call to the time right before he suffered martyrdom.  Peter has moments where you just want to hit your head and say, “C’mon, man!”  But then he also has moments where you stand in awe at what he is willing to do out of love for the Lord.
    Think back to the call of Peter in Luke, chapter 4.  Peter had been fishing all night and had caught nothing.  And then the Lord asks him to go out into deep waters and throw his net over the sides.  At first, Peter objects, but he complies with the command, and then catches so many fish that his business partners, James and John, have to come and help him drag it in.  Peter begs the Lord to leave because of his sinfulness, but Christ calls Peter to abandon his boats and nets, and become a fisher of men.  
    We hear today the great proclamation of faith, that Jesus is the long-awaited Messiah, the Christ, the Son of God.  And Christ promises to build His Church upon the rock of Peter, and that the gates of Hell will not prevail against it, no matter how dark times seem to get.  Great moment for Peter!  But then immediately afterwards, the Savior tells the disciples how He will suffer, and Peter pulls Him aside and tells Him to stop saying that nonsense, wherein the Lord calls the other disciples together again and rebukes Peter to his face, saying, “Get behind me, Satan.”  Not a strong start for this newly-named first Pope.
    At the Last Supper, Peter assures Christ that even if everyone else abandons Him, Peter will stay faithful.  What a great statement of loyalty.  But then Christ tells Peter that He will deny even knowing Him three times, which, of course, happens, and Peter goes off to weep because of his betrayal.
    And, by tradition, even at the end of his life, Peter still struggled a bit.  Peter was warned by the Christians in Rome, where Peter was preaching, that the soldiers were going to arrest him.  So Peter runs away, and begins to leave Rome.  As he’s going away from Rome on the Appian Way, he sees Christ walking back to Rome.  “Domine, quo vadis?” Peter asks.  “Lord, where are you going?”  The Lord tells Peter that He is going to Rome to be crucified a second time.  At that point, Peter realizes he is not supposed to run away, and returns to Rome.  He undergoes crucifixion on Vatican Hill, though upside down because he did not consider himself worthy to die in the same exact manner as his Lord and Savior.

St. Paul

    Back to St. Paul, you can imagine how Paul, a trained theologian, might have wondered about Peter.  Perhaps Paul asked the Lord, “So Peter, this leader of your Church, how much as he studied the Law and the Prophets?”  And you can imagine the Lord saying, “Not much beyond a common man.”  Then Paul: “But certainly he has spent a great deal of time, like me, away from everyone else on retreat in the desert for this great mission,” and our Lord, “Nope.”  Paul: “Well, then, you must have given him some special visions and experience of the third heaven, like you did for me.”  But our Lord responds, “He has been open to special revelation from my Father, to be able to recognize me as the Christ.”  And St. Paul: “Hmmm.  Ok.”  Then our Lord speaks, “And you might have to correct him about how he interacts with Gentiles at some points, but not others, because he sometimes gets cold feet about my will.”  Paul made much more sense for a first pope.  But Christ chose Peter.
    And that gives me, and should give you, hope.  No, I’m not going to be pope.  But God has called us all to some mission for spreading the Gospel.  He chose us, me and you, not because we’re the smartest, or have the best training, or because we’re the holiest, or because we have our life figured out.  He chose us because He wants us to cooperate with Him in our own salvation and the salvation of others.  He has given us gifts that will help us proclaim the Gospel and bring others to Him, that others can’t do as well.  As St. Paul says in his second epistle to the Corinthians, “we hold this treasure in earthen vessels, that the surpassing power may be of God and not from us.”  And as long as we recognize that, even if we, at times fail and fall, we can, like Peter, be successful in the end, maybe not in an earthly sense, but in the only sense that matters: in God’s eyes.  
    Peter gives me hope because, while he has moments of greatness, he is, more often than not, tripping over himself and putting his foot in his mouth.  He was, if I might, a fool.  But he was a fool for Christ, and Christ could work with Peter’s zeal, even though it came with warts.  May we open ourselves to the power of the same Holy Spirit who transformed Simon, the fisherman, the son of Jonah, into Peter, Prince of the Apostles and Pope of the Universal Church.  May Sts. Peter and Paul both intercede for us so that we can spread the Gospel as God wills, and inherit, by our life, the reward these holy Apostles won by the shedding of their blood: union with God[–the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen].   

A Tradition Unlike Any Other

Third Sunday of Easter

    A few weeks back, during a few, rare downtimes on Palm Sunday weekend, I was able to tune in to the Masters Tournament at Augusta National coverage on TV.  I don’t golf, but there is something about the Masters which draws even non-golfers in.  While I was primarily rooting for Jordan Spieth, who ended up with a decent set of scores, I was also very happy to see Rory McElroy not only win his first green jacket, but also complete the career Grand Slam of winning all four major championships: the PGA Championship, US Open, Open Championship, and the Masters.  There’s something about the Masters that signals spring is finally here.  It’s not just the game itself; it goes beyond a simple few days in Georgia.
    The same could be said for our Gospel passage today.  But I want to focus more on the second part of the Gospel passage, Peter’s interaction with Jesus, which also goes beyond a simple apologetic conversation, though it is that.  Part of the beyond is Jesus again supporting Peter’s special role as pope and head of the Apostolic College, the group of apostles.  But it also demonstrates for us what confession is mean to be like.
    The Gospel writers are clear that Peter denied Jesus on Holy Thursday evening and into Good Friday.  They are clear that he wasn’t at the cross, but that, once the cock crowed after Peter had denied Christ, he went away weeping, knowing that he had betrayed the Lord.  But we never hear anything else, until this passage, about the reconciliation.  Peter had been going all this time after seeing the Risen Christ on Easter Sunday without dealing with his sin.  But now the Lord invites Him to reconcile.
    How many times do we carry sins with us, perhaps even avoiding confession because we are ashamed?  We, in our own way, have denied and betrayed the Lord.  And while we have later seen His goodness and His new life, we’re afraid to confront our sin.  But if we don’t reconcile, we can’t receive healing.  And if the wound is mortal, deadly, then we could perish forever.
    So the Lord invites us to speak with Him in confession, and the priest acts in His name, in persona Christi capitis, in the person of Christ the Head, we say in theological language.  And He asks us, “‘do you love me more than these?’”  Now, in the Gospel, perhaps Jesus meant more than the other apostles, or more than fishing.  But with us, the Lord asks us if we love Him more than we love our sins.  The act of confessing makes us confront what or who we love more.  
    In the Greek (and Venerable Fulton Sheen makes a whole homily about this), the type of love Jesus asks Peter is not the type of love that Peter responds to Jesus.  Jesus asks, <<𝛼𝛾𝛼𝜋𝛼𝜍 𝜇𝜀;>> or, “Do you love me with the love of God?”  Peter responds, <<𝜙𝜄𝜆𝜔 𝜎𝜀>> or “I love you with brotherly love.”  The second time Jesus asks the same question, and Peter responds the same way.  But the third time, Jesus asks, <<𝜙𝜄𝜆𝜀𝜄𝜍 𝜇𝜀;>> or “Do you love me with brotherly love?”  Hence, Peter gets upset that Jesus asked, not only a third time, but changed the type of love (though that was the love Peter could muster in response).  But he still responds in the same way.  
    Jesus desires us to have 𝛼𝛾𝛼𝜋𝜀, or caritas, or selfless, Godlike love.  But He knows we are weak, and He accepts that we can’t always affirm that.  So he takes what we can give.  When we sin, especially mortal sins, we should have perfect contrition: the sorrow that comes, “not because of the loss of heaven or the pains of hell, but most of all because they have offended thee, my God.”  Still, through the sacrament, God raises our imperfect contrition, the fear of punishment, and makes it perfect by His grace so that we can be forgiven.  

    Through the Sacrament of Penance, which we often call confession, God reconciles us to Himself, even when we’re not fully ready to be reconciled.  We need to be sorry in some sense, confess our mortal sins in kind and number, have a firm purpose to not commit sin again, and be ready to accept penance, but God knows that sometimes we cannot honestly say that we love Him the way He loves us.  Still, He doesn’t want anything to stand in the way of His relationship with us, so He forgives us.  He asks us to love Him and let that love be manifest in our actions.
    The Gospels tell us what Jesus truly did and taught for eternal salvation, as Dei Verbum, the Dogmatic Constitution on Divine Revelation from the Second Vatican Council taught.  But the Gospels go beyond the telling of true stories.  They also help us continue our life in Christ.  May our hearing and reading of the exchange between Jesus and Peter draw us closer to our Lord as we confess our sins, receive forgiveness and healing, and help us to live with the mission Christ gave us: to be saints.

Angry Woman Meme

Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

    It’s a little old now, but there’s a famous meme where a woman is sitting at a table, yelling and pointing, while a white cat, sitting at the table, ostensibly across from her, has a snarky look on its face.  People put in all sorts of dialogues between the woman and the cat, some of which are pretty funny.  If I were to make a meme based on today’s readings, the woman would say, “God calls sinners!”, while the cat would respond, “He calls them to repent.”  
    After all, in all three readings, we hear about sinners whom God calls.  In the first reading, God calls Isaiah to be His prophet, to speak for Him.  But Isaiah knows that he is a sinner.  So he says, “‘Woe is me, I am doomed!  For I am a man of unclean lips, living among a people of unclean lips!’”  In the second reading, St. Paul acknowledges that he is not worthy to be called an apostle, because he persecuted the Church.  And finally, in the Gospel, Jesus calls St. Peter to follow Him, but Peter demurs, saying, “‘Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.’”  
    God knows that Isaiah, and St. Paul, and St. Peter, were all sinners.  God’s omniscience cannot be fooled.  But He does call each of them to do His will: Isaiah to speak for God as His prophet; St. Peter to be the first pope and head of the apostolic college; St. Paul to be the Apostle to the Gentiles.  And with each person–Isaiah and Peter and Paul–God offers them His mercy.  Isaiah receives an ember, touched to his lips, which takes away his sins.  Jesus asks St. Peter three times if he loves Him, and then gives Peter the mission of caring for Jesus’ flock.  St. Paul, who loses his sight when he encounters the Lord on the road to Damascus, regains his sight and is baptized through a follower of Jesus, Ananias.  
    So yes, God calls sinners.  And yes, He forgives their sins.  But He does so in order that they repent and change their ways, which is exactly what Isaiah and St. Peter and St. Paul did.  They left behind what the old man in them, the old Adam, to be exact, and they put on the new man, the new Adam, Jesus Christ, and lived according to His will, rather than their own.  God didn’t call them to Himself so that they could go back to their old ways.  God didn’t want Isaiah to use his speech for sinful matters.  God didn’t want St. Peter to go back to fishing.  God didn’t want St. Paul to return to persecuting His Church.  He met them where they were at, yes, but He led them to a new place, a new mission.

His Eminence, Francis Cardinal George

    In our laziness, our sloth, we can miss that second part.  We’re very happy that God meets us as we are.  It warms our heart that God would choose us, sinners though we are, to share in His life.  But when it comes to leaving the past behind, and going where God wants, no longer just where we want to go, we balk at the change and choose to remain in our past.  This is why so many people love the horrid hymn “All Are Welcome.”  It’s the first part of the call of Jesus to any person.  He welcomes sinners and tax collectors to dine with Him; that is true.  He does not condemn the woman caught in adultery, or the Samaritan woman at the well.  But the story doesn’t end there.  He tells them not to sin anymore, and gives them, by His presence, what they need to change their life to conform to His.  It is as His Eminence, Francis Cardinal George, used to say, “All are welcome, but on Christ’s terms, not their own.”  
    Today, as we admitted Jenna, Raegan, and Skyler to the Order of Catechumens, we saw the witness of one whom Christ called.  Ladies, you, like all of us before we were baptized, have original sin.  Original sin is an obstacle that following God as He desires.  But God has overcome that obstacle to invite you to follow Him by becoming a disciple of Jesus Christ.  God met you where you were, but now He calls you deeper into relationship with Him, to put out into the deep waters that might be scary, and which take you way from anything in your past which is not of God.  But He doesn’t leave you alone as you put out into the deep waters. He goes with you, and we also, now that you are a catechumen, promise to support you, pray for you, and help you as you prepare for baptism, confirmation, and the Eucharist.  
    We stand before you as those whom the Lord has also called, though we are sinners.  And we do not claim that we follow Christ perfectly.  But each time we fall, each time we sin, Christ reaches out for us again, and encourages us to put that behind us as He forgives us in the Sacrament of Penance, and strengthens us to say yes to Him and no to anything contrary to Him and His teachings.  He has called us, too, to deep waters, and sometimes we fear to go with Him, but He calls us, and we hope to follow as best as we can.
    Because the Lord doesn’t want us to wallow in our sins of the past.  He doesn’t want us going back there because our sins don’t give us life.  They don’t give us happiness.  They don’t allow us to be the people He has called us to be.  Only by following Christ, by making His life our own, by living according to what He has taught us through the Scriptures and the Church can we truly be happy and be fully ready for heaven at the end our life.
    So you, and we, are sinners.  And God has called you, and us, to leave that sinfulness behind.  He desires to burn away our sins like with the Prophet Isaiah; to open our eyes like St. Paul; to call us to leave behind our old way of life like St. Peter.  May you, and we, have the courage to answer that call, repent, and be faithful to the Gospel.

"Do Not Be Afraid!"

Eighth Sunday after Pentecost

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  On 22 October 1978 in St. Peter’s Square in Vatican City, 58-year-old Pope John Paul II, proclaimed to all those who attended his Inauguration Mass as Supreme Pontiff: “Do not be afraid.  Open wide the doors for Christ.”  The same message applies today as it did 46 years ago this October: “Do not be afraid.  Open wide the doors for Christ.”
    I do not say this flippantly, especially given the concerns that weigh on all of our hearts this week.  I say this, as I’m sure the saintly pontiff did, with St. Paul’s epistle the Romans in mind, as we heard today: “You did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you received a spirit of adoption, through which we cry, ‘Abba, Father!’”  We don’t know what the future holds, but we do not need to be afraid, anymore than St. Paul was afraid; anymore than Pope St. John Paul II was afraid.  
    This does not mean that things would go easily.  St. Paul would eventually go to Rome and would be beheaded there simply for his faith in Jesus Christ.  Before that he had people betray him, abandon him, and he would get shipwrecked on his way to Rome.  Pope St. John Paul II would face head-on the communist government of the USSR.  He would be shot by an assassin on the feast of our Lady of Fatima in 1981.  While his mind remained sharp, his body would betray him until he couldn’t walk on his own and his speech was slightly less than a mumble.  Both St. Paul and the Successor of St. Peter would experience suffering.  But in any suffering they would cry out to their heavenly Father who would sustain them and help them to be a martyr, a witness, whether by the shedding of their blood or by the witness of patient suffering.
    Do we trust God to carry us through whatever may come next?  Are we children who belong in the Father’s house?  Or are we simply hired servants who come and go as it suits us?  Do we have confidence that any suffering, especially that which is unjust, will lead to our glorification?  Or are we afraid of the unknown and afraid of where the Father may lead us to go.
    Pope St. John Paul II reflected on being led somewhere strange in that same Mass.  He said:
 

The Lord addressed [Peter] with these words: “…when you were young you put on your own belt and walked where you liked; but when you grow old you will stretch out your hands and somebody else will put a belt around you and take you where you would rather not go’.  
Peter came to Rome!
…Perhaps the fisherman of Galilee did not want to come here.  Perhaps he would have preferred to stay there, on the shores of the Lake of Genesareth, with his boats and his nets.  But guided by the Lord, obedient to his inspiration, he came here!
According to an ancient tradition…, Peter wanted to leave Rome during Nero’s persecution.  But the Lord intervened: he went to meet him.  Peter spoke to him and asked, “Quo vadis, Domine?”–“Where are you going, Lord?”  And the Lord answered him at once: “I am going to Rome to be crucified again.”  Peter went back to Rome and stayed here until his crucifixion.

No doubt, Peter had reasons for wanting to flee Rome.  Think of the great work that Peter could have done if he escaped the persecution and hid in Italy, or maybe traveled to Spain like some have guessed St. Paul did for a time.  People were healed merely by the shadow of St. Peter, the Acts of the Apostles tells us.  And thousands converted by his preaching at Pentecost.  But that was not how Christ called Peter.  Christ did not call Peter to fear, but to trust in the will of the Father, even though that will included his crucifixion.
    God will never abandon us.  He has pledged Himself to us as our Father, our Abba, through holy Baptism.  No matter what we do, He will be there for us.  But will we stay loyal to Him?  When the going gets tough, will we go away?  Will we let Christ be crucified a second time because we give into fear and into our own wisdom?  Or will we be like Peter and stay in Rome, even when it means persecution and suffering?
    I often don’t understand God’s ways.  I don’t know why Christ allows this, but stops that.  There are moments where I think I can see His hand and the trajectory He has, but more often I simply have to make an act of faith that, as St. Paul said, all things will work for the good of those who love God.  But when tempted to run for the hills because things have gotten too tough, or because it would be easier to do something else, the words of St. Peter in John chapter six always pop up in my mind: “‘Master, to whom shall we go?  You have the words of eternal life.’”  There is nowhere else to go for eternal life.  Do not be afraid.  Stay with Christ.  And, in the words of Julian of Norwich, “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.”  In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Duc In Altum

Fourth Sunday after Pentecost

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  “Duc in altum!  These words ring out for us today, and they invite us to remember the past with gratitude, to live the present with enthusiasm and to look forward to the future with confidence: ‘Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and for ever.’”  Pope St. John Paul II penned these words in his Apostolic Letter, Novo millennio ineunte at the close of the Great Jubilee Year 2000.  While he wrote these words for a particular time, now almost a quarter of a century ago, they still ring true today.  And every time I read or hear this Gospel–especially in this Mass where the Latin words that the saintly pontiff used are proclaimed in the same Latin, the mother tongue of the Church in Rome–I draw back to this document which closed an exciting and reinvigorating time in the Church’s history
    Over the past school years, I have assisted the Michigan State Police with training in a tank for those who show interest in joining the MSP and preparing them for what they might experience for water safety.  Most people would call where we do this a pool, but in the State Police a pool is where you have fun, and we were not about having fun during this training, so we swam in a tank.  I’m a decent swimmer, but it has pushed me as the other staff challenged me to push a brick at the bottom of the tank from one side to another; to open my eyes under water while I’m swimming; to tread water for fifteen or more minutes while passing a 10-pound brick hand over hand to the other people treading water in a circle; to allow another to rescue me as a simulated being a drowning victim, and entrusting my life into their training.  It gave me some trepidation at times, but I’m still here, and no one has ever drowned in this training.  
    I mention that because putting out into the deep (which is what duc in altum means) when it comes to our faith came seem as challenging as tank training was for me.  It pushes us beyond our comfort zone; it makes us develop new skills; it sometimes even tires us.  But just as it was in the year 2000, as it also was in the year 1500, as it also was in the year 1000, as it was on the birth of the Church at Pentecost, so today our mission is to welcome Christ into our boat, and put out into deep waters in order to make a miraculous catch.
    Note that previous failure does not suffice for an excuse against putting out into the deep.  St. Peter, who was Pope St. John Paul II’s 263rd predecessor, had tried fishing all night, but without any luck.  But he didn’t have the Lord with him, which was the reason for his abysmal performance at his life’s trade.  So with us: when we try to share the Gospel without Christ, we will find little, if any, success.  It might seem an oxymoron to share the Gospel without Christ, since the Gospel is the good news of our Lord’s saving life, death, and resurrection.  But do we bring our missionary activity to Christ first in prayer, before we talk to others about Him?  Is our life based in daily prayer that draws us closer to the Lord, and undergirds all of our evangelical action?  Even with the best arguments and the best intellectual exchanges, conversion is only possible by the power of grace.  Do we commend someone to God’s grace after we have shared the Gospel with them?  Without Christ, we catch nothing.  With Christ, we can’t even bring in all that He desires for us.
    This Gospel also encourages us to keep in my our own sinfulness.  Whenever we see the Lord do a great work, it should remind us to say, with that timeless hymn, “O Lord, I am not worthy.”  The power of Christ is most made manifest when we acknowledge our own weakness, the same now as when God told St. Paul, “My power is made manifest in weakness.”  Or, to paraphrase the Apostle to the Gentiles elsewhere, we are simply earthen vessels that God uses, so that the power may truly be known to come from God and not from us.  When we are able to let “Jesus take the wheel,” as the great Carrie Underwood sings, we can go and do things that we could never do if we relegate the Lord to the spot of a co-pilot.  To quote a bumper sticker I saw once, “If Jesus is your co-pilot, you’re in the wrong seat.”  Yes, we have to work with God, but let God use you to accomplish his work; don’t try to use God to approve your own plans and work.
    Lastly, our Lord encourages Peter after he admitted his unworthiness to be with the Lord, “Be not afraid.”  Fear of spreading the Gospel because we don’t think we know our Scripture well enough, or because we can’t easily spout off all or any of St. Thomas Aquinas’s erudite arguments from the Summa Theologiae, or because we don’t follow Christ perfectly ourselves does not come from God.  Yes, we should engage in Bible studies; yes, we should study the Angelic Doctor and other Church fathers and scholars, as our gifts allow; yes, we are sinners who do not always live up to the message we preach.  But God doesn’t ask us to have the entire Bible memorized, or any theological work, or to live perfectly before we evangelize.  He encourages us to be not afraid, and allow Him to work through us.  If we don’t know something, we can look it up afterwards and follow up on another’s questions.  And there is a real power in sharing with another person that you want to live as Christ commands, but you don’t always do it (which is probably where that other person will be in his or her life as a disciple anyway).  But don’t let fear keep you on the shore; don’t let past failures keep you from the greatness that God wants to accomplish with your cooperation.  
    As we prepare to enter this next Jubilee Year, 2025, which has as its theme Pilgrims of Hope, may we listen to the call of Pope St. John Paul II and not be afraid to put out into the deep, sharing the hope we have because of our faith in the Lord Jesus, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit live and reign for ever and ever.  Amen. 

Benedict and Dominic

Fourth Sunday of Easter
    Throughout the past decade, especially as the United States started to drift away from the Judeo-Christian culture that had previously permeated the secular environment, people started to ask the question of what we should do as Catholics.  Even as many as ten years ago we came to realize that we could not rely on the federal or State governments to support people living out their faith, and, in some cases, the government grew very antagonistic towards Catholics and how they lived out their faith (think of the Obama administration’s seemingly hell-bent desire to force the Little Sisters of the Poor to pay for contraceptives in their health plan). 

St. Benedict

    So some proposed a solution, based upon an historical precedent, which gained the moniker “The Benedict Option.”  While Pope Benedict XVI did reign during some of the past decade or so, the reference looked back much farther to Benedictine monasteries that preserved Catholic literature and formation from the barbarian advances all throughout what had formerly been the Roman Empire.  This perspective advised that Catholics form small communities and basically hunker down until the barbarians (those who attacked the Church) destroyed themselves (as those who promote the culture of death eventually do destroy themselves). 
    There’s a certain solace in the bunker mentality when you feel like you’re under attack.  While the analogy will limp given its drastic nature, living the faith right now can seem like fighting in the midst of World War I.  The trenches seem much safer, because if you try to advance, you’re going to get mowed down by gunfire or mustard gas.  So you stay low and just try to ride the war out, hoping to survive to the next generation.
    But, besides the fact that Benedictines were responsible for a lot of missionary activity, even during the Middle Ages (St. Augustine of Canterbury, St. Ansgar, and St. Boniface, just to name a few), this bunker mentality, while sometimes appropriate and certainly lived out beautifully by cloistered monks and nuns, misses what our readings reference today. 
    In the passages leading up to our first reading, St. Peter and St. John had been arrested because they healed a crippled man in the name of Jesus.  Peter didn’t cut bait and run.  He, the Prince of the Apostles speaking for the other apostles, proclaimed that Jesus had risen from the dead, and that He was the only way to salvation.  He proclaimed the Gospel because he knew that it was the truth, the truth which would set people free.  Any of the Apostles could have simply stayed in the Upper Room and quietly taught people about Jesus, trying to avoid publicity and controversy, but they didn’t.  They proclaimed Christ boldly, even in the face of persecution.  And the Church grew because of their witness.

St. Dominic

    This is what one author termed the “Dominican Option,” named after the Order of Friars Preachers.  St. Dominic only had a few cloistered nuns praying for him and his few friars, and yet he sent the friars out to the major universities of Europe, and his order grew almost exponentially.    It seemed like foolishness, even to some of the first friars, but St. Dominic said, “The seed will molder if it is hoarded up; it will fructify if it is sown.”  The Dominicans imitated the Apostles and spread the Gospel far and wide.
    Part of the animus for this is what Christ proclaimed in our Gospel today: “‘I have other sheep that do not belong to his fold.  These also I must lead, and they will hear my voice, and there will be one flock, one shepherd.’”  Christ desires that all people would belong to His one flock, the Catholic Church.  He desires that all people are united in charity and in truth.  This won’t happen such an effective way if we rely simply on hunkering down and having more babies than the pagans who surround us (though I would say that having babies according to God’s will and your own discernment is another beautiful way to pass along the faith).  Yes, we can form communities of men and women who purposefully follow Christ, and not simply because someone told them to or because their family always did it this way.  Yes, we need to form people to understand the Gospel so that they can be able to preach it (and we’re striving to do that through our faith formation groups of all ages). 
    But at the end of the day, we cannot stay in our bunkers; we cannot remain in the trenches.  We should have the magnanimity to try to win souls for Christ, to help them see that following Him is not only the path to heaven, but a way to live life more joyfully and with more fulfillment than if we try to live life on our own terms and follow our own patterns of sin.  If Christ’s desire that we all join His flock are to come to fruition, then we have to cooperate with Him and share that good news with others.  And not just on the worldwide church level: if we wish our parish to grow, then others need to join us.  And the way that others join us is through people convincing them of the truth of the faith and having them be baptized or enter into full communion with the Catholic Church.  Yes, we also welcome and encourage our young families to engage in the very countercultural act of supporting life and having babies according to God’s plan, but we also have to bring others in.  We are growing, but if we each lived with the zeal of St. Peter and St. John, then I would need to add at least one more Mass because we had so many people joining the Catholic Church and our parish. 
    Yes, things are rough for the Catholic Church right now, and I don’t see them getting noticeably better any time soon.  Yes, some of us will support the work of spreading the faith by our prayers and attendance at Mass.  But most of us need to get involved in sharing the good news, or telling others why they should follow Christ and why they should be Catholic.  If we don’t share the seeds of the Gospel, they will become moldy.  But if we sow the seeds of the Gospel in the hearts and minds of those we encounter, they will bear fruit thirty, sixty, and one hundredfold.

Incremental Growth

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

(l-r) Anthony and Fr. Anthony

    When you have a goal, sometimes it’s easy to want to be at the end result, rather than being satisfied that you have done today what you need to in order to achieve that goal.  My best friend Anthony is very strong and very much in shape.  And when I started lifting weights over a year ago, I wanted my body to look like his.  I wanted the big biceps and pecs.  Now, if Anthony were to stand up next to me today, you would see that I have not yet achieved that goal.  But, I am bigger than I used to be, with better defined muscles.
    When it comes to our spiritual life, it is easy to fall prey to the same mentality, that we should achieve the goal immediately.  We read the lives of the saints, which helps us because we see in them the goal of living our baptismal promises.  But then we realize that we’re not at their level yet.  This can push us onwards, or it can also lead to a bit of despair, because we can worry that we will never achieve our goal because we haven’t achieved it yet.
    As we hear the call of the first Apostles–Andrew and John, and then Andrew invites Peter–we can see them searching for a more meaningful life, searching for the Messiah and desiring to associate themselves with Him.  To use the weight-lifting example, it’s as if St. John the Baptist says about Jesus, “Look at that guy flex!” and Andrew and John are amazed enough to follow a new leader, and Andrew even invites his own brother to join in.
    But Jesus doesn’t lay out for them everything that will happen, either to Himself or to them.  He doesn’t unfold how life will fully be like following the Messiah and being part of His inner circle.  He doesn’t explain that He’s going to wander around Judea and Galilee preaching and performing miracles.  He doesn’t tell them that He will forgive sins, which is reserved for God, or heal the blind, sick, and lame, and even raise a dead girl to life.  He doesn’t tell them that the Pharisees are not going to be fans, and are going to dog Him and His followers everywhere they go.  He doesn’t tell them that He will walk on water, multiple bread and fish for five thousand, or ride triumphantly into Jerusalem.  He certainly doesn’t tell them that the same crowd that joyously welcomes Him to Jerusalem for the upcoming feast of Passover will call for His crucifixion, which He will undergo, abandoned by most of His disciples. 
    He doesn’t tell them that they will be called Apostles, and will be the new patriarchs of the new Israel.  He doesn’t tell them that they will heal people and exorcise demons in His Name.  He doesn’t tell them that they will, more often than not, lack understanding of His teachings.  He doesn’t tell them that they will be sent out, rather early in the game, to preach His arrival.  He doesn’t tell them that one of the most trusted friends will betray Him for money, while the leader of His trusted friends will even deny knowing Him. 
    What does He say?  “‘Come, and you will see.’”  And Andrew, John, and Peter will stay with Jesus that day.  All that would happen, both to Christ and to the Apostles, is contained in that simple phrase, “Come, and you will see.”  He knew they weren’t ready for everything yet, that they had to slowly prepare for everything, so He didn’t share everything yet.  Just like, when I started lifting weights, I didn’t try to bench 205 lbs. (my current best).  When I started, I think I was lifting 75 lbs. and feeling the burn.  If I would have tried 205 lbs. when I started, I would have failed, and maybe given up.  But I persevered, and now am trying to get up to 225 lbs. 

NOT Fr. Anthony or Anthony

    God doesn’t give us everything all at once, even when we might desire to know it.  Like so many things in nature, the growth happens slowly, organically, methodically.  Yes, sometimes there are spurts of growth, but if the weight of the final goal was placed upon the embryonic beginning, it would crush the start so that the finish would never happen.  I think about it in terms of my own parents’ marriage.  In 1979, when my parents said, “I do,” they had no idea that my dad would convert to Catholicism and be baptized; that he would eventually become a deacon; that they would have three kids; that one kid (me) would fall eight feet, head first, onto a concrete floor (I know some of you are thinking, ‘That explains it!’); that one would be in a horrific car accident that would require weeks of hospitalization and rehab, and leave scars over her arm; that one would have difficulty with her hips at a young age, and then require lots of trips to the ER and breathing treatments for asthma; the time and effort they would put in to caring for their moms in their last days of life; that they wouldn’t both be able to be close to their fathers at the end of life due to COVID.  I’m not sure any couple could handle that at the age of 21 and 19, or any age.  But they have gone through all that and more, taking things one day at a time with Jesus, and seeing where He leads them. 
    Striving for holiness is a day-by-day affair.  We are not saints all at once, but each day choose to say yes to God and no to anything opposed to Him.  If you want to be a saint, then commit yourself, just for each today that you have, to stay with Jesus that today.  After the numerous todays that you spend with Him and cooperate with His grace, you’ll see the difference.  Your end will be determined by the daily decision you make to remain with Jesus.  Where does God want to lead you?  “Come, and you will see.”

Come, and You Will See

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time-St. Pius X

    Once the Bishop Boyea decreed that St. Pius X parish would be closed and which date the closing Mass would be, I was curious about what the reading would be for the week before (today), the last time I would preach as pastor of St. Pius X parish.  The last homily of a pastor at a parish is always a big homily, but especially when the parish is closing.
    So as I looked for the Gospel today, I was grateful that this Gospel passage would close out my preaching at St. Pius X.  This Gospel of the call of St. Andrew, St. John, and St. Peter (formerly named Simon) may not seem perfect, but it truly is.
    Today, and even more so next week, you may have this sense of, “What am I going to do?  Where am I going to go?”  In this way, you are like St. Andrew and St. John, whom St. John the Baptist directs to Jesus.  Today, as then, Jesus asks you, “‘What are you looking for?’”  Your answers certainly have a common thread, but also are as diverse as each person is.  Each of you seeks something the same and something different from the Lord.  Perhaps your question is like St. Andrew and St. John’s: “‘Where are you staying?’”  Or maybe better for today and next week, “Where are you?”  There is nothing wrong with that question.  All honest questions are welcome to the Messiah.
    Today, Jesus says to you, as He did to Andrew and John, “‘Come, and you will see.’”  Jesus didn’t tell them all that would happen to them over the next three years.  He didn’t immediately give them the term “Apostle.”  He simply invited them to stay with Him, and they did, starting with that day.  
    On 29 June 1955, Bishop Joseph H. Albers, first bishop of Lansing, erected St. Pius X parish.  And on 7 August of the same year, Fr. John A Blasko, the founding pastor, celebrated the first Mass in the Flint CIO Labor Temple at the corner of Corunna and Downey.  On those days, and all the days that followed, the invitation was the same: Come, and you will see.  Jesus didn’t show us then the ups and downs of the parish; the different locations where Mass would be said; the different priests who would serve as pastor or parochial vicar; or even how long the parish would last.  He simply said, “‘Come, and you will see.’”  And we have seen God working.  For 68 years and 7 months God has revealed Himself.  He has done so through the Mass, through the sisters and lay people who taught in the school, through the CCD classes, through the faith-sharing groups, through the food pantry, through the priests, through the buildings, and through the parishioners who became more like family.  
    And next week, as Bishop Boyea closes the doors to this church and declares it de-consecrated, the message will not change.  Jesus will still invite you: Come, and you will see.  And whether you stay with Jesus by joining St. Matthew or by joining another parish, Jesus wants you to stay with Him.  Today: stay with Him.  Tomorrow: stay with Him.  The rest will work itself out.  As long as you stay with Him.
    It wouldn’t always be easy.  Simon, after meeting the Lord, got a new name.  This group of three would grow to a group of twelve, which would shrink by one when Judas betrayed the Lord, and then would add Matthias and later on Paul.  Christ would demonstrate great miracles like the feeding of 5,000 with fives loaves and two fish.  Pharisees and scribes would seemingly constantly harass this wandering Rabbi and His disciples.  Most would abandon the Lord after He said that they had to eat His flesh and drink His blood to have life within them.  All of Jerusalem would welcome Him right before Passover, and then they would all yell out, “Crucify him!” five days later.  All but John and Peter would abandon the Lord after He was arrested, and even then Peter would deny he even knew Jesus.  Talk about your ups and downs.  But, even after abandoning Him, they would gather to stay in the place He celebrated the First Mass with them, and see Him risen from the dead and receive both His peace and His commission to spread the Gospel.  
    It has been and always will be the same: someone points out Jesus to us, and Jesus invites us to stay with Him.  It’s that simple and that complicated.  Stay with Jesus; stay with the Church.  I don’t know what that will entail for you, but the Lord of History, Jesus Christ, does.  What will happen if you stay with Jesus?  “‘Come, and you will see.’”

Human Intellect and Divine Wisdom

Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time
    As I get ready to turn 40, it’s incredible to think of the technological advances just in those four decades.  Thinking simply about how we listen to music, we went from records, to 8-tracks, to cassette tapes, to CDs, to Napster, to iTunes, Pandora, and Spotify. 
    The human mind is an amazing organ, and we continue to unlock different ways to utilize the created world.  But, while the brain comes up with ever-new ideas, it is not perfect.  Our intellect, which helps us to understand the world, both natural and supernatural, is fallen like the rest of creation.  Our minds do not always grasp truth.
    We see that in the Gospel today.  When asked who people say Jesus is, the first few apostles echoed the human wisdom, perhaps the best human wisdom, of the day.  “They replied, ‘Some say John the Baptist, others Elijah, still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.’”  These Apostles, as good as their hypotheses were, erred.  Even if they were simply echoing what others said, they did not grasp the truth of Jesus’ identity. 

Statue of St. Peter from Galilee

    When St. Peter makes his reply, Jesus quickly identifies that “‘flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father.’”  Peter’s response comes, yes, from his intellect, but, more accurately, from his intellect inspired and guided by God the Father.  Peter bases his response partially from what he understands, but also from wisdom from above.
    Those who have responsibility for teaching the faith, as well as we who receive that faith, do well to remember that our human intellect alone does not suffice for passing on the truths of the faith.  From all appearances and human judgments, Jesus was simply another great prophet.  But His miracles demonstrated that He was more than that; He showed by His actions that He was the “Son of the living God.”  But only intellects guided by grace could apprehend that truth.
    When we stick to our own understanding of truth, it is all too easy for our minds, darkened by sin, to assert things which are false.  We may even have reasons and some kind of logic to back up what we say.  But if our intellect is not guided by the Light of God, then we can, all too easily, get things wrong and either not fully grasp what God wants us to know, or even go against what God has revealed. 
    Take, for example, a popular idiom: love is love.  Our intellect, left to itself, might say, “Yeah, that sounds right.”  Dissecting the sentence, it actually doesn’t say much.  Grammatically speaking, it would be as profound as saying “one equals one” or “red is red.”  But it’s all too often used as a way of saying that a person should be able to love romantically or marry whomever he or she wants. 
    Some even use the Scriptures to try to back this up.  They see that St. John says in his first epistle that God is love.  And so, God would seemingly approve of romantic love of another, no matter who that other is.  They might also point to the fact that Jesus upended many of the cultural norms in His day, so we should be willing to do so as well.
    They might point to human history, and point out that there were, in our country, not that long ago, laws which prohibited interracial marriages.  They might say that we are more enlightened now to realize that those laws were wrong (as they were), because every human being has dignity and is worthy of love.  This move to allowing same-sex marriage, they might advocate, is the natural progression of enlightenment and development of human society, so that, as long as two people love each other, they can do whatever they want, and are entitled to the same protections that we have given to marriage between a man and a woman in marriage.  It all sounds quite logical.
    But it fails to take into account the guidance of our loving God in Sacred Scripture.  God, both in the Old and the New Testament, condemns homosexual activity as contrary to His will for human sexuality, and affirms that marriage is between a man and a woman.  And if one retorted that the Scriptures are conditioned by their culture, then why believe any of it as true?  If Scripture is simply one example of the human intellect, unguided by the grace of God, then we’re back to the fact that Jesus is John the Baptist, Elijah, Jeremiah, or a prophet.  He’s just another teacher.  But, as Jesus tells Peter, He’s not simply another teacher or prophet.  If we can’t rely upon the Word of God, then Judaism and Catholicism might as well be tossed aside.

Statue of St. Paul from Rome

   Besides the clear statements from St. Paul that one cannot practice homosexual acts and go to heaven, we also need to look at how St. Paul, inspired by the Holy Spirit, teaches about love.  From everyone’s favorite wedding passage in 1 Corinthians: “Love…does not seek its own interests…it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth.”  When a feeling of attraction divorces itself from the truth, it is not love, no matter how strong or how well-intentioned.  Yes, God is Love, but Jesus is God, and Jesus refers to Himself as the Truth, so Truth and Love are intrinsically bound up together.  When love separates itself from the truth, it becomes mere infatuation or even lust.  I cannot will the good of the other (St. Thomas’ definition of love) if what I want to do is contrary to what will help the other person attain heaven.  Love would never lead one to endanger the immortal soul of the beloved.  Love would also never go against what Love Incarnate has taught through the Old and New Testaments and through the infallible teachings of Love’s Mystical Body, the Church. 
    Does this mean that God wants us to hate those with same-sex attractions and persecute them?  No.  God calls us to will the good of all others, whether they are like us or different from us.  God calls us, as He says myriad times in the Scriptures, to pay special attention to those who struggle in life and find themselves on the margins of society, as those with same-sex attractions often do.  Telling someone that they cannot get married and enjoy the physical expressions that are proper to marriage does not mean that we hate that person.  Telling someone “no” does not equal hate, otherwise every parent hates their children…sometimes multiple times…each day. 
    When we rely simply on human reason, as good as it sometimes is, we can get things wrong.  This is especially when it comes to God and what He teaches, because our minds are darkened by sin.  In order to get the “God-stuff” right, we also need the guidance of the Holy Spirit, who helped Peter proclaim Jesus’ true identity, and who still guides the Church to teach us infallibly on matters of faith and morals.  

Eyewitnesses

Feast of the Transfiguration
    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.].  I will admit that I haven’t really been into baseball all that much for a while.  It probably tracks with how good the Tigers have been (or, rather, how bad they’ve been for so long).  But I do know that one of the much-disputed changes in baseball has been the use of replay.  For those of you who watch baseball, perhaps you’ll tell me that it’s not as controversial now as it was when it was instituted.  And I’m sure it’s popularity varies between when it overturns a call that we like, versus when it overturns a call that we don’t like. 
    It is interesting to note how long baseball relied simply on the eyes of the umpires.  And especially when it comes to major league games, sometimes the separation between a ball hitting a mitt and a shoe touching the bag was infinitesimal.  But it was the way we did things in baseball.
    I bring this up, because when it comes to our faith, we often go back to the old cliché, “you just have to believe it.”  Sometimes this is a fine answer, and especially when it comes to teachings that are beyond our reason.  But what we believe, though it may sometimes be beyond reason, is not unreasonable.  In fact, it’s very reasonable to believe what we believe.
    And that’s the point that St. Peter is trying to make in the second reading/epistle: “We did not follow cleverly devised myths…but we had been eyewitnesses of his majesty.”  St. Peter is, of course, talking about what we celebrate today, the Transfiguration of the Lord.  Christ didn’t simply walk up Mount Tabor by Himself, then come down and say, “You’ll never guessed what happened to me!  My clothes because dazzling white, and then Moses and Elijah appeared, and then God the Father’s voice was heard, saying, ‘This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.’” 

    No, three Apostles witnessed the Transfiguration.  Not even just one witness; three.  Peter, James, and John.  Deuteronomy 19:15 states: “One witness alone shall not stand against someone in regard to any crime or any offense that may have been committed; a charge shall stand only on the testimony of two or three witnesses.”  One could perhaps doubt if only St. Peter had been there, or only St. John, or only St. James.  But if their testimony could support charging someone with a crime, some of which were punishable by death, certainly their testimony could also be believed when it came to testifying to the glorification of the Lord, as well as the presence of Moses and Elijah.
    Speaking of which, the presence of Moses and Elijah also strengthen the case that Christ is who He says He is.  By their presence with the Lord on Mount Tabor, they were witnessing to His divine identity.  And not just Moses and Elijah, but also those whom they represented, that is, the Law and the Prophets, a shorthand way of saying the entire Old Testament.
    But back to the Apostles.  They may have been afraid.  They may have been a bit confused.  But they know what they saw.  And after the Son of Man was raised from the dead, they told the vision to those who would listen.  And if three people tell me the same thing, at least in the broad strokes of the story, I am very likely to believe it, because it is backed up by others.
    While the Transfiguration was only seen by three, the Resurrection was seen by the Eleven, by St. Matthias, by St. Paul, and by other disciples in the 40 days the Lord remained on earth.  And they shared what they had seen and heard.  Not a ghost; not an apparition; but the real Lord, with the marks of His crucifixion, but also eating fish.  These witnesses testified to what they saw, and that testimony was shared down to the present day.
    We, too, are called to be witnesses of what we have seen.  In some cases, that means our own personal experiences of God in our life.  St. Peter tells us elsewhere that we should always be ready to give the reason for our hope to anyone who asks.  Do we know why we have hope?  Do we know the Lord?  We should be ready to tell others about what God has done in our lives, whether a miracle, or even simply the times when we have felt his presence and the effects of His grace, love, and truth in our lives.
    But we can and should also appeal to those first witnesses.  They saw the Lord risen from the dead, in His glorified body.  And then told the next generation of disciples, and they told the next generation of disciples, all the way down to us some 2,000 years later.  And they were very careful about keeping the story straight, and not letting in unnecessary or factually wrong details.  This wasn’t simply about whether George Washington every chopped down a tree, and told his father the truth about it.  This was about salvation, about heaven or hell.  And so the teachings have been kept throughout the millennia. 
    Our task as disciples is to get others to listen to the “beloved Son” of the Father.  Christ desires glory for us.  He wants us to be in heaven with Him, because that is why God created us: to know, love, and serve Him in this life so to be with Him in the next, as the Baltimore Catechism states.  We, too, are supposed to have a glorified body like Christ revealed at the Transfiguration.  But that only happens if we listen to Him.  It only happens if we conform our lives to Him.  And that transformation of life can only occur by God’s grace. 
    Our faith is not unreasonable.  Our faith is not based on “cleverly devised myths,” or stories that have no basis in reality.  Others have seen, and have testified both by their words and even by the shedding of their blood to the truth that Christ gave them.  May we listen to those who have gone before us, and speak to those who come after us, the good news of salvation in Christ[, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit live and reign for ever and ever].