Attachments

First Sunday of Lent

    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen].  When I was in college, Facebook was just starting to be a thing.  At first I refused to get on Facebook because I felt it tried to redefine the meaning of friend.  After a few years, however, I finally caved and set up my own account.  As the years progressed, I got more and more involved and I got sucked in to wanting to have a lot of Facebook friends, though I wanted to know the people in real life, not just online.  As a parish priest, this wasn’t too hard to do, as more and more people from the parish wanted to be Facebook friends.  When the diocese announced new assignments, I would get new requests from future parishioners who wanted to check out my personality via Facebook.  I started to post more and more pictures, and would give everyone a happy birthday greeting as Facebook reminded me.
    Fast forward to a couple of months ago.  I was speaking with a friend who had pulled back from Facebook.  This friend encouraged me to do the same simply as a way to disconnect from unnecessary time on social media.  I agreed to limit my Facebook interactions to twice a day, and backed off of posting pictures and even birthday greetings (so in case you wondered why I didn’t tell you Happy Birthday on Facebook, that’s why).  What I noticed startled me.  I had grown so used to checking Facebook throughout the day, especially on my phone between activities or even while eating meals or watching TV, that my thumb almost naturally wanted to click on the app on my phone every time I went do to something else on my phone.  My thumb seemed to automatically slide up over the app.  It was at that moment that I knew I needed to disconnect majorly from Facebook, though I still post my homilies and post pictures for the parish through my desktop account.  One of my Lenten practices is not to use the Facebook app on my phone at all.

    I think the thing that made Facebook so alluring is that I had fomo: the fear of missing out.  I also subconsciously wanted to brag about where I traveled, or wanted to keep track of the fun things other people did.  Wishing people happy birthday or congratulating people on engagements or babies being born was a good use of Facebook.  But even though my current phone was cordless, I certainly had created an invisible cord between me and my Facebook app that made it harder to back off of Facebook.
    Lent is a perfect time to check the sins and unhealthy habits that have become like second nature to us.  We might not think, at first, that some of our habits are such a big deal.  We may even have good aspects that go along with unhealthy habits or sins, as no action is usually entirely bad.  But as we begin our Lenten observances, taking a step back from things we know we don’t need but which we act like we do need them gives us a chance to focus more on love of God and neighbor.  If you’re anything like me, there are probably things that are not, at their core, sinful.  But they become sinful because we give them so much time and attention or we use them as a crutch to carry us through suffering that we don’t want to undergo.

    Think about abstinence from meat last Wednesday and on Fridays: objectively speaking, it’s not the biggest deal in the world not to eat meat on those days.  We eat much more beef, poultry, and pork than any other generation in the history of the world.  And yet, give us one day where we’re not allowed to do something, and sometimes we can go crazy.  We may even enjoy fish or seafood on days when we get to choose it, but if the Church tells us we can’t do something, we can interiorly throw a temper tantrum that we can’t have what we want when we want it.  When something we want is threatened, we can act quite irrationally.  We become like Gollum in The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings who became so attached to the One Ring that it consumed him and made him crazy for the Ring, though the Ring didn’t care for him.
    And in that regard our annual Lenten observances help us to clear away unnecessary things, of any kind, and help focus us more towards God.  Again, they don’t have to be bad to be an unhealthy attachment.  They can simply be neutral attachments that we make unhealthy because of our dependence on them.  
    And the key is not simply giving them up for 40 days, but where we go during those 40 days and where we go after that.  During Lent, do we use the extra time or the sacrifices to draw us closer to God?  Do we unite the ways in which we miss a certain type of food, or certain apps or online activities to the cross of Christ?  And when Lent is over, will we go back to unhealthy attachments by splurging in those foods or apps, or might we recognize that we don’t have to use those things as much or at all in the future?  There are so many different things we can give up that I can’t give a hard and fast rule for whether we need to drop something entirely from our lives or not.  But it’s a good thing to consider.  
    As we hear our Lord go into the desert to fast and to be tempted, we, too, enter into the Lenten desert to leave behind us things that hinder our ability to live as the saints God wants us to be.  Don’t let the fear of setting aside something beloved keep you from the greater love and relationship you can have with God by giving up something unnecessary, however precious you think it is.  Lent helps us to remember what we heard in the Gospel, “‘The Lord, your God, shall you worship and him alone shall you serve.’”  [The Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen].

Motivation Matters

Quinquagesima

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Motivation matters.  When I first started exercising five or so years back, I did it because my friends exercised.  Then I continued to work out because I wasn’t super pleased with the way my body looked, and wanted bigger arm and chest muscles and more toned abs.  And while I still like working out with friends when I can, and while I am still working on growing muscles a little and trying to get away from the “dad bod” look, what really motivates me right now is that I know working out helps me be the best person I can be, as well as reduces stress and releases endorphins.  Working out is part of a healthy lifestyle: anima sana in corpore sana (asics).  
    As we get ready for Lent (and buckle-up: it’s here on Wednesday), we likely have a number of practices we want to take on for penance.  Maybe it’s eating less of a certain type of food, or maybe adding extra prayers to our daily prayer routine, or maybe donating time or money to the poor more.  These, in addition to our usual Lenten practices of fasting on Ash Wednesday, the Lenten Ember Days, and Good Friday, as well as abstaining from meat on Ash Wednesday, the Lenten Ember Days, and Fridays should bring us closer to God and put to death the old, sinful man in us who acts more like a toddler and wants immediate gratification always.
    But why do we do these things?  Does the Church want us to earn our salvation?  We can’t.  Does the Church want us to go on a diet?  Maybe it would be a healthy practice, but our food penances have nothing to do with our waistline.  What motivates us to take on penances, not only during Lent, but throughout the year?
    The Apostle tells us today that our motivation should be that special type of love we call charity: the love the mirrors, to the best of our ability, the love of God.  No matter what we do, St. Paul says, even if it looks like it is a powerful demonstration of God’s grace in us, if we do it without love, we gain nothing.  Love, he tells us, has to motivate our every action.
    And charity, as a special type of love, does not spring from thinking of ourselves first.  When we think of ourselves first we are like Olympic athletes who train only so that they can get an award and beef up their athletic resume or brag that they stand as the best in the world.  So many times when we do penances we may rely on selfish motivations, even if they are clothed in generosity or piety.  When we act out of the desire to have something for ourselves, we do not demonstrate charity.  We are then like the hypocrites that our Lord will condemn on Ash Wednesday who fast and give alms in order to be seen.  Instead, God calls us to act out of charity, out of the desire simply to please the Beloved, God Himself, no matter what it could mean for us, or even if we gained nothing at all.  True love doesn’t do something good so that I can get something good back.  True love does what the beloved wants simply because the beloved wants it, without thought of repayment.
    Truth be told, we all probably struggle with mixed motives.  Even our best acts probably do not find their entire root in charity, but are commingled with a little selfishness.  All too often, we are blind to our selfishness and hidden motives that infect all our deeds.  And so we, like the blind man our Lord encountered near Jericho, need to cry out, “Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me!”  And maybe our selfishness, our pride, our vainglory tells us not to cry out to Jesus, because we’re good enough, or it’s close enough.  But we need to persist and cry out again and again, “Son of David, have pity on me!”  We need to ask the Lord to help us to see ourselves and see our mixed motives, and then ask that the Savior send His grace to purify our motives and change our self-interested love into true charity, the love which seeks only to please God.
    Will we ever fully be there?  Probably not on this side of eternity.  We will always see ourselves dimly, as in a mirror.  But if we keep crying out for God’s help to love as He loves to the best of our ability, then we will see God face to face one day, where our love will truly be selfless, will truly mirror the charity of God.  
    In this last Sunday before Lent, we should all examine our Lenten practices in the light of, “how does this help me grow in charity?”  We don’t have to do them perfectly in charity, but we should strive to do them as perfectly in charity as we can.  May we not take on penances in order to look holy, or to seem to others to be pious or ascetic, or even because we hope to get something good out of it, but may our penances help us grow more deeply in love with the one who saves us: the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Don't Let the Old Man In

Second Sunday of Lent

    Not long before Toby Keith died, a little more than a year ago, I heard a song that he released in 2019 called, “Don’t Let the Old Man In.”  While the song sings of death, personified by an old man, for us Catholics, the old man is Adam, our fallen, sinful self, while the new man is Christ, raised from the dead and sinless.
    And as we hear the readings today, we get the comparison between the old man and the new man.  St. Paul speaks about those whose “minds are occupied with earthly things.”  These are people to follow their passions, whatever they might be.  They live more like animals than humans.  And because they do not live up to their human potential, they become “enemies of the cross of Christ,” tending towards destruction by following whatever desires they may have.  This is the description of the old man, the first Adam, who gave up happiness with God out of pride and gluttony.
    The old man, the disobedient Adam, always seeks his own will over and against God’s will, no matter what the subject matter.  The old man spends money as he wants, without any reference to God; eats whatever he wants, without any reference to God; pursues whatever he wants, without any reference to God.  In all these cases and more, God is, at best, an afterthought, and, at worst, not considered at all in one’s actions.  The old man, St. Paul says, is earthly, and was addressed on Ash Wednesday: Remember, man, you are dust, and to dust you shall return.  

    But the Gospel we heard today, the Gospel of the Transfiguration, shows us what the new man can be.  Christ receives transfiguration from the Father to show the three great Apostles what will happen after the Passion and Crucifixion.  But that foresight connects to obedience, obedience to the Father’s will, no matter where that leads, even if it leads to the cross.  Moses, who appears on Mount Tabor with the Lord and Elijah, also received a much smaller gift of transfiguration when he beheld God.  His face radiated, so much so that people would have him cover it up because they were put off by it.  Moses would only remove his veil when he entered the presence of God.  But, St. Paul also says that it was a radiance that faded.  Whereas the radiance God desires for us in heaven will never fade away, just as the radiance of Christ never fades away.
    That radiance comes when we stop living like the old man, doing it “my way,” and when we, by the grace of God, open ourselves up to God’s transforming grace, His life, so that it begins to change us from the inside out.  We start to transfigure when we do it God’s way.  Sin blocks the light of Christ that we received at Holy Baptism from shining through us.  Repentance, especially through the Sacrament of Penance, cleanses us from the mud of sin so that the light of Christ can shine through us and glorify God.
    St. Paul mentions those who treat their stomach as a god, who follow their appetite at all costs.  During Lent we often hear critiques about fasting and abstinence.  People will say that they like fish, or that going to Red Lobster hardly seems like a penance.  But part of the abstinence and fasting is that we humble ourselves in observing obedience to a church law.  I read an article recently about whether one could eat an Impossible burger on Fridays during Lent, since it’s not meat.  The response was that, if one is simply trying to find a loophole to not eating meat, then it would probably not be ok to do.  But, if one truly saw eating the Impossible burger as a penance, then it could be ok, since it is not meat.  And, for those who feel it’s easy not to eat meat on Fridays, do it throughout the year.  Because of my fallen will, the times I want meat the most are the times I’m not allowed or supposed to have it.  Or try following the Ember Days, which are four times a year of additional abstinence and fasting.  The old man will probably start rearing his head and crying out for attention, trying to pull us away from penances that we want to do to bring us closer to God.
    We demonstrate the transfigured life of the new man when we display kindness to a co-worker who puts us down; or when we show friendship to someone who is friendless; or when we do not seek undue attention and puff ourselves up by bragging about our achievements; or when we treat even our enemies with human dignity and respect.  Living the life of the new man is about asking what God wants us to do in this moment.  And the more we practice it, the easier it becomes.  As we think about the saints, for many of them towards the end of their life, living a Christ-centered life didn’t require as much effort, because they had trained themselves to think with the mind of Christ and love with His Sacred Heart.  
    We don’t have to live like the old man.  We don’t have to fall to our passions and let them rule us.  That is the precious gift we were given in baptism.  So, to quote the last verse of Toby Keith’s song: “When he rides up on his horse / And you feel that cold bitter wind / Look out your window and smile / Don’t let the old man in.” 

Are You Saved?

First Sunday of Lent
    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen].  Are you saved?  This is a question that we can get from some of our Protestant brothers and sisters when we encounter them.  Or we might hear them talking about how they were saved on a particular date or at a particular age.  A week ago yesterday I attended the funeral of the mother of the Flint Post Administrator for the Michigan State Police.  She was baptist, and the preacher asked that very question to us, and talked about how Nadine was saved at a particular age when she accepted Jesus as her Lord and Savior.
    We as Catholics don’t use that language.  And so when we’re asked, perhaps we don’t know how to answer.  But as we begin Lent, it’s a good thing to explore.  St. Peter in his first letter [today] talks about being saved by baptism, which was prefigured by Noah being saved in the ark from the great Flood.  In terms of baptism, we can point to a day in which we were saved from original sin and became a child of God in the Son of God and, therefore, a member of the Church.  Baptism is a one-time event because it forever claims us for God and washes away, not only original sin, but any other sins that we have committed up to that point (if we’re not baptized as an infant, who wouldn’t have any personal sins that would need to be wiped away).  When it comes to baptism, we can rightly say that we were saved on that day.
    However, baptism isn’t only about a day.  Baptism begins a life of following Christ.  It’s not as if that one day means that we never have to worry about salvation after that.  Even though original sin is washed away, we still retain concupiscence, a desire for lesser goods.  While many Christians reject the idea of concupiscence after baptism, it seems quite obvious from human existence.  We probably can’t count the number of times even in just one day that we are tempted to do things that we know we shouldn’t do.  It doesn’t mean we have to give in to those temptations.  Through baptism, we have all the graces we need to avoid all mortal sins throughout our life.  But we still want what we shouldn’t want, as St. Paul himself describes.  Adam and Eve, who had no sin at first, were still tempted to reject God, and their choice to reject God affected all of us.  And Satan even tempted our Lord in the desert, as the Gospel for the First Sunday of Lent describes.  Our Lord had no sin whatsoever, and yet, due to His human nature, Satan thought he could get Christ to give in to lesser goods, just as Satan had tempted our first parents. 
    So, in this sense, we can say that we are being saved, in as much as we are choosing each day, more or less, to follow Christ.  To the extent that we follow Him, we are participating more in the salvation that God first offered to us in Holy Baptism.  To the extent that we choose lesser goods, things that we shouldn’t do, we are participating less in the salvation that God first offered us in Holy Baptism.
    And that leads to the last aspect of salvation for us as Catholics: we hope to be saved.  Life is our time of accepting or rejecting God and the promises of Holy Baptism to live as a disciple.  Each day we move closer to or farther away from eternal life in heaven.  There is no staying put or coasting.  But at some point, we will have cemented our decision because we won’t have any more decisions to make because we’re dead.  At that point, our life will witness to whether or not we accepted the salvation that God offered us in Holy Baptism and we will receive our eternal reward in Heaven (or the time preparing for Heaven in Purgatory) or our enteral punishment in Hell.  Once we die, there are no more second chances.  And so we hope that the decisions we make throughout our life show that we have accepted the salvation that Christ won for us by His Passion, Death, and Resurrection.  Only then will we know for sure if we are saved, though we have hope, because of baptism and because of being in a state of grace, that is, without mortal sin, at the time of our death. 

Powers Catholic Varsity Hockey Team

    While all analogies limp, think of it like being a hockey player.  When you first were able to skate on your own and hold a stick, you were, in a very beginning sense, a hockey player.  Sure, you didn’t have the ability to skate all that well, or the power from your muscles to push the puck far, but you were at the beginning.  Later, you developed more skills, and grew in your ability as a hockey player.  You also had times where you could decide to follow your desire to be a hockey player, or you could have chosen something else to do and abandon hockey.  Even for those of you who won the State Championship last year, you would each probably acknowledge ways that you can still grow as a hockey player.  Maybe we could, using this analogy, say that making to the NHL means that you are truly a hockey player, something some of you may hope to achieve someday.  So you were a hockey player when you just started out; you are still working on being a hockey player now; and you hope to truly be a hockey player in the NHL someday. 
    But for all of us, hockey players and non-hockey players alike, our goal is to continue to accept the gift of salvation that God offers us each day.  And our Lenten practices of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving are meant to train us in a special way during this time of year to be able to choose the higher goods of following God’s will, and say no to the lesser goods of following only our will.  May those things that we have given up and the extra things we’re doing during Lent; may the extra prayers we say as we talk more and listen more to God; and may the generosity that we show to those in need during our Lenten season continue us on the path of salvation that God has set out for us [the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen].

Too Old for Silly Stuff

Solemnity of St. Matthew
    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.]  Last weekend in Fort Wayne I had a chance to be with my fellow Knights and Dames of the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem.  We had excellent talks on the Eucharist, on the worsening conditions for Christians just trying to survive in the land where our Lord lived, died, and rose again, and on the work of the Order.  But another benefit is catching up with people that, generally speaking, I only see once a year at these Investiture Weekends.
    During drinks with one such person, he was talking about a men’s gathering he recently started attending in his parish.  If I remember the details correctly, it’s on a Saturday morning beginning at 7:30 a.m., with confessions, then Mass, then a formation talk and socializing.  This friend of mine asked one of the men what drew him to give up a Saturday morning and focus on his faith.  The man, I believe in his mid-50s, said something to the effect of: I’m too old to put up with silly stuff anymore.  I want to take my faith seriously, and I want to be fed with solid food, not with the fluff upon which many parishes so often focus.  
    I thought of that conversation as I prepared to compose this homily for our parish patron, St. Matthew.  His feast was this past Thursday, but so that we might celebrate it as a parish, I transferred it to the Sunday, as Bishop Boyea has allowed me to do in the past.  

    I don’t know how old St. Matthew was when he received the call to follow our Lord (many of our images in this church depict him as an older man), but perhaps, sitting at that tax collector’s booth, as our Lord invited him to become an Apostle, St. Matthew had that same sentiment: I’m too old for all this useless focus on cheating others to make a living, not practicing my faith, but supporting pagan oppressors.  St. Matthew must have noticed that something about our Lord was different, and that following Him would be a life worth living.
    Following Christ for St. Matthew started with a banquet in his home.  Not a bad commencement to the apostolic life.  Maybe think of it like an ordination reception.  But after that it got real, real quick.  The Apostles lived by donations from others, our Lord was not always welcome, especially by the Pharisees and scribes, and He even prophesied His own Passion and Death, in the most horrible way possible.  Even after the Ascension, and after writing the Gospel which bears his name, St. Matthew died as a martyr, by the axe, as we see in the apse above.  So life wasn’t easy.  But it was a life worth living, and worthy of being celebrated for some 2,000 years.
    As Catholics, no matter what our age, are we doing our best to live with that same drive, with that same desire to make a difference, and not just exist in the “fluff”?  Are we serious about our faith life?  How easy to just float upon the river of life like we’re in a tube, not always knowing where the current takes us.  In fact, if we float in the river of the world, we know it’s not taking us to Christ, as our world is not ordered to Christ; it’s ordered to pleasure at all costs, to numbness, to whatever comes easiest.  The call of Christ is to take up our cross daily, to feeling the great joy of serving God and following His will, as well as the sadness of giving up what feels good but leads to destruction and damnation, to fixing our eyes ahead of us as we plow, and not looking back to count the costs.  
    It is easy to preach “God loves you.”  It is a true message.  God loves you more than you could ever imagine.  But love calls for love in return.  The greatest displeasure to one who loves is not to have that love returned.  Think back (or currently) to the pain of high school when someone you crushed on didn’t like you back.  Or imagine giving your all to a spouse who does not return that all back to you.  God loves you is only half the message; do you love God?  Can anybody tell you love God?  
    As we celebrate our parish patron, I would like us to commit or recommit ourselves to being serious about our faith life.  Not just professing with our lips that we are Catholic, but living a life that demonstrates that faith.  I’m not asking you to be perfect, as I will tell you that I am not.  But I am asking you, and I will join in with you, to trying to live that heroic life, like St. Matthew, that means something, that echoes through the millennia as a witness that others can follow.  
    What does it mean to be serious about our faith?  I can’t give you an extensive list here, but I do have some ideas that can help.  One: at least make it to Sunday and Holyday Masses, but attend other Masses if you can.  Our worship of God is one of the most important things that we can do.  Not just when it’s convenient; not when it’s easy; but even when it takes some sacrifice.  Two: commit to confessing your sins at least once per month, or more frequently, especially if you are aware of grave or mortal sins.  If you’re struggling to think of sins, find a better examination of conscience to help you out.  Three: choose to pray each day: as a couple and/or family.  Pray for at least 10 minutes.  It can be formal prayers like the Holy Rosary; it can be conversational prayer and prayer of petition.  And leave some time to listen to God in the silence.  Four: when possible, abstain from meat every Friday.  If you can’t, for health reasons or because you’re spending time with people who are not Catholic, then create some other penance to do on that Friday.  But try to deny yourself something each Friday and unite it to the cross of Christ.  Five: read a book about the faith.  Maybe it’s just a few pages each day; maybe only one page each day.  But deepen your faith.  Attend a Bible study or a faith-sharing group.  We offer numerous options here at St. Matthew.      There are, as I said, many other important ways to take the faith seriously.  We are called to serve the poor, to welcome strangers, to instruct the ignorant, and the other Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy.  But choose today to be a serious Catholic: not serious in the sense that you never smile, but serious in the sense that you are purposeful in living as a Catholic, not just floating by, hoping that you’re floating towards God.  No matter how old you are, we are always too old for fluff that doesn’t strengthen us to follow Christ.  We are never promised tomorrow.  Live each day, like St. Matthew, focused on following with all of who we are our God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

New Year, New You

 Solemnity of Mary, the Holy Mother of God

    In recent years, people have posted pictures of themselves at or shortly after New Year’s Day with the phrase, “New Year, new me.”  Usually it’s a picture of them at the gym, or going for a walk, or doing some other exercise.  As we start a new calendar year, it is easy to see how we want to start afresh, or start some new habit that will improve our lives.
    We tend to focus on the physical changes that we can make in our life, because we interact with our bodies so regularly.  While we can miss the incremental changes that happen day-by-day, we can look in the mirror and see how those small changes each day have led to bigger changes.  But when it comes to the soul, seeing those changes takes more effort and is less obvious.  
    But what can you commit to in this new year for your spiritual life?  What changes can you make to improve your relationship with God, and improve how you love God by loving your neighbor?  Some people go for the big changes, committing to major changes in practice.  I recently spoke with a young man who is doing Exodus 90, a program for men that is meant to help men grow in their spiritual life and relationships.  Exodus 90 includes 90 days of committing to a daily holy hour (an hour spent in prayer, often times in front of the Blessed Sacrament), and reading daily reflection on the Book of Exodus; cold showers, regular exercise, and 7-hours of sleep per night; no alcohol, sweets, eating between meals, soda or sweet drinks; no TV, movies, or televised sports; no video games and only using the computer and mobile devices for work, school, or essential tasks; fasting on Wednesdays and Fridays; and checking in with a group of men who are also doing Exodus 90 to be accountable and to encourage each other in the ascetical practices.  In case you’re wondering, I’m not doing that, though I know priests and laymen who have done Exodus 90 and found it very helpful for their spiritual life.
    But if you don’t want to do something big, does that mean you can’t do anything?  Of course not!  And I would encourage us to look at the Gospel for ways that we can do small things each day that can make a big difference.

    First, we heard that Mary “kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.”  Mary had a lot going on.  The conception of Jesus was especially miraculous; she was 9 months pregnant, and then had to take a journey to Bethlehem to register for the Roman census.  Then she gave birth in a cave, because there was no room for her in the inn.  Then, shortly after giving birth, shepherds (strangers to Mary and Joseph) show up to see what the angels had told them about.  No doubt, they told Mary and Joseph what the angels had said, and how they were singing “Glory to God in the highest.”  But she was able to think about these things, and how God was working in her life and in the lives of others around her.  She reflected on the struggles, but how God had gotten them through those trials, and how others were coming to see this newborn King that she had carried in her womb for nine months.  She probably prayed with some concern to God about how everything would work, but she also probably thanked God that it did all work out, and praised Him for sending angels to help others know about her special child.
    What is your prayer life like?  What do you take to God?  Do you pray?  A great spiritual practice, one that is easy to start, is to simply take 5 minutes each day, or take smaller chunks of time throughout the day, and see what God has been doing.  Reflect on your struggles, but also reflect on how God is getting you through them.  Thank Him for His care and concern for you.  Praise God for the little and/or big ways that He has shown His love for you.
    Second, St. Luke tells us that “the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen.”  Having encountered such a wonderful experience of God, they cannot help but speak about it.  They praise God in prayer, but I’m sure they also told other shepherds about what they saw, and thanked God that they had been privileged to see God work in such a powerful way.  
    God works in powerful ways in your life each day.  And that culminates in the miracle of the Eucharist in which you get to participate each Sunday and Holyday, and some of you even are able to attend Mass on a daily basis.  Jesus told the disciples, “‘blessed are you eyes, because they see, and your ears, because they hear.  Amen, I say to you, many prophets and righteous people longed to see what you see but did not see it, and to hear what you hear but did not hear it.’”  We get to encounter the same Jesus who said that in the Word proclaimed, in the Eucharist consecrated for us, and in the ways God makes Himself known to us each day.  Share that with others!  FAITH Magazine offers ways that people share their faith, but you can do it without being featured in a magazine.  People in our parish have experienced miracles, and they are quick to share them with me.  I’m glad to hear them, and I hope that they share those miracles with others, to help them know that God is real and does great work.
    Lastly, today’s Gospel ends talking about Jesus’ circumcision, which happened 8 days after his birth (today is the eight days after Christmas).  Even this helps us know how to grow in little ways.  We probably all know that circumcision involves cutting off.  In our spiritual life, there are always things that we can metaphorically cut off.  Jesus Himself told us in the Sermon on the Mount, “‘If your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away.  It is better for you to lose one of your members than to have your whole body go into Gehenna.’”  God wants us to cut out the sinful parts of our lives.  That can be done in simple ways, sometimes going directly after the sin, like not engaging in gossip, or not taking the Lord’s name in vain.  But it can also mean cutting out good things in our life, in order to help us focus on the higher things of life.  I have encouraged this before, but I would encourage all of you to abstain from meat on Fridays, not just of Lent but throughout the entire year.  Even if you like fish (which I do), cutting out your options for what you can eat is a good way to die to our own wills, and simply feeding ourselves whatever we want, whenever we want.  Or, you could abstain from games or websites on a phone.  Or something else that may be just has hard.  Whatever you cut out, especially do it on Fridays, as a day the Church has always called us to sacrifice little things, to acknowledge and thank God for the sacrifice Christ made on the cross.
    As we begin the Year of our Lord 2023, we have a chance to allow God to renew us and to grow closer to Him.  Sometimes we will commit to big acts for God.  Other times we may commit to smaller acts.  But the key is that we strive to do the things that help us love God and neighbor more, so that God makes us new with His grace more and more each year. 

Fasting and Abstinence (Precept #4)

Tenth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  So, continuing our walk through the Precepts of the Church, I will admit that today’s Gospel could easily have also dealt with our necessity to confess at least once per year.  But I chose that precept last week.  So, since the Gospel spoke about the Pharisee talking about his fasting and his pious works, let’s focus on Precept number 4: You shall observe the days of fasting and abstinence established by the Church.  A bit of a stretch?  Yes, but just go with it for our purposes.

    It may seem odd to focus on this, since our Lord says that the Pharisee who bragged to God about his fasting was not the one who went home justified.  So, one might think that we shouldn’t focus on fasting.  But the problem wasn’t the fasting.  The problem was that he thought it made him better than the others, a sign of spiritual pride.
    Fasting, St. Thomas Aquinas states, has a threefold purpose: to control lust, to allow the mind to go more towards heavenly things, and to make satisfaction for sins.  It also gives us solidarity with the poor, who go without food, not by choice, but by their lack of due resources.  We can fast from food, but also from other goods, like the internet, social media, television, music, etc.  Fasting from food is required two days out of the year: Ash Wednesday and Good Friday.  On those days, according to current norms, one is to eat one normal size meal, and two meals which, when added together equal or are less than the one normal meal.  Of course, one can always eat less.
    Abstinence, in the way the precept of the Church speaks, concerns not eating meat.  Included in the understanding of meat is the meat of mammals and poultry.  Not included is fish and reptiles.  Of course, there are exceptions.  The Archdiocese of Detroit still holds on to an old dispensation that allows the eating of muskrat on Fridays (muskrat stew instead of fried fish).  Beavers and capybaras are also fair game on Fridays.  

Muskrat

    The Church still holds that every Friday is a day of penance, and that one can observe it by abstaining from meat.  However, in 1966, the US Bishops removed the penalty of sin from eating meat on Friday, and allowed for other penances, other than abstinence from meat, though they did still place abstinence from meat in first place.  But Fridays are still days of penance, and, when possible, abstaining from meat is a great way of observing the penitential days.
    Of course, some would say that fish can be rather luxurious, and not help us keep solidarity with the poor.  Or some enjoy seafood, and so would find it odd to give up meat to enjoy a nice lobster tail.  But, as I started to give up meat on Fridays, what I noticed is that, it wasn’t so much about what I was eating, but training my will by what I couldn’t eat.  Given my fallen humanity, a juicy steak never seems so appealing as on a Friday.  But I’m reminding my body that just because it has a desire does not mean I have to give in to that desire, which of course helps us beyond simply the food we eat.  
    But it’s also not just the action; the intent is also key.  Do we abstain in order to unite our suffering (or at least the pain of saying no to our fallen will) to Christ on the cross?  Do we utilize these days of penance as ways that we express sorrow for the sins we have committed?  Or, is it self-justification–trying to save ourselves by our good works–an approach, St. Paul reminds us, does not work.  Fasting and abstinence are, at face value, about what we eat or don’t eat.  But the deeper level is meant to draw us closer to Christ who sacrificed His sacred flesh for us on the cross, which is why we abstain on Fridays.  
    Fasting and abstinence is also meant to move our mind to heavenly things.  Look at the Gospel again: the Pharisee did not have his mind on heaven.  He was so focused on what he was doing, that he wasn’t even really praying, which presumes desiring union with God, rather than focusing on the self.  The tax collector, who maybe didn’t fast as much, recognized he was in need of forgiveness because he had sinned, but did not seek justification from his own deeds, but from God, and so went home justified.  So for us who fast, we still need to remember that we fast because we need to refocus on God, and we need mercy for our sins.  As much as our fasting leads us to God, it is good.  When it leads to spiritual pride, it has become an obstacle to growth in holiness and should be restarted with a different mind-set.  
    Lastly, fasting and abstinence are not absolutes.  When we choose to fast or abstain, we should do so in recognition of the goodness of the body, however fallen.  Fasting is not dieting, but some people use fasting and/or abstaining to drop a few pounds.  But we need to make sure that our body is getting sufficient nutrients for our needs.  For that reason, especially those with diabetes, hypoglycemia, and even pregnant women should use their reason when deciding how much to fast and/or abstain.  We don’t want to slide into a Manichaean mentality which treats the body as evil.
    One good way to make sure that we don’t is to properly celebrate on days of rejoicing.  Solemnities (which include, but are not limited to, every Sunday and holy day), should not be days of fasting, without consulting a spiritual director.  In fact, when a solemnity falls on a Friday, it is no longer a day of abstinence; you can have meat.  Those are the days that we especially remember the joy of the Incarnation and Resurrection, or special saints like the Blessed Mother, St. Joseph, St. John the Baptist, to name a few.  While we do fast because the Bridegroom is not here in the same way He was during His earthly ministry, we also rejoice because of what He has done for us, and how that has been lived out by members of the Church who are now in heaven.  We should also allow for those times when we are visiting friends who don’t observe Friday as a day of penance, and eat what they set before us, even if it includes meat.
    Fasting, abstinence, and all ascetical practices help to train our bodies and wills to choose Christ, rather than always choosing what we immediately want.  May the uniting of our sacrificial practices help to heal us of our sins, and raise our minds to heaven, where Christ is seated at the right hand of the Father, with the Holy Spirit, God for ever and ever.  Amen.

Small Sacrificies Yield Large Results

Thirty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time

    From time to time I see ads on TV and on the internet for ways to have a chiseled body, with well defined muscles.  I’m sure that some of the ads were photoshopped a bit, but even so, I often thought about what it would be like to have better muscle definition, stronger muscles, and a stronger appearance.  But to truly get into that shape, I would have to give up a lot of foods that I enjoy eating, and actually go to a gym on a regular basis and lift weights, neither of which sounds that appealing to me.  And looking at me, you can see which path I choose!
    Each in our own way, we probably all have things that we want, but for which we’re not really willing to work.  We have a desire for something, but we’re not really willing to do the things to make that desire an achieved reality.  That can even be the case when it comes to our faith.
    In today’s first reading we hear about a mother and her children who are being tortured and killed because they’re not willing to break God’s law, even though the local government is telling them to.  The back story is that the Greeks had taken over the Holy Land, and wanted everyone to live in the Greek manner of life: they placed idols in the temple, forbade parents to have their sons circumcised, and forced the Jews to eat pork, all as ways of rejecting the Jewish religion.  The part we hear in today’s passage highlights a heroic sacrifice that they make, simply because they would rather obey God and be tortured and killed than disobey God and enjoy prosperity. 
    But this heroic action probably did not start the moment they were arrested and brought before the king.  They likely had made smaller sacrifices to be faithful to God throughout their lives, maybe not even perfectly, but still, doing their best to say yes to God in their choices in small ways, which helped them to say yes to God when it was a major decision with drastic consequences.
    I think we can sometimes be as clueless as the Sadducees in today’s Gospel when it comes to the Resurrection.  We desire to be raised, to reign with Jesus in heaven.  But when it comes to the daily ways that we show that we want to accept this gift of eternal life, we’re not quite there, and we don’t want it that much.  We want the end result without wanting the daily effort it takes to obtain that result.
    Being welcomed into heaven is all about putting behind us the fallen parts of our nature by God’s grace, and accepting God’s grace to choose things which do not always seem to desirable, but which help us to say yes to God and say no to our fallen nature.  St. Paul talks about it as putting to death the old man (Adam, who said no to God), and living the life of the new man (Jesus, who said yes to God).  It’s easy to want to do that in major ways, and praise God when that happens, when we’re able to recognize a major temptation as something leading us away from God, and reject it.  But it’s much harder, but more efficacious, to say yes to God in small ways, which, over time, make us more like Christ.
    I would suggest two small ways that we can live more for Christ, and bring us closer to the desire to be welcomed into heaven.  The first you’re already doing today.  And that’s attending Mass every Sunday and Holyday, unless you're sick or homebound, or necessary work prevents you from attending.  Attending Mass might not seem like much, but that sacrifice to set aside your own desires on how to use your time, and then to drive to Mass to worship God, builds up our spiritual muscles.  You may not see it making a difference, but if we could see the difference it makes in our souls, we would be amazed.  Those who go to Mass still have temptations, but it’s much easier to reject temptation and sin when we’re filled with the grace of the Body and Blood of Christ, received in a state of grace.  Even if we still sin even though we attend weekly Mass, imagine the other sins you may have fallen into without attending Mass.  And daily Mass is even better, still!
    A second small way is abstaining from meat every Friday, not just the Fridays of Lent, unless it’s a solemnity, like on All Saints Day.  We might think that it’s not a big deal, and it’s not, especially if we like fish.  But saying no to our desire to eat whatever we want to is a great small sacrifice that prepares us to be faithful in bigger sacrifices that may come our way.  Sometimes, if visiting family or friends, that may not be possible, so maybe try fasting from lunch, or doing an extra work of charity on that day.  I try to abstain from meat on all Fridays, and I have seen the difference it makes in my own spiritual life.
    When I hear the story of the great martyrs, I am inspired by how they suffered for Christ in such major ways!  Some of the pain I think I could suffer through.  Some, like getting boiling water poured on me or having my fingernails pulled out, do not seem so easy to endure.  But in reality, if I’m not doing the smaller, daily sacrifices, whatever they might be, then I’m not going to be successful in the larger sacrifices if and when they ever come my way.  If we truly want to be in that number when the saints go marching in, to be as faithful as the mother and her children in not rejecting God even when it meant coercion, torture, and death by the government, then let us follow the advice of St. Paul to die to our fallen nature by little daily or weekly sacrifices, and live in the new life of the risen Christ.