Repaying God

Twenty-eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time

    For many young people, what got them through the COVID pandemic and the isolation that came with it was the sitcom “The Office.”  In one episode, Dwight, the Assistant to the Regional Manager, decides that he wants people to owe him, so that he can get his office frenemy, Jim, fired.  In the ubiquitous one-on-one interview with the camera crew, Dwight says, “Can’t a guy just buy some bagels for his friends so they’ll owe him a favor which he can use to get someone fired who stole a co-manager position from him anymore?”  Unfortunately another salesman, Andy, hates to be in debt to anyone.  So he starts finding ways to return the favor, thus not owing Dwight and thwarting his plans.  In Andy’s interview, he says, “You give me a gift, BAM! thank you note…You do me a favor, WHAM! favor returned.  Do not test my politeness.”  They both then go back and forth trying to give and return favors in pretty comical ways.
    In our first reading and Gospel we hear about people giving thanks for what God has given them.  Naaman receives healing from God for his leprosy, and one of the ten lepers whom Jesus healed returns to Jesus to thank Him.  Naaman even goes so far as to take with him “two mule-loads of earth” so that he can offer sacrifice to God on holy ground, even back in his home country of Assyria.
    While we’re not quite at the Thanksgiving holiday, God reminds us today that we owe Him thanks.  He reminds us, not as a Catholic guilt trip, but because He made us and He knows that we have a built-in desire to thank those who have given us gifts, and most especially the one who has given us everything.  Gratitude helps us live up to our potential as humans.
    But so often we pretend as if what we have comes from our own doing.  Yes, we do cooperate in our own excellence, but all that we have comes as a gift from God.  It starts with our life, which we do not arrange.  Even if a couple seeks to conceive a child at a time when they suspect conception could happen, it only happens by God’s will.  Then our family forms us, but they are also a gift from God.  And we naturally have some gifts and talents, which are also from God.  Some of those we choose to develop, but our ability to develop them is also a gift from God.  And we often take advantage of certain opportunities that come our way, but that also is a gift from God.  The only thing that God does not give us is sin; that is only from our making.  Everything else is either given to or allowed for us from God.  But do we thank God for those things?  Do we thank God not only for the big events and opportunities in our lives, but also for the things that we so often take for granted?
    Our attendance at Mass on Sunday is one way that we give back to God.  The word Eucharist, the sacrament which Mass makes possible, comes from two Greek words meaning “to give thanks well.”  In the Mass we give thanks to God for all the natural things He gives us, but especially for the supernatural gifts He gives us, like the possibility of salvation, and the grace to say yes to His will and live in a way that make us truly happy and prepares us for heaven.  God, strictly speaking, owes us nothing, and yet gives us all we need for eternal happiness.  Certainly that deserves some means of thanks.  
    The virtue of religion, the virtue by which we offer service to the Divine (to use the definition from the Roman writer, Tully), is the acquired habit, the repeated purposeful good act, of giving back to God for all He has given to us.  St. Thomas Aquinas notes different etymologies of the word religion, but connects it to the Latin word religare, to bind together (think of ligaments which bind bone to bone), and quotes St. Augustine who writes, “May religion bind us to the one Almighty God.”  God binds us to Himself, not because of any need, but because of His great love and generosity.
    And yet, how our sinfulness and ingratitude manifests itself when it comes to attending even just weekly Mass, which is part of the way that we fulfill the third commandment to keep holy the sabbath.  Obviously, you are all here.  And yet the numbers are pretty atrocious in the general Catholic population counting those who attend Mass each Sunday and Holyday.  How sad that so many cannot give one hour to the God who has given them everything, and even gives them the Body and Blood of His Son (presuming they’re in a state of grace) to sustain their spiritual life!
    But let’s go deeper so that we’re not just pointing out the splinter in our neighbor’s eye or casting stones at others when we ourselves are not innocent.  How do we treat the Mass?  With young children this can be difficult, but do we try to arrive five or ten minutes early for silent prayer with God?  Do we look forward to Mass as my opportunity to spend time with God, or do we begrudgingly go so we don’t go to Hell (and yes, you can go to Hell simply from skipping Mass on Sundays and Holydays)?  Do we do our best to pay attention and participate interiorly and exteriorly through silent prayer and responding when appropriate?  Are we upset if Mass is one second longer than the usual Sunday 60 minutes?  Do we leave Mass, having just received the Sacred Body and the Precious Blood of our Lord, and think to ourselves, ‘I didn’t get anything out of that Mass’?  Living the virtue of religion goes beyond simple attendance.  God deserves our best each Sunday, which, granted, is slightly different for everyone.  But there are probably ways that we can all grow deeper in gratitude to God.
    God has given us everything, even those things that we cooperate with God’s grace and the talents He gave us to earn.  Are we like Naaman and the Samaritan leper who insist on thanking God?  Or are we like the nine lepers who walk away without any acknowledgement of the one who gives us gifts?  God grant that we thank Him, not only with our voice on Thanksgiving Day, but with our voice, mind, and heart each day of our lives and especially every time we come to Mass.

Have No Anxiety

Twenty-seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time
    “Have no anxiety at all.”  St. Paul, have you met me?  It seems like in 2023 all we have is anxiety.  Hamas just attacked Israel, who has declared war on them.  We have this new “synod on synodality” which, depending on whom you talk to, is either going to change all these doctrines of the Church (most of the ones that are mentioned are teachings that can’t be changed, not even by the pope, FYI), or is an exercise in heresy that will result in a schism, a breaking of unity in the Church.  The economy is still struggling, and everything seems like it costs twice as much as it used to.  People are leaving the Church in droves, which is causing challenges for parishes and dioceses.  And yet, the Apostle to the Gentiles tells us today, “Have no anxiety at all.”  
    How do we live without anxiety?  And this is coming from the man who, more times that I would like to admit, have tossed and turned in my bed over the world with which I deal.  I imagine you have each had times where anxiety kept you up: maybe about your household finances, maybe about the well-being of your children and/or grandchildren.  Anxiety can especially difficult when you’re really good at thinking.  Because that mind that is used to processing information tries to process all information, and there are many things that are outside of our control.  And when we can’t resolve those issues, we become anxious.  We worry.  

    But St. Paul doesn’t leave us hanging.  He gives us practical advice: “whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious…think about these things.”  That may still seem like a pie in the sky idea, but it actually is quite practical.  
    Because anxiety comes from focusing on things beyond our control, or beyond our immediate control.  We think about the things that trouble our heart.  We can so often want to take the place of God and try to control things, which are, all too often, beyond our control.  Notice that St. Paul doesn’t say, “whatever is beyond your control, whatever might happen, whatever those things about which you can do nothing, think about these things.”  
    So think about these things, instead.  Think about what is true.  First and foremost, think about God.  This is part of the importance of having a relationship with God.  Satan wants us to forget about God and who He is.  He is our loving Father who wants what is good for us.  He never sends us anything evil.  Do we sometimes have to endure bad things?  Yes.  But God is not sending us evil.  He is always there for us, as well.  He never leaves us, no matter how bad things get.  
    Also, what is true about us?  First and foremost we are children of God.  Again, Satan wants us to forget about reality.  That means who God is, but also who we are.  We are not the sum of our failures.  We are not our sins.  We are not the external circumstances that are impressed upon us.  We are beloved sons and daughters in the Son of God.  
    Think on what is gracious.  When we think about what is gracious, we think about what is kind, what is courteous, what is pleasant.  But it comes from Latin word gratia, which can mean grace, but can also mean thanksgiving.  In the preface I say, “Let us give thanks to the Lord our God,” and in Latin it’s “Gratias agamus Domino Deo nostro.”  Do you want to rid anxiety from your life?  Start thinking about the things for which you are grateful: family, a job, friends, food, a house, or anything else.  It’s easier to focus on the things we think we lack, but it’s useless.  It just takes away from our joy that gives us pleasure in life.  It is harder to think about things for which we are grateful, but it provides much better effects.  And in those darkest moments of our life, where maybe it feels impossible to think about gracious things, have a good friend to help you out.  
    It can be so easy to be anxious because there are so many things outside of our control.  Our minds can go toward all the negative things because they seem to press in on us and demand our attention.  But we don’t have to focus on those things.  And it’s not spiritually helpful to focus on all the bad.  Instead, focus on what is true–both concerning God and us–and be grateful.  The world will always have evil, at least until Christ returns.  It will always scream for our attention.  But it doesn’t have to steal our joy and our hope, because those are in Christ, and Christ can never be taken away from us, not by war in the Middle East, not by Church politics, not by recession or inflation or anything else.  Have no anxiety. 

"Thank God Ahead of Time"

 Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Bl. Solanus Casey

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  “Thank God ahead of time!”  This was a phrase that I had heard Bl. Solanus Casey used in counseling others.  When I looked it up on the Internet, just to make sure I was getting it correct, I found a story that accompanied the phrase from the Capuchins Vocations Director.  Bl. Solanus said this phrase to the parents of a sixteen-month-old girl, Elizabeth, who was dying of leukemia.  I don’t know what I would think or say if a priest, no matter how holy he was supposed to be, told me, as I presented my dying one-year-old, to him.  And yet, the girl got better once she got home, with no trace of leukemia.
    Thank God ahead of time.  It’s easy to thank God when we get something we want.  I would dare say that most of us are probably the type of people who, when we get something we want, say thank you, especially to God.  It’s a lesson we learn with others, too, from a young age: when someone gives us something, we say thank you.  The Samaritan leper in today’s Gospel certainly was grateful and returned to Jesus to express that gratitude.
    But can we thank God ahead of time, when we don’t know what will happen, or when we don’t get what we want?  That is much harder.  This Friday is my birthday, but my best friend is working, so we had made plans to spend Wednesday afternoon together.  I had it all planned out (as we planners tend to do): he’d come to Mass, then we’d grab a bite to eat, then watch a minor league baseball game.  A fun time.  Then, two Fridays ago, my friend told me that he had been unexpectedly scheduled to work on Wednesday, and wouldn’t be free until 5 or 6.  Thanking God was not on my mind or in my heart.
    That afternoon is really not all that important.  There are certainly things much more grave and important than having a good time with a friend to celebrate a birthday.  But I still found it hard to thank God, because I felt like something had been taken away from me that I deserved.  
    Perhaps that’s what makes thanking God so hard when it’s not what we want: we feel we deserve better, or are being cheated.  And when that’s the case, there’s very little room in our hearts for gratitude.  That mentality can still be present when we get what we want: we deserve this blessing; we earned this good thing that God allowed for us.  Perhaps that’s what the other nine lepers were thinking: I put my faith in Jesus, I have confidence that He can heal me, so when I am healed, it’s exactly as I planned.  When we receive good things from God, things we want, that mentality may even creep into our minds: I go to Mass every Sunday (maybe even some weekdays); I donate time, talent, and treasure to the Church; I pray my daily devotions and my rosary; I deserve good things from God.
    Contrast that mentality with the mentality of another saint, St. Thomas More.  He wrote these words to his daughter Margaret from his cell in the Tower of London, and, soon after writing this, witnessed to the faith by his death:
 

Although I know well, Margaret, that because of my past wickedness I deserve to be abandoned by God, I cannot but trust in his merciful goodness.  His grace has strengthened me until now and made me content to lose goods, land, and life as well, rather than to swear against my conscience. […] And, therefore, my own good daughter, do not let your mind be troubled over anything that shall happen to me in this world.  Nothing can come but what God wills.  And I am very sure that whatever that be, however bad it may seem, it shall indeed be the best.

Here was a man who was falsely imprisoned, who had lost material stability, as well as personal access to his family, and was facing death, and yet he could say that whatever God wills is for the best.  This was not a man who thought he deserved anything, except for abandonment by God because of past sins.  And yet, he could stay faithful to God and thank Him for whatever occurred.

St. Thomas More

    I’m clearly not a model of this virtue, and no saint.  But I suppose that what helps me is to try to abandon the belief that I am owed anything by God, other than His love, and even love cannot, we could say, be owed; it must be freely given or not be love.  Yet God does love us, and He does give us many blessings, but also allows certain difficulties.  But anything that God even allows, somehow is meant to work for our good, the good of our salvation.  And if it is for our good, then perhaps we can, even begrudgingly, thank God for it, even ahead of time.
    Saying thank you to God usually happens after something happens to us, usually for the better.  But, in order to grow in this virtue of gratitude, in order to embrace thanking God ahead of time, we should start the practice each day, as part of our morning offering or morning prayers and devotions, to thank God for whatever will happen to us during that upcoming day.  Even the simple phrase, “Thank you God for whatever will happen today” can put us in the mindset that whatever happens, “however bad it may seem, it shall indeed be the best,” as St. Thomas More said.  Or perhaps you can make as your own the phrase of our beloved Michigan saint, Bl. Solanus Casey: “Thank God ahead of time!”: the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Being Restored to Worship and Family

Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  One of my professors at Sacred Heart Major Seminary in Detroit was Fr. Earl Muller, SJ.  Now, I know the Jesuits get a bad reputation, sometimes very much earned, but Fr. Muller, even with all his quirks, was a very faithful, orthodox professor.  I remember him preaching on this Gospel, and approaching the account in a way that I have never considered.  We usually dive right in to the fact that we should say thank you, and those other nine lepers who were healed were simply rude.  But Fr. Muller had us examine our Lord’s words.  What did He say?  “‘Go, show yourselves to the priests.’”  That’s it.  Nothing more.  Never did Christ say, and then come back to me and say “thank you.”  In fact, the Samaritan doesn’t even make it to the priest, as our Lord commanded him, but runs back to Christ and thanks Him.  Yet, our Lord praises the Samaritan’s faith, and seemingly puts down the other nine. 
    As I first sat down to compose this homily, I immediately went to gratitude.  After all, the Samaritan is praised for returning to thank Jesus, whom the Samaritan acknowledges as God.  And I’ll likely get back to that point.  But first, we should look at what was happening, which would have caught the attention of any early Christian who had any knowledge of the Jewish law.
    Leprosy was not only a skin disease (it may not have been Hansen’s disease, as we now call it, but could have included any number of skin maladies).  Leprosy, besides being an illness, also made one unfit for any kind of temple worship.  If you could not be around people, there was no way you could go to the temple and worship God.  You were cut off from the practice of your faith in its greatest sense.  You were also cut off from your family, which, to any Jew, was everything.  After all, the Jewish people themselves were, first and foremost, the family of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, aka Israel.  The nation was basically the twelve tribes.  And yet, as a leper, you had no share in that family, and so you really had no people, no nation, to which you belonged.  You were totally cut off from the main ways in which people found belonging.
    The old law had given the priests the authority to determine if the leprosy was truly cured, to act both as those in charge of worship, as well as members of the tribe of Levi, the family of Israel.  The priests were the ones who could re-attach the leper both to worship and to family/nation.  So our Lord, as one who came not to abolish the law but to fulfill it, sends the lepers on their way so that they could be returned to worship and family.
 

   But this Samaritan, who had no share in either the worship or the family of Israel (recall that the Samaritans were, as far as worship goes, heretics, and as far as family goes, the crazy uncle that you don’t invite to family gatherings or even talk to anymore), he returns to thank Christ for what had been done.  And the Savior praises him for it.  As my old professor, Fr. Muller, said to us, rhetorically, “What was Jesus’ problem?”
    Christ, throughout the Gospels, is creating a new law (see Matthew 5); redefining family (“unless you hate father and mother you cannot be my disciple”); and claiming to be the object of worship (“the Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath”).  And it is this Samaritan who gets that, somehow, even though he was separated from the Chosen People.  Somehow, this Samaritan recognizes that it is Christ who will restore him to proper worship and make him a part of a new family, those who follow the Lord.  Perhaps he had spoken to the Samaritan woman from Sychar, who had dialogued with Christ and heard Him that that the day was coming when true worshippers would not worship in Jerusalem or at Jacob’s well, but in spirit and truth.  Perhaps he had heard of our Lord saying that whoever hears the word of God and observes it is a mother, brother, and sister.  But however it happened, the Samaritan came to recognize that the belonging that usually was found in temple worship and being restored to the family of Israel was possible through this man, the God-Man.
    God is the one who gives us belonging through Christ.  Christ is the one who broke down, as St. Paul says, the old barriers between Jew and Gentile, making them both one through the Blood that Christ shed on the cross.  Christ restores us to worship through His forgiveness, which we receive in the Sacrament of Penance.  In that case, the priest, acting both in the name of Christ the Head and the Community, restores us to worthy worship and to belonging to the family of God. 
    And for that, we should be thankful (I told you I’d get back to this point).  Thanksgiving should come as naturally to us as breathing.  It doesn’t necessarily, but that’s the goal, because everything is a gift.  Nothing that we have has not come from God, either willed purposefully or allowed.  The only thing that we can claim ownership of is our sins.  And so we are invited to give thanks to God, for His mercy endures forever.  Psalm 136 (135 in the Douay-Rheims) is the perfect example of this.  The Psalmist praises God for His work of creation and redemption, and after each word of praises says, “for his mercy endures forever.”  So for us, we can and should go through our day or week, thinking about what God has done for us, “for his mercy endures forever.”  Maybe it’s our family and friends; maybe it’s our job; maybe it’s an easier drive to an appointment than we expected; maybe it’s a vacation; for our parish; for our opportunities to grow; for God’s strength when we avoid sin; for God’s mercy when we fall into sin and repent.  Even for our crosses we should thank God, because they draw us closer to Him if we unite them to the Cross of Christ. 
    When we recognize what God has done for us, it should lead to thanksgiving, like the Samaritan, who does not follow our Lord’s word to the letter, but understands that what the priests were supposed to do, not of their own power but as a way of recognizing what God had already done, our Lord did.  Today I invite you to give thanks to the Lord for He is good, for His mercy endures forever.  In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

The Mass and Gratitude

Twenty-eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time
   One of the cartoons I would watch growing up was “Scooby Doo.”  For those who aren’t very familiar with the series, it follows a group of friends along with a dog, Scooby Doo, who solves mysteries, especially when aided by Scooby snacks.  While I haven’t watched the show in some time, I seem to remember that there was always some twist at the end, where one of the people they encountered earlier in the episode ended up being dressed up as a monster or a ghost, trying to scare and intimidate someone for some reason.
    Today’s first reading and Gospel accounts would have seemed like such a twist to those who heard the story.  For the Jews hearing about Elisha, they would have been shocked that Naaman, a pagan, would have been healed by God, and then really shocked that he wanted land so that he could worship the true God, rather than his pagan gods, on the soil of the Promised Land.  And for the Jewish Christians hearing about how the ten lepers were healed, but only the Samaritan, the non-Jew, returned to thank Jesus, the shock would have likely been similar.  In neither of those cases was the result expected: pagans were not often considered as likely for conversion, and Samaritans were supposed to be a heretical mix of Judaism and paganism, so they weren’t thought of highly, either.
    And yet, that’s what happened.  When Naaman encountered God through the prophet Elisha and the healing that Elisha performed, Naaman tried to reward Elisha, but then asked simply to be able to worship the true God.  And when the Samaritan, whom Jesus healed of leprosy, realized what had been done, he returned to thank God, while the others simply went about their business. 
    Gratitude happens most easily when we encounter someone who offers us something that we want or need, and we realize the value of that which we received.  When a friend calls or texts to help us out in difficult times, we are grateful.  When we receive a gift for which we asked, or maybe even we didn’t ask for it, but wanted it and received it, we are grateful.  When a neighbor, colleague, or even a stranger does something that makes our life a little easier, even if it’s something as simple as holding a door or raking the leaves up in our yard, we are grateful. 
    But gratitude is a virtue, which means it is a practiced piece of our character, a disposition to act in a particular way based upon many occasions of acting that way.  Virtues take practice for them to become second-nature; they don’t start off that way in most cases.  And so you display gratitude even when you get underwear for Christmas, or when your birthday gift isn’t exactly that item you wanted, or even when the execution of assistance ends up making life more difficult.  In order to be thankful people, to have that virtue of gratitude, we have to give thanks.
    Throughout the month of October, our diocese has each parish count the number of people who attend Mass.  Since 2012, our average attendance at Mass as dropped from 876 people, to 395 people in 2018.  That’s a decrease of 55%.  There are certainly a lot of factors that go into it, but part of that decrease goes to why people go to Mass.  I hear it from both youth and adults: Mass is boring; I don’t like the music; I don’t like the preaching; it’s too long.  The common thread in all of those answers, and even more that I’m not mentioning, is that the self is the center of importance.  There is something about the Mass that doesn’t appeal to me, whatever it is. 
    But the Mass is an act of gratitude.  In fact, the word Eucharist comes from two Greek words which mean to give thanks well.  The Mass is our sacrifice of praise, offered to God, for what He has done for us in the past week.  It is our sacrifice, and yet is acceptable because we unite it to Christ’s perfect and acceptable sacrifice of praise that He offered on the cross.  The Mass is our opportunity to practice the virtue of gratitude, even when it’s difficult, which means that we’re growing in virtue.
    And the key to gratitude is that it’s not about me.  Being grateful is precisely about the other and what he or she has done.  Maybe we did get underwear for Christmas that we didn’t really want or need.  But we say thank you because the other person wanted to express their affection for us, and we want to acknowledge that goodness in the other person.  Maybe someone helped us out when we were having a rough day, or week, or month, or year, and we want to acknowledge the time they took out of their own schedule to focus on us.  Gratitude, if true, does not care about what I get out of it.  Its only concern is that the other is affirmed in the gift they gave.
    Why do fewer people go to Mass?  Because we’re ungrateful.  When we don’t acknowledge the gifts that God gives us throughout every moment of our life, of course we don’t care to take time to say thank you to God at Mass.  When, instead, we live in an awareness of just how much God gives us, then we should desire to say thank you to God.  And even when maybe we feel that urge to stay home, or watch a game, and skip Mass because it takes effort, we realize that we want to express to God just how grateful we are for what He has given us.
    It was certainly a plot twist, a surprise, when the two pagans were the ones who gave thanks to God after encountering His gift.  What is more surprising is when those who claim to follow Jesus don’t return each week to thank Him for the many gifts He has given us.  Don’t be ungrateful to God.  Give thanks to the Lord for the gifts He has given us in this sacrifice of thanksgiving of the Mass.