American Pie, the Letter, and the Spirit

Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Don McLean produced a hit 8 minutes and 42 seconds long called “American Pie.”  And while most red-blooded Americans know the song, and maybe have even sung it at a karaoke bar, I imagine that as generations get further and further from its release in 1971, fewer and fewer people know that the song, which is mostly upbeat, speaks about the loss of innocence in America, beginning with the plane crash that killed Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and the Big Bopper in 1959.  
    As we heard the Gospel today, we heard about the Pharisee who stood as far removed from the Law of Moses as many young people do today from “American Pie.”  The Pharisee knew the words.  He knew the right answer that the two greatest laws to uphold included the love of God with all of one’s self and the love of neighbor as oneself.  But he didn’t know the deeper meaning.  

    And so Christ has to give him a parable to talk about love of neighbor and how love of neighbor is demonstrated.  The Samaritan, the one outside the law, actually demonstrated love of neighbor, rather that the priest or the Levite.  Those who should have known the law the best, and certainly its deeper meaning, practiced the law the least, and become the bad guys in the parable.  The one who had no direct access to the law, because his people had abandoned the law when they intermarried with the local pagans, lived the law of loving one’s neighbor as oneself, even sacrificing his own money to care for the robbery and assault and battery victim, though the neighbor in this case was a stranger.
    There can be a challenge for us as Catholics, and Catholics probably better educated that in any century before.  If you want to know what the Church teaches on any issue, simply Google it.  I understand there’s even a Catholic AI that can help synthesize the Church Fathers, Doctors of the Church, and Magisterial documents to answer questions.  But are we like the Pharisee, who knows the right answer, but lack the gift of understanding to know how to put that knowledge into practice?  
    Many will refer to the practice and the deeper reality of what God has revealed as the spirit.  We hear that dichotomy today from the epistle between the spirit and the letter.  The spirit gives life, while the letter kills.  Sometimes this dichotomy is used to advance things which are patently contrary to the letter by placing it under the spirit of the law.  Some will say, for example, that while St. Paul clearly teaches that those who obstinately practice homosexual actions cannot inherit the kingdom of heaven (and notice that the actions separate us from God, not necessarily the disordered affection), that because our Lord taught us to love people, we cannot say that homosexual activity is wrong, because St. Paul was referring to the letter of the law, while the desire to let people love whomever they want to love (to use their phrase, not our understanding of true love) is part of the spirit of the law.
    But, that’s like saying that we can’t say adultery is wrong simply because Christ loves the person who commits that sin against the sixth commandment, and would never want to condemn that person.  Christ doesn’t want to condemn that person, but that person does have to choose the good that God has revealed, which is part and parcel of how God made us.  
    The spirit of the law does not mean anything goes.  But it does mean we have to look more deeply than the surface.  There’s a difference between looking beyond and looking more deeply.  To look beyond means that we ignore what we have received.  To look more deeply means to investigate how what we have received can be more fully understood.  It is the difference between changing a teaching (looking beyond) and legitimate development of doctrine (looking more deeply).  
    I think one good example of this is the more nuanced teaching of the Church on suicide.  The Church has taught, and in some cases will always teach, that taking one’s own life means committing a grave sin.  God clearly states in the Scriptures that He is the author of life, and the only one who can legitimately end an innocent life (though sometimes people have to end lives in the interest of defense of self, family, friends, or country without sin).  However, we have come to understand the complexity of a human mind that thinks that the best way to ease the psychological pain that he or she undergoes is to take his or her own life.  In some cases, and really the full knowledge of what is going on only God knows, a person is not free to make a choice because of chemical imbalances in the brain.  And, as we know, if a person cannot freely choose an action, no matter how grave it is, it cannot be a mortal sin.  So when a person commits suicide, unless we know it was made with a clear mind, we have some doubt as to how culpable that person was for an objectively evil action.  
    This is also what makes assisted suicide, also known as euthanasia, so horrible.  If people of any age feel that their lives have no value (and often times society tells them they have no purpose if they can’t be fully active or somehow benefit society), they are vulnerable to depression and rejection, and a doctor or nurse who comes to them to help them kill themselves takes advantage of that depression in an action which does not admit, generally, of repentance because of its finality; once completed you don’t get a do-over.  On the one hand, the Church reminds us that if we undergo euthanasia or assisted suicide and we know what we’re doing, we don’t know how that person could go to heaven, and that person would be denied anointing of the sick beforehand, and a Catholic funeral afterwards.  However, only God knows fully the mind, and so we also need to not presume omniscience and have some understanding for a person who may have dealt with mental illness in some form while trying to make the decision, especially if it was more encouraged by those who swore an oath to do no harm.
    The face value of the law and the commandments is not always the final word.  We don’t go beyond what God has revealed for our moral life, as if there are no moral absolutes or as if God’s teaching always changes with cultural adaptations.  However, we do need to go deeper to better understand the full implications of what God has revealed of how we are to love our neighbor and how we are to love God: the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

The Desire for Life

Fifth Sunday of Lent–Third Scrutiny
    We spend so much of our energy trying to avoid or cheat death.  “The experts” suggest foods that we should eat or not eat.  Companies make large amounts of money selling creams, vitamins, and pills which aim to prolong life, or even just the appearance of life.  One of the things I have learned with my work with the Michigan State Police is that a drowning person will push a potential rescuer under water if that Trooper is not prepared in order to try to stay above water and not drown.  A person in the cold will start to lose function in most parts of the body, except the brain and the loins, the two seats of preserving current life and perpetuating life, which shut down last.  While some may say that death is natural, the fact that we try to avoid death at all costs shows that God made us for immortality, not simply like the animals who are born into this world and then die and decay.
    As Catholics, we know that death entered the world through our disobedience to God, the source of life.  God further expelled us from the garden and the tree of immortality, which some Church Fathers interpret as a mercy, as it meant that we wouldn’t live forever with sin, but that the reign of sin in our earthly bodies would end at death.  But, even with this, we have an innate sense that God made us to live forever with Him.  And so we fight death as much as possible.
    And while we cannot support euthanasia, assisted suicide, or suicide, because every life has value, and only God is the Lord of Life, we all have to die.  In order to get to heaven, we have to die.  Not before our time, but as a necessary preamble to eternal life, hopefully in heaven, death will come.
    But we know of another kind of death that we must undergo in order to live, and that is the death of baptism. St. Paul speaks very clearly about death needing to occur in order for the spirit to live, and then the body to be raised on the last day.  He also says in Romans chapter 6, verse 3: “Are you unaware that we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?”  Water was an ancient symbol of death, because it wasn’t as sure and steady as the ground.  The waters of chaos swirled about before God ordered them and created light and life in the beginning.  In the early church, the priest fully submerged the elect in the waters.  And anyone afraid of water knows that being under water you can’t breathe, and, if it takes too long, you drown and die.  Baptism is death.
    But that submersion did not signify the end.  The priest would then also raise the elect out of the waters where he or she could breathe, signifying new life.  St. Paul in Romans, chapter 6 continues:
 

We were indeed buried with him through baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live in newness of life.  For if we have grown into union with him through a death like his, we shall also be untied with him in the resurrection.

Christ died, and so rose to new life.  In baptism we, too, die, and rise to new life with Christ, with a downpayment here on earth, and the fulfillment in heaven, if we stay faithful to Christ.

    Lazarus, then, and his death and resurrection, prefigures both Christ’s death and resurrection, as well as our own death and rising to new life through baptism.  The four days of his death are like the entire life of the Catholic after baptism, where new life is present, but death seems to reign.  Four score is 80 years, and the psalms describe the life of a strong person as 80 years.  So the four days are like a full life.  But then, after our death to sin in baptism, and staying faithful to dying to sin during our earthly life, we rise to new life with Christ, as He calls us out from the tomb.  
    Dylan and Isaiah, you are about to go into the tomb in just a couple more weeks.  At the Easter Vigil you will die with Christ in the waters of baptism, but because of that death you will also get to receive new life from Christ, and a pledge of future glory for when your earthly life is done.  In some sense, you life after baptism will be a practice in dying.  Each day you will have opportunities to die to your sinful self, and stay alive with Christ.  You will die to your own sinful past, and choose to nail your own will to the cross along with anything in you that does not imitate the life of God.  
    But do not be afraid of that death, because it brings life.  Only fear the eternal death that comes when we reject God and His ways in our daily actions and words.  This earthly death may seem scary, like holding your breath for a long time under water, but if you stay faithful to God you will rise to new life.     
    So do not fight the death of all that is not of God.  Embrace the penances and pain that come from denying our sinful passions.  Because if we die that death, starting with our death in the waters of baptism, we have a sure and certain hope that we will live with Christ for ever in joy beyond all description.

What We Have

Third Sunday of Lent
    A recent song that I heard frequently a few months ago was thought provoking, and even brought me to some soul searching.  The song is “What I Have” by an up-and-coming country star named Kelsea Ballerini.  She reflects on this constant drive to have more and more, and then juxtaposes it with what she has.  The last two lines of the refrain are, “I’m doing alright right where I’m at / With what I have.”  And then the last refrain has a slight twist from the earlier ones: “I got the air, good eyes to see / Got so much more than I’ll even need. / Even the bad days ain’t all that bad / With what I have.”  
    What do you have?  What do you need?  Our readings point us to three things that we need: water, hope, and living water.  The Israelites are on their way to Mt. Sinai, but are tired of walking.  They saw mighty works from God, including the crossing of the Red Sea, but they doubt God’s care for them, so they cry out for water.  God, in turn, gives them water when Moses strikes the rock.  But the place still garners the name Massah and Meribah “because the Israelites quarreled there and tested the Lord.”  They chose to doubt God, even though He had taken care of them and led them out of slavery in Egypt, and then saved them at the Red Sea and crushed their enemies.  They weren’t content with what they had, which was God.  

    And our Gospel shows us the exchange between a Samaritan, a non-Israelite, and Jesus.  The Samaritan woman doesn’t know what she has, or better, whom she has.  First she wants the living water that Jesus describes, but then she balks when Jesus starts to confront her past and call her to conversion.  She tries to steer the conversation away from her, and engages in what is still the easiest way to get people distracted in conversation: bring up a contentious point of doctrine.  She has the Messiah, but doesn’t realize it at first.  Jesus knows both what she has, but also what she lacks, and seeks to fill up what she lacks so that she can be satisfied, just as He gave the Chosen People what they lacked in the desert when they were going to the Promised Land.
    We are arguably the most affluent society in human history.  This is not to make light of the real struggles of the poor, the homeless, the hungry and thirsty, but so many of us have more than what we need.  We have clothes, and often buy clothes that we don’t even need.  We have a house, and some even have two or three.  We have modes of transportation that are, more or less, reliable, and can take us across States and countries.  Most people have a phone which can bring up any type of information that we desire at a moment’s notice.  We have grocery stores that provide food, not only what is in-season locally, but foods from exotic parts of the world that we could never grow here.  Many of us are used to taking vacations when we feel like it.  
    And yet, with all that we have, in 2020, 45,979 Americans died from suicide, out of 1.2 million attempts.  Suicide is the 12th leading cause of death of Americans.  How could so many who have so much seek to end their own lives?  At least part of the answer is connected to how many people have stopped practicing their faith, have walked away from God.  They are like the Samaritan woman at the well, she’s thirsty, but no matter how many times she draws water, it never satisfies.  And then along comes this stranger, this foreigner, who promises her a water which will satisfy, but she can’t bring herself to accept it at first, because she won’t trust in God’s help.  She’d rather argue about where to worship and who the Messiah is at first than accept the gift of new life that God is offering.
    St. Paul says that we have hope, a hope which does not disappoint, “because the love of God has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.”  Hope is one of the greatest things we can have (though it’s not really a commodity) because it keeps us going.  And we do not have hope because of our affluence, or even because of what we have achieved, but because of what God has done for us.  “For Christ, while we were still helpless, died at the appointed time for the ungodly.”  Jesus sacrificed Himself so that we could have the one thing we truly need: Him.  He had been doing that from the beginning.  Indeed, St. Paul writes about the first reading we heard in his first letter to the Corinthians: [the Jews] “drank from a spiritual rock that followed them, and the rock was Christ.”  Even in the Old Testament, Christ was prefiguring the gift of Himself when God provided water for the Jews in the desert.  That same gift, the gift of Himself, Jesus gave to the Samaritan woman at the well, and she eventually allowed herself to receive it, which gave her so great a joy that she forgot about the water she had gone to draw from the well.  
    [My dear Elect and Candidate: throughout this past year, you have noted your need for God.  You have sensed Him offering you the living water, and you have responded.  As you celebrate this first scrutiny, Christ seeks to have you acknowledge your past sins, not to condemn you, but that He might heal them in you.  For it is only when we acknowledge that we have strayed from God, that God can heal us and draw us back to Him.  God wants you to have Him, because if you have Him, you have all that you truly need.  And even if you had everything tangible thing the world had to offer, if you don’t have Him, you have nothing.]
    We all have a lot more than any other previous generation had.  The temptations to focus on what we don’t have or what our neighbors have can easily trip us up.  Instead, let’s focus on strengthening what we truly need to be happy: God.  Because as long as we have God, “I’m doing alright right where I’m at / With what I have.”