Cleaning Up and Encountering the Mercy of the Beloved (Precept #2)

Ninth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  I’m sure most of us can relate to this scenario at one point in our life: mom and/or dad tell you that company is coming over, and that you need to clean up the common areas of the house (like the bathrooms, kitchen, living room, etc.).  As a kid, the thought came to my mind (and I may have vocalized this once or twice), “Why do we have to clean up?  If they’re such good friends, don’t they want to see the way we usually live, rather than faking it by pretending that our house is always this clean?”  I’m sure many of you have thought that as a child, or have heard a similar line of questioning from the kids who don’t want to clean up.

    The Precept of the Church that I’m focusing on this week is the second: “You shall confess your sins at least once a year.”  In my mind, anyway, this connects back to the Gospel we heard today, about our Lord cleansing the temple.  Christ wants the temple to be a place of prayer, though it had been made into a marketplace, or, to use His words, “‘a den of thieves.’”  But of course, beyond the obvious meaning of the building, we, too, as St. Paul says, are temples of the Holy Spirit, and Christ wants us to be people of prayer, rather than sullied by our sins.
    Confession allows us to “clean the temple,” as it were, by having Christ cleanse us of our sins and restore us to the state of our soul at holy baptism.  It invites Christ in so that all those fallen aspects of our life can be cast out. 
    But, we may say, doesn’t God already know who I am, and how I struggle?  Doesn’t He know my sins?  Why should I go, especially if, despite my best intentions, I may fall back into the same sins over and over again? 
    We clean our temples for God (and our homes for guests) because we want to give our best.  We clean our house for guests because we value their presence, and show that value by cleaning up the areas in which they might be (despite how horrible it is to mop, clean windows, vacuum, etc.).  We clean our temple for God because we value His presence, and want Him to feel “at home” in our souls.  Sin, especially serious sin, is contrary to who God is.  So we clean up so that He knows how much we want Him to be with us, and that we want Him to pray with us in our souls.  But, in this case, it’s really God who does the cleaning, as we cannot eliminate our sins by ourselves. 
    But even deeper than the metaphor of cleaning, confession is a chance to come into the presence of God, and experience His love.  God hates sin, but He does not hate us.  He does not want anything to stand between us and Him, and so He gives us the remedy for the sickness which we take upon ourselves when we choose to disobey Him.  Confession allows God’s mercy to wash over us and heal all those wounds that we inflicted. 
    How can that happen?  First, we must be sorry.  What the Church requires is that we have at least imperfect contrition, or as it was called in seminary, attrition.  This is the knowledge that we have messed up, and the sorrow for doing so, based upon the fact that we know it’s wrong, or we know we shouldn’t want to do the sin, or that we don’t want to go to Hell.  The fact that all that is required is attrition is itself a mercy, as what we should have is perfect contrition, or the sorrow for having sinned, not because of “the loss of heaven and the pains of hell, but most of all because they offend thee, my God, who art all good and deserving of all my love.” 
    Or, to put it in the context of a marital covenant (which God does all the time in the Scriptures), when we sin we cheat on God; we are unfaithful to Him.  Attrition is the sorrow we have because we got caught in adultery.  Contrition, perfect contrition, is the sorrow we have because we know, or have some sense, of how much it hurt our spouse and the damage it did to the marital relationship. 
    Beyond being sorry, even imperfectly, we also need to have a firm amendment not to sin again.  We might wonder why we should go, if we think we’re going to sin again in this particular way.  I often put it this way: we hope that we won’t sin in that way again, even if that seems unlikely.  But, if we would be open to the grace God gives, then we would not want to sin again in that way.  And we should have confidence in God’s mercy, that it can at least start us down the path of not falling into that sin again. 
    We also need to confess actual sins.  The Church requires that we confess all mortal sins in number and kind.  This doesn’t mean you have to give the priest all the gory details.  But it does mean that you are honest.  God is our Divine Physician, but He does’t force His medicine upon us, so if we don’t tell Him the pain, He will not force His healing on us.  So we confess every mortal sin, which is a sin that is gravely wrong, we know it’s bad, but we freely choose it anyway.  Grave sins are the most serious: taking God’s name in vain; skipping Mass without a legitimate reason; killing an innocent person; committing adultery, fornication, or self-gratification; stealing something of significance (which may vary with age and financial means); lying in a serious case (like to a police office or in court), pornography and/or staring at a person for an extended time with lust; etc.  We also have to know that the sin is wrong, and then we have to freely choose to do it.  Addictions can sometimes lessen the freedom that we have to do an action. 
    And, no matter how strongly we do a venial sin, it doesn’t change it to a mortal sin.  We still shouldn’t sin venially, but if the sin is not serious matter, it cannot be mortal.  We do not need to confess all venial sins, as those are forgiven in entirety (even those we forgot) through confession, and through reception of the Eucharist (as long as we don’t have other mortal sins on our soul).  Venial sins which we frequently commit are great types of sins to confess.
    Lastly, we need to intend to do the penance.  Sometimes penances are more than simply prayers or reading Scripture, so you’ll need to do them when you get home.  But as long as you intend to do the penance, you can still receive Holy Communion after confession.  And, if the penance is not something you can do at all, let the priest know when he gives you the penance, rather than having to confess later that you did not do your penance. 
    The Church commands us to confess once per year.  But why not more?  If confession is an encounter with our loving God, who heals us of our wounds, then once per year is the bare minimum, and we should seek to experience that special love of God whenever we need to, and even if we don’t need to, when it’s available.  We’re not to be scrupulous, to think that every sin separates us from sanctifying grace–the grace that allows us to be in right relationship with God.  But we also don’t want to treat confession as something we do only when we need to because we’re in mortal sin. 
    Confession is a cleansing of the temple of our souls, but more than that, it’s a chance to receive the mercy of God.  Don’t miss out on a chance for God to show you this special kind of love.  Regularly ask for that merciful encounter with our compassionate God, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

A New Perspective

 Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
    When I come to a problem, or something that needs fixing, I have a way of seeing one solution to that problem, and proceeding accordingly.  However, sometimes my approach is not the best, or won’t work at all.  It’s not until the problem is looked at from another angle and another approach is taken that the problem can easily be solved or addressed.
    We have lots of issues in society today.  And there are twice as many solutions proposed as there are problems.  But the solutions all tend to focus on an earthly solution; most look to solve the issue.  While laws are important, and policies can help direct funding to needed programs, so many of the issues we deal with cannot be truly solved with earthly solutions.  We need to look to heaven.
    Christians have sometimes been accused of not caring about the world.  They are said to only care about heaven, and so don’t care about the things here on earth.  But more often than not, it is only by concentrating on heaven that we come to see the ways that we can treat, not only the symptoms of what ills our world, but the disease, because the way we deal with our world has an impact on whether or not we go to heaven.  
    Living for heaven takes faith, looking beyond what is seen to what is unseen.  Our long reading from the Letter to the Hebrews talks about Abraham as the model of faith.  He left his homeland in modern-day Iraq to travel to the Promised Land, not knowing what he would find when he got there, or if this God who had revealed Himself to Abraham and called him to sojourn to a new land would care for him.  And then, Abraham trusted that God would give him descendants, though he and Sarah, his wife, were past the childbearing age.  And then, when God asked Abraham to sacrifice that son that they had conceived, Abraham trusted that God would raise him up, so that God’s promise that Abraham’s descendants would be as numerous as the stars in the sky would come true.

     All of this, from an earthly point of view, seemed foolish.  Iraq has been called the cradle of civilization, and society there was likely more advanced than the scattered and small Canaanite nations to which Abraham ventured.  Abraham was one hundred years old when Isaac was born, and no one would have expected that Abraham and Sarah could even conceive, let along bring a healthy boy into the world.  In fact, Sarah saw things from an earthly point of view, and so, before God promised that she would conceive, Sarah told Abraham to have relations with her slave, Haggar, in order to “help” God fulfill His promises.  But Haggar’s son, Ishamel, was not to be the son of the promise, because God had a different solution.  And lastly, even Isaac was probably concerned when Abraham led them both up the mountain, as they had the wood and the fire for the sacrifice, and they had a knife, but no animal to slaughter.  From an earthly point of view, it would have been better to not even climb the mountain and simply run away from God’s mysterious command.
    But Abraham had faith in God, and trusted that, if God promised, He would deliver.  So Jesus told His disciples and tells us, that we are to take a different view as we go about this world.  We are to act as those awaiting for the Master to return.  If we do, then the Master will serve us.  But if we don’t, if we don’t act in accordance with the Master’s will, and do whatever we want, then we will be punished for our disobedience to the Master.
    What does this practically mean?  It means that the choices we make should coincide with God’s will, as much as we are able.  It means that we don’t look necessarily to earthly fixes to our problems, as to heavenly guidance and solutions. When it comes to our environment, we have a responsibility to care for the earth.  Some would say that we can no longer drive gas cars, or travel in planes, or even eat meat because cows fart too much.  That certainly is an earthly point of view (often enough, sadly, wrought with exceptions for the rich and the powerful).  From a faith point of view, we look first at ourselves, and examine our stewardship of created goods.  Do I waste a lot?  Do I use resources unnecessarily?  How do I treat the environment in which I live?  Laws can help us be good stewards of creation.  But when we have that conversion to live as good stewards of creation, as God called us to be in Genesis, then we find even better solutions than mandating rules that apply to “thee but not me.”
    When it comes to the violence that plagues our nation, from an earthly point of view, it would seem the easiest to simply outlaw all guns, or types of guns, for most people.  I can tell you from my work with the State Police, that there are a large amount of people who don’t care what the laws state; they will do whatever they want, for good or for ill.  So simply passing this law, or outlawing that gun, is not going to stop the violence (though perhaps there are certain laws that would help).  When we look to a heavenly point of view, we see how broken families are these days, and how that affects the development of children into adolescence and adulthood.  We see how much disturbing violence children are exposed to on screens from an early age.  We see that people are not taught constructive ways to work out differences, but those who call themselves leaders tend to yell, scream, and destroy whenever they don’t get their way.  Do I do all I can to be a loving mother or father (or grandfather or grandmother)?  Do I make time for my children (or grandchildren), limit and monitor their screen time and what they are viewing?  Do I belittle others and treat them as less than human when they don’t agree with me, or show that each human being has dignity and value, even when we don’t see eye-to-eye?
    With these, and countless other issues, we can get stuck in a hamster-wheel of trying to find solutions that don’t solve the bigger problems.  We forget God, and forget that God has given us long and lasting ways to solve, not only the symptoms of our human failings, but the deeper disease.  Those who keep their eyes on heaven, and on the fact that they will be called to account for their actions to our heavenly Masters, are precisely the ones who are more likely to be good stewards here on earth.  Don’t just seek earthly solutions.  Seek the answers that come from heaven.

Being A Good Steward (Precept #5)

 Eighth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  As we pass through these Sundays after Pentecost, I thought it would be good to focus on some thematic preaching.  I still want to tie it to the readings, in some way, maybe only loosely, but still seeing how our faith and the Word of God are intertwined.  So, I’ve decided, for the next weeks, to concentrate on the Precepts of the Church.
    There are five precepts, which are described as “positive laws decreed by the pastoral authorities…meant to guarantee to the faithful the very necessary minimum in the spirit of prayer and moral effort, int he growth in love of God and neighbor.”  So these are not all there is to being Catholic, but we could call them the basic rules and expectations of membership in the institutional Church.  The five (as found in the Catechism, paragraphs 2041-2043) are:

You shall attend Mass on Sundays and on holy days of obligation and rest from servile labor;
You shall confess your sins at least once a year
You shall receive the sacrament of the Eucharist at least during the Easter season;
You shall observe the days of fasting and abstinence established by the Church
You shall help to provide for the needs of the Church
 

Again, there are other necessary aspects of being Catholic (belief in the revealed dogmas of faith and living revealed moral teachings, respect and obedience to legitimate ecclesiastical authority, daily prayer, etc.), but these give us a base line.  Today, based upon our Gospel, I would like to focus on the last precept: you shall help to provide for the needs of the Church.

    Today's Gospel focuses on stewardship.  Our Lord tells a parable about a dishonest steward, who then makes side deals with the debtors, hoping that one of them will take him in after he’s fired, since he’s not able to do hard labor, and too ashamed to beg.  The fifth precept tells us that we are to provide for the needs of the Church, including, it goes on to say, the material needs of the Church, “each according to his abilities.”  
    We probably naturally go to money when we think of the needs of the Church and possibly even the word stewardship.  Priests are either very hesitant or very quick to talk about money.  One layman joked that when a priest talks about money it can be called the Sermon on the Amount.  Personally, I try to avoid talking about money unless I need to.  But this one time probably won’t hurt too much (for you or for me).
    Because, honestly, the people of St. Matthew are very generous.  And I greatly appreciate your generosity.  I believe that people give what they can, according to their financial realities.  As St. Paul says, he does not want us to make ourselves poor in assisting others, but that each could have enough, based on their own situations.  Some give weekly, others give monthly; some give cash or checks, others donate online with a credit card.  We recently have been the beneficiary or a large bequest, which is helping to make our office renovation a reality, so some even remember St. Matthew after death.  But, I’ll admit, it took me a while as a young man to consider giving to the church.  In high school, even though I was working a summer maintenance job for my parish, I’m pretty sure I didn’t give anything.  I didn’t make much, and that continued as a seminarian, and so I didn’t give much or anything.  But, after I was ordained, I made a commitment to give at least 5% of my income to the Church (whether the parish or the Diocese or even the universal Church), which would then leave me to donate up to 5% to other organizations.  And I think I’ve been pretty faithful to that.  But I don’t remember being approached by anyone as a young man, to remember to give.  So, for all you young adults, whether living with your parents or living on your own, here’s my plug: consider giving to the parish.  Maybe it’s only a buck or two every week, but you’ll be part of supporting our great parish.  
    Why give?  Because a steward is one who recognizes that what he has is not his.  A steward uses the goods of the master, with the master’s authority.  But they don’t, strictly speaking, belong to the steward.  When it comes to us, everything we have, whether directly or indirectly, comes from God.  The talents we use to get a good job come from God.  The talents of entrepreneurs who form companies that then hire us come from God.  Everything eventually gets traced back to God.  And so, as part of the virtue of justice, we give back to God some of what He has given to us.
    But I know that many of you are blessed with large families, and so don’t have a lot of money, even to give to the church.  And that is why it’s important to note that stewardship is not only about money.  It’s also about time and talent.  
    I have been so impressed by the donation of time and talent of parishioners here!  We have groups that help clean the church, ushers who collect our paper hand missals, gardeners who help care for the flowers, catechists who help form children (sometimes their own) and adults in the faith, those who donate food for our potlucks, members of our Finance Council and Pastoral Council who help guide the future of the parish, sacristans, servers, cantors, and the list goes on and on (I do not mean to leave you out, so please don’t take offense if I did not explicitly mention your group or activity).  People giving their time and talent to the parish are also a great sign of health and vitality.  And it gives a way for all people, those with large incomes and those who struggle to make ends meet each week, a way to build up the Mystical Body of Christ.
    And that is the real point of stewardship: that we do what we can to serve Christ.  I’m not the judge of your stewardship: that belongs to the Lord, who sees not only the external gifts, but also the internal gifts, and judges justly.  But we can never rest on our laurels when it comes to being good stewards.  Each June I re-evaluate how I am being a good steward of what God gave me, just as each Lent I re-evaluate my beneficiaries for what I will leave behind.  It’s a good thing not to view our stewardship with the perspective of fear, but in the freedom of being poor in spirit, relying on God for what we need and doing what we can to help others who are in need, to be, as St. Theresa of Avila says, the hands of God.  

    Thank you for your generosity of time, talent, and treasure, which helps St. Matthew continue to be a lamp in the city of Flint, radiating the truth and love of Christ to a city which desperately needs it.  Let’s re-evaluate what we can do, so that we can be even better stewards of all that our generous God has entrusted to us, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Distractions

 Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

    To be honest, on a weekly basis or so, my dishwasher is full of clean dishes, having just been washed.  I know that I should put them in their proper cupboards and drawers, but it’s not something I really want to do.  So I find some distraction–maybe the reruns of “Law and Order” that I’ve seen a million times before; maybe checking on my Clash of Clans game on the phone, or scrolling through Facebook; or a particularly ironic choice, eating something, which often involves pulling one dish out to use, while leaving the others still sitting in the dishwasher.
    It’s funny the amount of energy we spend on distractions and not attending to what is important.  I say funny because it takes me all of about 5 minutes to empty the dishwasher.  It’s not hard work, it’s not even that time-consuming.  But the distractions seem more enjoyable, or less work, or just something else other than what we should be doing.
    When it comes to our faith life, we can go after distractions, rather than attending to Jesus, the one who is truly necessary.  We find all sorts of other distractions so that we don’t have to go deeper in our relationship with God.  That’s not to say that we are all called to be monks or nuns, praying different prayers at every moment when we’re not working, cooking, or cleaning.  But how often do we find ways to keep from concentrating on our faith life, on our relationship with God, because we put up distractions as obstacles to dealing with deeper issues?
    We see that even in the Gospel today.  Someone is listening to Jesus, but decides that now is the good time to get Jesus to arbitrate an inheritance issue.  Now, before being too rough on the person, rabbis often intervened to help people understand what was just and the right course of action according to the law of Moses and rabbinical interpretations.  But Jesus doesn’t get bogged down in that.  He calls out the distraction, and asserts that there are more important things to be focused on than who gets the money from the parents’ estate.
    Money can sometimes be a distraction to our relationship with God.  We get so caught up in money issues that we forget to focus on God.  This distraction is particularly tough, because money allows one to fulfill one’s responsibilities to self or to family.  So yes, by all means find a job that helps pay the bills.  But don’t let the quest for money tear you away from God, as it so often does.  Money frequently becomes a god, where if we just had a little more, then we would be fine.  But that little more never seems to be enough, and the bar always seems to move farther and farther away when it comes to how much money we need.  One of the beautiful things about the Catholic Church is that our Church is for rich and poor alike.  We are all called to be fed by the Word of God and the Eucharist, and to share those graces with those we meet, whether we have a lot or a little.  Jesus wants us to make God our priority, in times of plenty and in times of need, even as we share our resources to care for the members of this parish and the wider community.
    I would say that politics has become another distraction to our relationship with God.  In many ways we, as Americans, have made politics our new religion.  We spend hours, not in front of a gold box that holds the Incarnate Word of God, but in front of a thin, black box that shows political party events.  We tire of a ten-minute homily on strengthening our faith, but we’ll spend hours listening to this or that politician pontificate on why the opponent is wrong on whatever the new issue is.  We put up with those who claim to be Catholic but who say things or do things which are contrary to the faith, but if a Democratic senator doesn’t support the Green New Deal, or if a Republican senator votes to approve a controversial appointee, we go crazy and seek to ostracize them from the party and from our life.  We belittle and demonize them and treat them worse that the Pharisees treated sinners and tax collectors.  Again, this is not to say that we shouldn’t participate in politics (you should participate in the primary election this Tuesday, and vote with a conscience informed by your Catholic faith), but what priority do we give to Uncle Sam versus God our Father?
    And we focus on these things and more so that we don’t have to focus on how we’re doing with God.  We have a sense that we’re not as strong in our faith or as close to God as we want to be, but when it comes to cutting out the distractions, we find that we prefer distractions to our religion.  The distractions are, as our first reading says, vanities.  Money will come and go, as will politicians.  But Jesus remains for ever.  Whatever distractions we prefer, they don’t save us, and they don’t continue after death.  And we never know how much time we have before God will call us to account for how we used our time, how much we spent on Him or how much we spent on distractions.  
    Jesus invites us today to be rich in the things that matter to God.  Don’t let distractions keep you from eternal life and the joy that comes from the Gospel!

Choosing Life Instead of Death

 Seventh Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  The colloquial definition of insanity is doing the same thing but expecting different results.  How often we can be insane, at least according to that definition!  It’s like the old gag where a man goes to the doctor and says, “It hurts when I raise my arm,” so the doctor replies, “Then don’t raise your arm!”  Sometimes the simplest things in theory, are the most complex in practice.

    St. Paul reminds us today that the wages of sin is death.  When we sin, we are inviting death into our life.  We might say that we are cutting out life from our existence.  Sin is slavery: shackling ourselves into bondage.  No one forces us to sin; we have the freedom to choose good from evil.  But how often do we choose evil?!
    And then, having chosen death, having chosen to sin, we wonder why we reap death.  Again, our Lord reminds us that if we sow death, we will reap death.  If we sow slavery, we will reap slavery.  We know the tree by the fruits it produces.  But we still go back to the tree that brings us death and weakens our relationship with God, or even separates us from God.  
    Of course, we think that we can get away with it, or that the consequences won’t effect us.  We think we can outsmart sin and death, or be so tricky that we can enjoy the sin but not suffer the consequences.  
    But no one explicitly thinks this way when he or she sins.  We don’t use our brains, we use our passions, and so we often don’t consciously think: this action is not good; it is not leading me to God.  If I do this, I’m inviting death and slavery into my life.  Or we may think that it’s not a big sin, so we don’t need to really worry about it.  So we flirt with little sins, not realizing that they can, if left alone, lead to bigger sins.
    But it doesn’t have to be this way.  Our Lord came precisely to transfer us from the kingdom of death and slavery to the kingdom of life and freedom.  He ransomed us with His own Precious Blood, and paid the price of our freedom by dying on the cross.  God wants freedom for our life.  He wants us to live.  And He offers us every opportunity for freedom and life.  But we keep sliding back into slavery and death.
    The antidote to this sliding is the fear of the Lord.  Our Gradual today, from Psalm 33, begins, “Come, children, and hear me; I will teach you the fear of the Lord.”  The fear of the Lord is not about being scared or afraid.  Fear of the Lord is about recognizing the pain sin causes God, not because He is weak, but because He mourns when we draw farther away from Him.  Think of this fear like the fear you would have of disappointing your spouse or a parent.  Sometimes the worst thing we can hear is, “I’m not mad, I’m disappointed.”  When we love someone, we want to show that love to them, and we don’t want them to not feel that love.  The scriptures often use the image of adultery, marital infidelity, to describe sin.  The action is bad enough, and we know it’s wrong, but the pain that comes from realizing we let our beloved or our Father down is sometimes worse than any corporal punishment that could be inflicted upon us.
    So, to avoid sin, especially grave sin, we need to keep that desire not to hurt our beloved, God, at the front of our mind.  When our mind is fixed on God and showing Him our love by what we do (and what we don’t do), then we’re less likely to give in to those sins that demonstrate that we don’t fully love God, that something else is more important than Him.  Would that we always kept the post-sin sadness in our minds before we fell into sin, so that we wouldn’t have the pain that comes from disappointing our beloved, our God.
    Our life in Christ is not so much about doing the right things and not doing the wrong things (though we should do the right and avoid the wrong).  We can live at that surface level of our faith, where we just do this and don’t do that because the Scriptures or the Church tell us so.  But God invites us to let our roots grow deeper so that we can bear better fruit.  He invites us to consider His commands as the way that we can return the love that He first showed us when our Lord died on the cross.  How often we go to our Divine Physician and say, “It hurts when I sin!”  He tells us, “Then don’t sin!”  Keep at the front of your mind your love for God, that love that makes sin seem less appealing, and by keeping that love before you, avoid the death that sin always brings, the death and sin that were conquered by Christ, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit reign for ever and ever.  Amen. 

God Isn't Santa Claus

 Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
    When we’re young we often picture God as something like Santa Claus.  Our parents may encourage us to think of God like Santa Claus because we ask Him for things that we need and/or want.  This is not necessarily a bad thing, as, when we’re children, we should learn to go to God whenever we need something.

    But if we stay in this mode into adulthood, it stunts our spiritual growth and our capacity to be in a deeper relationship with God.  Specifically, it stunts our prayer life.  And prayer is certainly the theme of our first reading and Gospel today.  
    When we’re stuck in the Santa Claus God mode, all we do is go to God when we need something or want something.  “God, please let this girl like me”; “Lord, I need a better job”; “God, let me win the Mega Millions, and I’ll give some to the Church, and it won’t ruin me like it ruined all those other people”; or, as the song says, “Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz”.  And then, if we get what we want, God goes back into the distance, to be beckoned when some other desire arises, like a genie we summon from a lamp.  Or, if we don’t get what we want, we can write off God altogether, and figure that He’s not worth our time if He’s not going to give us what we want, especially if we feel we’ve been good and deserve it.
    God invites us to a more adult relationship with Him.  God wants us to consider our relationship with Him more in the vein of a child or a spouse.
    When we view ourselves as God’s beloved children, and Him as our loving Father, then we have confidence to ask Him for the things that we need.  And Jesus tells us today to be persistent, as children often are when they need something.  God can’t be worn down, like earthly parents, but how many parents have relented because their child kept asking them for something.  Of course, it has to be for something good, or something we need.  God doesn’t give us a snake instead of a fish, or a scorpion in place of an egg.  God gives us good gifts.     
    And children learn this lesson from their parents as well: if they ask for something that is not good, or something they don’t need, they don’t get it.  Children may ask for ice cream every night, but they don’t (and shouldn’t) get it, as it’s not healthy for them.  Soon enough, and sometimes with an explanation, children learn that their parents will give them anything they need, and sometimes even things they want, as long as it’s in the child’s best interest.  So with God: when we ask for something good, and are persistent in our asking, God gives us what is good for us and what we need.  
    But children do not only ask parents for stuff they want.  Children also go to their parents to say, “I love you,” and “thank you,” and just to be with the ones who love them.  God also wants us to come to Him when we don’t need something, when we just want to be surrounded by His love.
    When we view ourselves as God’s beloved spouse, we also have confidence to talk freely with God.  Of course, the analogy of a spouse falls down, because spouses are co-equals, while God is not our equal.  But God does want to hear from us openly and with confidence, even while respecting God’s majesty.  Look at the first reading: it starts with God sharing with Abraham the plans to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah for their sexual wickedness, sins, the Bible says and the Catechism affirms, which cry out to heaven for divine justice.  And then Abraham tries to barter with God for the safety of the cities (which doesn’t change what happens, because there aren’t even 10 innocent people in the cities).  But Abraham has that confidence that a husband would have with his wife, or a wife would have with her husband, to talk about what is important, and to see what the options are and ask for a reconsideration.  Abraham is not rude or arrogant when talking with God (good luck getting what you want from a spouse if you’re being a jerk about it), but does not fear to bring up his point of view and make sure God understands where He is coming from.  Jesus told His Apostles at the Last Supper, “‘I no longer call you slaves, because a slave does not know what his master is doing.  I have called you friends, because I have told you everything I have heard from my Father.’”  Through baptism, we become the family of God, and God wants to share with us His plans, and He wants us to share with Him our desires.  
    It is easy to get stuck in a childish view of God, and a childish way of approaching Him where we only go to Him when we need something.  Instead, we should rely on God for what we need, but do so in a chidlike way where we can go to God, not only for what we need, but also to thank God and spend time with Him because we love Him and He loves us, and know that He give us what we need, even if we don’t always know what that is.  We should, with the confidence of a spouse, share with God our hopes and doubts, our fears and our dreams, and listen attentively to God’s plans.  
    Don’t be stuck in a childish view of God.  Turn to Him in prayer each day, not just for what you want, but to spend time with Him in love and gratitude, and listen for how He communicates that He loves you. 

Eucharistic Revival

 Sixth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  The US Bishops have launched a Eucharistic Revival in our country, culminating in a Eucharistic Congress in Indianapolis in July 2024, the the first Eucharistic Congress in the US in some 40 years.  Reading any of the stats on how many Catholics actually believe what the Church teaches about the Eucharist can be rather depressing, and demonstrates the need to reinvigorate the faith of Catholics across the US in our Eucharistic Lord.

Famous mosaic of the Miracle of Loaves from the Holy Land

    Our Gospel passage today is a perfect one to draw us in to the Eucharist, as it was one of the multiplication of loaves miracles of our Lord.  How could we not think of the Eucharist when we hear how our Savior gave thanks, broke the bread, and gave it to His disciples, so that they could give it to the people?  That action still continues today, as we give Christ what we have, both our interior offerings of what has happened since the last time we came to Mass, but also bread and wine, and He, through the ministry of His priest, gives thanks, breaks, and returns that gift to the people so that they do not die of spiritual hunger.  No longer is it simply bread, but it is the Bread of Heaven, the Bread of Angels, the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of our Lord.  In Latin we ask God in the Our Father, “Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie”; “Give us this day our daily bread.”  But in the Greek, the phrase is not Panem…quotidianum, daily bread, but 𝜏𝜊𝜈 𝛼𝜌𝜏𝜊𝜈…𝜏𝜊𝜈 𝜀𝜋𝜄𝜊𝜐𝜎𝜄𝜊𝜈, super-substantial bread.  He gives us this “super-substantial bread” in the Eucharist, which not only feeds our body, but especially feeds our soul.
    This Panis Angelicus, this Angelic Bread, forgives us our venial sins, and unites us to the Lord.  That’s why we also refer to it as Holy Communion, Holy Union with Christ.  And if we are united to Christ the Light, then those small bits of darkness that we invited into our lives through venial sins are eliminated by the light.  But, if we have invited into our lives major areas of darkness, mortal sins, then we first need to go to confession, so that we are not joining our grave infidelity and evil to the fidelity and holiness of Christ.  That is why any person, from the President of the United States, to an individual in Timbuktu, should not present him or herself for Holy Communion in the state of mortal sin, nor should that person be offered Holy Communion if they publicly reject communion with Christ and His Church.  Still, if we only have venial sins, we should approach this Salutaris Hostia, this Saving Host or Victim, so that we can be more closely united to Christ.
    The Eucharist also gives us strength to live as disciples.  The people in the Gospel were fatigued because they had been listening to our Lord preach for three days (and you thought my homilies were long!).  They have received some strength from the Word of God, delivered by the Incarnate Word of God, but they are in need of more if they are not to faint on the way back home.  The Eucharist gives us this strength.  It is not enough that we be strengthened by the hearing and reading of the Word of God (though that is important).  God wants more for us.  He knows that living according to His Word can be difficult and taxing, because living according to His Word means denying our fallen human nature and taking up our daily crosses to follow Him.  And so He feeds us with Himself so that we can live the life to which God calls us.  That is also why the pelican is an ancient symbol for Christ: it was thought that the pelican, when there was not enough food, would pierce its breast and feed its young with its own blood.  So Christ does for us: He allows Himself to be pierced for our offenses, and then feeds us with His own Body and Blood in the Eucharist.  
    In many parts of the world in the past, and in some parts of the world today, people only receive Holy Communion once per year, not feeling worthy enough to receive.  St. John Vianney and Pope St. Pius X rightly advocated for frequent Communion (as long as one is not in a state of mortal sin) because he knew that we are more likely to be conquered by the devil when we are weak and malnourished, but we are more likely to be victorious in Christ when He dwells within us.  Frequent Communions has been a great gift to the Church over the past centuries, to strengthen us to live our life as disciples.
    Lastly, our Lord sent the people away after they had eaten.  Even in this small pericope, we see the heart of the Mass: the people hear the Word of God, they eat the bread that the Lord provides miraculously, and then they are sent.  So in our Mass, we have the proclamation of the Word of God in the Mass of the Catechumens, the consecration of the Eucharist and the miracle of transubstantiation in the Mass of the Faithful, and then the priest says, “Ite, Missa Est”, “Go, She [the Church] has been sent.”  The reception of the Eucharist is meant to change us, to make us more like Christ, in our life that we live outside these walls.  It is supposed to make us more kind, more forgiving, more loving, just as Christ is kind, forgiving, and loving towards us.  The Eucharist is meant to help us sacrifice our own wills for the good of our spouse and/or family, just as Christ sacrificed His life for His Spouse, the Church.  The Eucharist is not something that we receive as a prize for coming to Mass.  It is food that sustains us to go out and proclaim the good news of the in-breaking of the Kingdom of God by word and deed.  
    We need a revival of belief in and reverence for the Eucharist.  We need to better understand the great gift that the Eucharist is for us.  And we need to better utilize the graces that we can receive through worthy reception of the Body and Blood of Christ, so that the City of Man can better resemble the City of God, to use an expression of St. Augustine.  Let’s commit ourselves today to valuing this most precious gift Christ left for His Church, and commit ourselves to allowing the graces of the Eucharist to flow through us and empower us to bring Christ to those we meet, so that others may experience through us our Triune God: the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Stopping the Anger and Violence

 Fifth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  How providential is it that, a week after another horrible shooting, this time in the Chicago suburb of Highland Park, our Gospel wants us to focus on anger.
    Our Lord begins with the commonly-known prescription that we are not to kill.  It is important to note that, while in English we say kill, the meaning behind the original word is closer to “commit homicide,” or kill and innocent person.  We might also use the word murder.  But Christ says that the prohibition against murder is not sufficient for being in right relationship with God.  Indeed, I imagine all of us here can say, without equivocation, that we have not murdered anyone.  But beyond murder, and really, leading to it, is anger, hatred, and de-humanizing the other.  
    Again, the word anger, like kill, needs a little unpacking.  Anger, St. Thomas Aquinas says, is the reaction to a perceived injustice.  When we talk about the emotion of anger, we have very little control over that feeling.  Whenever we feel that someone acts unjustly toward us, that emotion appears.  That, in itself, does not merit blame.  But when we take that emotion and use it to attack, demean, or belittle the other, that is when anger can be thought of as a sin.  So, as one calls another a name, or puts another down, whether in thought, word, or deed, we start to walk down the path to murder, to killing the innocent.  
    We may think of putting others down as a far cry from murder (and it certainly is), but demeaning another is the first step on the path that leads to the destination of murder, if those actions of anger are not quenched.  Indeed, in the Catechism of the Catholic Church promulgated by Pope St. John Paul II, the fifth commandment not only includes treatment of intentional homicide, abortion, euthanasia, and suicide, but also treats respect for others (and the sin of scandal), respect for bodily integrity, and working towards peace.  Gossip, in its own way, is also connected to this, as a way that we speak ill of others, killing, as it were, their good name.
    But how do we stop what are becoming regular acts of violence, often mass violence, in our society?  How do we work to thwart other people not only demeaning others, saying cruel and harmful things about others, but even the taking of innocent life?
    Like so many things, it will start in small ways, especially in the family.  The change from a culture of death to a culture of life will not often gain wide notice in the press.  Like the mustard seed that starts as the smallest of seeds but becomes a large bush, the transition from death to life will fly under the radar until it breaks forth in a way that cannot be ignored.
    Starting in the family, then, is the respect for human life.  Two grave offenses against human life have run rampant in our country for decades, and are even widely promoted by some.  Those two offenses are abortion and pornography.  Is it any surprise that there is a disregard for some lives by members of a society that often trumpets the killing of an innocent and defenseless baby in the womb?  Is it any wonder that human life can be snuffed out so easily by some when another human being is used merely as an object of pleasure to satisfy personal lust?  
    Society cannot fix these problems, the recent Supreme Court ruling that abortion is not a constitutionally protected action notwithstanding.  While governmental action can help, at the end of the day respect for each human life begins, is sustained, and finds its greatest success in family life.  The family knows best how to show respect for life, even from a young age.  
    I think of a family I know rather well, and one of the adult children recently had a baby.  The toddler sees the baby, and often wants to hold that baby, like the adults do.  The adults, for their part, allow the toddler to hold the child (while supervised and supporting the baby’s head and neck), and in doing so are teaching the sacredness of human life in a way a toddler can understand.  As toddlers grow, they can become a bit more aggressive, especially with siblings, when they don’t get their way.  Teaching children that they can’t simply hit or kick a sibling (let alone an adult) when that other person gets in the way is teaching the sacredness of life.  
    As children grow into teens who have more freedom and make more decisions on their own, even as they face more temptations, the lessons become even more important: not to tease others because they are awkward (as every teen is at some point); not to drive in a way that puts others at risk, especially under the influence or even simply with a phone; not treating another person, whether a classmate or as communicated through social media or the internet, as a way to satisfy the desire for sexual union.  All those ways and more promote the dignity and sanctity of life.  

Fr. Anthony as an 8th grade graduate (left)

    I remember when I was a teen, and made a transition from one Catholic school to another.  Despite the stud you see before you today, I was very weak and awkward as a teen.  I was a bit of a nerd, and didn’t have great social skills.  I remember being asked by one of the boys in my class if there were any girls that I thought were cute.  Not knowing that this guy was just out to make fun of me, I gave him an answer of a girl I thought was quite breath-taking, only to find out that the girl I named was his girlfriend.  He teased me quite often about it.  But I had a home where I could escape teasing and could know acceptance and love, which helped me navigate through the tumultuous waters of teenage social interactions.  Many teens now, with Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, don’t have a refuge where they can regroup and have their dignity reaffirmed.
    For us adults, we can work on watching how we talk about others, what we say to others, and how we communicate when we don’t get in our own way.  It seems like many more adults are living like toddlers: when I don’t get my way, I yell or destroy stuff, whether it’s at a customer service representative for a company, or in riots when a government decision isn’t what I wanted it to be.  
    If we want to end these mass shootings, there may be political action that could help.  I’m not a political science expert, so I’m not going to weigh in on what can be done in this forum.  But I do have knowledge about the human person, as revealed to us through Jesus Christ, and how the practice of religion helps society.  And so I can say, without hesitation, that if we want, not only to stop the symptoms, but stop the disease of the lack of respect for human life, it will start in our homes, in our families.  Have dinner together as a family, without phones.  Show love for your spouse and for your children in concrete ways.  Monitor video game, internet, and phone usage.  Support each other in the family.   The perpetrators in these mass shootings often do not have a strong family life, do not have a support system to reaffirm their dignity when others do put them down, and often turn to violent video games as the first place they vent their anger.  I’m not here to blame this or that factor, but only to say that we can do better, and it starts in the family.  
    Christ teaches us today that murder does not begin at that drastic action.  There are many smaller actions of anger that precede the more notorious tragedies.  One tried and true way to stop these mass shootings is to teach the dignity of every human being, from natural birth to natural death, which happens best when a family communicates by what they do and by what they say, the love of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Follow the Head

 Fifteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

    When I was in middle school and playing soccer, I often played defense.  While it was just a recreation league in the fall and spring, by the time we were in middle school, some of the opposing forwards (the offense) were getting much better at dribbling the ball, and using fancy moves to get past us.  One of my coaches, after seeing us struggle with this, said, “Always watch their hips.  They can’t go anywhere without their hips.  Whatever way their hips are pointing, that’s the way they’re going to eventually go.”  
    The same could be said about the head: we can’t go anywhere without it.  In fact, while you can lose certain parts of your body as long as you have your head, even if you had the entire rest of your body from the neck down, if you didn’t have your head, you’d be dead.  
    St. Paul in our second reading refers to Christ as “the head of the body, the church.”  This is more than simply a metaphor; it’s a reality.  The Church is the Mystical Body of Christ, with Jesus as the head, the one who rules and coordinates the other members.  When we celebrate the Ascension, we say that we, in a mystical way, are already in heaven if we are connected to Christ.  That would not be the case if we were the Body of Christ only metaphorically.  
    That is why remaining with the Church, the Mystical Body of Christ, is so important.  That is why we need to stay connected to what the head tells us.  Otherwise, we risk getting separated, and then dying, as any body part does when not connected to the rest of the body.
    In a general sense, staying connected to Christ means staying connected to His Church.  Many people feel that it’s not a big deal to leave the Catholic Church for some other ecclesial communion (the phrase we use for other denominations, like Lutherans or Methodists or Evangelicals).  But if we leave the Church, then we’re leaving the Mystical Body of Christ, and perhaps separating ourselves from that living Body which is the Church (I say perhaps because God is the only judge, and the only one who knows with surety if we are connected to Christ).  But we know for sure that if we stay connected to the Church, then we are staying connected to the Mystical Body of Christ, the Body which is alive and which is in heaven.
    In a more particular sense, we stay connected to Christ when we follow His teachings, and we disconnect ourselves when we do not follow His teachings.  Again, many Catholics consider it no big deal when they disagree with teachings of the Church that need to be believed, or disagree with the moral teachings of the Church which need to guide the way a Catholic lives.  But we can’t go anywhere without our head, and so if we are believing something different than what our Head has given us, or living differently than how our Head has instructed us, we may find ourselves cut off from Him and, therefore, cut off from eternal life.
    We saw this recently with the Supreme Court ruling that abortion is not a constitutionally protected action.  I have numerous Catholic friends who said that every person should be able to have an abortion if she wants.  This is not what Christ has revealed to us (the Church has always held that abortion, the direct and intentional killing of an innocent human child before birth, is gravely contrary to what Christ taught us).  And if a Catholic worked to promote abortion, he or she would be starting to cut him or herself away from the Mystical Body of Christ.  That is why procuring or assisting at an abortion carries the penalty of excommunication: a person who does so loses communion, or union with, the rest of the Church.
    The same can be said for those Catholics who promote so-called homosexual marriage, or any sexual act outside of marriage, whether homo- or heterosexual.  Christ has revealed to us, through the Sacred Scriptures and through the Church’s unbroken teaching, that marriage is only between a man and a woman, and that sexual acts only should take place within marriage.  Any Catholic who acts or promotes policies otherwise is tearing him or herself away from the Body of Christ.  
    The same is true, as we hear from our Gospel, for those who willingly abandon the poor when they are able to help.  In the Gospel, Christ teaches us that we have a responsibility for our neighbor, as part of our obligation to love God and love our neighbor.  When we can help and we don’t, when we purposefully ignore assisting someone in a way that we are able, we start tearing ourselves away from the Body of Christ.  Does this mean that we need to give everyone asking for money a handout?  Or that we let every homeless person live with us?  No.  But it means we do what we can, whether individually, or through a larger organization like the St. Luke NEW Life Center or Catholic Charities, or through supporting a social safety net by the government for those who legitimately cannot work.  
    As I said earlier, no one on earth, be he a layman, deacon, priest, bishop, or even the Pope, will judge a person at the end of his or her life.  God is the only judge.  And yet, God has revealed that certain beliefs and decisions are consistent with following Him, and certain beliefs and decisions are inconsistent with following Him.  Stay connected to Christ through His Mystical Body.  Stay with the Church, not only through baptism, but through full acceptance of what the Church teaches on faith and morals.  Follow the Head, Jesus Christ.

Identifying with St. Peter

Fourth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  This Gospel passage that we heard today is one of my favorites.  I have always enjoyed hearing the stories about St. Peter from the Gospel, probably because I find myself like St. Peter at so many parts of my life: cynical, questioning, a leader, a spokesman, chastised, moments of greatness, moments of great weakness, redemption, and more.  In today’s Gospel we have a number of those moments.

    At the beginning we see our Lord simply commandeer, as it were, St. Peter’s boat.  Christ gets in, and Peter takes him to the water so that Christ can preach to the crowds.  In reflecting, this is the movement of grace in our own lives.  There are moments when we are open to God’s grace of which we’re not even aware.  But there is an openness, because the grace of God does not go where it’s not welcomed.  Still, it may be an implicit welcome, one of which we’re not fully aware.  One type of grace that exemplifies this is prevenient grace.  Prevenient grace is the grace that literally “comes before,” which draws us to God even when we don’t feel like we want to be close to God.  This is the grace that pushes us to confession when we have sinned.  This is the grace that opens us up so that other types of God’s grace can fill us and compel us to do great things for the Lord.  Nothing good happens simply by our willing it.  Anything good that we can do is a result of God’s grace.  Somehow, St. Peter was open to our Lord taking over at that moment, and so He did.
    But next, Christ asks something that seems contrary to our understanding.  In the case of our Gospel, even though Peter had been fishing all night, Christ tells him to put out into deep waters for a catch.  We hear a bit of the cynicism in Peter’s first words, saying that they had been fishing all night.  Our Lord was a carpenter and a rabbi.  He was not a fishing expert.  Peter was the fishing expert, being told what to do by someone who had no knowledge of the trade.  It would be as if I told an engineer, or auto mechanic how to do their job.  How many times in our life does our Lord ask something of us, something that we don’t feel makes any sense, or seems contrary to our experience, and we, at least at first, balk at His suggestion?
    But Peter does cast his nets, and he not only catches some fish, he catches so many fish he has to call other boats, and even with their help the boats almost sink, so laden are they with the plethora of fish.  You can imagine St. Peter’s draw dropping.  You can almost hear him say, “But…but…but…”.  We may sometimes think that God can do small stuff, can effect small changes, or changes that gradually occur over time.  But sometimes God wants to make big changes, to exhibit His omnipotence, His power over everything.  Think of your own life: when has God done something large and unexpected for you?
    And then, in that moment where God shows us what He can do, we are aware of that earlier cynicism, that earlier doubt that we expressed, maybe in our words, maybe only in our hearts.  And we recognize that we are sinners, unworthy of the presence of the Lord.  St. Peter said, “‘Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.’”  Maybe our version is, “Lord, you can find someone better for this.  I’m not the person you need or want.  There are others more qualified than I for what you’re seeking.”  
    Notice what Christ doesn’t say.  He doesn’t say, “You’re right, there are other people more qualified than you.”  He doesn’t say, “See?  You shouldn’t have doubted.”  Not even a “C’mon, man!”  Christ simply says, “Be not afraid,” and then tells Peter he will be catching men in the future, not fish.  As a side note, Christ’s words are quite prophetic, as St. Peter, in the rest of the Gospels from this point on, can never seem to catch a fish without Jesus making it happen.
    One of the treasures of the Gospels is that they so often mirror our life.  We read these passages, and then think of times in our own life that seem eerily familiar.  They’re not ever exactly the same, but there’s a similar theme or pattern.  And I’m sure this is true with this passage for more people here than just me.  How many times have we doubted God, then God does something great, and our response is to pull back, to try to shrink away because we are ashamed of our lack of faith?  But God doesn’t condemn us; He strengthens us and tells us to do something great ourselves.
    But again, Peter is one of those people who needs lessons to be taught again and again and again.  He has his moments of greatness, but usually they are followed by a quick fall afterwards.  Think of Matthew 16 where He proclaims that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.  Our Lord blesses Peter and gives him the keys to the kingdom of heaven, promising to build His Church upon Peter and making Peter the first pope.  And then, a few verses later, after our Lord announced His Passion, Peter tells Christ, “That’s not the plan,” to which Christ responds, “Get behind me, Satan.”  Later in the Gospels, the Pharisees will ask Peter if Christ pays the temple tax, and, without consulting, Peter says He does.  But Christ points out how this makes no sense, since He is the Lord of the temple.  But then He helps Peter catch a fish that will pay the temple tax for both Peter and Christ.  We are all aware of Peter swearing that He will never abandon the Lord, even if everyone else does, and hours later denying that he even knows Christ.  In John 21, to make up for the denial, our Lord asks Peter three times if he loves Him.  And then Peter is commanded to care for the Church, and is told that He will die by others dressing him and leading him where he does not want to go.  And even after that great dialogue, Peter starts to wonder about John and what will happen to him, and our Lord has to tell Peter not to worry, but simply to follow Him.  And lastly, even right before his martyrdom, St. Peter seeks to leave Rome as Nero’s persecution is intensifying.  But exiting Rome on the Appian Way, Peter sees Christ walking towards Rome, and asks, “Domine, quo vadis?”–“Lord, where are you going?”  The Lord tells Peter that He is going to be crucified a second time, and at that moment, Peter realizes that he cannot leave Rome, but must suffer for Christ, and ends up being crucified upside down.

From the Church Domine Quo Vadis in Rome

     

Do not be afraid if you don’t always understand the ways in which God works.  Do not be afraid if you sometimes wonder if the Lord can do great things in your life.  Do not be afraid when you realize He can, and you recognize your sinfulness.  If our Lord can work with Peter, He can work with you.  “Be not afraid” and follow our Lord’s invitation, who lives and reigns with the Father and the Holy Spirit, God for ever and ever.  Amen.