We Have (the Holy) Spirit, Yes We Do!!

Sixth Sunday of Easter

            “Be sealed with the Gift of the Holy Spirit.”  These are the words that Fr. Mark said to the 28 people who were confirmed at the Easter Vigil just a few weeks ago.  They are the words that our 8^th and 9^th grade students will hear next school year when Bishop Boyea confirms them.  These are the words that call down the Holy Spirit upon the baptized, just as Sts. Peter and John gave the Holy Spirit to those who had accepted the Word of God in Samaria, after they had been baptized.

            Does this gift of the Holy Spirit change those who receive it?  Does the Holy Spirit matter?  Of course!  By the anointing with the Sacred Chrism and the laying on of hands, those who have been confirmed are united to the Blessed Trinity in a new way!  They are little christs, little anointed ones, just as Christ, the anointed one, was filled with the Spirit.

            Sadly, we can block the many graces that the Spirit wants to give to us, the seven-fold gift of: wisdom, understanding, reverence, knowledge, counsel, right judgment, and wonder and awe in the presence of God.  We can say no to these gifts.  We can say no to the courage, the excitement, the joy that are the gifts that should be poured upon us when we are baptized and confirmed. 

            How often do I see those gifts going unused, like birds that long to fly but are locked in a cage that gives them no room.  How often do I see people come to Sunday Mass as if they are going to a funeral!  How often do I see people coming forward to receive the Eucharist, the Body and Blood of our Lord, Jesus the Christ, the Anointed One, without joy on their faces!  It’s not that we always have to feel happy or have a smile on our face.  That will only happen if we are welcomed into heaven.  But, we can always be joyful that we are able to participate in the anticipation of the Wedding Feast of the Lamb of God, the Antechamber of Heaven.  That’s what we get the opportunity to celebrate each week.  And if we are truly celebrating, then we are not dour, but delighted.  Imagine how much fun the Open Houses that we attend would be if everyone acted their like they do at Mass!  Not much at all! 

            The Holy Spirit gives us life, gives us breath.  It is like the vision of the dry bones from the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel.  Even though the bones are put back together, and the sinews and muscles are all on the bones, they bodies need the Spirit of God breathed into them in order to live.  We need that same Spirit or else we are nothing but a collection of bones, muscle, and organs walking around like zombies.  We need that Spirit!

            We need the Spirit to be able to give an explanation “to anyone who asks…for a reason for [our] hope,” as St. Peter says in our second reading.  The same Spirit that allowed the Apostles, Blessed Mother, and disciples gathered in the upper room at the first Pentecost, to proclaim the Gospel, the Good News, to the Jews gathered in Jerusalem; the same Spirit that sent Philip down to Samaria to preach and baptize those who were willing to accept the Word of God; that same Spirit dwells within us and wants to renew the face of the earth by our testimony and witness to the Gospel of Christ.  It is like the fizz in a shaken pop bottle that is just waiting for the tiniest opening to explode out of us. 

But we have become good at keeping the lid on.  We have become good at quelling the Spirit so that we don’t have to give an explanation for our faith.  We can be like adolescents in the faith.  We don’t know much and we’re afraid of sharing what we have for fear that we are different, that we upset the apple cart.  We may not have joy, but at least we’re comfortable where we’re at, and we don’t want to challenge anyone else, let alone ourselves.  Just like adolescents we don’t want to be different.  We want to the same as everyone else.  But that’s not what the Spirit calls us to.  As St. Paul says in his letter to the Romans, “Do not conform yourselves to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and pleasing and perfect.”  Do not be the same as the world, because if we are, then we do not have the Spirit of God, since, as Jesus says in today’s Gospel, the Advocate, the one who stands up to defend us and gives us words to speak as we proclaim the Good News, that Spirit the world cannot accept, “because it neither sees or knows him.” 

“For God did not give us a spirit of cowardice but rather of power and love.”  If we have the Spirit, we have power.  Not power which dominates, but power that serves by proclaiming the freeing love and redemption that is ours in Christ Jesus.  To show that we have the Holy Spirit do we all have to quit our jobs and go off to Pacific Islands, Saudi Arabia, or unknown jungles in South America to preach conversion?  No, we have plenty of opportunities right here in East Lansing, Okemos, and the entire greater-Lansing area.  There are people who do not know Jesus and who need to.  There are people who know Jesus and have been baptized, but who have not yet received the full inheritance of the Spirit that is their right as children of God in confirmation.  The more we are willing to bring Christ to our work place and even in our own homes (where, sadly, I fear He is sometimes absent!!), the more will we transform this world to be more like the Kingdom of God that Christ instituted by His own presence here on earth. 

The more we pray on a daily basis for the gift to recognize the times when the Spirit is calling us to bring Jesus into a particular conversation or situation; the more we are proud to be Catholics and bring that into the public sector, rather than being ashamed of having different rules and different views that so many others; the more we open ourselves up to the Spirit rather than blocking Him by our fear and our sins, the more we will have that enduring joy and peace that Christ promises to us. 

And so, as we prepare for Pentecost over the next two weeks, may our prayer be an invitation to the Holy Spirit to make His dwelling in us, fill us with His power, and help us to be alive with Him rather than just dry bones rattling along in life. 

Come, Holy Spirit,

Fill the hearts of your faithful

and enkindle in them the fire of your love.

Send forth your Spirit

and they shall be created

and you shall renew the face of the earth.  

Amen.

"VENI SANCTE SPIRITUS REPLE TUORUM CORDA FIDELIUM
COME HOLY SPIRIT FILL THE HEARTS OF YOUR FAITHFUL"
From Monte Cassino Benedictine Abbey, Italy

Cornerstone

Fifth Sunday of Easter

            This past week, and especially Friday night and Saturday evening I was asked a question by a number of parishioners: “Father, is the world going to end?”  And, while we know by faith that one day, God will create a new heaven and a new earth, we also know that this will be the consummation of God’s love for humanity, welcoming into heaven those who have lived as his faithful disciples.  But, about when it will happen, even Jesus, while He was on earth, said we do not know the day nor the hour.  Still, he also tells us in today’s Gospel, “‘Do not let your hearts be troubled.’”  And really, if we are living as disciples of Jesus, then we have nothing to fear.  The only reason to fear the end times is if we are not being good disciples, and if Jesus is not the center, or you might say the cornerstone, of our lives. 

            “‘Behold, I am laying a stone in Zion, a cornerstone, chosen and precious.’”  “‘The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.’”  “‘Like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house.’”  These quotes all come from our second reading today, and focus on minds on construction.  St. Peter tells us that we are in the midst of a great construction effort: the building up of the house of God, with Jesus Christ Himself as the cornerstone.  We are being put together into one large building: the household, the temple of God.

            As we build up our own house, our very selves, we are also contributing to the larger complex, almost as if the overall goal is a condominium complex, made up of many smaller houses.

            What matters most for us and for the complex as a whole is the foundation.  Without a good, strong foundation, the rest of the house, and indeed, the complex, is in danger of collapsing or nothing protecting us from the tornados of life.  What is the base of who we are?  It’s easy to say Christ, because we know that’s supposed to be the right answer.  Besides, when asked a religious question, we have this tendency to think that Jesus is always the right answer.  But, if we’re honest, we may have to pause to take some time and think about it.  If you’re a type A personality like me, too often the temptation is for my plans to be the foundation of my life.  Sure, we can say that Jesus is the cornerstone of my life, but in the day-to-day experiences of life, to whom do I turn more for giving me a solid base?  My plans or God’s plans?  Likely, all of us struggle with this a little.  Or perhaps our struggle is with money being the foundation, or prestige, or power.  Whatever our temptation, there are other stones, better looking stones, that want to be established as the foundation to our house.  But, to have a house which can stand the test, not only of time but also of eternity, Jesus, the stone rejected by the builders, must become our cornerstone.

            Another important fact is to realize that our house is two stories: the basement or earthly floor and the heavenly or first floor.  The foundation that we lay here on earth greatly impacts how the first floor turns out.  Jesus tells us that in His Father’s house there are many dwelling places.  He goes to prepare a place for us.  But, we cooperate in building that level, too.  Jesus has the plan for us of how to construct it, but we have to follow those plans.  Otherwise, we build the basement floor on earth, and, if we get that wrong, we don’t build up towards the heavens, but rather down towards eternal perdition. 

            By our actions while we are building this level of the house, we establish a good foundation upon which a nice, stable first floor can be built, or we weaken the foundation and end up building down.  By every good deed we do in response to God’s grace, we cooperate with the Master Builder to prepare our place in heaven.  But, by every sin that we commit contrary to God’s grace and will, we undermine the very end for which we are striving. 

            Sometimes the construction of our own spiritual house happens quickly.  Reading this Gospel in preparation for the homily, my mind went to the funeral of our own parishioner, Alex Powell, a young man whom we commended to the Lord on May 12^th.  What a short time the Lord gave him for construction.  And yet, the more stories I heard about his own life and response in faith, especially during extreme pain and suffering, the more I came to know about a strong foundation that had been laid in preparation for the first floor.  Sometimes the construction takes longer, not for any lack of virtue, but simply according to the mind of God.  My mind also went to Dave Gagnier, who greatly assisted this Student Center, especially with the Liturgy, during his life.  In either case, what is important is not so much the time it takes, but how strong that foundation is in Christ.

            If Christ, the stone rejected by the builders, the chosen and precious stone, is our foundation for our lives, then we rest secure in the strength of the base of our spiritual homes.  If not, then as long as we have breath we have a chance to strengthen that foundation so that, at the end of our lives our hearts will not be troubled because we will be prepared to allow God to build up for us that first floor heavenly dwelling place.  If Christ is the foundation of our lives then we will look forward to hearing, “‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father.  Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.’”

All of Me

Fourth Sunday of Easter

            As Americans, we tend to be very practical people.  After a salesman has told us all the benefits of their new product, all the great things it will do for us, the wonderful way that it will compliment our lifestyle, whatever the product may be, it always comes down to one simple question: how much?

            In today’s first reading, we hear St. Peter speak on behalf of the other Apostles, and proclaim, “‘Let the whole house of Israel know for certain that God has made both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified.’”  Then the reading skips ahead of the main body of his argument, 22 verses, in fact, and gets to the response of the Jews who were hearing him: “‘What are we to do, my brothers?’”  Apparently, the Jews who were hearing St. Peter were practical, too.  They wanted to know what they had to do to be saved.

            Some 2,000 years later, we’re still asking the same question: what do I really have to do?  What’s it cost me?  The answer is quite simple: nothing…and everything.

            Salvation costs us nothing because it is the free gift of God, the gift given to us by Jesus, Lord and Christ, the Greek way of expressing the Hebrew understanding of God and Messiah, at Easter.  This Jesus whom we crucified, to paraphrase St. Peter from the first reading, has, in turn, given us salvation.  And to continue to St. Peter’s words from the second reading, by Jesus’ wounds we are healed.  Even though we have wondered away like sheep, Jesus Christ has brought us back to Himself because He is our shepherd and the guardian of our souls.  Even though we freely chose sin, individual acts and lifestyles that are contrary to Divine Will, natural law, and reason, to use St. Thomas’ definition of sin, acts and lifestyles which draw us away from the eternal destiny of our souls to be in heaven with God, Jesus rescued us from sin and death so that, following His example, we could be happy with Jesus forever in heaven, the whole reason for our being.  And rather than having us pay the cost, Jesus paid the price for our sins with His blood.  We are free to say yes to the great gift of salvation offered to us by Christ.

Sheep grazing in Israel

            And yet, salvation costs us everything.  Because, as Jesus tells us today in the Gospel, He is the gate for the sheep, and anyone who tries to enter by any other means is a thief and a robber, who come only to steal, slaughter, and destroy.  But Jesus, the Good Shepherd, came so that we might have life, and have it more abundantly.  But to come through Jesus the Sheepgate means that we try to get in through no other means.  That we can only go through Him.  And Jesus doesn’t just want one hour from us every week.  He doesn’t just want the times that we’re at home before a meal praying.  He wants us all.  He wants our love, our attention, our actions.  He wants us when we’re children, when we’re teens, when we’re adults, and when we’re seniors.  He wants our friendships, our relationships, the totality of who we are as persons.  He wants our work and He wants our vacations.  He wants our health and our sickness.  All of it, Jesus tells us, must go through Him.  And if it cannot go through Him, then it is only stealing from us, slaughtering us, destroying us.

            For our God is a loving God, yes, but as we hear so many times from the Old Testament, our God is also a jealous God.  He does not want us flirting with sin, in any of its forms.  He wants all of our love and affection to be directed to Him.  God is jealous for us because He knows that the only way that we can truly be happy is by going through Him and uniting everything to him. 

            In our times there are so many temptations to leave God outside and to try to find happiness and joy through other gates.  We see and hear about many prominent Catholics who have not given everything to Jesus, but who have tried to separate aspects of their life and get them in by another route.  Too many prominent Catholics or Catholics we know personally will say or tell us by their actions that when it comes to marriage and the relationships therein, the Church, the Body of Christ, has no authority.  “It’s my body, and I’ll do as I please.”  Too many Catholics consider their first allegiance the Church when they enter the pew, but when they enter the polling place or the Legislative chambers that allegiance disappears.  Now, let me be clear, the Church endorses no candidate and no party.  But, we do promote the Gospel and ask Catholics to vote for those, according to a properly-formed conscience, who can best bring about the teachings of the Gospel, the teachings which bring us life, true liberty, and true happiness, especially for those who are marginalized in our society: infants in the womb, the poor, the elderly, and so many others, as well as Catholic Legislators to promote those Gospel values in their work of forming laws for the State and the country.

            We are all of us practical people.  We want to know the cost of salvation.  It is nothing and everything.  It is a free gift, offered to us in Christ that gives us true joy and true freedom.  It is a gift which, to accept it, means that we are constantly working at making sure that all of who we are passes through Christ, the Sheepgate.  If it cannot pass through Him, it will not bring joy or freedom, but sorrow and slavery.  Christ wants all of us.  Bishop Mengeling is well-known for using older songs in his homilies and talks, and, while I won’t sing the song, I think that our desire, our prayer could be expressed in the opening words of the oldie, but goodie, “All of Me.”  Because we should be saying to Christ, “All of me, why not take all of me?  Can’t you see I’m no good without you.”  Or, to use an even older version, we can use the words of St. Ignatius of Loyola’s Suscipe prayer:

                                                

                                                Receive, O Lord, all my liberty.

                                                Take my memory, my understanding, and my entire will.

                                                Whatsoever I have or posses Thou hast bestowed upon me;

                                                I give it all back to Thee

                                                and surrender it wholly to be governed by Thy Will.

                                                Give me love for Thee alone along with Thy grace,

                                                and I am rich enough and ask for nothing more.

Mass is Boring!!

Third Sunday of Easter

            Sometimes, talking with the students, either at our parish school, St. Thomas Aquinas, or Lansing Catholic high school, I hear a phrase that I’m sure kids have been saying for a while.  I know I at least thought it, if not said it out loud: “Father, Mass is boring!”

            Certainly, there can be parts of the Mass that are not as involved.  Whereas good preaching can really lift up a heart to a deeper practice of the faith and a deeper relationship with God, bad preaching can often stagnate the faith and close people off to the graces that God wants to give them in the Mass.  I think part of the reason that people stop going to Mass is that there is not enough dynamic preaching: preaching the Gospel with real intensity, with real passion, in a way that people can understand.

            But, lest all the burden rest on the priests and deacons, I think it is also hard for people to really enter into Mass because entertainment is such a huge part of our lives, and we expect the same from Mass.  We used to having the newest, coolest things coming at us at every minute of every day.  There’s always a new YouTube video that we can’t help but watch, always a new song we need to download, and new level of Angry Birds to play.  And as we enter into the Church to prepare for Mass, we expect the same new, quick, flashy stimuli, just like the outside world gives us.   So it can be hard for us because the Mass is, more or less, the same every week.  Sure, the readings change and the homily changes (we hope!), but the big chunk of the Mass, the Eucharistic prayer, is always the same.

            In some ways, we can be like the two disciples on the road to Emmaus.  Notice that they are actually talking about Jesus as they walk from Jerusalem to Emmaus.  They’re not just chatting about the weather, or the newest toga style, or the Roman government.  They’re talking about what has happened to Jesus in the past few days.  And yet, even though they were talking about Him, they fail to recognize Him as He walks with them on the road.

            It is only after Jesus opens the Word of God to them and breaks bread that they recognize that they had been talking to Jesus all along.  It is only after the Word and Eucharist that they are able to recognize how Jesus was made present to them.  And it is at that moment, when they realize who is at table with them, that Jesus’ glorified body disappears.

            We may not be hanging our heads in sorrow every time we come to Mass, but if we come waiting for the newest thing, then we are like the two disciples on the road.  We are not prepared for Jesus to manifest Himself to us.  The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass is specifically a time for rest from the busyness of the outside world.  It is a time to relax with Jesus and see how He manifests Himself to us.  If we enter in wanting the music to be our favorite every time, or wanting some funny joke in the homily every time, in general, wanting to be entertained, then we are going to miss Jesus as He makes Himself known to us.

            Because in each and every Mass, Christ opens the Word for us as the Scriptures are read aloud.  We come to understand how the Son of Man had to suffer, die, and then rise from the dead by reading from the Pentateuch, the first five books of the Bible, the Prophets, the Wisdom literature like the Psalms, the letters of Sts. Paul, Peter, James, and John, and the true story of Jesus’ life in the Gospel accounts.  That is Jesus making Himself present to us, fully present, in His Word. 

            But Jesus doesn’t stop there.  He also makes Himself sacramentally, yet truly, present in the Most Holy Sacrament of the Eucharist.  We see, under the accidents, the appearance, of bread and wine, our God, risen from the dead.  He comes to us physically to be with us and nourish us so that we might have strength for the pilgrimage of life.  But if we only want to get in and out of Mass as quickly as possible, or if we want some new hit to wow us, then we miss the ordinary ways that Jesus presents Himself to us.

            It truly takes effort to notice Jesus.  It takes effort to celebrate Mass; not just for me, but for all of us.  As we enter in, it should not just be the standing, sitting, standing, sitting, standing, kneeling, standing, sitting, and standing that tire our bodies out, but if we are truly trying to see Jesus and know of His presence with us, our full attention has to be paid to the words that are proclaimed from the Scriptures, trying to get a peak at Jesus, as did Zacchaeus when he climbed that tree; our ears should be open to hear how Christ is made present to us in the breaking of the bread, as Christ gives Himself to us to consume; our hearts should be lifted up with joy to know that we are entering into the sacred re-presentation of the suffering and death of Jesus on the cross on Calvary, as well as the resurrection and ascension of Jesus, who conquered sin and death and sits at the right hand of God the Father. 

            Do priests need to preach to the best of their ability, making sure that the message of the Gospel is made accessible to new generations with new joys and sorrows, new quests for knowledge and truth?  Certainly.  But if we come to Mass expecting to passively receive, then Mass will be boring for us, because we are not putting in the effort required to see Jesus as He makes Himself present to us in this community, in His priest, in His Word, and in the Sacrament of His Body and Blood.  If we are putting forth effort to see and hear Jesus, then Mass will be tiring, not for lack of activity, but for all the activity we are putting in. 

            I’ll close today with the words of St. Augustine of Hippo, one of the great doctors of the Church, who realized that he could not see Jesus at first in his youth, because he didn’t make the effort to find the Lord, even though Jesus was right there in front of him:

“Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved you!  You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you.  In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things which you created.  You were with me, but I was not with you.  Created things kept me from you; yet if they had not been in you they would have not been at all.  You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness.  You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness.  You breathed your fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you.  I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more.  You touched me, and I burned for your peace.”

You're [a] Witness

Easter Sunday

            I remember it like it was yesterday.  I left the crowded streets and the hot air and went into the cold building.  I walked straight to the middle and got in line.  I went in to a smaller edifice in the middle.  It was then that I became an eyewitness to the resurrection of Jesus.  You see, I was in Jerusalem on pilgrimage with the first-year seminarians from Sacred Heart, and we were able to enter into not only the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, the place where Jesus died, was buried, and rose, but we were also able to enter into the aediculum, the building erected inside the Church over the spot of the tomb that housed Jesus’ body until the resurrection.

The empty Tomb of Christ

            Now, I’m not bringing this up simply because I’m leading a pilgrimage in November 2012.  But it truly was an awesome, and experience filled with the wonder and awe in God’s presence, to go to that very place and, while not running like Sts. Peter and John from our Gospel account today, still becoming someone who can personally testify that Jesus’ body is not there!  He has risen from the dead as He promised!

            But, even though I’d love to have a full pilgrimage, the great news is that you don’t have to travel to Israel to draw into the events which we have just celebrated over this Sacred Triduum.  You don’t have to go to the physical Upper Room, walk to the Garden of Gethsemane outside the old city walls, or walk to the Church of Holy Sepulcher to re-live those powerful events of the Last Supper, Agony in the Garden, Crucifixion, Burial, and Resurrection of Christ.  We live out those three days each Sunday as we gather as the Body of Christ in the Church.  We gather in this room with Jesus who, present in the priest, says to us, “Take and eat; this is my body; take and drink; this is my blood.”  We kneel with Jesus as we prepare for his agonizing death, which then took place on the altar of the cross, and is re-presented for us on this altar as He once more hands over His Body and pours our His Blood for us in the Eucharist.  We see His Body, the same Body which is “seated at the right hand of God,” as St. Paul tells us in the second reading, present to us truly and sacramentally in the Eucharist we receive. 

We become witnesses of the resurrection through these mysteries we celebrate today, and every Sunday, the 8^th day of the week, as we celebrate Easter every time Sunday.  This is why the Church asks, invites, and, yes, requires us to attend every Sunday: because we need to remember the Paschal Mystery each week as it defines who we are as a Church, as a people.  We need that grace of the Eucharist to help us to be faithful disciples, to love others, even the ones who do us wrong, just as Jesus loved those who put Him to death.

            And, as witnesses of the resurrection and the great deeds that God has accomplished in Jesus, we should not be able to keep that Good News, the Gospel, to ourselves.  Knowing how much God loves us, and to what extent that love goes, the message that St. Peter preached in the first reading.  How “God raised [Jesus] on the third day…He commissioned us to preach to the people and testify that he is the one appointed by God as judge of the living and the dead.”  Like any good news that we receive: a new child conceived, a new job, a new car, a good grade on an exam or paper, and any of the earthly news that we can’t wait to tell others, we should want to tell our friends, our roommates, our neighbors, and anyone about the great news of the resurrection and what that means for us: that we can rise with Christ if we are baptized into His death.

            Whether we have seen the empty tomb in Jerusalem or whether we see Jesus among us in His people, in His Word, and in the Eucharist, we are all witnesses of the resurrection.  I hope we share that most joyful of news with others that they may also find new life in their relationship with Christ.

This Shocking Story

Holy Thursday Mass of the Lord’s Supper

            One of the things I find very difficult to do is to read a book more than once.  Especially if it’s a fictional book like the Grisham novel I’m in now, it’s hard for me to go over the same story a second or third time because, after I have read the book, I know where it’s going.  I know what the rising action will be, I know what the climax of the story will be, and I know how it ends.

            The difficulty with Holy Week, in particular our celebration with the Triduum, is that we hear the same readings each year.  I’m not suggesting we change that practice, because these readings are so powerful and so fitting, that we need to hear them each year.  But I think that each of us is faced with the temptation of becoming emotionally and/or spiritually numb to what is happening in these days, because, for most of us, from our earliest memories, we have heard these same readings.  Using tonight’s readings as examples, we are used to hearing about the institution of the Passover in Exodus, the institution of the Eucharist in Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians, and Christ’s humble service of His apostles in the Gospel according to St. John.

            Allow me to try and shake you from this numbness, and allow the blood to start flowing again, giving us that tingling sensation as we regain our emotional and spiritual feelings.

            Tonight we celebrate a three-fold humiliation of Jesus that should shock us to our core.  Jesus, the Divine, the Omnipotent, the Omniscient, the Son of God, the one worthy of all worship and adoration, the Master, becomes a slave as He washes the feet of His apostles.  Now for most of us, our feet aren’t that bad.  Sure, they may smell a bit, but they’re generally clean because we are a society that bathes our feet regularly, that has solid coverings for our feet twice over, if you include socks and shoes.  But the apostles did not bathe as regularly as we do, and many of them probably only had sandals covering the bottom of their feet.  Even so, the dust, the mud, the bacteria, the infections from open blisters surely would have been the covering for their feet.  And Jesus, the Lord of all creation, takes off his outer garments, took a towel, and began to wash the apostles’ feet.  This was the work of a slave, not a Master; the work of a servant, not a Lord.  And so Jesus says, “‘What I am doing you do not understand now, but you will understand later.’”  Peter has the guts to speak up and say how disgusted He is that Jesus would debase Himself to do this kind of menial service.  If Jesus was really God, as the apostles were coming to learn, and as Jesus had claimed throughout His entire public ministry, then this was not the God the Jews were used to worshipping.  How could God who was usually accompanied by trumpet blasts, thunder and lightning; whom Ezekiel and Isaiah depicted as a king on a throne with angels ministering to Him constantly in a jeweled paradise quietly wash the feet of His chosen band of men? 

            And it is even more shocking that, rather than just wash our feet, Jesus wants to come down to the messiest parts of our souls and cleanse them in His blood.  He wants to bend down as we recline like honored guests and wash from our souls the dust of all the venial sins we have committed and will commit.  He wants to wash off the caked-mud of any of the grave sins we have committed and may commit.  He wants to cleanse the putrid, puss-filled wounds of those sins that have been festering on our hearts and souls for many months, or even many years.  And we, like Peter, tell Jesus, “Don’t go there!  Don’t do that!  That part of my life is not worthy of you.  It’s not right for you, my Lord, to lower yourself and see.  ‘You will never wash my feet.’”  But Jesus assures us, “‘Unless I wash you, you will have no inheritance with me.’”

            Secondly, Jesus humbles Himself by instituting the ministerial priesthood that will act in His name, starting with those Apostles.  He chooses, freely and without any force or pressure, to so identify with the men who will be called from his disciples that they are able to act in His name and in His Person.  These are not always stellar men.  They have argued with each other since they were gathered together about who was the greatest.  They come from sinful backgrounds, one of them even being a tax collector, a Roman collaborator.  One of His first priests, in fact, the priest who will act as His Vicar, the first Pope, will first deny that he even knows Jesus. 

            And the shock continues through the centuries and even today as Jesus so debases Himself that he continues to act in a special way through the priests and bishops, allowing them to use His words to change bread and wine into His Body and Blood.  Allowing men who have sinned, sometimes grievously, to forgive sins in His name: men who sometimes fight amongst themselves; some who still jostle for power and prestige; some who even deny or betray Him even to this day.  Jesus humbles Himself by allowing men who are sinners to be ordained, and entrusting His power to them, drawing them closer to Himself and drawing them to the holiness that is required to execute such a pure office.

The Upper Room where Jesus washed the feet of His Apostles,
and Instituted the Sacraments of the Eucharist
and Holy Orders

            Thirdly, Jesus humbles Himself by allowing bread and wine to become His Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity.  He becomes defenseless once more in the hands of humanity, not able to defend Himself, not opening His mouth, like an unblemished lamb led to the slaughter.  He allows the appearances of bread and wine to house His very substance, so that when we hold what looks like bread and drink what tastes like wine, we are holding and drinking none other than the Lord of Life, the Creator of all things, the true Passover Lamb.  He makes Himself so vulnerable, that, if someone wanted, they could do horrible, sacrilegious things to His Body and Blood, and He remains defenseless, protected only by our reverence and respect for Jesus in the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar.  And still we break our 1-hour before Communion Eucharistic fasts with gum, coffee, or even regular food and drink; still we receive Jesus in a state of grave sin, knowing that we should first be cleansed by God’s loving forgiveness if we are conscious a grave sin which greatly ruptures our relationship with God; still we consider the great gift that it is to be able to receive the Eucharist as boring and commonplace, rather than the great joy it truly is to be made one with our Lord as He enters into our very body.

            Why?  Why would Jesus humble Himself in these extreme ways?  Why would He allow Himself to do such menial work; to allow chosen men, still in need of redemption themselves, to act in His person; to allow Himself to become defenseless in our hands and our mouths?  Because, “He loved his own in the world and he loved them to the end.”  Even though we know the ending of this true story, let us be shocked this evening, this beginning of the Sacred Triduum, that God would lower Himself so much, because He loves us; because He wants us that much; because “he loved [us] to the end.”

Judging People by their Covers

Fourth Sunday of Lent

            We probably heard it in school or from one of our parents: “Don’t judge a book by its cover.”  And yet, if you’re anything like me, as I’m looking for a book to buy, and if I don’t know anything about the author, I see which cover looks most interesting, and I buy that one.

            Almost instinctually we do the same thing with people.  We look at how prosperous they are, how handsome or beautiful they look, what kind of a job they have, and we assume by the cover of money, physical traits, or occupation that God loves them and has blessed them.  While those who lack prosperity, beauty, or a job we treat as if they have done something wrong and God is simply giving them the justice they deserve.

A bronze statue of David after he
beheaded Goliath from the
Tower of David, Jerusalem

            If this describes you at all, and I think it describes all of us at some points in our life, even the way we view our own life, then we can put ourselves into the role of Samuel in the first reading, who assumes that God’s choice as king must be the most handsome, the strongest, the fittest son of Jesse.  Now, Samuel was one of the greatest prophets in Israel, even if this wasn’t his best moment.  So we might not feel so bad.  But the other people who assumed that outwards prosperity was a sign of divine benevolence were the Pharisees from the Gospel today.  They assumed, because the man was born blind, that he or his parents had done something horribly wrong to merit this divine punishment. 

            Samuel at least didn’t have the benefit of the book of Job, so we can let him off the hook a little more easily than the Pharisees, who would have been familiar with the story of Job, who, though he had done nothing wrong, was allowed to endure horrible afflictions to his family, the loss of his livelihood, and even physical disease to see if his love of God was pure, or just based on earthly prosperity.  The Pharisees should have known better.  But they dismiss the man born blind as a sinner, as cursed by God.

            We still struggle with equating earthly blessings with divine favor.  If we have a good job, if we have a good family, if life is relatively easy, then we assume God loves us more.  But as soon as those so-called measures of divine favor are taken away, we assume that we have done something wrong, and that God is displeased with us. 

            The reality is that you can’t judge a book by its cover.  Some people seemingly have everything: a good job, lots of money, a handsome family, popularity, and any of the ways by which the world judges favor.  And yet, to whom much is given, much will be expected.  Sometimes what those “favors” mask are real struggles in living out the faith, in being faithful to God, in seeing the world as God sees it.  Sometimes the prosperous are really spiritually blind.  While those who have very few or even none of those “favors” have a deep and abiding relationship with God, and rely on Him because they have nothing else on which to rely.  While they seem blind, they, like the man born blind, recognize God as He comes to them, ready to accept His healing.

            The one who proves this the most is Jesus Himself.  On Good Friday we’ll hear from the Prophet Isaiah: “Even as many were amazed at him, so marred was his look beyond human semblance and his appearance beyond that of the sons of man…[and] there was in him no stately bearing to make us look at him, nor appearance that would attract us to him.  He was spurned and avoided by the people, a man of suffering, accustomed to infirmity, one of those from whom people hide their faces, spurned, and we held him in no esteem.”  We have a God who became man.  He did not come as a prince, or as a wealthy merchant, powerful and rich as He was, but instead placed Himself in the family of a carpenter, who was too poor to offer the usual sacrifices to the Lord.  We have a God who allowed Himself to be beat, crowned with thorns, stripped naked, and hung on a cross; a man who was cursed, as St. Paul says citing another passage in Scripture: “Cursed be he who hangs from a tree” so that we might receive the blessings of God’s eternal life of the Kingdom. 

But God’s blessing was never taken away from Jesus, despite his poverty, despite his death in utter shame and disgrace.  Jesus remained the source from whom all blessings flow, even though we thought of Him as accursed.  And so we cannot assume that because life seems to be going well, our souls are ready for heaven.  It could, in fact, be the opposite, if we rely on ourselves and not on God.  We cannot assume that because we suffer some shame, like the man born blind, that God is punishing us.  Because, from all eternity, God planned to allow that man to be born blind so that Jesus could reveal His true nature by the healing of a man born blind, a healing which led that man to believe in Jesus and worship Him. 

The way to know that we are being blessed by God, no matter what the trials, no matter whether or not the world thinks we are favored, is to believe in Jesus and act accordingly.  Then, at the end of time, we will be able to judge a book by its cover, because those who lived contrary to the will of God and separated themselves from Him will suffer eternally in hell, while those who followed Jesus and lived as a faithful disciple will receive their glorified body in the eternal banquet of heaven.  Blessed are those who are called to the eternal wedding feast of the Lamb.

I Thirst For You!

Third Sunday of Lent

            If you’re anything like me, when you hear this Gospel, during Mass or outside of Mass, you inwardly prepare for the homily about how we are supposed to be thirsting for the water that Jesus wants to give us, just like God provided water for the Israelites in the desert, and just like Jesus was drawing the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well to in our Gospel passage.

            Instead, I would like to focus on someone else’s thirst: Jesus’ thirst.  When Jesus first meets the Samaritan woman, he tells her, “‘Give me a drink.’”  Jesus is thirsting.  But for what is Jesus thirsting?  Water?  Unlikely, since Jesus, had spent forty days and forty nights fasting, and was used to being deprived of water.  For what was Jesus thirsting?

            Jesus was thirsting for the soul of the Samaritan woman.  Jesus, the one who, fully human, was talking to her and engaging her in dialogue, was also the one who, fully divine, willed her into existence when she was conceived in the womb of her mother.  As her Creator He wanted her to be in spiritual union with Him, the only way she could be happy.

            She had tried other ways to be happy.  She had tried to find her true happiness in a spouse, but, whether those first five spouses died, divorced her, or she was an adulteress, she had not found that happiness that she was looking for.  Her thirst was not being quenched in human relationships.  And so she was cohabitating, living together without the sanctity and protection and benefit of marriage, with her boyfriend. 

            She had tried to be happy by following false gods.  The Samaritans were excluded from the Jewish people because, from the very beginning of their nation, they had worshipped other pagan gods instead of the one God who had brought them from the land of Egypt, that place of slavery, into the promised land; the one God who had given them manna and quail when they murmured against the Lord in their hunger; the one God who had given them drink from the rock when they grumbled against God and against Moses.  And this abandonment of the true God was only solidified when the Northern Kingdom of Israel, which came to be called Samaria after the name of the chief city in the north, was conquered by Assyria, who displaced many of the Israelites and made them intermarry with the other pagans, which God had expressly forbidden.

            Yes, she was thirsting for God, but God was also thirsting for her.  He wanted her to be happy, truly happy, not just the passing happiness of doing whatever she felt right.  And so Jesus expresses to her His thirst.  But she tries to put Him off, to keep Him thirsting for her, rather than quenching it with the conversion of her heart and life to God.  She first puts Jesus off by trying to argue about who Jesus is, and how He can give her life-giving water.  She then tries to put Him off by lying about her relationship status.  Finally, trying to go for something that surely would put Him off for good, she talks about liturgy, figuring that no two people who are so different in liturgical practices would ever be able to talk about where to worship properly.  But Jesus wants His thirst quenched, and He will not give up. 

Icon of the Crucifixion at the
Basilica of the Holy Sepulchre in
Jerusalem

It is no accident that it is in John’s account of the passion that one of Jesus’ last words on cross is, “‘I thirst.’”  Because on that cross, more than He is thirsting for water, as He gives His human life up and puts His entire life into the hands of His heavenly Father, He wants all people to be drawn to Him as He is lifted high on the cross and dies so that His children, all His children, whether Jew or Greek, slave or free, woman or man, might find life from the water and blood that flow from His pierced side. 

We know the agony of being thirsty ourselves, yet so easily we can find some way to drink.  Whether it’s a water fountain, a vending machine, or the local store, we can find some way to quench our thirst.  But the only way that Jesus’ thirst is quenched is by our love and obedience to Him, a love which does not burden or enslave us, but a love and obedience which truly sets us free.  What are the ways that we keep Jesus thirsting for us, increasing the pain He suffers by us not being united with Him?

Do we feel that we know better than Jesus, and that He cannot truly quench our thirst for happiness?  Do we argue with Jesus that only by the passing pleasures of this world can we truly be happy?  Do we figure that Jesus is not greater than our father Jacob who provided for his family by digging a well, just as our fathers and mothers provided for us by their hard work that bought us toys and relaxation?

Do we feel that only with the right relationship can we truly be happy, trusting that, if we just found that special someone, we would no longer yearn for a deeper relationship, the infinite relationship which only God can satisfy?

Do we keep Jesus away by arguing with Him over which translation of the liturgy is better, which one we like the best, and how we want to worship?  Do we try to put Jesus off, to keep Him at arms’ length because we only want to do the least that we can?

Jesus is thirsting for us, and only our love will quench that thirst.  While His love lacks nothing, He wants us to be joined to that perfect love in the union of the Communion of Love of the Trinity.  If we choose, we can keep Jesus thirsting for us, thirsting for our love in a deep and abiding relationship with him.  Or, we can be like the Samaritan woman at the well, who quenched Jesus’ thirst by the conversion of her life, and the preaching of the Gospel to her friends, and, most importantly, her love of Jesus.  As Jesus hangs on this cross he says to us today, “I thirst.”  Will we give him the drink of our love?

Who Do You Know Better? Justin or Jesus?

Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time

            It seems like anytime there is a great tragedy, especially a natural disaster, in a mainly Catholic area, like Hurricane Katrina in Louisiana, or the earthquakes in Chile, certain fringe televangelists will blame it on the Catholics.  We are charged with believing in magic and the power of works, not faith and grace.  In fact, the words, “hocus pocus” come from a play on the Latin words of institution, hoc est corpus, and was used to accuse Catholics of believing that just by saying the right words, the bread and wine could become the Body and Blood of Jesus as if by magic.

Statue of St. Paul from the Patriarchal Basilica
of St. Paul Outside the Walls

            In today’s second reading, St. Paul makes it very clear that the Law, the law given by God through Moses on Mt. Sinai to the people of Israel, does not save people.  It just not justify, or bring them into right relationship with God.  Only by grace, “through the redemption in Christ Jesus…by his blood” are we brought into right relationship with God.  This idea may seem very Protestant, but, as we know, St. Paul was Catholic.  He was a great missionary of the one Church Jesus founded.  And so we Catholics cling to this idea.  There is nothing that we can do that can earn us salvation. 

            And, in case you don’t trust St. Paul, and believe me, some Catholics get a little leery about him (mostly, I think, because they’re afraid that he bolsters the Protestant claims), we can look to Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel.  Jesus says that just because we call Him Lord; just because we prophesy in Jesus’ name; just because we exorcise demons in Jesus’ name; just because we do mighty deeds in Jesus’ name, does not mean that we will go to heaven.  In fact, to those who do those great deeds but do not do the will of the Father in heaven, Jesus will say, “‘I never knew you.  Depart from me, you evildoers.’” 

            So, if prophecy, exorcisms, and mighty deeds done in the name of Jesus don’t get us in, what will?  Those things can “get us in,” so to speak, if they are the will of God for us in our lives.  But if not, then we must be sure that we are doing the will of God as it is made known to us in our lives.  There is no magical thing to do to get into heaven.  Not even dying for the faith, if we do not have love and a right relationship with Jesus, will get us into heaven, as St. Paul says in his first letter to the Corinthians in the famous hymn of love that we hear so often at weddings.

            Being Catholic is not about doing the right things.  It is not about saying the right words.  Yes, we do need to do the right things and say the right words, but those acts, those words, to be helpful to our salvation must first come from a relationship with Jesus.  As Catholics we can easily fall into the trap of thinking that our salvation is caused by the things we do.  As long as we are baptized; as long as we confess our sins to the priest; as long as we receive communion; as long as we give money to the Church, then we’ll be saved.  And certainly baptism is the ordinary way that God cleanses His children from original sin and brings them into a right relationship with Him; certainly if we sin after Baptism, especially mortally, then we need to confess to a priest as the ordinary means of gaining forgiveness from God; certainly we need to come to Mass each Sunday to receive the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ to give us the strength to live out our lives as disciples; certainly being good stewards of the gifts and talents and time God has given us shows that we appreciate those blessings and give our best back to God.  The sacraments surely cause grace, but those graces call for a response from us.

            So the question for us is: how is our relationship with Jesus?  How well do we know Jesus?  Do we know Him as well as we know the Pope (which, for most of us means that we’re familiar with the guy, but we don’t really know what he’s like)?  Do we know Jesus as well as we know Justin Bieber, Michael Jackson, Celine Dion, or Katy Perry (which means that we probably know everything about them [and believe me, I know a fair amount of young girls who know everything about Justin Bieber], but without really having a friendship with them)?  Do we know Jesus as well as we know our friends (which means that we know a lot about them, and we know them personally, but there are still some things that we don’t share with them)?  Or do we know Jesus like and even better than we know our best friend or like we know our spouse (which means that we share everything with Jesus, joys and sorrows, graces and sins)?    In case you’re wondering, it’s the last one that we should be aiming for.

            What you’ll find, the closer to you get to Jesus, is that there are fewer things in life that can shake you.  As you become closer to Jesus, the house of faith that you build becomes more like a house built on the rock and less like on the sand, so that when traumatic events in life come: the loss of a job; the loss of a family member; attacks on our faith, etc., while they still shake the house a little, the house of faith is not washed away.  In a time when everything seems so changeable, where there’s a new iPad, iPod, or iPhone every year, and when nothing seems to stay the same, we can be sure that Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow, always relevant, but never changing.  We need that stability in our lives, and nothing else can live up to that desire for total stability, not even another person.

            We as Catholics do not believe in magic.  It is not just the right words that we say or the right deeds that we do.  Being a disciple, a good disciple, is all about how close we are to Jesus, our relationship with Him, and then responding to that love that He pours upon us in the Sacraments and in our daily lives.  My prayer is that our house of faith will be built on the rock of Jesus and will stand the many trials and tests that come along in life so that when we come before Jesus, the Judge of the Living and the Dead, we will not hear, “‘“I never knew you.  Depart from me, you evildoers,”’” but, “‘Come, good and faithful servant.  Enter into the joy prepared for you by my Father.’”

Jumping In

Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Because February, while technically the shortest month of the year, is somehow, ironically, the longest month of the year, and because we seem to be getting pounded with snow again and again, it’s nice to remember what summer’s like, to give us hope that someday, hopefully soon, the snow will melt, warmer, sunnier days will return, and we’ll be able go outside and participate in our favorite summer activities.

One of those activities that can be a lot of fun is swimming, either at a lake, or at a pool.  At a pool, its interesting to see a young boy or young girl, usually with little floaties around their arms to help them float, waiting to jump in while mom or dad is ready to catch them.  You can almost see the thought process as the scenario unfolds: are these small orange things really going to keep me from drowning?  Is dad or mom going to catch me?  If they do catch me, can I be sure that they’re not going to let go?  But then how rewarding is it when they take the leap, splash into the water into mom or dad’s arms, and realize that jumping in can be great fun, and they don’t have to be afraid. 

In many ways, the leap of faith that Jesus asks us to take in today’s Gospel is even greater than that leap of faith a child takes when it decides to jump into its parent’s arms in the pool.  Jesus tells us, “do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink, or about your body, what you will wear.”  ‘Sure Jesus,’ we might say to ourselves, ‘easy enough for you to say.  But you’re not living in this economy.  You don’t have to put food on the table for a spouse and kids.’  And yet, to many of the people Jesus was talking to, their financial lives were much more fragile than ours.  There was no St. Vincent de Paul society to help them out, no Meals on Wheels, no welfare.  In Jesus’ time, if you were somehow unable to work, much of which was simply to get by, then you had your family to back you up.  If you had no family, then you were really out of luck.  No one had your back.

And to those people Jesus says, “Don’ worry about food, drink, clothing, or life.”  The leap of faith that that decision takes is enormous, because we can be afraid.  We can be like scared, little children, sitting alongside the pool, wondering if our mom or dad is going to catch us.  But, of course, God the Father, the source of all fatherhood and motherhood, is never going to let us drown.  He is always there to catch us.  If He weren’t, we would cease to exist.  If His love were not sustaining us each and every millisecond of our lives, there would be no us.  And, besides, as our first reading tells us, even if our mothers forsook us, and what a horrific thing that would be, the Lord would never forsake us.  Even if our earthly parents let us go underneath the waves, even then the Lord would never forsake or forget us.  He loves you, an individual, with all of who He is.

And what is the proof of that love?  Jesus tells us that, as far as food goes, God makes sure that the birds of the air have food each day.  They don’t have freezers or microwaves; they don’t have cupboards where they can store canned goods.  And yet, God provides for them anyways.  And are we not more important than sparrows?  Certainly.  Jesus also uses the example of the flowers of the field.  They don’t worry if Abercrombie is in this year, or if this pant/shirt combo from Hollister is sheik.  And yet, even Solomon, the richest man in all Israel could not make clothes as beautiful as those flowers are.  And if the flowers, which are here today and withered tomorrow are clothed so, how much more will God make sure that we have proper clothing; maybe not Abercrombie or Hollister, but clothes to keep us warm in these winter months, clothes to help us do our jobs.

Does this mean that we can just put everything on Visa because it’s everywhere we want to be?  Does this mean that for everything else we use MasterCard?  Does this mean that we don’t leave home without our American Express?  No, buying on credit is not the answer.  God will not pay off our credit cards.  But if we, the Body of Christ, take Jesus’ teachings to heart, then no one will worry about food, clothing, or the basic necessities.  If we “seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness,” then we will make sure that, after we have provided for our families with the capital that comes from our work, no matter how exalted or base it may be, that what we have left will go to support St. Vincent de Paul, food banks, and other charitable organizations that provide for people in their need.  If we are first seeking the kingdom, then we are not just in it for ourselves.  The way that we treat others, the way that we love others, becomes paramount. 

But that only happens if God is our Master.  We cannot serve two masters.  You will either hate one and love the other, or be devoted to one and despise the other.  Who is our master?  Is it God or MasterCard?  Is it God or our jobs?  Is it God or our money?  The answer to that question can be discerned by evaluating what we love most.  What comes first in our lives?

Today we are standing at the edge of the pool, and God our Father is standing in the water.  Do we stay on the concrete, on the security we think we have built with our hands?  Or do we take God at His word and jump in, trusting that our Father will not let us drown and that, in fact, the excitement at jumping in far outweighs the false security we think we have on the concrete edge?  The Father is waiting.  Jump into His arms.