What Do You Want Me to Do For You?

 Quinquagesima Sunday
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  “What do you want me to do for you?”  What a question!  Besides asking the blind man in the Gospel, our Lord asks us the same question today: what do you want me to do for you?  
    It would be easy to treat this offer like Aladdin, rubbing the lamp and having the genie come out, offering us three wishes.  It’s interesting that, when it comes to genies, most stories involve some level of greed.  What is desired is personal gain, whether it be money, power, notoriety, or some other fleeting good.  Of course, then there’s the other reality with a genie, that you have to be careful what you ask for, because you just might get it and get it literally, or in a way you never intended.  

    But our Lord doesn’t operate that way.  He promises neither to give us fleeting goods which are really the idols of the world (power, pleasure, money), nor to trick us with what we ask.  He sincerely asks us what we want to receive from Him.  And notice that the blind man does not ignore his physical reality.  He doesn’t deny the trouble that being blind gives him, or pretend that all he wants is eternal life.  He asks for his eyes to be healed.  We don’t know how old this man was.  Maybe he was young; maybe he was old.  But his eyes would eventually fail him again as he continued to age.  Still, God gave him that gift.  
    So what do you want from God?  What do you want God to do for you?  When you’re thinking about it, make sure that it’s something that is actually good.  I used to, when I had some extra cash, buy

MegaMillions or PowerBall tickets.  I would tell God that if I one, I would give 10% to the church, so it would really be a good thing if I won.  I haven’t won, for the record, and I am convinced that God hasn’t wanted me to.  I hear so many stories about people who came into quick and easy money, and how horrible their lives became.  So maybe God was saving me from that pain (some of you may be thinking, ‘I’ll take my chances, God; let me understand what it is to have that kind of problem!’).  But what do you want God to do for you?  Solomon didn’t ask for riches or victory over his enemies, but wisdom.  That would be a great gift to get from God.  Or maybe you want God to increase your faith or your hope.  Those are also good.  Or maybe you desire healing from God, like the blind man.  God also grants those prayers if it’s for that person’s good.  What do you want from God?
    Have confidence that God can do it for you.  In another story of healing, a man asks our Lord to heal his son who is possessed.  The man says, “If you can,” and Christ replies that all things are possible for the one who has faith.  Do we have confidence that God can do great things?  Does He do every great thing that we desire?  No.  Does that mean that He can’t.  No.  It means it wasn’t His will.  But if you look at almost every healing in the Gospels, they come as a result of faith.  When we have faith in what God can do, it opens up for possibilities that we never imagined were possible.  As the Lord asks us, “What do you want me to do for you?”, do we really think He can do something for us?
    That question, “What do you want me to do for you?”, takes on a special meaning for us as we approach Lent.  Perhaps the Lord is asking you and I today: “What do you want me to do for you this Lent?”  What do we expect to get out of this upcoming Lenten season?  Are our sacrifices something that we do because we’ve always given up this, or done this extra thing?  Or will they truly help us to grow in holiness?  Will our Lenten practices help us to be ready for Easter, to celebrate the Resurrection of our Lord from the dead?  
    If we ask the Lord for something this Lent, He will give it to us if it is for our good.  Do we have a particular sin that we want to fight more and eliminate from our life?  Do we have a family member or friend with whom we need to reconcile?  Do we have an enemy that we need to forgive?  Lent is the perfect time to open ourselves up even more to God’s grace to allow us to live the divine life.  Lent is the time of metanoia, a change of heart and mind, a time to put on the mind of Christ, as the Apostle says.  Do we want that from God?  Do we want to change, or are we happy in our set ways of operating or the spiritual plateau on which we may find ourselves?  
    Do we need to grow in love?  Not the romantic love that we so often associate with the word love, but the agape love that St. Paul describes in our epistle.  Do we need to become more patient and more kind?  Do we struggle with envying what others have, or do we seek to elevate ourselves above others?  Does our love for others depend on our emotions or how the day is going?  If we wish to grow more like Christ, it necessary entails growing in love, both for the God we cannot see and the brother and sister that we can see.
    God is not a genie.  We are not limited to three wishes.  God truly desires our good, and wants to know what we feel we need.  He is our loving Father, and wants to give us every good gift.  As we go through this week, and as we prepare for Lent, may we hear the Lord asking us, “What do you want me to do for you?”, and prayerfully consider what it is that we desire from the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Death and Him that Conquered It

 Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time
    As we enter into Lent this Wednesday, we enter into a time of penance.  We begin our observance of Lent with the words, “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”  And throughout Lent we give things up in order to die to our will.  We fast, we abstain, and we enter into a time of making do with less.  Why?  Why all this negation?
    Our little sacrifices are meant to remind us of the one big sacrifice that Christ underwent for our salvation.  But do we really understand salvation?  Do we know from what we were saved?  Do we want to be saved daily?
    St. Paul talks about that which is corruptible and that which is mortal, and talks about death and sin.  This is something that we don’t talk about a lot in modern Catholicism, but it’s important.  Because if we don’t understand the sorry state we were and can be in, then we don’t appreciate the gift of incorruptibility, immortality, and victory that our Lord Jesus Christ won for us.
    We have certainly grown up in a society that says that everyone is basically good, and everything is basically alright.  That’s one view of the world, but it’s not the Catholic, Christian, or Jewish worldview.  Yes, God created all things good, as we heard in Genesis, but through Adam and Eve’s sin, everything in creation was corrupted.  Death entered the world, and not simply the death that signals the end of life, but eternal death, eternal separation from God.  
    And that was not simply for Adam and Eve, it was for everyone who came forth from them, that is, everyone.  We don’t enter into this world on the path to heaven; we enter this world on a path to hell, because we are separated from God.  We belong to sin, and sin means death, which is the opposite of God, who is Life.  All we can produce is bad fruit.  Even the best of us–Abraham, Moses, David, Isaiah–were all still bound in sin and could not enter into eternal life, no matter how good a life they lived.
    This is the victory that St. Paul was talking about for death.  Death claimed every person of the human race before the Incarnation.  It was as if everyone was in a prison, by humanity’s own making, and the warden was the devil.  So many came so close to getting out, only to be dragged back in.  

    But, the victory of Christ was the opening of the prison gates by one who died, but who was not under its penalty.  Christ knew no sin, and yet suffered the penalty of sin so that we would not have to.  He was able to transform the bad fruit into good fruit.  He freed us from sin and death.  And He did this by His Death and Resurrection.  And He imparts that Death and Resurrection to us through Baptism, and through all the Sacraments, especially the Most Blessed Sacrament of the Eucharist.  
    So without Baptism, without the Death and Resurrection of Christ applied for us and accepted by us, we are still in that prison; we are still subject to eternal death.  Without Christ, nothing we do is meritorious and helping us get to heaven.  With Christ, even the smallest sacrifices that we make help us to accept eternal salvation that Christ won for us.
    But while Baptism frees us from the prison, we can, by our decisions, freely walk back in.  We would consider it crazy for a prisoner who was just released from prison to walk right back and close the cell door on him or herself.  But that is what we do when we sin.  
    And so, as we get ready for Lent, we do those small sacrifices that show Christ that we are grateful, but we are also training ourselves not to turn back to sin.  The things that we give up, the extra penances and charitable works that we do are meant to help us be closer to Christ and keep us free with Him.  We give up stuff that reminds us of how bad prison is, so that when we go throughout our day we reject the path back into prison and accept the freedom that Christ wants for us.  
    So, as we prepare for the beginning of Lent on Wednesday, we are not preparing for a Catholic diet.  We are not preparing for a random, 40-day period where we give up stuff just because it’s what we’ve always done.  We are not preparing simply for a season.  We are preparing ourselves to continue in the freedom that we received in Baptism and that we receive in the Eucharist and through the other sacraments we have received.  We are preparing ourselves to recognize and resist the ways in which Satan seduces us to come back to his prison and be his slaves.  We are preparing ourselves to stay close to Christ and the victory He won, so that, in Christ, we can say, “Where, O death, is your victory?  Where, O death, is your sting?”  And “thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ,” whom we will have the opportunity to worthily receive as we continue towards the climax of the Mass, the consecration and reception of the Eucharist. 

Weaknesses

 Sexagesima Sunday
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Especially for guys, weakness is not a trait that is desired.  No one is impressed by the 98-pound-weakling.  We are impressed by muscle mass, by big biceps, and the ability to do great feats of strength.  And yet, St. Paul today relates to us a weakness of his.  He tells us about a thorn in his flesh that he asked the Lord three times to remove.  But God told him that His power was made manifest in weakness.

St. Paul

    Isn’t this the whole history of salvation?  When God chose a people, the Jews, He did not choose the strongest nation on earth, or the wisest, as God tells Moses in Deuteronomy.  God chose the weakest.  But, because of that, no one could argue that the success of the Jews was because of their own strength or cunning.  No, it was because the true God was their God and supported them.
    So, too, through the times of the Judges.  When the Israelites relied on God and turned back to Him and away from their foreign gods, God would give them victory over their enemies, even though their enemies were stronger than they.  Think of the Book of Judith.  God chooses a woman, who would have been considered a weak sex from a weak nation, to conquer the great Holofernes.  Or consider King David: he was not the son of Jesse even Samuel thought would be king.  And yet, this small, shepherd boy dispatches the great giant Goliath.  And during the reign of King Hezekiah of Judah, even though Sennacherib and the great Assyrian army was at his doorstep, after Sennacherib had destroyed the Kingdom of Israel, and mocked the soldiers in their own language, God grants the victory, as Isaiah the prophet had foretold, thanks to Hezekiah’s continuing trust in God.
    But, of course, the example of God choosing weakness par excellence is our Lord Himself, who came, not in the power that was and is His, but as a defenseless baby.  He conquered the dominion of the devil not by strength of arms and force, but by His weakness of taking upon Himself human flesh.  
    And the Mystical Body of Christ, the Church, is no different.  The princes that Christ chooses to be the new leaders of His Church are generally uneducated men who do not have much to them.  If anyone could boast about being a theologian and a religious man it was Paul, who came to the Church after first persecuting it.  But none of the twelve was anyone to talk about when it came to being a natural leader or vision of spiritual strength.  Even Peter, the great rock chosen by Christ as our first pope, was, after being named pope, called Satan by our Lord and rebuked for his lack of trust in God’s plan of the crucifixion and death.  Weakness is how God works.
    And it is how God works in us.  The more that we trust in ourselves, the less God can work through us.  This is not to say that God lacks any power, but to say that God loves us, and so does not force Himself on us.  He could, but He doesn’t.  But, when we decrease, we allow the Lord to increase, as St. John the Baptist said.  
    So how do we decrease?  How to we remain weak so that the Lord may be strong in us?  One easy way is to consider how we make decisions, especially big ones, but even the daily decisions of life.  Do we trust in our own reasoning, our own intelligence, or do we take our decisions to God in prayer?  Asking God to guide our decisions means acknowledging that another is wiser than we, and may have a better plan.  When it comes to a job to take or leave, a path of business to pursue, the choice of a car, the decision of whether or not to try to have another child, how to educate our children, etc., we should place it first at the feet of our Lord, and ask for His guidance.  He may have some wisdom to impart to us, which may even seem counterintuitive sometimes.  St. Maximilian Kolbe is a beautiful example of relying on the Lord’s wisdom, rather than our own.  When founding a monastery in Japan, St. Maximilian decided to build his monastery on the opposite side of the mountain from that which seemed the best.  The name of the town outside which St. Maximilian built his monastery was Nagasaki, and because St. Maximilian had built it on the opposite side of the mountain, it was not destroyed by the atomic bomb that was dropped in 1945.  
    Sometimes, after placing the decision at God’s feet, God does allow us to use our reason to arrive at a prudent decision.  God sometimes gives us signs of how we are to proceed, but sometimes He trusts our judgements.  But He always loves being consulted so that we might know His will first.  We see this even in human relations, where we may think we know what is best, but we ask our spouse or our friend first to get their opinion.  Of course, God doesn’t deal in opinions, He deals in truth, but still it is good to have access to the source of truth when we make decisions that affect our present and future.  
    Paul was not afraid of his weakness, and neither should we be.  In fact, the Apostle recognized that, without God, he had nothing.  But with God, he had everything, even in the midst of his sufferings for spreading the Gospel.  So should we recognize that, without God, we are nothing; we have nothing.  And recognizing our poverty without God, we can cry out to God to give us what we need, and to supply for us in our weakness.  And we can have confidence that we will receive what we need from our Loving Father, who with the Son and the Holy Spirit live and reign for ever and ever.  Amen. 

In It to Win It

 Septuagesima Sunday

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  There are no participation trophies when it comes to eternal salvation.  There are winners (those in heaven and those in purgatory), and there are losers (those in hell).  Luckily, it’s not winner take all.  There can be more than one winner, inasmuch as more than one person can go to heaven (thanks be to God, because Mary would be the only one there).  
    But we are still called to give it our all.  St. Paul reminds us that we should run so as to win, and train our bodies for victory, which means denying them things that keep us from winning.  And it means taking things that help us win.  

    Since June, at the advice and with the occasional help of a friend, I’ve been working out pretty much every day Monday through Friday (though, I will admit, I didn’t quite work out while on vacation).  I recently had a doctor’s appointment and he noted that, as far as the bloodwork I had done is concerned, I’m doing much better, especially considering that the blood was taken not that long after Christmas, with all of the goodies associated with it.  I may not be swoll (the Troopers at the State Police Post where I work out often say I’m doing my “holy gains”), I am getting a bit stronger.
    To do that I have to stick with it, day in and day out.  I also have to be more careful what I eat.  That includes not eating as much frozen pizza, but also adding good calories that helps my body grow stronger.  It isn’t always fun to go to the Post for “holy gains,” and the bulking powder I mix isn’t always a delicious, refreshing beverage.  But it helps me, little by little, to keep my body fit and lean.
    The same is true in the spiritual life: we cannot stop (not even for vacation) our desire to grow in holiness and the actions we take each day to develop our relationship with Christ.  The prayers that we say, the foods from which we fast or abstain, the little mortifications that we endure are all meant to help us train to be winners and to receive the crown of heaven from our Lord.  Some days we enjoy those things, or we notice the difference that those ascetic practices are making in our spiritual life.  Other times we seem to be the same, unfit person that we were when we started.  But the key is to persevere.
    Another key is not to make too many comparisons.  Certainly we can look to others as guides, especially the saints.  They help us to know how we can grow in our love of God and neighbor.  To continue the analogy I began earlier, the friend that I occasionally work out with is much stronger than I am, and you can see it clearly in his biceps.  Desiring to be stronger like him can sometimes push me to workout, even when I don’t want to.
    But, on the other hand, comparisons can also be less than helpful, because we’re not concentrating on our own pilgrimage, but get caught up in what others have and do.  That’s one of the messages of the Gospel today.  The landowner promised a certain pay to those who worked all day.  He even promises those who started a little later than the first laborers a just wage.  But when he distributes the pay, those who came last, who only worked a couple of hours, received full pay.  The first workers starting looking at others, and comparing their work to those who came at the end of the day, and assumed they would get more.  But they received what they were promised, no more, and no less.  Their comparison did not help them, but actually drew them away from the goal, which was to work well for the landowner.  
    So in our spiritual life, when we look at what others are doing, sometimes it does not lead us to imitate others’ greatness, but makes us jealous of what they have, and unsatisfied with what we have.  Maybe we feel like we’re doing a lot of work, praying a lot, fasting and abstaining a lot, doing those mortifications, big and small, that are supposed to make us holy.  And all it’s doing is making us look down our noses at those other people who don’t practice the same penances that we do.  Or maybe we see what others do, and we feel like it’s hopeless, like our spiritual muscles will never be as big as that other person’s.  
    God doesn’t want our negative comparisons.  He wants us to be who we are, not someone else, and cooperate with Him in growing in holiness, according to our own state in life, graces and temptations, and abilities.  He doesn’t want us to be Martha, comparing what we are doing to what Mary is doing.  He simply wants us to be Mary, attentive to Him and following His direction for our life.  

    It’s also important to note how merciful the justice of God is.  As I said earlier, the landowner promised to give what was just to those who worked in the morning.  But out of a desire for others to be a part of the great work, he pays the later workers the same as the earlier.  There’s no evidence in the parable that the later workers knew they would be paid the same as the earlier workers.  But they were.  God’s justice was colored with His mercy.  God was generous.  And so he is with us.  God is always looking to forgive us, to draw us closer to Him, even in the last moments.  Think of the good thief, St. Dismas, who at the last moments of his criminal life sought the mercy of God, and it was granted to him, like to the later workers.  So for us, even if our conversion has come late, or even if we’re still working on the conversion we know God wants for us, we should never despair of God’s mercy.  Neither should we presume on it, and wait until the last moments of breath to make a true conversion, but if we are doing what we can to grow in living a life like Christ’s, we know that God will reward that, not only justly, but abundant with mercy.  
    So, as we get closer to Lent, and are starting to think of the Lenten penances we can take on, let’s follow the advice of St. Paul and do the things that will help us truly convert our lives, not make Lent a Catholic 40-day diet.  Choose a penance that will help you be a winner!  But, also know and trust in the mercy of God, who desires heaven for all His children, so they can rest eternally with Him, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

Our First and Most Important Friend

 Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time
    Some of the greatest blessings in life are friends.  They are there for you to share in your joys and comfort you in sorrow.  The best friends help you to be the best version of yourself, which is sometimes easy, and sometimes a bit painful.  St. Augustine of Hippo had a beautiful reflection on friendship from his book The Confessions:
 

Friendship had other attractions which were very important to me – we could talk and laugh – help each other in small ways – we enjoyed doing lots of things together – reading some book – going somewhere – sometimes we would be very serious together – sometimes we were able to act the fool together.  Sometimes when we argued with each other it was not a bitter argument but like the kind of argument you might have with yourself.  In fact, sometimes the argument was the kind only friends can have when they have some disagreement – it sometimes made our usual harmony more meaningful.  Each of us had something to learn from each other and something to teach in return.  If someone was absent for some time they were missed and we welcomed them back warmly.

Maybe as I read St. Augustine’s description, your own memories with friends came to your mind, and the good and difficult times you made it through.
    But, as good as friendship is (and St. Thomas Aquinas calls friendship one of the highest goods on earth), we hear a very different message from the Prophet Jeremiah today as he proclaims, “Thus says the Lord: Cursed is the one who trusts in human beings, who seeks his strength in flesh, whose heart turns away from the Lord.”  Did St. Augustine and St. Thomas decide that Jeremiah got God’s message wrong?  Does God not want us to have friends?  
    Friendship is a gift from God, and in fact, Jesus calls tells the apostles, “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.  You are my friends if you do what I command you.  I no longer call you slaves…I have called you friends.”  So maybe Jeremiah did get it wrong!  God seems to encourage friendship, which necessarily entails trust in other humans.
    Of course, there’s a way to see this to brings together Jeremiah and Jesus, and Scripture and St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas.  As with everything, it deals with the proper ordering of goods.  Ordering good things is one of the harder tasks in life, because we don’t have to reject what is evil, but decide which good is a higher good than another.
    As good as friendship with our fellow human beings is, our friendship with God is even more important.  And this is the message that Jeremiah is getting at in the first reading.  If all we do is trust in our fellow man, then we’re missing out, and in a great way!  There are things that only a human friend is going to accomplish (short of a miracle): helping you work on your house, throwing a birthday party, and the like.  And so it can be very natural in any need to turn to a friend to find comfort or to rejoice.  But our human friends are limited by time and space, whereas God is not.  So to neglect going to God first is to wrongly order our loves.  And, ironically, the Psalmist says, “Unless the Lord build the house, in vain do the builders labor.”  And St. Paul tells us to rejoice in the Lord always.  So even with fixing up a house, or throwing a party, we should start by turning to the Lord.  We may still need friends to accomplish the manual labor, but unless that effort is done according to the will of God, it won’t be as successful as it could be, and may even be a disaster.  
    In my own life, the temptation to turn to friends first is most evident and most seductive when I’m feeling down.  Again, there’s nothing wrong with turning to a friend to find some comfort and consolation.  But my friend, as well as he knows me, does not know me as well as God does.  And my friend cannot see how certain things are meant to happen in the grand scheme of things.  So his advice is going to be limited by whatever finiteness he has, whereas God is infinite, and is limited by no external factors.  When I need a friend to lean on, God wants me to turn to Him first.  I might still turn to my human friends, but God gets first billing, or at least, that’s what he deserves and that’s what will help us the most.  
    Relying on God first is precisely the principle behind all of the Beatitudes that we heard today in the Gospel.  The poor, the hungry, those who weep, and those who are hated do not seem to be blessed.  But they have to rely on God first, and when you get that right, everything else can be put into its proper place.  Those who are blessed are those who know that they need God, first and foremost.  Those who are cursed are those who think they can get by on their own, and do not need God.  Why?  Because God has made the world contingent on Him and His will, and truly to succeed in life means acknowledging and living by that reality.  We may not always like it, but that’s the way the world works.  In the same way, we have this force called gravity.  We may not always like it, but if we try to live as if gravity didn’t exist, eventually we get to a place where gravity imposes itself on us, whether we like it or not, and reminds us that we have to live according to that force.  
    Friendship is a great gift.  “There is nothing on this earth more to be prized than true friendship,” wrote St. Thomas Aquinas.  “Friendship is the source of the greatest pleasures, and without friends even the most agreeable pursuits become tedious.”  But, friendship with God, and relying on Him first is the key to any true friendship, and not only natural but supernatural friendship.  May we not only develop our friendships on earth, but also the friendship that will last into eternity: our friendship with God.

Christ Visiting Our Home

 Solemnity of the Anniversary of the Dedication of St. Matthew
    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.]. Bishop Boyea has a homily he wants read at every Mass this weekend about the upcoming Synod on Synodality.  But we have a special celebration as we celebrate the Anniversary of the Dedication of St. Matthew today.  So you get two homilies for the price of one today.  Still, I’ll try to keep mine brief.
    I want to focus in particular on the Gospel.  Zacchaeus might seem an odd choice for a Gospel on the Anniversary of the Dedication of a Church.  [In the Ordinary Form, there are other options like a pericope from the encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well, or I think the cleansing of the Temple].  But it really does make sense, if you think about it.  In this encounter with Zacchaeus, our Lord wants to visit his house.  Isn’t this precisely what our Lord does in a church building?  Doesn’t He ask to dwell with us, in the house of worship of our parish?  Of course, He doesn’t simply stay for dinner.  He remains here, which is why this space is dedicated, or set apart for sacred use.  

Zacchaeus' sycamore tree in Jericho

    We are, in this interpretation, Zacchaeus.  We are a tax collector, who is rich, that is to say, we probably have skimmed off the top.  That’s how tax collectors made reasonable money in the ancient days (hopefully not the present day): they would add money to the taxes owed, that they would then pocket.  But, whether we collect extra money literally or figuratively, we’re sinners.  Still, the Lord wants to dwell with us.  And once we encounter Him, it should lead us, like Zaccheus, to change our lives.  The whole point of Christ coming to dwell with us in this sacred temple is that we might be more configured to Christ, that Christ may more easily dwell within the temple of our hearts and souls.  If we are not drawn to change our lives, even if we feel like we’re making the same changes week by week, then we’re not truly encountering Christ.  This is not because He’s not here, but because we haven’t welcomed Him in.
    But Christ also wants to dwell in the hearts of other people.  And so this sacred space should also encourage us, through what we engage in here, to help others see the Lord.  We are the disciples who bring the Lord to other towns besides Jericho, so that Christ may dwell in the hearts of other sinners who need saving, just like we need saving.  In that way, Christ doesn’t just stop at the house of Zacchaeus; He goes to other houses, too.  
    So while we celebrate this beautiful church today, and the anniversary of when it was set aside for divine worship, we cannot rest on our laurels.  We are asked by Christ to take Him to others, so that He can draw them from their sin, and so feel comfortable living in them.  So, too, we work at continuing to make the temple of our hearts a place where Christ feels at home, so that our souls are the temples of the Holy Spirit, who with God the Father and God the Son, is one God, for ever and ever.  Amen. 

How to Survive the Storms

Fourth Sunday after Epiphany
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  Years after a major council, there are still disagreements about how to implement it.  Parishioners from a major church participating in idol worship.  Sexual immorality at which even pagans would blush.  People trying to buy influence in the Church.  A well-known archbishop telling the pope he’s wrong.  Believers claiming they have access to what Jesus really meant.  Faithful bishops being killed.  Heretics infiltrating dioceses and claiming to speak with apostolic authority. 
    You might think I’m talking about the Church after the Second Vatican Council.  Instead, I’m talking about the apostolic days of the Church.  In our mind, we easily think that the first days of the Church were easy and trouble free.  We often like to think of them as the golden age of Catholicism.  And certainly God blessed His Church abundantly in the days of the apostles first spreading the Gospel.  But Paul talks about how not everyone agreed with the Council of Jerusalem, which said that Greeks did not have to become Jews and obey the Mosaic law to be a follower of Jesus.  People were buying meat sacrificed to idols.  Paul condemns those in Corinth who are practicing immorality and tells them to be cut off for a time for their own good.  Peter flip-flopping on whether or not he would eat with Gentiles.  The early beginnings of gnosticism, claiming a secret knowledge of the true teachings of Jesus.  Apostles being martyred at an alarming rate.  Circumcisers saying that they are super-apostles, and that others should listen to them, not Paul.  This was the early Church; not exactly a bed of roses.
    In the State Police, each Trooper Recruit School feels like it was the last truly difficult recruit school, and that all the others that came after are easy in comparison.  Inversely, we tend to think that our suffering is the worst, whether personal, economic, or ecclesiastical, and no one has had it as hard as we have.  Do we have it hard?  Certainly.  There is still disagreement about the implementation of the Second Vatican Council, or some even doubt if it’s a real council (in case you’re wondering, it is).  Pachamama.  We are definitely reaping the fruits as a society of the sexual revolution.  Economic scandals and worse are in the Church.  Bishops arguing with each other and the Pope.  Faithful Catholics of all states of life being martyred.  Confusion about who speaks with authority in the Church.  The waves are certainly crashing around the barque of Peter.

    Whether in the Church, or in our own personal or business life, we might feel like the apostles in the boat.  We’re doing all we can, using our best knowledge and skills to keep the boat afloat, and it seems like the Lord doesn’t care; He’s asleep.  We’re taking on water, we’re afraid of capsizing.  So we call out to the Lord to save us.
    Did you notice in the Gospel that Christ’s first course of action is not to calm the waves.  The first thing our Lord does is question the faith of the apostles.  Why are you afraid?  Why are you doubting?  Then He commands the storm to be still, and it is.  We keep calling out to the Savior, but maybe we feel like he’s not doing what we want Him to do.
    Psalm 107 (106 in the Douay-Reims), verses 27-29 says
 

They reeled, staggered like drunkards; their skill was of no avail.  In their distress they cried to the Lord, who brought them out of their peril; He hushed the storm to silence, the waves of the sea were stilled.

Christ, in calming the sea, was proving that He was God.  He was proving His command over the  waters, which were the ancient symbol of chaos and disorder.  
    But often times, we think that we should take the place of God and handle things ourselves.  Again, this can be in our personal, work, or church life.  Maybe we’re struggling with a family member, and rather than turning to prayer and the guidance of the Holy Spirit, we make a plan of action without consulting the Almighty.  Or perhaps a fellow employee is not doing his or her job, and we feel upset that we are working hard, while the other person is not.  Do we immediately “turn him or her in”, or do we pray for guidance and seek to understand if maybe that person has some other issues outside of work which are affecting his or her ability to do the job.  Perhaps maybe we can even assist that person and help resolve what is going on, rather than simply seeking termination for him or her. 
    I know that many are upset with the recent suggested restrictions on the Extraordinary Form from Pope Francis and the Congregation for Divine Worship and Discipline of the Sacraments.  Even though Bishop Boyea has been quite generous in continuing this Mass and the access to sacraments celebrated in the usus antiquior, I also know that some have considered going to Masses celebrated by the Society of St. Pius X if they don’t have the access they desire.  That approach isn’t staying in the boat and waiting for our Lord to help.  That approach is jumping ship into a dinghy that is partially tethered to the boat.  When there is no other option to celebrate the sacraments validly within a 30-60 minute drive, then yes, the Church does allow for sacramental participation in schismatic groups, like SSPX and even the Orthodox (if they allow it).  But outside of that scenario, which does not exist currently here, participating in the sacramental life of a schismatic church is a sin against the unity of the Church, and I would advise, in the strongest way possible, not even entertaining that sinful attitude. 
    Is Christ no longer God?  Has His promise to protect His Church suddenly failed?  Can He who stilled the storm and waves not ensure the safety of His Bride, our holy Mother, the Church?  If we leave, even for a day, we are implicitly saying that Christ cannot provide for us, that Christ cannot protect us, and that we must turn to those who have rejected union with Rome for the sure path.  But those who have rejected Rome have never been the sure path, not even in the darkest days of the Church throughout the centuries. 
    Our current times may seem like the worst ever.  For us, they may be.  But it is not the end.  Christ promise that the gates of hell will not prevail against His Church is not unfulfilled.  Yes, the storms rage around us.  Yes, the waves are breaking over the ship, and we are, in some ways, taking on water.  But if we stay in the boat in Jesus, then we need not fear, we need not doubt.  If we leave, we can be sure that Christ will say to us, “Why do you fear, O you of little faith?”  But if we remain, connected to the perennial truths of the faith which cannot change in the Church which always remains the Bride of Christ, we can merit to hear, “Well done, good and faithful servant.  Come, share your Master’s joy!”

Becoming Like Obi-Wan Kenobi

Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time
    While the Star Wars purists here might lose some respect for me, I’m actually a fan of Episodes II and III, which deal with Anakin Skywalker, and his transition to Darth Vader.  Every time I watch the movies I am drawn in by how good Anakin was, how he was driven by good motives, but then those motives get twisted when he sees a vision of his wife, Padmé, dying in childbirth (which, ironically, he helps cause to happen).  I particularly enjoy Episode III and a final battle between Anakin and his mentor, Obi-Wan

Kenobi.  Obi-Wan is trying, however futilely, to show Anakin the error of his ways, and mentions the great hope that Obi-Wan had for Anakin.  But Anakin is set in his dark path, so Obi-Wan has to kill Anakin to prevent future evil from thriving.  Obi-Wan still cares for Anakin, and so bemoans that Anakin turned to the dark side, despite his potential to do so much good.  As Anakin, his legs amputated by Obi-Wan’s light saber and the rest of his body slowly burning from lava-laced ground, looks at Obi-Wan leaving him to die, he yells out, “I hate you!”
    The people of Israel, and we, the members of the Church, can sometimes be like Anakin Skywalker: we have such great potential to do good and bring light, but so often we turn to the dark.  Rather than continuing as Anakin Skywalker, a great Jedi who can accomplish so much good, our desires and our hearts are twisted and perverted to become Darth Vader, a Sith who sews darkness.
    The prophets are like Obi-Wan Kenobi.  They are meant to train us in goodness and holiness, and remind us of the will of God.  Jeremiah, in our first reading, spoke to the people of Judah, the southern kingdom of Israel, to tell them that they had wandered away from God.  They no longer walked in the light, but caused darkness by their oppression of the poor, widows, and orphans, their worship of foreign gods, and their trust in the building of the temple, rather than trusting in the One who made the temple holy: God.  For this, Jeremiah eventually is arrested and thrown into a cistern, until what Jeremiah prophesied comes to pass, and the temple is destroyed and the people are exiled to Babylon.  
    Jesus, too, is a prophet, but not just a prophet, but the Prophet, and the source of all prophecy.  He speaks for God, which is the role of every prophet, and while some are drawn to that proclamation, others are enraged by it.  The members of his hometown wonder how He could claim to speak with such authority, as He had just proclaimed that the passage from Isaiah was fulfilled in their hearing, which we heard last week.  So Jesus calls them out, and for this they drive Him out of town, and try to push Him off the brow of the hill, but He passes through them without any harm.
    Last week I mentioned how our mission is the same as Jesus’ mission.  We are called to be prophets.  But as we proclaim God’s Word (and we should make sure that we’re spreading God’s word, not our own), we should not fool ourselves and think that everyone will warmly accept our message.  As we challenge people to live according to God’s plan, people may start yelling at us, “I hate you!”
    Part of proclaiming that message is doing so with love.  So often we operate out the philosophy that what is loving is what people will readily embrace.  But St. Paul reminds us that love is not a feeling, but is actions.  In fact, in the English we say “Love is patient,” and basically use descriptors for love.  But in the original Greek, when St. Paul describes love, the word that we consider describing love is actually a verb.  Instead of saying, “Love is patient,” we might say, “Love patients.”  Importantly, too, love “does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices in the truth.”  Anything that God has revealed is wrong, or anything that God has revealed as false is not loving.  
    This is where most people get upset, because there are many things in today’s culture that people think are loving, but because they are contrary to what God has revealed in Sacred Scripture or through the Church, they are not truly loving.  Like Anakin, there is the desire to do good, but it easily gets twisted and changes to evil because a person’s emotions or desires get the better of him or her.  
    What is obvious in the Scriptures is that people, even well-intentioned people, prefer doing evil to good, because evil often feels so much better and gives quicker gratification.  Doing good sometimes doesn’t feel good, and sometimes you don’t feel gratified immediately.  Or sometimes we convince ourselves, contrary to the ancient maxim, that we can do this evil thing because it will achieve a good result.  Evil never leads to good; it only perpetuates evil.
    We are all called to be prophets through our baptism, which means that we are all called to proclaim God’s message by word and by deed.  As prophets, though, we should prepare ourselves that not everyone will always be open to God’s message, no matter how we package it, and that it may, like Jeremiah and Jesus, lead to real struggles.  But, if we speak the message in the love of God, we know that we, grounded in love, can bear all things, hope all things, and endure all things.

If You Want Something Done Right, Ask for God's Help

Third Sunday after Epiphany
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.  I can’t tell you how many times I have operated under that saying.  In the long run it may help to explain things to others and have them assist you with your task, but in a crunch, it’s so much easier to do what you know needs to be done, and to make sure it’s done in a correct way.
    While this approach can be helpful in daily tasks at home or at work, it is poison to our faith.  St. Paul tells us, “do not be wise in your own estimation.”  The apostle talks not only about head knowledge, but also about thinking that we can take care of ourselves when it comes to our needs.  When something goes wrong, we figure out a way to fix it.  When we need something done, we do it.  We maybe even think that the phrase, “God helps those who help themselves” is a phrase from the Scriptures or at least uttered by a saint, when, in fact, it likely originated in pagan Greece. 

    Our Gospel tells us the approach that we should take, and does so twice over.  We heard about the leper and about the centurion.  Both demonstrated how to live the spiritual life: go to Jesus.  The leper certainly wanted health.  He wanted to be reunited with the rest of the community of Israel, and to be able to worship God in the temple.  But he couldn’t give himself what he wanted most.  He couldn’t do it himself.  So he went to our Lord and said, “‘Lord, if you wish, you can make me clean.’”  He relied on the Lord and on the Lord’s good will, and did not presume that the Lord would even grant his request.  But he had faith that Christ could heal him, and heal him Christ did.
    The centurion wanted health for his slave.  He wanted the paralysis to end.  But he did not consider himself worthy to have our Lord even come to his house to do the miracle.  He simply had faith that Christ could heal, even from afar.  Maybe the centurion had tried doctors to cure the paralysis.  Maybe he had tried to take of the matter himself.  But to no avail. 
    It is also important to note that slaves were property.  Yet the centurion did not treat his slave as property.  If you have a horse that is lame, you euthanize it and put it out of its misery, because it is no longer good for anything, just using up supplies.  If a tree is no longer producing fruit, you cut it down so that something else can be planted that will produce food.  Countless Romans had likely dispatched their slaves because they were no longer able to help with the work that the estate required.  Yet the centurion had not killed his slave, but asked for healing.  And he trusted that the Lord could heal.
    When we trust only ourselves to advance spiritually, we are doomed to failure.  When we figure that we have gotten ourselves into a mess, and so we have to get ourselves out, we will not succeed.  Only with God’s help can we find the healing that we need.  Only with God’s help will we find progress in the spiritual life.  Only with God’s help can we find freedom from the messes in which we so often find ourselves.
    It is so easy to become Pelagians.  Pelagius was a British layman who taught that we have to reach out to God first, to do some good first, which God will then approve.  Pelagius denied original sin, and said that we could be holy without the assistance of grace.  This was declared heretical by the local Council of Carthage in 411, and was vehemently opposed by St. Augustine of Hippo.

      If anyone could understand that merely willing the good was not enough, St. Augustine certainly did.  He had tried almost every philosophy, every seductive way of living, including fathering a child out of wedlock.  Even after his mind began to believe in the truth of Catholicism, his will could not seem to follow.  Then, one day, at his wits end from the frustration of not being able to do what he wanted, he heard a voice call out, “Tolle, lege,” "Take, read," opened up St. Paul’s epistle to the Romans, and was “knocked over” by God’s grace, which allowed him to live as he desired, according to the law of Christ and His Church. 
    But how often do we think that we are somehow more privileged than St. Augustine, that we can do it by ourselves?  We have a virtue in our life, and so we decide to achieve it, not asking for God’s help, or only doing so as a second thought.  God has to be the beginning, the middle, and the end of achieving any virtue.  We cannot start a virtue on our own, continue a virtue on our own, or achieve a virtue on our own.  The only thing we can do on our own is sin.  The rest is made possible by God’s grace.
    Or, perhaps there is a sin that we are fighting.  Perhaps we have been fighting it for some time, and we do not find any progress.  I try to give some helpful advice in the confessional, especially if I am not pressed for time, for ways that we can respond to God’s grace and cooperate with it.  But so often we forget that those practical pointers are meant to accompany prayer and asking for divine help, rather than pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps. 
    Do we need to cooperate with God’s grace?  Certainly.  Can we be passive in our own conversion?  Certainly not.  But how often do we try to be wise in our own estimation and create plans which are not based in the will of God, and then find ourselves shocked that it didn’t work on our own?
    When it comes to the spiritual life, a better adage would be: if you want something done right, let God start the work.  Or: God helps those who ask for it.  Or, to quote the Psalms, “Unless the Lord build the house, in vain do its builders labor.”  In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Jesus' Mission–And Ours

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time
    The analogy that St. Paul uses of the Mystical Body of Christ, the Church, being like a human body is pretty accessible.  We think about the different parts of the body, and how they all work together.  And if a part is not working, it can pretty easily lead to problems.  Even something as simply as a foot falling asleep can be quite problematic.  The brain may want it to work, the lungs may be getting enough oxygen for the foot to work, but if there is no blood flow, the muscles can’t respond like they’re supposed to and walk.   
    But the Church isn’t about walking.  The Church’s mission is the exact same mission that Jesus outlined in today’s Gospel.  We have been anointed “to bring glad tidings to the poor…to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind,…and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord.”  Maybe you’re thinking that you didn’t sign up for that, but you did, when you were baptized, or when your parents had you baptized.  By being configured to Christ through baptism, your mission became the same as the Lord’s, as Isaiah prophesied in the Old Testament. 
    Of course, we need to go beyond the literal meaning of the words, and go to the deeper, spiritual meaning.  What does it mean to bring glad tidings to the poor?  How do we proclaim liberty to captives?  Is there any way that we can give sight to the blind?  What is an acceptable year to the Lord, and how do we proclaim it?
    First, let’s look at bringing glad tidings to the poor.  Who are the poor?  We tend to think of them as those who do not have enough money or resources, for a variety of reasons.  But as we go beyond the economic definition of the poor, we can look to those who are spiritually poor.  Those who are spiritually poor are those who don’t have enough of what they need, but instead of focusing on money, they don’t have enough of the Lord.  We are each made for God, and, as St. Augustine says, “our hearts are restless until they rest in [God].”  So when a person doesn’t have that connection to God, they are spiritually

hungry and thirsty, and need that sustenance.  Bringing glad tidings to the poor means connecting people to God.  It may be a co-worker who is bemoaning a difficult decision in life, or a family member for whom nothing seems to go right.  If we are to continue the mission to bring glad tidings to the poor, we need to tell that co-worker about Jesus, and about how He can give us wisdom to make the right decision according to what will make us truly happy.  Or we can ask the family member if we can pray with them and for them about the bad situations they are experiencing.  That is how we bring glad tidings to the poor.
    When it comes to proclaiming liberty to captives, we’re not talking about letting people out of jail, which is generally a bad idea.  The captivity that binds us all is sin, as Jesus says in the Gospels, and St. Paul reaffirms in some of his epistles.  To proclaim liberty is to let people know that there is a way to unload their burden of sin, and find the freedom they want.  It may mean inviting someone to go to confession with us.  Or it may mean being an accountability partner for someone who is stuck in a cycle of addition.  But Jesus charges us with the task of letting people know that they do not have to continue in slavery to sin, but can find the freedom that they desire, the freedom of the children of God.
    In the Gospel according to John, Jesus calls the Pharisees blind because they are unaware of their sin, even while they are condemning the man who was born blind but whom Jesus healed.  The physically blind cannot see the physical world, which creates unique challenges to life.  The spiritually blind cannot see the spiritual world, which creates challenges both in the spiritual and the physical world.  If a person believes that this life is all there is, that there is no God, they will stumble through a world that God created according to His plan.  If a person does not acknowledge what God has revealed to make them happy, then they will be miserable.  So our duty as people on the mission is to help them see how the world truly works, not from an earthly point of view, but from a spiritual point of view.  We do this by encouraging those who can work to do so, to build up the society in which they live, rather than simply taking from a government program.  We encourage the virtue of chastity, especially, but not only, to the youth in our families, because the vice of lust leads people to trip and fall over many pitfalls that God does not want for their lives.  We invite people to come to Mass with us on Sunday, not because it’s easy or we always feel we get something out of it, but because God has made us to praise Him, and when we don’t, we’re lacking the ability to hear how God wants to most easily speak to us.
    Last, but not least, to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord.  The acceptable year of the Lord was the jubilee, the celebration every 7 years, and especially in the 50th year, of a rest granted by the Lord.  Our words and our actions should point to heaven, which is the eternal rest to which the jubilee year pointed.  But we get there by the narrow path, not by the wide road.  So proclaiming that acceptable year means reminding people that this life is not all there is, and that heaven is what God wants for us, but we have to accept that gift of eternal life by the daily decisions that we make.  We tell others about Jesus’ Resurrection, and how that ensures for us the possibility of eternal life, where we will eternally worship God in the wedding feast of the Lamb. 
    When we were baptized, we were anointed with the Sacred Chrism which made us little christs, little anointed ones.  At that moment, the mission that Isaiah proclaimed, and that Jesus said was fulfilled in the hearing in the synagogue, became our mission, too.  Today, the Lord invites us to recommit ourselves to the mission: “to bring glad tidings to the poor,…to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind,…and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord.”