Two desperately critical situations are presented to us in today’s gospel. The first involves a man, the father of a beloved but dying child. The second concerns a woman who had spent her every penny in seeking a cure for an illness, only to see it grow worse.
Considering their respective plights, it would have been tempting for either of these individuals to have responded with the cynicism of those who ridiculed Jesus, the hopelessness of those who said, “Why bother the teacher further?” and the bitterness of the mourners who cried and wailed out loud.
But both this man and woman approached Jesus in faith- in fact, they fell on their knees before him- and their lives were radically changed. They witnessed the tenderness of Jesus, experienced his healing touch, and were astonished at his raising the dead.
It’s certainly possible that both of them were people of sincere faith long before their crises arose. But their stories remind us that when life’s inevitable crises do arise, anyone’s faith can be tested. It’s then that Jesus’ words today can ring so true and touch us so deeply: “Fear is useless. What is needed is trust.”
Today's Mass readings: http://www.usccb.org/nab/020111.shtml
Monday, January 31, 2011
Saturday, January 29, 2011
St. John Bosco - January 31
An older man I know well is terrified of death, because he fears condemnation, rejection, and a harsh judgment from God. At the same time, he reflects on his experience on being a father. He says that he always tried to be gentle with his kids, and love them “no matter what.” Since God is his Father, he wonders if God will treat him the same way he tried to treat his own children. Nevertheless, he just can’t get rid of his image of a wrathful God.
Many people, like my acquaintance, live in fear of a vengeful, punishing God. I mention this because today is the memorial of St. John Bosco. When he was a child, John Bosco had a dream in which he was surrounded by misbehaving and foul-mouthed boys. John tried to stop them by shouting and fighting, but was unsuccessful. Then a man, dressed in a flowing robe and whose face was filled with light, made John the leader of the boys and said: “You will have to win these friends of yours, not with blows, but with gentleness and kindness.” Later in life, John Bosco took these words to heart in his priestly work with poor and neglected children.
John Bosco founded an order, known today as the Salesians of John Bosco, to assist him. In their work, he forbade spanking or any form of corporal punishment, and he stressed the importance of being joyful, friendly, kind, and patient with the children they served. Children should be treated that way, he taught, because this is how Jesus treats us. John Bosco wrote: “(Jesus) treated sinners with a kindness and affection that caused some to be shocked, others to be scandalized, and still others to hope for God’s mercy.”
Let us be among those who hope for God’s mercy, as we allow the gentle witness of St. John Bosco, remind us, and assure us, of the gentleness of God.
Friday, January 28, 2011
St. Thomas Aquinas
While celebrating Mass one day near the end of his life, St. Thomas Aquinas was blessed with a vision of God. This revelation affected him so profoundly that he stopped all work on his great Summary of Theology, or Summa Theologica. When he was asked by a friend to reconsider, Aquinas replied that after his experience, all his writings seemed like nothing more than “straw.” This famous statement is a key to understanding why Thomas Aquinas is a saint.
We know that this Dominican friar was one of the greatest theologians of the high Middle Ages. It is for good reason that he is a Doctor of the Church! However, it is not because of his great intellectual abilities that he is a saint.
Instead, Thomas Aquinas is a saint because he lived an authentically holy life, a life that we can imitate, even if we aren’t great intellectuals or scholars. For instance, Thomas was a man of deep and disciplined prayer who loved the Lord, knew his Bible well, and had a devotion to the Mass and our Lord’s presence in the Blessed Sacrament. And in spite of his academic gifts, Thomas was a humble man, because he knew it was the Lord who had given him his abilities in the first place.
Once while he was praying, Thomas heard the voice of the Lord say to him: “You have written well of me, Thomas. What reward would you have?” Thomas replied: “Lord, I would have you.” As a saint, he knew that he should ask for nothing less. But then, neither should we.
We know that this Dominican friar was one of the greatest theologians of the high Middle Ages. It is for good reason that he is a Doctor of the Church! However, it is not because of his great intellectual abilities that he is a saint.
Instead, Thomas Aquinas is a saint because he lived an authentically holy life, a life that we can imitate, even if we aren’t great intellectuals or scholars. For instance, Thomas was a man of deep and disciplined prayer who loved the Lord, knew his Bible well, and had a devotion to the Mass and our Lord’s presence in the Blessed Sacrament. And in spite of his academic gifts, Thomas was a humble man, because he knew it was the Lord who had given him his abilities in the first place.
Once while he was praying, Thomas heard the voice of the Lord say to him: “You have written well of me, Thomas. What reward would you have?” Thomas replied: “Lord, I would have you.” As a saint, he knew that he should ask for nothing less. But then, neither should we.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time
If someone were to ask you the question, “What makes you happy?” how would you answer? I asked this question of my son when he was five, and he said: “Being with my friends!” Which, of course, made me happy to hear.
Charlie is far from being alone. Surveys have revealed that 76% of us consider our friendships to be a major source of happiness. Other studies indicate that being surrounded by a supportive community of friends greatly contributes to our sense of well-being. Which shouldn’t surprise us, I guess, since we are made in the image and likeness of God the Holy Trinity- a community of three Persons united in perfect love!
The truth is, God made us to be happy. God himself is happy, and he wants us to share his happiness. Unfortunately, we Christians can forget this at times, especially since our faith places a positive value on suffering and calls us to sacrifice and repent of our sins. We can lose sight of the fact that the core message of our religion is not suffering and death, but resurrection and new life! Yes, we Catholics do observe Lent- which lasts forty days, right? But Lent is followed by Easter- which lasts fifty! Of course, our faith is serious business. But it shouldn’t make us sad.
The Catholic humorist Erma Bombeck once wrote of a little boy she saw at a Mass who kept turning around and smiling at everyone. He was being well-behaved. He just was enjoying smiling at people. But suddenly his mother yanked him around and hissed: “Stop that grinning. You’re in Church!” It’s no wonder that Billy Joel sang that he’d “rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints!” Or as St. Theresa of Avila once prayed with her tongue in her cheek, “From sour-faced saints, good Lord, deliver us!”
But real saints are happy people. Think about it: If Christians were all sad sacks, the Church would have expired long ago. If we put up a sign in front of St. Hugh’s that read, “Come and be Unhappy with Us,” I think we’d wind up with a lot of empty pews pretty fast, and I’d be out of a job!
If you laughed at that, I’m glad you did, because laughter is a characteristic of healthy and growing churches! And that same laughter can also contribute to our happiness. Indeed, there are a lot of things that can help us to be happy- spending time with our family, working at a satisfying job, exercising, enjoying a hobby, having a pet, getting proper rest, learning to forgive, counting our blessings, and doing good things for other people. But none of these things, as good as they might be, will completely satisfy our quest for happiness. If we expect them to do so, we’ll wind up bouncing from one activity or experience to the next, and we’ll end up exhausted, frustrated, possibly addicted and, ironically, unhappy.
We especially cannot expect other people to satisfy our desire for happiness. It’s an unrealistic expectation for us, and it is deeply unfair to the other person or persons. Maybe this is why experts tell us that those who are happiest in their marriages are those who have the most realistic expectations of their spouses.
My spiritual director once gave me a penance in confession that was one of the most meaningful and appropriate I’ve ever received. My penance was this: Every time I passed in front of a tabernacle or a crucifix, I was to pray, “Lord, only you can satisfy my deepest longing for love.” This was to be my reminder that nothing short of God- not my wife, not my kids, not my ministry, not my friends, not my house, not my possessions- nothing short of God can satisfy my longing for happiness. As St. Therese the Little Flower once prayed, “Jesus, you alone can satisfy my soul. Nothing can charm me here below. True happiness cannot be found here…my own peace, my only happiness, my only love is you, Lord!”
God gave us our desire for happiness so that we might seek him and find him. Or to put it another way, we are happy when we are what God created us to be: his cherished sons and daughters. We see this vision of happiness in the Beatitudes we just heard from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. In short, Jesus said that we are blessed, or happy, if we: A) know our need for God; B) are dependent on God; and C) are obedient to God. It’s been said many times that the Beatitudes describe the life of Jesus himself. He was all the things and did all the things that he speaks of in the Beatitudes. It follows, then, that happiness is to be found by living in imitation of Jesus.
In a sense, our happiness depends on the choices we make- choices to follow Jesus and to obey the Father’s will. As Jesuit author Fr. John Powell would remind himself with a message taped to his bathroom mirror, “You are responsible for your own happiness!” But at the same time, Christian happiness is a gift from God. It is God who created us with a desire for happiness, it is only God who can fill that need with the gift of himself, and it is Jesus who shows us the way and calls us to follow.
Talk of Christian happiness does not mean that Christians don’t get unhappy. We do. Christians get depressed. Christians get sad. Christians weep, just like Jesus wept. Yet even in our darkest moments, the root of our happiness remains, as long as our faith remains. Why? Because we know why we exist, and we know what we’re about. We know that we’re loved, we know that we’re redeemed, and we know that we’re forgiven. We know what to live for, and we know what to die for. And we know that something wonderful awaits us in heaven- Happiness without limit; a happiness that will never end.
Charlie is far from being alone. Surveys have revealed that 76% of us consider our friendships to be a major source of happiness. Other studies indicate that being surrounded by a supportive community of friends greatly contributes to our sense of well-being. Which shouldn’t surprise us, I guess, since we are made in the image and likeness of God the Holy Trinity- a community of three Persons united in perfect love!
The truth is, God made us to be happy. God himself is happy, and he wants us to share his happiness. Unfortunately, we Christians can forget this at times, especially since our faith places a positive value on suffering and calls us to sacrifice and repent of our sins. We can lose sight of the fact that the core message of our religion is not suffering and death, but resurrection and new life! Yes, we Catholics do observe Lent- which lasts forty days, right? But Lent is followed by Easter- which lasts fifty! Of course, our faith is serious business. But it shouldn’t make us sad.
The Catholic humorist Erma Bombeck once wrote of a little boy she saw at a Mass who kept turning around and smiling at everyone. He was being well-behaved. He just was enjoying smiling at people. But suddenly his mother yanked him around and hissed: “Stop that grinning. You’re in Church!” It’s no wonder that Billy Joel sang that he’d “rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints!” Or as St. Theresa of Avila once prayed with her tongue in her cheek, “From sour-faced saints, good Lord, deliver us!”
But real saints are happy people. Think about it: If Christians were all sad sacks, the Church would have expired long ago. If we put up a sign in front of St. Hugh’s that read, “Come and be Unhappy with Us,” I think we’d wind up with a lot of empty pews pretty fast, and I’d be out of a job!
If you laughed at that, I’m glad you did, because laughter is a characteristic of healthy and growing churches! And that same laughter can also contribute to our happiness. Indeed, there are a lot of things that can help us to be happy- spending time with our family, working at a satisfying job, exercising, enjoying a hobby, having a pet, getting proper rest, learning to forgive, counting our blessings, and doing good things for other people. But none of these things, as good as they might be, will completely satisfy our quest for happiness. If we expect them to do so, we’ll wind up bouncing from one activity or experience to the next, and we’ll end up exhausted, frustrated, possibly addicted and, ironically, unhappy.
We especially cannot expect other people to satisfy our desire for happiness. It’s an unrealistic expectation for us, and it is deeply unfair to the other person or persons. Maybe this is why experts tell us that those who are happiest in their marriages are those who have the most realistic expectations of their spouses.
My spiritual director once gave me a penance in confession that was one of the most meaningful and appropriate I’ve ever received. My penance was this: Every time I passed in front of a tabernacle or a crucifix, I was to pray, “Lord, only you can satisfy my deepest longing for love.” This was to be my reminder that nothing short of God- not my wife, not my kids, not my ministry, not my friends, not my house, not my possessions- nothing short of God can satisfy my longing for happiness. As St. Therese the Little Flower once prayed, “Jesus, you alone can satisfy my soul. Nothing can charm me here below. True happiness cannot be found here…my own peace, my only happiness, my only love is you, Lord!”
God gave us our desire for happiness so that we might seek him and find him. Or to put it another way, we are happy when we are what God created us to be: his cherished sons and daughters. We see this vision of happiness in the Beatitudes we just heard from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. In short, Jesus said that we are blessed, or happy, if we: A) know our need for God; B) are dependent on God; and C) are obedient to God. It’s been said many times that the Beatitudes describe the life of Jesus himself. He was all the things and did all the things that he speaks of in the Beatitudes. It follows, then, that happiness is to be found by living in imitation of Jesus.
In a sense, our happiness depends on the choices we make- choices to follow Jesus and to obey the Father’s will. As Jesuit author Fr. John Powell would remind himself with a message taped to his bathroom mirror, “You are responsible for your own happiness!” But at the same time, Christian happiness is a gift from God. It is God who created us with a desire for happiness, it is only God who can fill that need with the gift of himself, and it is Jesus who shows us the way and calls us to follow.
Talk of Christian happiness does not mean that Christians don’t get unhappy. We do. Christians get depressed. Christians get sad. Christians weep, just like Jesus wept. Yet even in our darkest moments, the root of our happiness remains, as long as our faith remains. Why? Because we know why we exist, and we know what we’re about. We know that we’re loved, we know that we’re redeemed, and we know that we’re forgiven. We know what to live for, and we know what to die for. And we know that something wonderful awaits us in heaven- Happiness without limit; a happiness that will never end.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Thursday of Ordinary 3
The long nights and short days we experience this time of year can be kind of depressing; they can lower both our mood and our energy. Some call it the “winter blues.” In an extreme form, this condition is known as “Seasonal Affective Disorder,” or SAD for short. It’s typically treated with “light therapy,” in which artificial light is used to lift a person’s spirits.
Jesus knows that people can suffer when they’re deprived of light; he understands that experiencing too much darkness can be depressing, confusing, even frightening. That’s why, in today’s gospel, he said that light should not be hidden, but placed in full view so that all can benefit. The light he speaks of is his light that shines through us whenever we bear witness to him through acts of love, compassion, and mercy- acts which can dispel the darkness which fills so many lives.
I’ve heard it explained that one reason we Catholics have historically lit candles in churches is to fill our churches with light, because before the introduction of electricity, churches could be dark spaces indeed. To light a candle, then, was more than an act of prayer; it was a gift of illumination. If we allow him, Jesus can use each one of us to be a gift of light to scatter the world’s darkness, and offer it the hope that only he, the light of the world, can give.
Jesus knows that people can suffer when they’re deprived of light; he understands that experiencing too much darkness can be depressing, confusing, even frightening. That’s why, in today’s gospel, he said that light should not be hidden, but placed in full view so that all can benefit. The light he speaks of is his light that shines through us whenever we bear witness to him through acts of love, compassion, and mercy- acts which can dispel the darkness which fills so many lives.
I’ve heard it explained that one reason we Catholics have historically lit candles in churches is to fill our churches with light, because before the introduction of electricity, churches could be dark spaces indeed. To light a candle, then, was more than an act of prayer; it was a gift of illumination. If we allow him, Jesus can use each one of us to be a gift of light to scatter the world’s darkness, and offer it the hope that only he, the light of the world, can give.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Saints Timothy and Titus
A friend of mine works in a very stressful work environment. Nevertheless, she's always been able to maintain her composure and a sense of peace on the job. During one especially tense day, a colleague came to her in tears and asked her how she was able to handle all of their workplace stresses. My friend explained that she could do so only on account of her Catholic faith. As it was, she was on her way to the lunchtime Mass at St. Matthew's Cathedral, and she invited her co-worker to come along. One year later, that co-worker was baptised at Easter- and my friend was her sponsor.
I share this story of evangelism becasue Saints Timothy and Titus, whose feast we celebrate today, were great evangelists during the earliest years of the Church. Many people came to embrace the faith becasue of their efforts. Titus himself probably came to faith through the evangelism of St. Paul, who was a friend and mentor. Timothy, however, as Paul acknowledged in today's first reading, came to faith becasue of the witness of his grandmother Lois, and Eunice, his mother. Just like my friend's co-worker, Timothy came to faith thanks to the witness of those who were close to him.
This is something for us to keep in mind. As Pope Paul VI once said, "The Church exists to evangelize." Unfortunately, evangelism isn't something we're always comfortable with. That's why Paul's instruction to Timothy, "do not be ashamed of our testimony to our Lord," is good advice for us too.
Maybe we're not called to be a Timothy or a Titus. But we can be like Lois, Eunice, and my friend, and share our faith with those in our lives. They remind us that evangelism, like charity, begins at home. Beginning from there, let us, in the words of today's psalm, "Proclaim God's marvellous deeds to all the nations."
I share this story of evangelism becasue Saints Timothy and Titus, whose feast we celebrate today, were great evangelists during the earliest years of the Church. Many people came to embrace the faith becasue of their efforts. Titus himself probably came to faith through the evangelism of St. Paul, who was a friend and mentor. Timothy, however, as Paul acknowledged in today's first reading, came to faith becasue of the witness of his grandmother Lois, and Eunice, his mother. Just like my friend's co-worker, Timothy came to faith thanks to the witness of those who were close to him.
This is something for us to keep in mind. As Pope Paul VI once said, "The Church exists to evangelize." Unfortunately, evangelism isn't something we're always comfortable with. That's why Paul's instruction to Timothy, "do not be ashamed of our testimony to our Lord," is good advice for us too.
Maybe we're not called to be a Timothy or a Titus. But we can be like Lois, Eunice, and my friend, and share our faith with those in our lives. They remind us that evangelism, like charity, begins at home. Beginning from there, let us, in the words of today's psalm, "Proclaim God's marvellous deeds to all the nations."
Monday, January 24, 2011
Conversion of St. Paul
A friend of mine once preached a homily in which he stood before an altar with a big green trash bag stuffed full with paper. He held the bag up and said, “This bag is our life.” “As Christians,” he continued, “we seek to give our lives to Christ.” He then turned around and reverently placed the bag before the altar. “But then,” he said, “we always try to take our life back again,” and he unceremoniously snatched the bag up.
Corny, I’ll admit, although I’ve remembered it for eighteen years. It does, however, happen to be true. All of us intend to surrender our life to Christ in trust and obedience. But we inevitably hold something back or take something back. There are always parts of our life we haven’t given to Jesus, are unwilling to give to Jesus, or we find really difficult to give to Jesus. Often, we don’t know ourselves well enough to give all of ourselves to Jesus. That’s why giving our lives to Jesus involves a process of ongoing, lifelong conversion.
Maybe that’s something to keep in mind on this Feast of the Conversion of St. Paul. It might be better to call it, “The Feast of the Beginning of the Conversion of St. Paul.” What we recall today was St. Paul’s conversion to the Faith, which was a key event in the worldwide spread of the Church. For Paul, however, it was only the beginning of his conversion to Christ.
Paul’s conversion process was a struggle. In his letters, he speaks of fighting the good fight, running the race, beating his body, growing from spiritual infancy to spiritual maturity, engaging in battle with the armor of God, and pressing on toward a prize he had yet to reach.
Yet Paul did reach the prize. His experience of lifelong conversion reminds us that while there are no overnight saints, there are saints nevertheless. A saint is what Paul became, and with the grace of God, so can we. St. Paul, pray for us!
Corny, I’ll admit, although I’ve remembered it for eighteen years. It does, however, happen to be true. All of us intend to surrender our life to Christ in trust and obedience. But we inevitably hold something back or take something back. There are always parts of our life we haven’t given to Jesus, are unwilling to give to Jesus, or we find really difficult to give to Jesus. Often, we don’t know ourselves well enough to give all of ourselves to Jesus. That’s why giving our lives to Jesus involves a process of ongoing, lifelong conversion.
Maybe that’s something to keep in mind on this Feast of the Conversion of St. Paul. It might be better to call it, “The Feast of the Beginning of the Conversion of St. Paul.” What we recall today was St. Paul’s conversion to the Faith, which was a key event in the worldwide spread of the Church. For Paul, however, it was only the beginning of his conversion to Christ.
Paul’s conversion process was a struggle. In his letters, he speaks of fighting the good fight, running the race, beating his body, growing from spiritual infancy to spiritual maturity, engaging in battle with the armor of God, and pressing on toward a prize he had yet to reach.
Yet Paul did reach the prize. His experience of lifelong conversion reminds us that while there are no overnight saints, there are saints nevertheless. A saint is what Paul became, and with the grace of God, so can we. St. Paul, pray for us!
Sunday, January 23, 2011
St. Francis de Sales
Jane de Chantal's pain was understandable. Her beloved husband had been shot to death by a close companion in a tragic hunting accident, leaving her a single mother at the mercy of a tyrranical father-in-law. Her best friend was now gone; her whole world had been turned upside down; she sank into depression. In her heartbreak, she was unable to forgive the man who shot her husband, whom she would encounter in town.
But then the Bishop of Geneva, Francis de Sales, came into her life as a spiritual director. By appreciating the depth of her pain, he knew that forgiveness would take time. In fact, it would take six years. Throughout, Francis was patient with Jane, becasue Francis knew the patience of God.
We sometimes speak of people who have "the patience of a saint." Francis de Sales had that type of patience. But then again, he is in fact a saint. And helped by that patience, so is Jane de Chantal.
We're called to be saints too. That requires patience. And don't we all need more of that? We need more patience with others; we need more patience with ourselves; we need more patience with God too.
Thankfully, patience is a virtue. Which means that, at the end of the day, patience is a gift from God. And if patience comes from God, then we can certainly ask him for it. Indeed, we should. St. Francis de Sales knew that well. "You need patience..." he once wrote to a friend. But then he added: "...and God will give it to you."
But then the Bishop of Geneva, Francis de Sales, came into her life as a spiritual director. By appreciating the depth of her pain, he knew that forgiveness would take time. In fact, it would take six years. Throughout, Francis was patient with Jane, becasue Francis knew the patience of God.
We sometimes speak of people who have "the patience of a saint." Francis de Sales had that type of patience. But then again, he is in fact a saint. And helped by that patience, so is Jane de Chantal.
We're called to be saints too. That requires patience. And don't we all need more of that? We need more patience with others; we need more patience with ourselves; we need more patience with God too.
Thankfully, patience is a virtue. Which means that, at the end of the day, patience is a gift from God. And if patience comes from God, then we can certainly ask him for it. Indeed, we should. St. Francis de Sales knew that well. "You need patience..." he once wrote to a friend. But then he added: "...and God will give it to you."
Friday, January 21, 2011
St. Agnes
This week my 6th Grade son Charlie begins his Catholic school’s sex-ed program. As a parent, I’m a little apprehensive, but I’m pleased with the instructor’s primary message: God is about life and love; therefore, sex is about life and love.
That’s a beautiful approach to introducing young people to God’s gift of sexuality, and preparing them for the sexual minefields they’ll have to navigate as teenagers.
One particular minefield today is “sexting”- the sending of explicit pictures and messages through hand-held devices. Just last year, in a highly publicized tragedy, a girl in Florida committed suicide because of sexting. She was only thirteen years old.
Today we remember another thirteen-year old girl: St. Agnes. Like all teenagers, she had to tread a sexual minefield. Tradition has it that she was very pretty. Many young men made advances to her, but she refused them all. One angry, spurned lover reported her to the Roman authorities for being a Christian. She was tried, forcibly confined to a house of prostitution, and eventually beheaded. Throughout her ordeal, however, she maintained her chastity, with the grace of God.
St. Agnes’ witness can serve to inspire and remind young people, and indeed all of us, that chastity is a virtue. Sex is indeed all about life and love: Just like the God who gave us this precious gift.
That’s a beautiful approach to introducing young people to God’s gift of sexuality, and preparing them for the sexual minefields they’ll have to navigate as teenagers.
One particular minefield today is “sexting”- the sending of explicit pictures and messages through hand-held devices. Just last year, in a highly publicized tragedy, a girl in Florida committed suicide because of sexting. She was only thirteen years old.
Today we remember another thirteen-year old girl: St. Agnes. Like all teenagers, she had to tread a sexual minefield. Tradition has it that she was very pretty. Many young men made advances to her, but she refused them all. One angry, spurned lover reported her to the Roman authorities for being a Christian. She was tried, forcibly confined to a house of prostitution, and eventually beheaded. Throughout her ordeal, however, she maintained her chastity, with the grace of God.
St. Agnes’ witness can serve to inspire and remind young people, and indeed all of us, that chastity is a virtue. Sex is indeed all about life and love: Just like the God who gave us this precious gift.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Thursday of Ordinary 2
“The only worse thing than bad publicity,” they like to say in Hollywood, “is no publicity at all.” In our hyper-competitive, information-overloaded, celebrity-obsessed society, there are those who will do whatever it takes to generate “buzz” and remain in the public eye.
But not Jesus. His healing ministry was bound to generate attention. Yet when demons shouted out, “You are the Son of God!” he warned them to stay silent. We might say that he didn’t want his enemies to take charge of his “branding,” to use a modern marketing term. It’s not that Jesus was denying that he is God’s Son. Far from it! But he wanted to ensure that people came to understand his identity on his own terms, not theirs.
Throughout his ministry, people speculated that Jesus was a king, a prophet, an insurrectionist, a miracle worker, even his deceased cousin, John the Baptist. Not bad guesses, all things considered, but none of them hit the mark.
Jesus can only be properly viewed through the lens of his death, resurrection, and ascension. That’s why he only wants those who know of and believe in such things to proclaim him to the world. In other words, the Church. And that means us. By what we say and do, our lives should proclaim, “You are the Son of God!” Same words as those demons, to be sure. But they spoke from fear. We speak from love.
But not Jesus. His healing ministry was bound to generate attention. Yet when demons shouted out, “You are the Son of God!” he warned them to stay silent. We might say that he didn’t want his enemies to take charge of his “branding,” to use a modern marketing term. It’s not that Jesus was denying that he is God’s Son. Far from it! But he wanted to ensure that people came to understand his identity on his own terms, not theirs.
Throughout his ministry, people speculated that Jesus was a king, a prophet, an insurrectionist, a miracle worker, even his deceased cousin, John the Baptist. Not bad guesses, all things considered, but none of them hit the mark.
Jesus can only be properly viewed through the lens of his death, resurrection, and ascension. That’s why he only wants those who know of and believe in such things to proclaim him to the world. In other words, the Church. And that means us. By what we say and do, our lives should proclaim, “You are the Son of God!” Same words as those demons, to be sure. But they spoke from fear. We speak from love.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Third Sunday in Ordinary Time
If we look back on our personal faith histories, chances are we’ll recall certain significant events that have brought us to where we are today. For me, one very significant event took place between my junior and senior years of college. At that time in my life, I wasn’t actively practicing my faith. However, while walking down the street one hot summer afternoon, I happened to take notice of a welcome sign to a local church. While gazing at that sign I felt a strong desire to return to church, and I did shortly thereafter.
During my final year of college that followed, I began to “integrate” my renewed faith into every aspect of my life, and I tried to live it out in a committed and sincere way. I found myself taking a hard look at my values and my behavior, and it soon became clear to me that I had to make some changes if I wasn’t going to live a double life. I experienced a very real and sometimes painful tension between the person I was and the person Jesus was calling me to be.
I knew in my heart that Jesus was calling me to change because he loved me. At the same time, I became very conscious of my public identity as a Christian. The people who knew me were aware that my faith had recently become very important to me, and I didn’t want to do anything that might scandalize them or lead them to think that Christians are hypocrites.
For instance, I had loved the idea of making lots of money and living a comfortable, respectable life. I had accepted a fairly lucrative post-graduation job with a major accounting firm, and I thought that I was on my way to fulfilling my dream. But then certain of Jesus’ teachings- “You cannot serve God and money;” “Where your treasure is, there will you heart be also”- began to really challenge me, and I wrestled with them mightily.
I was also in a serious relationship with a young woman. However, there were aspects of that relationship which were at odds with my revived faith, and I began to discover that it’s hard to break relationship patterns that have become established over a long period of time.
In addition, I felt myself growing apart from a number of my friends. Whenever we’d get together, I was uncomfortable with some of their attitudes, the things we talked about, and how much we drank. I often found myself preferring to do things with my new church community than doing things with them.
One day I shared my struggle with my pastor, and he suggested that maybe there were some things I needed to “let go” of- dreams, priorities, habits, and relationships- if I was sincere about being a Christian. In other words, the lesson I had to learn is that deciding to follow Jesus also meant that I probably needed to leave some things behind.
Yet this is a challenge that many of us have to face, isn’t it? Today’s gospel reminds us of this, in two ways. As we heard, the first four disciples, had to leave behind jobs, family, possessions, and a familiar way of doing things, in order to answer Jesus’ invitation to follow him. And then there is Jesus’ call to “repent.” The word “repent” literally means “turn around.” Jesus, then, is actually asking each one of us to turn our lives around- to turn toward him and turn our backs on everything that is negative and sinful.
But let’s face it: Making changes in our lives, leaving familiar things behind, and turning our backs on sin is often easier said than done. We get very set in our ways, we can be stubborn as mules, and we can even become comfortable with our sins. That’s why, when our Lord calls us to repent and follow him, our answer isn’t always an unqualified “Yes!” Instead, it’s “Yes, but…” Consciously or unconsciously, we lay down our limits and conditions, because we don’t want to step out of our comfort zones.
So perhaps today’s gospel is challenging us to ask ourselves the question: Just what is it that prevents us from following Jesus completely, and without reservation? Are we stuck in a bad habit that drags us down again and again? Do we think we aren’t good enough or worthy enough to be a follower of Jesus? Is there some worldly goal, dream, or priority that we keep hanging onto? Has our desire for money, success, or security gotten in the way? Is there some resentment we won’t let go of, someone we love to hate and refuse to forgive? Or are we afraid- afraid of the changes we have to make and the pain and effort that go along with it?
One good way to identify the things that keep us from following Jesus completely is to take a hard look at what we worry about. Worry is typically a sign that we aren’t trusting God. And when we don’t trust God, we can’t really follow him, can we? I know that sometimes I catch myself worrying that Jesus will call me to serve in a place that would require my family to move from our current home. But then I ask myself: “Am I truly a follower of Jesus, or am I following him only on my own terms?” I need to be reminded that partial service to Jesus isn’t real service at all; it’s usually self-service in disguise.
Maybe worry, then, is one of those things we need to leave behind if we are to follow Jesus; maybe we need to turn our backs on worry to answer Jesus’ call to repent. In other words, if we are to walk with Jesus, we need to surrender our worries to him, that we might more fully surrender our lives to him. Because, as we prayed in today’s psalm, the Lord is our light and our salvation, of whom- or what- should we be afraid?
During my final year of college that followed, I began to “integrate” my renewed faith into every aspect of my life, and I tried to live it out in a committed and sincere way. I found myself taking a hard look at my values and my behavior, and it soon became clear to me that I had to make some changes if I wasn’t going to live a double life. I experienced a very real and sometimes painful tension between the person I was and the person Jesus was calling me to be.
I knew in my heart that Jesus was calling me to change because he loved me. At the same time, I became very conscious of my public identity as a Christian. The people who knew me were aware that my faith had recently become very important to me, and I didn’t want to do anything that might scandalize them or lead them to think that Christians are hypocrites.
For instance, I had loved the idea of making lots of money and living a comfortable, respectable life. I had accepted a fairly lucrative post-graduation job with a major accounting firm, and I thought that I was on my way to fulfilling my dream. But then certain of Jesus’ teachings- “You cannot serve God and money;” “Where your treasure is, there will you heart be also”- began to really challenge me, and I wrestled with them mightily.
I was also in a serious relationship with a young woman. However, there were aspects of that relationship which were at odds with my revived faith, and I began to discover that it’s hard to break relationship patterns that have become established over a long period of time.
In addition, I felt myself growing apart from a number of my friends. Whenever we’d get together, I was uncomfortable with some of their attitudes, the things we talked about, and how much we drank. I often found myself preferring to do things with my new church community than doing things with them.
One day I shared my struggle with my pastor, and he suggested that maybe there were some things I needed to “let go” of- dreams, priorities, habits, and relationships- if I was sincere about being a Christian. In other words, the lesson I had to learn is that deciding to follow Jesus also meant that I probably needed to leave some things behind.
Yet this is a challenge that many of us have to face, isn’t it? Today’s gospel reminds us of this, in two ways. As we heard, the first four disciples, had to leave behind jobs, family, possessions, and a familiar way of doing things, in order to answer Jesus’ invitation to follow him. And then there is Jesus’ call to “repent.” The word “repent” literally means “turn around.” Jesus, then, is actually asking each one of us to turn our lives around- to turn toward him and turn our backs on everything that is negative and sinful.
But let’s face it: Making changes in our lives, leaving familiar things behind, and turning our backs on sin is often easier said than done. We get very set in our ways, we can be stubborn as mules, and we can even become comfortable with our sins. That’s why, when our Lord calls us to repent and follow him, our answer isn’t always an unqualified “Yes!” Instead, it’s “Yes, but…” Consciously or unconsciously, we lay down our limits and conditions, because we don’t want to step out of our comfort zones.
So perhaps today’s gospel is challenging us to ask ourselves the question: Just what is it that prevents us from following Jesus completely, and without reservation? Are we stuck in a bad habit that drags us down again and again? Do we think we aren’t good enough or worthy enough to be a follower of Jesus? Is there some worldly goal, dream, or priority that we keep hanging onto? Has our desire for money, success, or security gotten in the way? Is there some resentment we won’t let go of, someone we love to hate and refuse to forgive? Or are we afraid- afraid of the changes we have to make and the pain and effort that go along with it?
One good way to identify the things that keep us from following Jesus completely is to take a hard look at what we worry about. Worry is typically a sign that we aren’t trusting God. And when we don’t trust God, we can’t really follow him, can we? I know that sometimes I catch myself worrying that Jesus will call me to serve in a place that would require my family to move from our current home. But then I ask myself: “Am I truly a follower of Jesus, or am I following him only on my own terms?” I need to be reminded that partial service to Jesus isn’t real service at all; it’s usually self-service in disguise.
Maybe worry, then, is one of those things we need to leave behind if we are to follow Jesus; maybe we need to turn our backs on worry to answer Jesus’ call to repent. In other words, if we are to walk with Jesus, we need to surrender our worries to him, that we might more fully surrender our lives to him. Because, as we prayed in today’s psalm, the Lord is our light and our salvation, of whom- or what- should we be afraid?
Monday, January 17, 2011
Wednesday of Ordinary 2
“Nothing you can do or say will ever change my mind!” It’s frustrating to encounter stubbornness like that. Jesus was certainly frustrated in today’s gospel. In fact, he was “angered” and “grieved” at those who insisted that it was wrong to heal on the Sabbath.
Jesus tried reasoning with them, but they remained silent. Then he performed a healing before their very eyes! Surely they must have witnessed the man’s joy at being cured. But to no avail. They continued to maintain that what Jesus was doing was wrong. Jesus, for his part, continued to proclaim that what he was doing was right.
Isn’t that our experience in the Church today? We bear witness to the world the truth about many things: from marriage to the environment; immigration and religious freedom; economic justice and the sanctity of human life; war, peace, and sex; the very existence of God.
We’re under no illusion that we’ll change every mind. Human nature and human history make that clear. Jesus himself didn’t change every mind. But he did change some. And that gives us hope and encouragement to “keep on keeping on” in trying to change minds today. But most importantly- changing hearts, and changing lives.
Jesus tried reasoning with them, but they remained silent. Then he performed a healing before their very eyes! Surely they must have witnessed the man’s joy at being cured. But to no avail. They continued to maintain that what Jesus was doing was wrong. Jesus, for his part, continued to proclaim that what he was doing was right.
Isn’t that our experience in the Church today? We bear witness to the world the truth about many things: from marriage to the environment; immigration and religious freedom; economic justice and the sanctity of human life; war, peace, and sex; the very existence of God.
We’re under no illusion that we’ll change every mind. Human nature and human history make that clear. Jesus himself didn’t change every mind. But he did change some. And that gives us hope and encouragement to “keep on keeping on” in trying to change minds today. But most importantly- changing hearts, and changing lives.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Tuesday of Ordinary 2
“Christianity,” insists Pope Benedict, “is more than a series of requirements and laws.” Instead, he continued, “It is the gift of a friendship that lasts through life and death.”
One wonders if today’s gospel was in the back of his mind when he wrote those words. As we heard, Jesus was challenged because his disciples weren’t keeping certain rules about how the Sabbath day should be kept. For his part, Jesus responded with a challenge of his own, explaining that the Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.
In effect, Jesus was sending a message that our religion is not simply about the keeping of rules and laws. Instead, Christianity is about relationship. Laws are necessary, but they are not an end in and of themselves. They are the means to an end- a loving relationship with God, and a loving relationship with each other.
We don’t earn God’s love by keeping his laws. God’s laws express his love for us, and our keeping of them expresses our love for him. You see, Jesus did not die and rise again to give us laws. He did so, to give us life.
One wonders if today’s gospel was in the back of his mind when he wrote those words. As we heard, Jesus was challenged because his disciples weren’t keeping certain rules about how the Sabbath day should be kept. For his part, Jesus responded with a challenge of his own, explaining that the Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.
In effect, Jesus was sending a message that our religion is not simply about the keeping of rules and laws. Instead, Christianity is about relationship. Laws are necessary, but they are not an end in and of themselves. They are the means to an end- a loving relationship with God, and a loving relationship with each other.
We don’t earn God’s love by keeping his laws. God’s laws express his love for us, and our keeping of them expresses our love for him. You see, Jesus did not die and rise again to give us laws. He did so, to give us life.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Second Sunday in Ordinary Time
Stephanie, my wife, once received a very great blessing. She was trying to discern if God wanted her to return to work part-time. So she took a cue from a member of our parish, Peggy Rooney, who in her book The Ant Hills tells of having written a letter to God, asking for a sign about what she should do at a crossroads in her life. Stephanie wrote her letter and, just as Peggy had done, she placed it in the pages of her Bible.
That was on a Tuesday night. On Wednesday morning Stephanie visited the web page of the Northern Virginia Community College and noticed that two courses, due to begin the next week, didn’t have any instructor listed. As these were courses that she herself had taught for many years at Catholic University, Stephanie called up the school to see if they were still looking for someone. They were! She went for an interview that very evening, and by the next morning she was a duly instituted adjunct member of the faculty. Clearly it was God’s will that Stephanie should return to work!
I share this story with you today because discerning and doing God’s will is a theme that runs throughout the liturgy today. In the Opening Prayer, we asked God to help us “embrace” his will. Isaiah foretold of one who would fulfill God’s will by gathering all his people to him. Today’s Psalm spoke of one who “delighted” to be “obedient” to God’s will. Paul wrote in the second reading that he was “called to be an apostle” by the will of God. And in the gospel, John the Baptist explained that it was God’s will that he should prepare the way for Jesus.
Now, I’m going to assume that all of us here this morning want to do God’s will in every aspect of our lives- what we do, where we live, who we associate with, how we spend our money, how we cast our vote. However, as you know just as well as I, sometimes God’s will for us isn’t exactly crystal clear. So then, what can we do to help us figure it out? I’d like to propose a couple of things.
First of all, we can ask for a sign, just like Stephanie did. And sometimes God gives them! Also, we need to listen for God speaking within us- in the depths of our heart, in the voice of our conscience, through our gut feelings, and by those nagging thoughts that just won’t go away. It’s not uncommon for God to speak to us in these ways.
At the same time, we also need to allow God to speak to us through other people. Our faith journey with Jesus is not simply a question of “Jesus and me.” It’s also a question of “Jesus and we”- the “we” being our fellow Christians. All of us are members of the Body of Christ, and Christ often chooses to speak to us through other members of his body.
Sometimes God uses other people to tell us that we’re headed down the right path. This happened to me when I was trying to figure out if God wanted me to leave the Episcopal Church and become a Roman Catholic. One evening I was in the little chapel of the Texas church of where I was the pastor, praying for guidance before a beautiful icon of the Blessed Mother. As I was praying, I was filled with a sense that I just needed to convert and place the whole matter in God’s hands. I left the chapel with a great sense of peace, returned to the rectory, and sat down on the living room sofa. Just then Stephanie appeared at the door and said, “You know, I’ve been thinking- you just need to convert and put the whole matter in God’s hands!” I tell you- of I didn’t know it before, I knew right then what God wanted me to do!
Sometimes God uses other people to tell us that we’re headed down the wrong path, such as when someone, out of loving concern, insists that a friend seek immediate help for their addiction to alcohol. I have a friend who is currently preparing to be ordained a permanent deacon. As you know, many of our permanent deacons are married. My friend explained to me that throughout their whole formation process, it’s made quite clear that if their wife isn’t supportive of their becoming a deacon, well, then they probably don’t have a vocation to be one. It’s understood that in situations like that, God often speaks through one’s wife.
It’s also helpful, when trying to discern God’s will, to take baby steps. It’s better to test the waters than to plunge in head first. For instance, I was once asked by someone if she should write a Christian novel. This person often writes about Spirituality, but she has never before attempted non-fiction. I suggested that she should write a short story, send it to the editors she works with, and see what they think. If they were encouraging, I explained, that might be a sign that God wanted her to move on to a bigger project, like a novel. And if they weren’t encouraging, that would be okay too, as she wouldn’t have wasted too much time. It would have been an experiment, not a failure.
Finally, we need to remember that God’s way isn’t always the easy way. In fact, it’s often the opposite, as his way is the way of the cross. Just think about it: It’s easier to run away from a relationship than work through a problem; it’s easier to numb the pain than to face it; it’s easier to find an excuse than to take responsibility, and the blame; and, as we approach the anniversary of Roe v. Wade, it can seem at the time that it’s easier to have the abortion, than it is to have the baby.
God’s way is indeed often the harder way. But deep down, each one of knows that, at the end of the day, God’s way is the only way. As we prayed together in today’s Psalm, “Here am I Lord, I come to do your will.”
That was on a Tuesday night. On Wednesday morning Stephanie visited the web page of the Northern Virginia Community College and noticed that two courses, due to begin the next week, didn’t have any instructor listed. As these were courses that she herself had taught for many years at Catholic University, Stephanie called up the school to see if they were still looking for someone. They were! She went for an interview that very evening, and by the next morning she was a duly instituted adjunct member of the faculty. Clearly it was God’s will that Stephanie should return to work!
I share this story with you today because discerning and doing God’s will is a theme that runs throughout the liturgy today. In the Opening Prayer, we asked God to help us “embrace” his will. Isaiah foretold of one who would fulfill God’s will by gathering all his people to him. Today’s Psalm spoke of one who “delighted” to be “obedient” to God’s will. Paul wrote in the second reading that he was “called to be an apostle” by the will of God. And in the gospel, John the Baptist explained that it was God’s will that he should prepare the way for Jesus.
Now, I’m going to assume that all of us here this morning want to do God’s will in every aspect of our lives- what we do, where we live, who we associate with, how we spend our money, how we cast our vote. However, as you know just as well as I, sometimes God’s will for us isn’t exactly crystal clear. So then, what can we do to help us figure it out? I’d like to propose a couple of things.
First of all, we can ask for a sign, just like Stephanie did. And sometimes God gives them! Also, we need to listen for God speaking within us- in the depths of our heart, in the voice of our conscience, through our gut feelings, and by those nagging thoughts that just won’t go away. It’s not uncommon for God to speak to us in these ways.
At the same time, we also need to allow God to speak to us through other people. Our faith journey with Jesus is not simply a question of “Jesus and me.” It’s also a question of “Jesus and we”- the “we” being our fellow Christians. All of us are members of the Body of Christ, and Christ often chooses to speak to us through other members of his body.
Sometimes God uses other people to tell us that we’re headed down the right path. This happened to me when I was trying to figure out if God wanted me to leave the Episcopal Church and become a Roman Catholic. One evening I was in the little chapel of the Texas church of where I was the pastor, praying for guidance before a beautiful icon of the Blessed Mother. As I was praying, I was filled with a sense that I just needed to convert and place the whole matter in God’s hands. I left the chapel with a great sense of peace, returned to the rectory, and sat down on the living room sofa. Just then Stephanie appeared at the door and said, “You know, I’ve been thinking- you just need to convert and put the whole matter in God’s hands!” I tell you- of I didn’t know it before, I knew right then what God wanted me to do!
Sometimes God uses other people to tell us that we’re headed down the wrong path, such as when someone, out of loving concern, insists that a friend seek immediate help for their addiction to alcohol. I have a friend who is currently preparing to be ordained a permanent deacon. As you know, many of our permanent deacons are married. My friend explained to me that throughout their whole formation process, it’s made quite clear that if their wife isn’t supportive of their becoming a deacon, well, then they probably don’t have a vocation to be one. It’s understood that in situations like that, God often speaks through one’s wife.
It’s also helpful, when trying to discern God’s will, to take baby steps. It’s better to test the waters than to plunge in head first. For instance, I was once asked by someone if she should write a Christian novel. This person often writes about Spirituality, but she has never before attempted non-fiction. I suggested that she should write a short story, send it to the editors she works with, and see what they think. If they were encouraging, I explained, that might be a sign that God wanted her to move on to a bigger project, like a novel. And if they weren’t encouraging, that would be okay too, as she wouldn’t have wasted too much time. It would have been an experiment, not a failure.
Finally, we need to remember that God’s way isn’t always the easy way. In fact, it’s often the opposite, as his way is the way of the cross. Just think about it: It’s easier to run away from a relationship than work through a problem; it’s easier to numb the pain than to face it; it’s easier to find an excuse than to take responsibility, and the blame; and, as we approach the anniversary of Roe v. Wade, it can seem at the time that it’s easier to have the abortion, than it is to have the baby.
God’s way is indeed often the harder way. But deep down, each one of knows that, at the end of the day, God’s way is the only way. As we prayed together in today’s Psalm, “Here am I Lord, I come to do your will.”
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Friday of Ordinary 1
If we were to meet Jesus face-to-face today, what would we want him to say to us? “Well done, good and faithful servant?” “I love you?” “Everything’s going to be okay?” “I want to spend eternity with you?”
I imagine that many of us would want to hear Jesus say: “I forgive you.” We long to hear these words, not just because we’re broken and sinful people, but because sometimes we can wonder whether Jesus really forgives us or not. We know what a struggle it can be to forgive other people, and sometimes we find it difficult to forgive even ourselves. Because of this, we can conclude that Jesus probably has a hard time forgiving us as well.
Today’s gospel, however, assures us otherwise. As we heard, Jesus told a crowd that it’s easy for him to say, “I forgive you.” And if you remember, Jesus loved that paralyzed man so much that he forgave him even before the man had a chance to speak.
You see, Jesus knew what that man needed; Jesus knew what was in his heart. And he knows what’s in our hearts too; he knows that we long for his forgiveness. We might say that he’s dying to give it to us. But then again, dying to forgive us, is something he already did…
I imagine that many of us would want to hear Jesus say: “I forgive you.” We long to hear these words, not just because we’re broken and sinful people, but because sometimes we can wonder whether Jesus really forgives us or not. We know what a struggle it can be to forgive other people, and sometimes we find it difficult to forgive even ourselves. Because of this, we can conclude that Jesus probably has a hard time forgiving us as well.
Today’s gospel, however, assures us otherwise. As we heard, Jesus told a crowd that it’s easy for him to say, “I forgive you.” And if you remember, Jesus loved that paralyzed man so much that he forgave him even before the man had a chance to speak.
You see, Jesus knew what that man needed; Jesus knew what was in his heart. And he knows what’s in our hearts too; he knows that we long for his forgiveness. We might say that he’s dying to give it to us. But then again, dying to forgive us, is something he already did…
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Thursday of Ordinary 1
I imagine that most of us have had the experience of really looking forward to getting together with family or friends, and then not being able to join them because we got sick. Magnify this experience by an entire lifetime, and that will describe the plight of those who suffered from leprosy in Jesus’ day. Because people were so afraid of catching their illness, lepers by law had to live completely separate from the community of their family and friends. We can only imagine how painful that must have been.
The leper we encountered in today’s gospel actually had to break the law in order to approach Jesus and ask for help. Yet Jesus didn’t turn him away. Instead, he was “moved with pity,” and he healed him. Jesus then sent him to see a priest, who was one person who could legally re-admit him to the fellowship of family and friends.
The experience of lepers reminds us that sickness, in addition to causing physical pain, can also lead to loneliness and alienation. Often the sick are unable to get out like they used to, because they’re confined to their home or a hospital. Perhaps they can have few or no visitors because of their condition. Sometimes people intentionally avoid the sick out of fear or ignorance, as has happened to people with AIDS. And it can happen that the sick are forgotten altogether, especially the elderly and nursing home patients.
This loneliness can be even more painful than the physical pain of sickness, because loneliness can lead to hopelessness and despair. “When we feel cut off from the human family,” wrote Fr. Henri Nouwen, “we quickly lose heart.” That’s why Jesus’ example should challenge us to reach out to those we know who are sick, with prayer, cards, visits, and offers of help. In this way, we express our love, lift spirits, ease burdens, generate hope, and touch people’s lives with the compassion of Jesus himself.
Today's readings may be found here: http://www.usccb.org/nab/011311.shtml
The leper we encountered in today’s gospel actually had to break the law in order to approach Jesus and ask for help. Yet Jesus didn’t turn him away. Instead, he was “moved with pity,” and he healed him. Jesus then sent him to see a priest, who was one person who could legally re-admit him to the fellowship of family and friends.
The experience of lepers reminds us that sickness, in addition to causing physical pain, can also lead to loneliness and alienation. Often the sick are unable to get out like they used to, because they’re confined to their home or a hospital. Perhaps they can have few or no visitors because of their condition. Sometimes people intentionally avoid the sick out of fear or ignorance, as has happened to people with AIDS. And it can happen that the sick are forgotten altogether, especially the elderly and nursing home patients.
This loneliness can be even more painful than the physical pain of sickness, because loneliness can lead to hopelessness and despair. “When we feel cut off from the human family,” wrote Fr. Henri Nouwen, “we quickly lose heart.” That’s why Jesus’ example should challenge us to reach out to those we know who are sick, with prayer, cards, visits, and offers of help. In this way, we express our love, lift spirits, ease burdens, generate hope, and touch people’s lives with the compassion of Jesus himself.
Today's readings may be found here: http://www.usccb.org/nab/011311.shtml
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Wednesday of Ordinary 1
Have you ever known someone who recovered from a life-threatening illness? Perhaps it was someone who beat cancer or who survived a serious heart attack. Often times, their experience of having been healed changes their entire perspective on life. They live more simply and gratefully. They have a different appreciation for what’s really important. And they have a greater concern for the welfare of others. They want to “give something back.” They want to serve.
We see this in today’s gospel. Jesus cured Simon’s mother-in-law of a serious illness, and her response was to become a servant. We’re told specifically that she rose from her bed, and waited on Jesus and his friends.
Simon’s mother-in law is a model for us. Not all of us have received a gift of God’s healing as she did. However, all of us have received gifts from God- more than we often imagine or appreciate. Indeed, we will receive a great gift from God just moments from now- the gift of Jesus’ Body and Blood in the Holy Eucharist. In response, we too need to be servants. Just as Simon’s mother-in-law served Jesus, his friends, and her family, so we too can serve the needs of our families, the Church, and Jesus himself, especially in the faces of the poor. The Closing Prayer from today’s Mass puts it well: “God, you renew us with your sacraments. Help us to thank you by lives of faithful service.”
Readings for today's Mass are here: http://www.usccb.org/nab/011211.shtml
We see this in today’s gospel. Jesus cured Simon’s mother-in-law of a serious illness, and her response was to become a servant. We’re told specifically that she rose from her bed, and waited on Jesus and his friends.
Simon’s mother-in law is a model for us. Not all of us have received a gift of God’s healing as she did. However, all of us have received gifts from God- more than we often imagine or appreciate. Indeed, we will receive a great gift from God just moments from now- the gift of Jesus’ Body and Blood in the Holy Eucharist. In response, we too need to be servants. Just as Simon’s mother-in-law served Jesus, his friends, and her family, so we too can serve the needs of our families, the Church, and Jesus himself, especially in the faces of the poor. The Closing Prayer from today’s Mass puts it well: “God, you renew us with your sacraments. Help us to thank you by lives of faithful service.”
Readings for today's Mass are here: http://www.usccb.org/nab/011211.shtml
Monday, January 10, 2011
Tuesday of Ordinary 1
When people were introduced to Jesus for the first time, as in today’s gospel, they were often quite literally astounded by what he said and did. His teaching held people spellbound, and his miraculous deeds filled them with awe.
Maybe we too were astonished at our first encounter with Jesus. Perhaps we once were enthralled by One whose promises and gifts seemed too good to be true. But then, with the passage of time, we lost our sense of wonder. Jesus became a little too familiar to us. We convinced ourselves that we had him all figured out, wrapped up in a neat, tidy package, and we ceased to be amazed.
What once we found providential we now dismiss as coincidental. Moments of grace we write off as wishful thinking or naïve ignorance. The sacramental became empty symbol, and the super-natural something to rationalize or explain away.
And what we ended up with is not faith in the living God, but a dead and lifeless idol. Today’s gospel invites us to embrace once more the mystery of Jesus, that we may be amazed, yet again.
Maybe we too were astonished at our first encounter with Jesus. Perhaps we once were enthralled by One whose promises and gifts seemed too good to be true. But then, with the passage of time, we lost our sense of wonder. Jesus became a little too familiar to us. We convinced ourselves that we had him all figured out, wrapped up in a neat, tidy package, and we ceased to be amazed.
What once we found providential we now dismiss as coincidental. Moments of grace we write off as wishful thinking or naïve ignorance. The sacramental became empty symbol, and the super-natural something to rationalize or explain away.
And what we ended up with is not faith in the living God, but a dead and lifeless idol. Today’s gospel invites us to embrace once more the mystery of Jesus, that we may be amazed, yet again.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Monday of Ordinary 1
I would imagine that all of us here today sincerely wish to follow Jesus. Just like the disciples in today’s gospel, we have in some way heard Jesus say to us, “Come, follow me,” we have said, “Yes!” and here we are at daily Mass.
But at the same time, are there not some things in our lives that keep us from following Jesus completely? I say this because today’s gospel reminds us that to follow Jesus also means that we need to leave something behind. As we heard, the first four disciples left behind jobs, family, possessions, and a familiar way of doing things.
Let’s face it: Making changes in our life is hard, and we often resist making them. That’s why, when our Lord calls us to follow him, our answer isn’t always an unqualified “Yes!” Instead, it’s “Yes, but…” Consciously or unconsciously, we lay down our limits and conditions, because we don’t want to step out of our “comfort zones.”
So maybe we need to ask ourselves the question: Just what is it that keeps us from completely following Jesus? If we think about this, chances are the answer will be found in those things we worry about.
Worry is often a sign that we aren’t trusting God. And when we don’t trust God, we can’t really follow him as we should. So maybe our Lord’s call to follow him is also an invitation to trust him, to “step out in faith” and surrender to him those things we worry about, that we might more completely surrender our lives to him.
But at the same time, are there not some things in our lives that keep us from following Jesus completely? I say this because today’s gospel reminds us that to follow Jesus also means that we need to leave something behind. As we heard, the first four disciples left behind jobs, family, possessions, and a familiar way of doing things.
Let’s face it: Making changes in our life is hard, and we often resist making them. That’s why, when our Lord calls us to follow him, our answer isn’t always an unqualified “Yes!” Instead, it’s “Yes, but…” Consciously or unconsciously, we lay down our limits and conditions, because we don’t want to step out of our “comfort zones.”
So maybe we need to ask ourselves the question: Just what is it that keeps us from completely following Jesus? If we think about this, chances are the answer will be found in those things we worry about.
Worry is often a sign that we aren’t trusting God. And when we don’t trust God, we can’t really follow him as we should. So maybe our Lord’s call to follow him is also an invitation to trust him, to “step out in faith” and surrender to him those things we worry about, that we might more completely surrender our lives to him.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Friday after Epiphany
After having ministered to great crowds, today’s gospel recalls for us, our Lord would withdraw to deserted places in order to spend quiet time with his Father in prayer.
Jesus did this, not because he was avoiding publicity, or because he was shy, or because he was running away from responsibility. Instead, Jesus was setting an example for us, that no matter how busy our lives may have become, personal prayer with God is a non-negotiable essential of the Christian life.
Because we can’t hide our true selves from God, prayer challenges us to face ourselves and present ourselves as we really are, uncensored, with all our brokenness and sinfulness. This, in turn, leads us to reach out to God for the healing, forgiveness, and strength that only he can give.
“Prayer,” Henri Nouwen tells us, “challenges us to hide absolutely nothing from God, and surrender ourselves unconditionally to his mercy.”
Jesus did this, not because he was avoiding publicity, or because he was shy, or because he was running away from responsibility. Instead, Jesus was setting an example for us, that no matter how busy our lives may have become, personal prayer with God is a non-negotiable essential of the Christian life.
Because we can’t hide our true selves from God, prayer challenges us to face ourselves and present ourselves as we really are, uncensored, with all our brokenness and sinfulness. This, in turn, leads us to reach out to God for the healing, forgiveness, and strength that only he can give.
“Prayer,” Henri Nouwen tells us, “challenges us to hide absolutely nothing from God, and surrender ourselves unconditionally to his mercy.”
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Thursday after Epiphany
At Mass, have you ever let your mind wander during the readings and the homily? I know I have. And let’s face it: Not every lector is articulate, not every preacher is dynamic, and sometimes there are crying children. Sometimes those children have been mine!
However, this shouldn’t excuse us from being attentive during Mass. God himself speaks to us when Scripture is read in church, and God can touch our hearts through even the most inept preacher, if we are open and receptive.
Consider today’s gospel. At a synagogue worship service, and Jesus himself was both the lector and the preacher. As for the congregation, they were excited and kept their eyes locked on Jesus. As a result, they were “amazed” by Jesus’ gracious words, that God’s promises were being kept in their midst.
For us to be more attentive, I suggest three things:
1. Before Mass, pray for the grace to listen well and to hear whatever God might wish to say to us.
2. Come to Mass with a sense of excited anticipation that God does speak to us through his Word.
3. During Mass, pray for the lectors and the preacher, that they might be effective ministers of God’s Word.
Doing this is much better than tuning out, getting frustrated, rolling our eyes, or reading the bulletin. And it might just keep the good news from falling on deaf ears.
However, this shouldn’t excuse us from being attentive during Mass. God himself speaks to us when Scripture is read in church, and God can touch our hearts through even the most inept preacher, if we are open and receptive.
Consider today’s gospel. At a synagogue worship service, and Jesus himself was both the lector and the preacher. As for the congregation, they were excited and kept their eyes locked on Jesus. As a result, they were “amazed” by Jesus’ gracious words, that God’s promises were being kept in their midst.
For us to be more attentive, I suggest three things:
1. Before Mass, pray for the grace to listen well and to hear whatever God might wish to say to us.
2. Come to Mass with a sense of excited anticipation that God does speak to us through his Word.
3. During Mass, pray for the lectors and the preacher, that they might be effective ministers of God’s Word.
Doing this is much better than tuning out, getting frustrated, rolling our eyes, or reading the bulletin. And it might just keep the good news from falling on deaf ears.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Wednesday after Epiphany
Have you ever ignored someone or given them the cold shoulder? Did you say, “Go away, I’m busy,” or “Don’t bother me now,” or “Not now, maybe later?” Did you look the other way, pretend not to hear, or race about so the other person couldn’t catch up with you? We act in these ways when we think we’re too busy, or when we’re just too wrapped up in our own plans and agendas.
As Christians, however, sometimes we need to put our plans aside, and put other people first. Consider Jesus in today’s gospel. He must have had a great deal on his mind that day. The religious authorities were hostile to him, the government was suspicious of him, and his clueless disciples completely misunderstood him. Jesus needed some time to sort things out, so he sent the disciples ahead of him in a boat while he climbed a mountain to pray.
When he finished and began to cross the water himself, he planned to pass his friends by. Maybe he wanted more time to think and pray. But then his friends saw him, thought he was a ghost, and screamed out in terror. Jesus loved his friends too much to ignore their cry. So he put aside his own agenda and came to them, calming the waves and calming their fears.
“Beloved, if God so loved us, we also must love one another.” So today’s first reading tells us. And, as Jesus himself has shown us, love sometimes requires that we change our plans to meet the needs of others, and not be consumed by our own.
As Christians, however, sometimes we need to put our plans aside, and put other people first. Consider Jesus in today’s gospel. He must have had a great deal on his mind that day. The religious authorities were hostile to him, the government was suspicious of him, and his clueless disciples completely misunderstood him. Jesus needed some time to sort things out, so he sent the disciples ahead of him in a boat while he climbed a mountain to pray.
When he finished and began to cross the water himself, he planned to pass his friends by. Maybe he wanted more time to think and pray. But then his friends saw him, thought he was a ghost, and screamed out in terror. Jesus loved his friends too much to ignore their cry. So he put aside his own agenda and came to them, calming the waves and calming their fears.
“Beloved, if God so loved us, we also must love one another.” So today’s first reading tells us. And, as Jesus himself has shown us, love sometimes requires that we change our plans to meet the needs of others, and not be consumed by our own.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Baptism of the Lord
My kids and I recently watched Evan Almighty, the film with Morgan Freeman as God and Steve Carrell as a modern-day Noah named Evan. Evan is a newly-elected congressman. God has other plans for him, however, and strange things start to happen. Wild animals and shipments of lumber start arriving at his home. The number “614” keeps appearing everywhere- Genesis 6:14 being the verse in which God tells Noah to build an ark. Evan sprouts a beard he can’t shave off. And the clothes in his closet are mysteriously replaced by scruffy, “biblical-looking” robes. Ultimately, Evan learns that God wants him to build ark to save his community from a flood.
At first, Evan does his level best to resist. He pleads with God that building an ark just isn’t a part of his plan. God laughs at this in a friendly sort of way, reminds Evan whose plans really matter at the end of the day, and assures him that everything he does, he does out of love. After a series of misadventures, Evan gives in and begins to build the ark. But it wasn’t without a cost. His wife and kids left him for awhile, the press and his neighbors openly ridicule him, some of his congressional colleagues openly oppose him, and his embarrassed staff concludes that he’s gone off his rocker. Nevertheless, Evan swallowed his pride, and with humility he became obedient to God’s will.
Today we celebrate a supreme act of humble obedience to God’s will: Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan River at the hands of John the Baptist. In this case, as it was in Evan Almighty, doing God’s will seemed strange to others. John the Baptist said to Jesus: “What are you doing? You should be baptizing me! And my baptism is for repentance of sins- and you haven’t committed any of those!!” But Jesus explained that, even though it might seem strange to him, it was nevertheless God’s will that he be baptized by John. To do so was to “fulfill all righteousness.”
Jesus’ baptism was also an act of humility. It’s not that Jesus had any pride to swallow! But it’s always an act of humility to submit oneself to the will of another- especially if it’s the will of God the Father. Jesus, who is sinless and perfect, had already humbled himself when he became united with a fallen, sinful humanity at his birth. At his baptism, however, he took this one step further when he went down into the water. To fully appreciate this, we need to keep in mind that water can be symbolic of death. It was to the ancient mind, and still is today, whenever we say “I’m swamped with work” or “I’m drowning in debt.” Therefore, when Jesus was plunged into the Jordan, he pledged himself to die for our sins.
Like Jesus, we have been baptized. And like him, we’re called to humble ourselves in obedience to God’s will. But what does this mean in practice? Here’s an example: I know someone who has long struggled with her attitudes toward money. This person is hardworking, not extravagant, and very smart. Yet she inherited from her parents a borrow-then-spend approach to personal finance, and also a perceived need to keep up one’s appearances in society, and maintain a certain lifestyle, regardless of how much it might cost.
With some creating financing, coupled with her husband’s cluelessness and disengagement, she was able to keep this up for a number of years. But then the credit cards maxed out, refinancing was no longer was an option, and things began to look pretty bleak. This was a wake-up call for her. She realized that something needed to change, and she checked out books on personal finance from her local library. One book, written from a Christian perspective, really touched her heart and turned her thinking around. It stressed the importance of saving, having a budget, giving generously to church and charity, living within one’s means, and not worrying about what other people might think of you. It helped her to realize that there was a disconnect between her faith and her financial stewardship, and that the way she was using her money wasn’t really consistent with her Catholicism. She said to her husband: “I’m ready to do whatever God wants me to do about money- regardless of how hard that might be.” She humbly submitted herself to God’s will.
We too are called to humbly submit ourselves to God’s will, whether he wants us to change something about our lives, or take our lives in a certain direction. But we don’t always do it, especially when what we’re being called to do is difficult or unpleasant. So we argue with God, bargain with God, make compromises with God, or try to run away from God. We reason with God that our plans are better than his. We ask him to extend his deadline to a time we think is more convenient for us. Sound familiar? Whenever we do things like this, it’s typically our pride getting in the way. That’s why humility goes hand-in-hand with obedience.
Why do we need to follow God’s plans? Because you and I don’t belong to ourselves. We belong to Jesus. We were united to him at our baptisms. We share his divine life of grace. We bear his name. We’re members of his body, the church. We’re filled with his Holy Spirit. He bought us with a price. And while Jesus is God’s only-begotten Son by nature, we are God’s sons and daughters by adoption. This means we share the same Father. A Father whose plans always reflect his love for us. A Father who always knows best.
That’s why Jesus our brother calls us to swallow our pride in humble obedience that God may take pride in us and say, as he said of Jesus: “Behold, this is my beloved daughter; behold, this is my beloved son, with whom I am well pleased.”
At first, Evan does his level best to resist. He pleads with God that building an ark just isn’t a part of his plan. God laughs at this in a friendly sort of way, reminds Evan whose plans really matter at the end of the day, and assures him that everything he does, he does out of love. After a series of misadventures, Evan gives in and begins to build the ark. But it wasn’t without a cost. His wife and kids left him for awhile, the press and his neighbors openly ridicule him, some of his congressional colleagues openly oppose him, and his embarrassed staff concludes that he’s gone off his rocker. Nevertheless, Evan swallowed his pride, and with humility he became obedient to God’s will.
Today we celebrate a supreme act of humble obedience to God’s will: Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan River at the hands of John the Baptist. In this case, as it was in Evan Almighty, doing God’s will seemed strange to others. John the Baptist said to Jesus: “What are you doing? You should be baptizing me! And my baptism is for repentance of sins- and you haven’t committed any of those!!” But Jesus explained that, even though it might seem strange to him, it was nevertheless God’s will that he be baptized by John. To do so was to “fulfill all righteousness.”
Jesus’ baptism was also an act of humility. It’s not that Jesus had any pride to swallow! But it’s always an act of humility to submit oneself to the will of another- especially if it’s the will of God the Father. Jesus, who is sinless and perfect, had already humbled himself when he became united with a fallen, sinful humanity at his birth. At his baptism, however, he took this one step further when he went down into the water. To fully appreciate this, we need to keep in mind that water can be symbolic of death. It was to the ancient mind, and still is today, whenever we say “I’m swamped with work” or “I’m drowning in debt.” Therefore, when Jesus was plunged into the Jordan, he pledged himself to die for our sins.
Like Jesus, we have been baptized. And like him, we’re called to humble ourselves in obedience to God’s will. But what does this mean in practice? Here’s an example: I know someone who has long struggled with her attitudes toward money. This person is hardworking, not extravagant, and very smart. Yet she inherited from her parents a borrow-then-spend approach to personal finance, and also a perceived need to keep up one’s appearances in society, and maintain a certain lifestyle, regardless of how much it might cost.
With some creating financing, coupled with her husband’s cluelessness and disengagement, she was able to keep this up for a number of years. But then the credit cards maxed out, refinancing was no longer was an option, and things began to look pretty bleak. This was a wake-up call for her. She realized that something needed to change, and she checked out books on personal finance from her local library. One book, written from a Christian perspective, really touched her heart and turned her thinking around. It stressed the importance of saving, having a budget, giving generously to church and charity, living within one’s means, and not worrying about what other people might think of you. It helped her to realize that there was a disconnect between her faith and her financial stewardship, and that the way she was using her money wasn’t really consistent with her Catholicism. She said to her husband: “I’m ready to do whatever God wants me to do about money- regardless of how hard that might be.” She humbly submitted herself to God’s will.
We too are called to humbly submit ourselves to God’s will, whether he wants us to change something about our lives, or take our lives in a certain direction. But we don’t always do it, especially when what we’re being called to do is difficult or unpleasant. So we argue with God, bargain with God, make compromises with God, or try to run away from God. We reason with God that our plans are better than his. We ask him to extend his deadline to a time we think is more convenient for us. Sound familiar? Whenever we do things like this, it’s typically our pride getting in the way. That’s why humility goes hand-in-hand with obedience.
Why do we need to follow God’s plans? Because you and I don’t belong to ourselves. We belong to Jesus. We were united to him at our baptisms. We share his divine life of grace. We bear his name. We’re members of his body, the church. We’re filled with his Holy Spirit. He bought us with a price. And while Jesus is God’s only-begotten Son by nature, we are God’s sons and daughters by adoption. This means we share the same Father. A Father whose plans always reflect his love for us. A Father who always knows best.
That’s why Jesus our brother calls us to swallow our pride in humble obedience that God may take pride in us and say, as he said of Jesus: “Behold, this is my beloved daughter; behold, this is my beloved son, with whom I am well pleased.”
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