When facing a big decision, we often ask questions like, “What would be the return on my investment? What’s the value added?” Such questions are fine when considering a return to school or improvements to our home. We don’t, however, want to take this approach to our faith.
Yet that’s exactly what Peter did in today’s gospel. When he told Jesus, “Lord, we have given up everything and followed you!” he wasn’t complaining, he was boasting. He was expecting –even demanding- something from Jesus in return for the sacrifices he’d made.
Jesus acknowledged that Christian discipleship does reap great rewards- rich blessings in the present age, and eternal life in the next. But Jesus also offered a caution: “The first will be last, and the last will be first.”
Jesus’ point is that we shouldn’t approach discipleship as an effort to get something in return. Our motivation shouldn’t be about earning rewards or gaining entitlements. Instead, authentic discipleship is a faithful and loving response to all the graces and love we’ve been given. In short: Jesus invites us to seek him, not for personal gain, but out of humble gratitude.
A sneering passerby said to a Catholic caring for a dying AIDS patient, “I wouldn’t do that for all the money in the world!” The reply? “Neither would I.”
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/030111.shtml
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Monday of Ordinary 8
G. K. Chesterton joked that ever since Jesus said it’s easier for a camel to pass through a needle’s eye than for the rich to enter heaven, we've been frantically trying to breed smaller camels and make bigger needles. Our Lord’s words in today’s gospel can make us very uncomfortable indeed, especially as we live in a culture that equates one's worth with one's wealth.
We all need money- there’s no question about that! Yet money can easily disrupt our discipleship, as it tempts us to greed, envy, pride, gluttony, workaholism, anxiety, indifference to other’s needs, and the illusion of self-sufficiency. It can lead us to forget God when we have it, and curse God when we don’t.
Money itself isn’t the problem. The problem is how we view it and use it. As Christians, our challenge is not to let our use of money keep of out of God’s kingdom, but use it to build that kingdom up. As Mother Teresa once said, “Money is useful only if it is used to spread the love of Christ."
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/022811.sht
We all need money- there’s no question about that! Yet money can easily disrupt our discipleship, as it tempts us to greed, envy, pride, gluttony, workaholism, anxiety, indifference to other’s needs, and the illusion of self-sufficiency. It can lead us to forget God when we have it, and curse God when we don’t.
Money itself isn’t the problem. The problem is how we view it and use it. As Christians, our challenge is not to let our use of money keep of out of God’s kingdom, but use it to build that kingdom up. As Mother Teresa once said, “Money is useful only if it is used to spread the love of Christ."
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/022811.sht
Friday, February 25, 2011
Saturday of Ordinary 8
The two were best-selling authors, but their books could not have been more different. Rick Warren wrote The Purpose-Driven Life about Christian discipleship; Sam Harris' work, The End of Faith, advances atheism. When they met to debate, Warren was direct: "You're more spiritual than you think," he insisted to Harris. "You just don't want a God telling you what to do."
But isn't the same true for many of us who find ourselves at Mass on Sunday? Unlike Sam Harris, we believe in God. But that doesn't mean we want God telling us what to do. We hesitate to trust; we assume we know what's best; we struggle to be in control; we prefer to do things our way.
To be a Christian, however, is not to be independent. It's to be dependent upon the Lord, just as a child is dependent upon parents. This is what Jesus meant in today's gospel when he insisted that we need to become like children to enter God's kingdom. Put very simply, to be in God's kingdom is to accept that God is king, and surrender ourselves in faith and obedience.
The world may dismiss this as weakness- and in a sense they'd be right! But we know that accepting our weakness is the beginning of wisdom. "No one needs God more than I do," explained Mother Teresa, "becasue I am so weak. I rely on him twenty-four hours a day."
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/022611.shtml
But isn't the same true for many of us who find ourselves at Mass on Sunday? Unlike Sam Harris, we believe in God. But that doesn't mean we want God telling us what to do. We hesitate to trust; we assume we know what's best; we struggle to be in control; we prefer to do things our way.
To be a Christian, however, is not to be independent. It's to be dependent upon the Lord, just as a child is dependent upon parents. This is what Jesus meant in today's gospel when he insisted that we need to become like children to enter God's kingdom. Put very simply, to be in God's kingdom is to accept that God is king, and surrender ourselves in faith and obedience.
The world may dismiss this as weakness- and in a sense they'd be right! But we know that accepting our weakness is the beginning of wisdom. "No one needs God more than I do," explained Mother Teresa, "becasue I am so weak. I rely on him twenty-four hours a day."
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/022611.shtml
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Friday of Ordinary 7
Married life can be hard. It can be hard for 21st century Americans, and it could be hard for 1st century Judeans. If it weren’t, the Pharisees wouldn’t have pressed Jesus on the subject of divorce, as they did in today’s gospel. In response, Jesus explained that marriage was intended by God to be permanent. Yet to some then and to some now, this is an unreasonable standard, because marriage can indeed be so hard.
Jesus spoke of husband and wife becoming one flesh. This refers to much more than a physical intimacy. Instead, it’s a call to an intimate union of two persons which requires personal change, self-sacrifice, honest communication, openness to new life, and a desire to meet one another’s needs, heal each other’s hurts, and help one’s spouse become the person God created him or her to be.
To do this is hard, and God knows it. He knows our selfishness, our neediness, and our fear of conflict. And God knows that it’s tempting for us to run away from problems instead of facing them head on, and to imagine that the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.
This is precisely why God designed marriage in the way he did. Because it can be hard, marriage requires permanent commitment, so it won't be being crushed by our “hardness of heart.”
Reading for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/022511.shtml
Jesus spoke of husband and wife becoming one flesh. This refers to much more than a physical intimacy. Instead, it’s a call to an intimate union of two persons which requires personal change, self-sacrifice, honest communication, openness to new life, and a desire to meet one another’s needs, heal each other’s hurts, and help one’s spouse become the person God created him or her to be.
To do this is hard, and God knows it. He knows our selfishness, our neediness, and our fear of conflict. And God knows that it’s tempting for us to run away from problems instead of facing them head on, and to imagine that the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.
This is precisely why God designed marriage in the way he did. Because it can be hard, marriage requires permanent commitment, so it won't be being crushed by our “hardness of heart.”
Reading for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/022511.shtml
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Thursday of Ordinary 7
When Jesus tells us to cut off offending hands and feet and pluck out sinful eyes, he’s using the exaggeration that was characteristic of Jewish speech in his day. It isn’t meant to be taken literally. It is, however, an effective means of communication, as it sure wakes us up and grabs our attention!
Jesus’ point is that we’re to be absolutely ruthless in eradicating sin from our lives, because he knows our tendency to become too comfortable with them.
Sometimes we rationalize our behavior, saying things like, “Everybody does it” or “I’m not really hurting anyone!” or “I’m too set in my ways to change” or “God has bigger things to worry about” or “C’mon! This was the only fun I had all week!”
At other times, we blame our actions on others. We complain: “It’s my job that’s driving me to drink” or “My parents made me the way I am” or “I’m not cheating on my taxes- the government’s stealing my money or the classic, “The devil made me do it.”
All such excuses are masks for laziness, a fear to change or accept responsibility, or a presumption of God’s mercy. And it’s precisely these attitudes Jesus challenges in today’s gospel. He doesn’t expect that we’ll completely change overnight, or that we’ll ever completely eloiminate sin from our lives. But he does expect us to struggle- a struggle demanded by love, and the fruit of which is holiness and peace.
“Christian holiness does not mean being sinless,” wrote Pope John Paul II, but rather it means struggling not to give in, and always getting up after every fall.”
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/022411.shtml
Jesus’ point is that we’re to be absolutely ruthless in eradicating sin from our lives, because he knows our tendency to become too comfortable with them.
Sometimes we rationalize our behavior, saying things like, “Everybody does it” or “I’m not really hurting anyone!” or “I’m too set in my ways to change” or “God has bigger things to worry about” or “C’mon! This was the only fun I had all week!”
At other times, we blame our actions on others. We complain: “It’s my job that’s driving me to drink” or “My parents made me the way I am” or “I’m not cheating on my taxes- the government’s stealing my money or the classic, “The devil made me do it.”
All such excuses are masks for laziness, a fear to change or accept responsibility, or a presumption of God’s mercy. And it’s precisely these attitudes Jesus challenges in today’s gospel. He doesn’t expect that we’ll completely change overnight, or that we’ll ever completely eloiminate sin from our lives. But he does expect us to struggle- a struggle demanded by love, and the fruit of which is holiness and peace.
“Christian holiness does not mean being sinless,” wrote Pope John Paul II, but rather it means struggling not to give in, and always getting up after every fall.”
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/022411.shtml
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Memorial of St. Polycarp - February 23
Christian faith is a deeply personal thing. At its heart is a personal relationship with a personal God. We’re unique, as is the story of our friendship with the Lord.
At the same time, Christian faith is more than “Jesus and me.” It’s also a matter of “Jesus and we.” Faith in Jesus involves our being joined with Jesus’ body- the Church. And that Church has particular beliefs about who Jesus is.
These days, however, it’s tempting to think: “I’ll believe about Jesus what I want to believe. You can have your beliefs, and I’ll have mine.” That seems like such an inclusive and reasonable approach. Unfortunately, it leads many to have a “mistaken identity” about Jesus. And that’s not good, because to see the face of Jesus properly is to see the face of God himself.
Confusion about Jesus’ identity is nothing new. It was certainly true of the earliest centuries of the Church, when beliefs about Jesus were being ironed out. Those involved appreciated how critical that process was. One opinion was not considered as good as another. Some were correct, others were not.
St. Polycarp, a second century bishop, found himself in the midst of those debates. He was a gentle and kind man. His teaching about Jesus, however, was uncompromising. St. Ignatius challenged him to be “firm as an anvil under a hammer” about those beliefs. St. Polycarp took that advice. He ultimately died for it.
As St. Polycarp's witness reminds us, our personal faith in Jesus, and what the Church says is true about Jesus, are meant to go hand-in-hand. After all, as Jesus himself taught- only the truth will set us free.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/022311.shtml
At the same time, Christian faith is more than “Jesus and me.” It’s also a matter of “Jesus and we.” Faith in Jesus involves our being joined with Jesus’ body- the Church. And that Church has particular beliefs about who Jesus is.
These days, however, it’s tempting to think: “I’ll believe about Jesus what I want to believe. You can have your beliefs, and I’ll have mine.” That seems like such an inclusive and reasonable approach. Unfortunately, it leads many to have a “mistaken identity” about Jesus. And that’s not good, because to see the face of Jesus properly is to see the face of God himself.
Confusion about Jesus’ identity is nothing new. It was certainly true of the earliest centuries of the Church, when beliefs about Jesus were being ironed out. Those involved appreciated how critical that process was. One opinion was not considered as good as another. Some were correct, others were not.
St. Polycarp, a second century bishop, found himself in the midst of those debates. He was a gentle and kind man. His teaching about Jesus, however, was uncompromising. St. Ignatius challenged him to be “firm as an anvil under a hammer” about those beliefs. St. Polycarp took that advice. He ultimately died for it.
As St. Polycarp's witness reminds us, our personal faith in Jesus, and what the Church says is true about Jesus, are meant to go hand-in-hand. After all, as Jesus himself taught- only the truth will set us free.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/022311.shtml
Monday, February 21, 2011
Chair of St. Peter - February 22
A Christian website I’ve come across boasts that its reach extends to over 36,000different denominations. I did a double-take when I saw that number, but on reflection realized that it’s a sad testament to Christian disunity in our day. At the same time, it made me grateful to be a member of the Catholic Church, united in belief under the teaching authority of the Pope and our bishops.
We celebrate this teaching authority today, the memorial of the Chair of St. Peter. When we speak of Peter’s “chair,” we speak of the teaching authority Jesus gave to Peter and the popes who followed him, an authority we call the “Magisterium,” from the Latin word for “teacher.”
As someone who began his Christian life and professional ministry outside the Catholic Church, I’ve come to cherish the Magisterium as a precious gift. Firsthand experience has made it clear to me that without a divinely-instituted teaching authority, what results is fragmentation, disunity, and schism. In other words, over 36,000 Christian denominations.
That’s certainly not our Lord’s will. He wants us to be one, which is why he established the Magisterium in first place. Today, let’s celebrate the unity of faith we have, and pray for reunion with those who don’t.
We celebrate this teaching authority today, the memorial of the Chair of St. Peter. When we speak of Peter’s “chair,” we speak of the teaching authority Jesus gave to Peter and the popes who followed him, an authority we call the “Magisterium,” from the Latin word for “teacher.”
As someone who began his Christian life and professional ministry outside the Catholic Church, I’ve come to cherish the Magisterium as a precious gift. Firsthand experience has made it clear to me that without a divinely-instituted teaching authority, what results is fragmentation, disunity, and schism. In other words, over 36,000 Christian denominations.
That’s certainly not our Lord’s will. He wants us to be one, which is why he established the Magisterium in first place. Today, let’s celebrate the unity of faith we have, and pray for reunion with those who don’t.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Monday of Ordinary 7 - February 21
A busy bishop once wrote of a time in his ministry when he gave greater priority to work than to prayer. He would often speak to others about the importance of prayer, but he didn’t practice what he preached. It wasn’t until fellow priests challenged him about this that he made “quality time” for prayer a daily priority.
Today’s gospel speaks of the importance of prayer. The apostles had been trying very hard to cast out a demon- but they had failed. When they asked why, Jesus said, “This kind can only come out through prayer.” The apostles had seemingly placed prayer on the back burner because they had been so preoccupied with their “work.” Ironically, their work suffered as a result.
We fall into the same trap, whenever we become so focused on getting the job done that prayer becomes an afterthought. When this happens, we might take a cue from Mother Teresa. As we all know, she could move mountains. But only because she was a woman of constant prayer.
“Because I cannot depend on my own strength,” she confessed, “I rely on him twenty-four hours a day. My secret is simple: I pray.”
Today’s gospel speaks of the importance of prayer. The apostles had been trying very hard to cast out a demon- but they had failed. When they asked why, Jesus said, “This kind can only come out through prayer.” The apostles had seemingly placed prayer on the back burner because they had been so preoccupied with their “work.” Ironically, their work suffered as a result.
We fall into the same trap, whenever we become so focused on getting the job done that prayer becomes an afterthought. When this happens, we might take a cue from Mother Teresa. As we all know, she could move mountains. But only because she was a woman of constant prayer.
“Because I cannot depend on my own strength,” she confessed, “I rely on him twenty-four hours a day. My secret is simple: I pray.”
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time
Violence in the former Yugoslavia, fueled by ancient animosities between ethnic Serbs and Croats, claimed thousands of victims during the late 1990’s. As it typical in war, many of those killed were innocent civilians. Given this tragedy and heartbreak, it was understandable when residents of one Serb village greeted NATO peacekeepers with cheers, flowers, and cries of “God bless you!” Sadly, those same people who invoked God’s blessing had, just days before, looted the homes of their Croat neighbors out of spite and retaliation.
For those of us who follow him, Jesus shows us a better way of treating those who have harmed us. He rejected the “eye for an eye” approach that people took in his day, and still do in ours. He knew that an eye for an eye mentality ultimately leaves everyone blind.
Instead, Jesus invites us to “turn the other cheek.” As Christians, evil from others shouldn’t call forth evil from us. We’re called to love when confronted with hate. We’re to insert love in those places where love seems to be absent. When our face is slapped, we’re to present the face of Jesus. Jesus’ face was slapped too. We should expect nothing less ourselves- even if we’ve been doing the right thing. “No good deed goes unpunished,” we often say. If we extend a hand in kindness, there are those who will drive a nail through it.
Sometimes, when we turn the other cheek, we might turn the other’s heart! Soft words can turn away wrath, as Scripture reminds us. As Christians, that should always be our intention and prayer. That’s not the way things always turn out, however. We can always hope that the other person will change. But at the end of the day, the only person we can really change is ourselves. We love for the sake of loving- because it’s the right thing to do- not to achieve a particular outcome. We love simply too add love to a world that can always use, and always needs, more.
Jesus’ words, however, might raise some troubling concerns in our minds. Wouldn’t following his teaching be like having a “kick me hard” sign taped to our back, inviting bullies to place a swift foot on our backsides? Doesn’t turning the other cheek invite cruel people to be crueler to us, and give those who’ve hurt us a license to hurt us even more? Won’t we become nothing more than a doormat? Why not just put a big “bull’s eye” on our chests? And what about other people? It’s one thing if it’s our cheek that’s slapped. But what if it’s a child’s cheek? Or a dear loved one’s? Would it be okay to rush and protect them? What would Jesus want us to do then?
These are essential questions to ask, and the way we answer them has important implications for how we apply Jesus’ teaching. Consider victims of domestic violence, which is sadly so widespread today. Some victims of such abuse, especially those who are married, can convince themselves that it’s their Christian duty to take it. After all, they need to turn the other check! Aren’t they suffering like Jesus himself suffered? The violence they’re subjected to, they come to believe, is their personal cross to carry.
Jesus doesn’t want his words twisted to keep a person in such bondage. Our good and loving Lord doesn’t want to perpetuate such hurt. Jesus wouldn’t condone a victim’s seeking retaliation or revenge, of course. His teaching on that is very clear. But would Jesus prevent someone from running away for help, or defending themselves? Not at all. There were times in his own life when Jesus escaped violence. People had tried to stone him or throw him off a cliff, but he managed to get away.
Yes, Jesus did endure horrible suffering. He carried a cross and insists that we who follow him carry one too. But as Jesus demonstrated in his own life, there’s a distinction to be made between what we might call “necessary suffering” and “unnecessary suffering.” Suffering is necessary when it’s required to fulfill God’s will for our lives; it springs from the loving choices we make to help others or ourselves become the people God created us to be. Unnecessary suffering, on the other hand, simply makes us victims of another’s illness or sin.
It is thoroughly consistent with our faith to protect or defend ourselves and others. When we see danger approaching, it’s okay to run, find help, put up our shields, or even draw our swords. Our Lord’s instruction to “turn the other cheek” shouldn’t turn us into a punching bag. The Church’s teaching tradition envisions circumstances in which we, or our country, may need to use force in self-defense. It’s always a tragedy and a last resort. But sometimes it needs to be done.
To the world, to take an eye for an eye makes sense. In the face of evil, and when experiencing great pain, it can seem like the only fair or just thing to do. That’s why the bad guys usually get blown up in the movies. And we often cheer when they do! But would Jesus cheer? I don’t think so. Sure, we can always rejoice when violence is brought to an end; my English mother often tells of dancing in the fountains of London’s Trafalgar Square when the Nazi surrender was announced. At the same time, love doesn’t rejoice in another’s demise or pain- regardless of how unloving that person may have been. To celebrate victory is one thing; to celebrate vengeance is another.
When the Serbian townsfolk cried “God bless you!” as peacekeepers rolled into town, that was as it should be! But had Jesus been there, he would have insisted they extend that same blessing to their enemies, instead of holding curses in their hearts. Jesus invites us to do the same. We have received God’s blessing. And we’re to share that blessing with all. Even those who would never bless us.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/022011.shtml
For those of us who follow him, Jesus shows us a better way of treating those who have harmed us. He rejected the “eye for an eye” approach that people took in his day, and still do in ours. He knew that an eye for an eye mentality ultimately leaves everyone blind.
Instead, Jesus invites us to “turn the other cheek.” As Christians, evil from others shouldn’t call forth evil from us. We’re called to love when confronted with hate. We’re to insert love in those places where love seems to be absent. When our face is slapped, we’re to present the face of Jesus. Jesus’ face was slapped too. We should expect nothing less ourselves- even if we’ve been doing the right thing. “No good deed goes unpunished,” we often say. If we extend a hand in kindness, there are those who will drive a nail through it.
Sometimes, when we turn the other cheek, we might turn the other’s heart! Soft words can turn away wrath, as Scripture reminds us. As Christians, that should always be our intention and prayer. That’s not the way things always turn out, however. We can always hope that the other person will change. But at the end of the day, the only person we can really change is ourselves. We love for the sake of loving- because it’s the right thing to do- not to achieve a particular outcome. We love simply too add love to a world that can always use, and always needs, more.
Jesus’ words, however, might raise some troubling concerns in our minds. Wouldn’t following his teaching be like having a “kick me hard” sign taped to our back, inviting bullies to place a swift foot on our backsides? Doesn’t turning the other cheek invite cruel people to be crueler to us, and give those who’ve hurt us a license to hurt us even more? Won’t we become nothing more than a doormat? Why not just put a big “bull’s eye” on our chests? And what about other people? It’s one thing if it’s our cheek that’s slapped. But what if it’s a child’s cheek? Or a dear loved one’s? Would it be okay to rush and protect them? What would Jesus want us to do then?
These are essential questions to ask, and the way we answer them has important implications for how we apply Jesus’ teaching. Consider victims of domestic violence, which is sadly so widespread today. Some victims of such abuse, especially those who are married, can convince themselves that it’s their Christian duty to take it. After all, they need to turn the other check! Aren’t they suffering like Jesus himself suffered? The violence they’re subjected to, they come to believe, is their personal cross to carry.
Jesus doesn’t want his words twisted to keep a person in such bondage. Our good and loving Lord doesn’t want to perpetuate such hurt. Jesus wouldn’t condone a victim’s seeking retaliation or revenge, of course. His teaching on that is very clear. But would Jesus prevent someone from running away for help, or defending themselves? Not at all. There were times in his own life when Jesus escaped violence. People had tried to stone him or throw him off a cliff, but he managed to get away.
Yes, Jesus did endure horrible suffering. He carried a cross and insists that we who follow him carry one too. But as Jesus demonstrated in his own life, there’s a distinction to be made between what we might call “necessary suffering” and “unnecessary suffering.” Suffering is necessary when it’s required to fulfill God’s will for our lives; it springs from the loving choices we make to help others or ourselves become the people God created us to be. Unnecessary suffering, on the other hand, simply makes us victims of another’s illness or sin.
It is thoroughly consistent with our faith to protect or defend ourselves and others. When we see danger approaching, it’s okay to run, find help, put up our shields, or even draw our swords. Our Lord’s instruction to “turn the other cheek” shouldn’t turn us into a punching bag. The Church’s teaching tradition envisions circumstances in which we, or our country, may need to use force in self-defense. It’s always a tragedy and a last resort. But sometimes it needs to be done.
To the world, to take an eye for an eye makes sense. In the face of evil, and when experiencing great pain, it can seem like the only fair or just thing to do. That’s why the bad guys usually get blown up in the movies. And we often cheer when they do! But would Jesus cheer? I don’t think so. Sure, we can always rejoice when violence is brought to an end; my English mother often tells of dancing in the fountains of London’s Trafalgar Square when the Nazi surrender was announced. At the same time, love doesn’t rejoice in another’s demise or pain- regardless of how unloving that person may have been. To celebrate victory is one thing; to celebrate vengeance is another.
When the Serbian townsfolk cried “God bless you!” as peacekeepers rolled into town, that was as it should be! But had Jesus been there, he would have insisted they extend that same blessing to their enemies, instead of holding curses in their hearts. Jesus invites us to do the same. We have received God’s blessing. And we’re to share that blessing with all. Even those who would never bless us.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/022011.shtml
Saturday of Ordinary 6 - February 19
Should we suffer a tragedy or heartbreak, or experience the loss of a loved one, our faith can be deeply shaken. We might wonder why God would allow such a thing to happen, or if he really cares. We might even doubt that he exists at all.
Jesus knows that any of us can be tempted to think this way. Even his disciples weren’t immune. After his death, they were devastated, scared and confused. They hadn’t really understood Jesus’ words about resurrection. The crucifixion, they assumed, was the end of the story.
Our Lord anticipated this. That’s one reason why he allowed Peter, James, and John to witness his transfiguration. He wanted to give them something to hold on to, when all else seemed lost. Should they fall into the pit of despair, Jesus wanted them to recall that mountaintop. Their darkness, he hoped, might be broken by his light.
That’s Jesus’ hope for us too. He invites us to recall the times he’s broken into our lives, whenever we feel that our lives have been broken. It’s always better to light a candle than curse the darkness. Yet when we can’t even light a candle, we can still cherish our glimpses of the Light.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/021911.shtml
Jesus knows that any of us can be tempted to think this way. Even his disciples weren’t immune. After his death, they were devastated, scared and confused. They hadn’t really understood Jesus’ words about resurrection. The crucifixion, they assumed, was the end of the story.
Our Lord anticipated this. That’s one reason why he allowed Peter, James, and John to witness his transfiguration. He wanted to give them something to hold on to, when all else seemed lost. Should they fall into the pit of despair, Jesus wanted them to recall that mountaintop. Their darkness, he hoped, might be broken by his light.
That’s Jesus’ hope for us too. He invites us to recall the times he’s broken into our lives, whenever we feel that our lives have been broken. It’s always better to light a candle than curse the darkness. Yet when we can’t even light a candle, we can still cherish our glimpses of the Light.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/021911.shtml
Friday, February 18, 2011
Friday of Ordinary 6 - February 18
For many of us- and I include myself- the first thing we do in the morning is reach for the snooze bar on the alarm clock! However, I know of some who make it a practice to immediately rise from bed, kneel on the floor, and pray the word “Serviam,” Latin for “I will serve.”
This single word, “Serviam,” reminds those who pray it that our Christian vocation- our purpose in life- is to serve God, serve the Church, and serve our fellow human beings. Our Lord stressed this very point in today’s gospel: If we wish to follow him we must deny ourselves; we are to lose our lives for his sake and that of the gospel. To put it another way, Christianity is more about what we can do for Jesus, than it is about what Jesus can do for us. The Christian life is one not of selfishness, but surrender; not of self-fulfillment, but of self-sacrifice; not of self-service, but of service to the Lord.
So perhaps the prayer in our heart today might be “Serviam,” as we, in the words of the Mass dismissal, “Go forth to love and serve the Lord.”
Readingd for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/021811.shtml
This single word, “Serviam,” reminds those who pray it that our Christian vocation- our purpose in life- is to serve God, serve the Church, and serve our fellow human beings. Our Lord stressed this very point in today’s gospel: If we wish to follow him we must deny ourselves; we are to lose our lives for his sake and that of the gospel. To put it another way, Christianity is more about what we can do for Jesus, than it is about what Jesus can do for us. The Christian life is one not of selfishness, but surrender; not of self-fulfillment, but of self-sacrifice; not of self-service, but of service to the Lord.
So perhaps the prayer in our heart today might be “Serviam,” as we, in the words of the Mass dismissal, “Go forth to love and serve the Lord.”
Readingd for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/021811.shtml
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Thursday of Ordinary 6
Most of us are probably comfortable with the idea of God performing miracles. It's what we expect God to be able to do! The concept of a suffering God, however, is a bit harder for us to swallow. It confounds our expectations, leaving us confused, maybe even angry.
This explains why Peter rebuked Jesus when he spoke of his coming suffering and death. And that's why Jesus insisted to Peter that his thinking was wrong.
Exactly why God chose to suffer with us in Jesus will always be something of a mystery, this side of heaven. However, we do have a few clues. God is love- Jesus revealed that to us. And all of us suffer- it's part of the human condition. And in a suffering world it would be hard to conceive of God as love, if he himself were removed from the suffering. If he were, we might think of God as uncaring, or indifferent.
But love is never indifferent. On the contrary, love is always concerned; love is always involved. So maybe it was inevitable, then, that God wold suffer with us in Jesus, in order to express his love for us. As St. Leo the Great wrote, "There was no other reason for the Son of God to be born, than that he might die on a cross."
This explains why Peter rebuked Jesus when he spoke of his coming suffering and death. And that's why Jesus insisted to Peter that his thinking was wrong.
Exactly why God chose to suffer with us in Jesus will always be something of a mystery, this side of heaven. However, we do have a few clues. God is love- Jesus revealed that to us. And all of us suffer- it's part of the human condition. And in a suffering world it would be hard to conceive of God as love, if he himself were removed from the suffering. If he were, we might think of God as uncaring, or indifferent.
But love is never indifferent. On the contrary, love is always concerned; love is always involved. So maybe it was inevitable, then, that God wold suffer with us in Jesus, in order to express his love for us. As St. Leo the Great wrote, "There was no other reason for the Son of God to be born, than that he might die on a cross."
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Wednesday of Ordinary 6
Rome wasn't built in a day, we often say. And neither, as a matter of fact, are the saints of God.
We see this hinted at in today's gospel. Jesus touched a blind man to restore his sight, but his first attempt was only partly successful. The man could see, but his vision was blurry; people looked like "walking trees." It was only after Jesus touched him a second time that his sight was fully restored.
What happenned here? Did Jesus need a "do over" in order to get it right? Not at all. Instead, this story is meant to remind us that it takes time to become the saints Jesus wants us to be. To see the way Jesus wanted him to see, Jesus had to touch the blind man twice. For us to see the way Jesus wants us to see, he'll need to touch us many, many more times than that.
When it comes to sainthood, you and I are works in progress. If we ever think the work is complete, we'd better think twice! There's always much more to be done. We need patience with ourselves; we need patience with others, too.
Rome wasn't built in a day. 3,000 years later, it's still under construction! And "pardon our dust," so are we. But that's okay: Our Lord was a carpenter. He knows how to finish the job.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/021611.shtml
We see this hinted at in today's gospel. Jesus touched a blind man to restore his sight, but his first attempt was only partly successful. The man could see, but his vision was blurry; people looked like "walking trees." It was only after Jesus touched him a second time that his sight was fully restored.
What happenned here? Did Jesus need a "do over" in order to get it right? Not at all. Instead, this story is meant to remind us that it takes time to become the saints Jesus wants us to be. To see the way Jesus wanted him to see, Jesus had to touch the blind man twice. For us to see the way Jesus wants us to see, he'll need to touch us many, many more times than that.
When it comes to sainthood, you and I are works in progress. If we ever think the work is complete, we'd better think twice! There's always much more to be done. We need patience with ourselves; we need patience with others, too.
Rome wasn't built in a day. 3,000 years later, it's still under construction! And "pardon our dust," so are we. But that's okay: Our Lord was a carpenter. He knows how to finish the job.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/021611.shtml
Monday, February 14, 2011
Tuesday of Ordinary 6
To borrow a phrase from “Mister T,” I pity those fools who forgot to remember their sweethearts on Valentine’s Day. They’re finding themselves in the doghouse right now.
It’s exasperating when people forget important things they really should have remembered. Take today’s gospel, for instance. The disciples were all worried because they’d forgotten to pack bread for their trip, and they were down to their last loaf. When Jesus found out, he was floored. Just days before he had miraculously fed great crowds of hungry people with only a handful of loaves- and the disciples had witnessed the whole thing! If Jesus ever pulled his hair out or banged his head against a wall, he surely did it here. “How could you have forgotten what I’ve done?” he asked. “Are you blind?”
If the disciples had remembered what Jesus had done, they wouldn’t have been so stressed out. There’s a lesson here for us! Whenever we get anxious and worried just like the disciples did, it’s good to remember what Jesus has done for us. The disciples should have remembered the miracles of loaves and fishes. We can only read about that. But we can witness an even more wonderful transformation of bread- whenever we celebrate the Holy Eucharist.
At Mass, we remember that Jesus died and rose again to save us, and show us how much he loves and cares for us. So then why do we worry? There’s no need to, as long as we “Do this in memory of me.”
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/021511.shtml
It’s exasperating when people forget important things they really should have remembered. Take today’s gospel, for instance. The disciples were all worried because they’d forgotten to pack bread for their trip, and they were down to their last loaf. When Jesus found out, he was floored. Just days before he had miraculously fed great crowds of hungry people with only a handful of loaves- and the disciples had witnessed the whole thing! If Jesus ever pulled his hair out or banged his head against a wall, he surely did it here. “How could you have forgotten what I’ve done?” he asked. “Are you blind?”
If the disciples had remembered what Jesus had done, they wouldn’t have been so stressed out. There’s a lesson here for us! Whenever we get anxious and worried just like the disciples did, it’s good to remember what Jesus has done for us. The disciples should have remembered the miracles of loaves and fishes. We can only read about that. But we can witness an even more wonderful transformation of bread- whenever we celebrate the Holy Eucharist.
At Mass, we remember that Jesus died and rose again to save us, and show us how much he loves and cares for us. So then why do we worry? There’s no need to, as long as we “Do this in memory of me.”
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/021511.shtml
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Monday of Ordinary 6 - February 14
A woman who had been away from church for over a year admitted to me that she had been angry with God. She had gone through some very difficult and painful times, and she blamed God for it all. However, instead of sharing her anger with God, she kept it from him. She was afraid of how God might react; she didn't want to be punished or tossed away. Part of her wanted to let God have it. Unfortunately, she kept her feelings to herself, and her relationship with God evaporated. Thank God -literally- that she finally came back.
Certain people argued with Jesus in today's gospel, and in response he "sighed from the depth of his spirit." He was seemingly exasperated, even mad. We can fear that this is how Jesus would react to us, should we argue with him. But take another look at today's gospel. Those who argued with Jesus weren't expressing their hurt, fear, or disappointment. Instead, motivated by contempt and disbelief, they were trying to publicly embarrass him. And that's a big difference!
When we're hurting, it’s okay to argue with God and say: “Why did you let this happen to me? Why does it have to be this way? I’m not such a bad person, give me a break!” Sure, these comments might reflect spiritual immaturity and a lack of faith. But they’re honest, and that’s what God wants from us. Because if we keep certain thoughts and feelings from God, we’re keeping an important part of ourselves from God. And God want us to share all of us with him. If we censor what we share with God, we're not presenting our real selves with God. We're presenting a phoney behind a mask.
When we’re honest and open with God when we’re angry, we give God the chance to respond to our feelings. Instead of pushing him away, we invite him to fill us with wisdom, courage, and healing, assure us of his love, and lead us even further down the pathway of obedience and trust. The bottom line is: God wants us to share all our ourselves with him- even the feelings we're afraid he won't like. After all, God shares all of himself with us.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/021411.shtml
Certain people argued with Jesus in today's gospel, and in response he "sighed from the depth of his spirit." He was seemingly exasperated, even mad. We can fear that this is how Jesus would react to us, should we argue with him. But take another look at today's gospel. Those who argued with Jesus weren't expressing their hurt, fear, or disappointment. Instead, motivated by contempt and disbelief, they were trying to publicly embarrass him. And that's a big difference!
When we're hurting, it’s okay to argue with God and say: “Why did you let this happen to me? Why does it have to be this way? I’m not such a bad person, give me a break!” Sure, these comments might reflect spiritual immaturity and a lack of faith. But they’re honest, and that’s what God wants from us. Because if we keep certain thoughts and feelings from God, we’re keeping an important part of ourselves from God. And God want us to share all of us with him. If we censor what we share with God, we're not presenting our real selves with God. We're presenting a phoney behind a mask.
When we’re honest and open with God when we’re angry, we give God the chance to respond to our feelings. Instead of pushing him away, we invite him to fill us with wisdom, courage, and healing, assure us of his love, and lead us even further down the pathway of obedience and trust. The bottom line is: God wants us to share all our ourselves with him- even the feelings we're afraid he won't like. After all, God shares all of himself with us.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/021411.shtml
Friday, February 11, 2011
Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Last week’s Super Bowl, in my humble opinion, was a pretty good football game. I was less impressed by the commercials, however. There were some I thought were funny- the Volkswagen Darth Vader one, and another for Doritos come to mind. But there were others I found to be offensive: GoDaddy and Pepsi Max, for instance. They shocked me because of their explicit sexual content. You may recall the infamous “wardrobe malfunction” a few years back created an uproar because the Super Bowl broadcast is supposedly a “family” program. Yet some of last Sunday’s ads were not at all suitable for my family- and I suspect for yours too.
Interestingly, there was no controversy before the game about commercials with “mature” themes being shown. There was, however, a big flap about one that had a subtle Christian message: the “John 3:16” ad. If you didn’t see it, it featured a bunch of typical American males, cheering and high-fiving each other while watching a football game on TV. At one point, the TV screen zoomed in on a players’ face whose black eye paint had “John 3:16” on it. On seeing this, two guys looked at each other in confusion. One asked something like: “What’s John 3:16?” His buddy reaches for his smartphone and says, “I’ve seen it somewhere. I’m gonna look it up.” Then the ad ended. We know that when he did look it up, he would have discovered one of the most comforting passages from the Bible: “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only-begotten Son, that all who believe in him may not perish, but have everlasting life.”
Now, as a Catholic priest, I strive to live my life on the Rock- the Rock of Christ. Sometimes, however, I seem to live under a rock. That’s why I wasn’t aware of the pre-game controversy about this ad. Evidently it almost didn’t air because of its religious message, however subtle. At the same time, there apparently wasn’t a similar amount of pre-game outrage over the blatantly sexy ads.
That saddens me. At the same time, it doesn’t really shock me, because the way we Christians think, believe, and act, is quite often very different from the way the world thinks, believes, and acts. That’s clear from our Lord’s words in today’s gospel, from his Sermon on the Mount. In effect, our Lord told us: Don’t nurse anger and resentment, but patch things up instead. Don’t insult people or put them down. Be pure in your thinking. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Be faithful to your spouse. Honor the institution of marriage.
Jesus first spoke these words to those who lived in a world where insults were commonplace, resentment trumped reconciliation, promises were broken, impurity was widespread, marriage was disregarded, and spouses were unfaithful. Jesus speaks these same words to us today, and the world around us is very much the same as it was back then. That’s why our Lord calls us, just as he called his contemporaries, to break the mold, go against the grain, swim against the tide.
Interesting thing: This teaching comes on the heels of Jesus’ words that we are to be the light of the world and the salt of the earth by witnessing to our faith through what we say and do. In other words, we’re called not just to be different from the world; we’re also called to be seen as different from the world. We’re to live the way we do, not just for ourselves, but for others too. The world needs to see us living in Christ, that it may appreciate its need for Christ. G. K. Chesterton put it well: “We don’t want a Church that will move with the world. We want a Church that will move the world.”
Today’s gospel challenges us to take a good look at ourselves and our lifestyle. When the world looks at us, do they see something different? What is it about who we are and the way we live that’s distinctively and attractively Christian? If nothing, why not? What is it we need to change?
It’s very easy for us to become too worldly. Sometimes the world appears to be more fun- at least in the short run. There are attractions and enticements enough to tempt even the holiest saint. Sure, we’re not meant to run away from the world. We need to engage with it and participate in it. That’s part of being salt and light. What we can’t do is become too comfortable with it. When it comes to living our faith, we shouldn’t settle with what we think is the “Gentleman’s C”- you know, just doing enough to get what we think is a passing grade.
Jesus knows full well that it’s easy to make compromises, offer excuses, and just plain get lazy in our moral lives. Maybe that’s why his words in today’s gospel can sound so severe and harsh. He speaks of doing jail time and poking one’s eye out. Hard things for us to hear! But maybe we need to hear them sometimes, to jolt us into action, and shake us out of complacency. I can’t help but think of that Geico ad that asks: “Does a drill sergeant make a good therapist?” Not really. Jesus is a good “therapist,” of course. He listens. He cares. He loves. But sometimes he’s a drill sergeant too. He’s not being cruel; he’s simply being firm. It’s not that he’s not being loving; he’s just expressing tough love.
If you think about it, Jesus is doing nothing more than insisting that we live like him. In his love for us, he’s calling us to be people who love like him, that the world can see what true love looks like, and come to experience, and embrace that love themselves. That often involves being at odds with the world; it typically means the world will think we’re odd. But that’s a small price to pay, compared with the price Jesus paid for us- out love. “They’ll know we are Christians by our love, by our love,” goes the old folk song. “Yes, they’ll know we are Christians by our love.”
Readings for Sunday's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/021311.shtml
Interestingly, there was no controversy before the game about commercials with “mature” themes being shown. There was, however, a big flap about one that had a subtle Christian message: the “John 3:16” ad. If you didn’t see it, it featured a bunch of typical American males, cheering and high-fiving each other while watching a football game on TV. At one point, the TV screen zoomed in on a players’ face whose black eye paint had “John 3:16” on it. On seeing this, two guys looked at each other in confusion. One asked something like: “What’s John 3:16?” His buddy reaches for his smartphone and says, “I’ve seen it somewhere. I’m gonna look it up.” Then the ad ended. We know that when he did look it up, he would have discovered one of the most comforting passages from the Bible: “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only-begotten Son, that all who believe in him may not perish, but have everlasting life.”
Now, as a Catholic priest, I strive to live my life on the Rock- the Rock of Christ. Sometimes, however, I seem to live under a rock. That’s why I wasn’t aware of the pre-game controversy about this ad. Evidently it almost didn’t air because of its religious message, however subtle. At the same time, there apparently wasn’t a similar amount of pre-game outrage over the blatantly sexy ads.
That saddens me. At the same time, it doesn’t really shock me, because the way we Christians think, believe, and act, is quite often very different from the way the world thinks, believes, and acts. That’s clear from our Lord’s words in today’s gospel, from his Sermon on the Mount. In effect, our Lord told us: Don’t nurse anger and resentment, but patch things up instead. Don’t insult people or put them down. Be pure in your thinking. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Be faithful to your spouse. Honor the institution of marriage.
Jesus first spoke these words to those who lived in a world where insults were commonplace, resentment trumped reconciliation, promises were broken, impurity was widespread, marriage was disregarded, and spouses were unfaithful. Jesus speaks these same words to us today, and the world around us is very much the same as it was back then. That’s why our Lord calls us, just as he called his contemporaries, to break the mold, go against the grain, swim against the tide.
Interesting thing: This teaching comes on the heels of Jesus’ words that we are to be the light of the world and the salt of the earth by witnessing to our faith through what we say and do. In other words, we’re called not just to be different from the world; we’re also called to be seen as different from the world. We’re to live the way we do, not just for ourselves, but for others too. The world needs to see us living in Christ, that it may appreciate its need for Christ. G. K. Chesterton put it well: “We don’t want a Church that will move with the world. We want a Church that will move the world.”
Today’s gospel challenges us to take a good look at ourselves and our lifestyle. When the world looks at us, do they see something different? What is it about who we are and the way we live that’s distinctively and attractively Christian? If nothing, why not? What is it we need to change?
It’s very easy for us to become too worldly. Sometimes the world appears to be more fun- at least in the short run. There are attractions and enticements enough to tempt even the holiest saint. Sure, we’re not meant to run away from the world. We need to engage with it and participate in it. That’s part of being salt and light. What we can’t do is become too comfortable with it. When it comes to living our faith, we shouldn’t settle with what we think is the “Gentleman’s C”- you know, just doing enough to get what we think is a passing grade.
Jesus knows full well that it’s easy to make compromises, offer excuses, and just plain get lazy in our moral lives. Maybe that’s why his words in today’s gospel can sound so severe and harsh. He speaks of doing jail time and poking one’s eye out. Hard things for us to hear! But maybe we need to hear them sometimes, to jolt us into action, and shake us out of complacency. I can’t help but think of that Geico ad that asks: “Does a drill sergeant make a good therapist?” Not really. Jesus is a good “therapist,” of course. He listens. He cares. He loves. But sometimes he’s a drill sergeant too. He’s not being cruel; he’s simply being firm. It’s not that he’s not being loving; he’s just expressing tough love.
If you think about it, Jesus is doing nothing more than insisting that we live like him. In his love for us, he’s calling us to be people who love like him, that the world can see what true love looks like, and come to experience, and embrace that love themselves. That often involves being at odds with the world; it typically means the world will think we’re odd. But that’s a small price to pay, compared with the price Jesus paid for us- out love. “They’ll know we are Christians by our love, by our love,” goes the old folk song. “Yes, they’ll know we are Christians by our love.”
Readings for Sunday's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/021311.shtml
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Our Lady of Lourdes - February 11
Because we Americans are so fond of caffeinated drinks- not to mention beer and wine- it’s said that up to three quarters of us live in a mild state of dehydration. Our bodies don’t have enough water, and we suffer as a result.
I have a feeling that equal numbers of Catholics walk around in a similar state of dehydration. Not because we’re physically dehydrated, but because we’re spiritually thirsty.
Perhaps this is why Our Lady of Lourdes, in her appearances to young St. Bernadette some 150 years ago, directed her to a spring of water- a spring which in the years since has drawn over 200 million pilgrims, looking for this water to heal them and quench their thirst.
The water of Lourdes speaks to us of another water. During his own pilgrimage to Lourdes, Pope Benedict recalled Jesus’ words that rivers of living water would flow from the hearts of all who believe in him. More than anyone else, this is true of Mary. The living water which flows from her heart is her love for us as mother, which heals and purifies us, and draws us closer to Jesus her son. It is to “quench their thirst at this spring of love,” the Holy Father concluded, that ultimately draws people to Lourdes, and this “living water” is the greatest blessing they receive when they come.
Yes, there are miraculous healings at Lourdes- the church officially recognizes 67, and there have been countless other “phenomenal events,” as they’ve come to be called. But the greatest healing is to be filled with the hope and strength which comes from experiencing the love of Mary, which flows from the love of Jesus.
We might say then, that Our Lady of Lourdes’ words to St. Bernadette are also directed to us: “Go, and drink from the spring.”
I have a feeling that equal numbers of Catholics walk around in a similar state of dehydration. Not because we’re physically dehydrated, but because we’re spiritually thirsty.
Perhaps this is why Our Lady of Lourdes, in her appearances to young St. Bernadette some 150 years ago, directed her to a spring of water- a spring which in the years since has drawn over 200 million pilgrims, looking for this water to heal them and quench their thirst.
The water of Lourdes speaks to us of another water. During his own pilgrimage to Lourdes, Pope Benedict recalled Jesus’ words that rivers of living water would flow from the hearts of all who believe in him. More than anyone else, this is true of Mary. The living water which flows from her heart is her love for us as mother, which heals and purifies us, and draws us closer to Jesus her son. It is to “quench their thirst at this spring of love,” the Holy Father concluded, that ultimately draws people to Lourdes, and this “living water” is the greatest blessing they receive when they come.
Yes, there are miraculous healings at Lourdes- the church officially recognizes 67, and there have been countless other “phenomenal events,” as they’ve come to be called. But the greatest healing is to be filled with the hope and strength which comes from experiencing the love of Mary, which flows from the love of Jesus.
We might say then, that Our Lady of Lourdes’ words to St. Bernadette are also directed to us: “Go, and drink from the spring.”
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Thursday of Ordinary 5 - February 10
When our prayers appear to go unanswered, and God seems distant, indifferent, or deaf, we can wonder if there’s any use in praying at all. At times like this, the experience of the woman in today’s gospel can be very helpful to us.
As we heard, she pleaded with Jesus on behalf of her sick daughter. At first, Jesus gave her no response at all. Next, Jesus’ friends asked him to send her away. And then, after she had literally fallen on her knees and begged for help, Jesus quoted a popular saying which likened her people to dogs.
Jesus was intentionally testing her faith, and she passed the test. Others might have given up, and walked away in bitterness and disappointment. But not this woman! She continued to persist, her prayer was answered, and her daughter was healed.
Her witness demonstrates the importance of persistence in prayer. Persistence is essential, for several reasons. For starters, persistence teaches us patience and honors the fact that God acts in freedom, and isn’t a spigot of grace that we can turn on and off as we wish. In addition, persistence shows to God that some need is close to our hearts, and not just a casual request. Persistence can also make clear to us that God’s agenda, and God’s timetable, are sometimes very different than ours. Sometimes God says “Yes!” Sometimes God says “No.” And sometimes God says “Not yet.”
In short, nothing should discourage us from persisting in prayer. As St. Teresa of Avila said, “God never gets tired of giving; so let us never get tired of asking.”
Reading for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/021011.shtml
As we heard, she pleaded with Jesus on behalf of her sick daughter. At first, Jesus gave her no response at all. Next, Jesus’ friends asked him to send her away. And then, after she had literally fallen on her knees and begged for help, Jesus quoted a popular saying which likened her people to dogs.
Jesus was intentionally testing her faith, and she passed the test. Others might have given up, and walked away in bitterness and disappointment. But not this woman! She continued to persist, her prayer was answered, and her daughter was healed.
Her witness demonstrates the importance of persistence in prayer. Persistence is essential, for several reasons. For starters, persistence teaches us patience and honors the fact that God acts in freedom, and isn’t a spigot of grace that we can turn on and off as we wish. In addition, persistence shows to God that some need is close to our hearts, and not just a casual request. Persistence can also make clear to us that God’s agenda, and God’s timetable, are sometimes very different than ours. Sometimes God says “Yes!” Sometimes God says “No.” And sometimes God says “Not yet.”
In short, nothing should discourage us from persisting in prayer. As St. Teresa of Avila said, “God never gets tired of giving; so let us never get tired of asking.”
Reading for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/021011.shtml
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Wednesday of Ordinary 5 - February 9
With Valentine’s Day fast approaching, hearts are in evidence just about everywhere. And that’s understandable, because for us, hearts are a symbol of love. Hearts come to mind when we think about our “sweethearts.”
Jesus wants us to think about hearts too. In today’s gospel, he’s concerned that our hearts be clean, and not filled with things that “defile” them. We might say that Jesus is concerned with the condition and health of our hearts, because he wants our hearts for himself. Jesus wants us to open our hearts to his love; he wants our hearts to be united in love; he wants to fill our hearts with the pure and perfect love that only he is able to give.
That’s why, at this and every Mass, we’ve invited to “lift up” our hearts – to raise our hearts to Jesus and place them in his hands, that he might take our hearts, and place them next to his.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/020911.shtml
Jesus wants us to think about hearts too. In today’s gospel, he’s concerned that our hearts be clean, and not filled with things that “defile” them. We might say that Jesus is concerned with the condition and health of our hearts, because he wants our hearts for himself. Jesus wants us to open our hearts to his love; he wants our hearts to be united in love; he wants to fill our hearts with the pure and perfect love that only he is able to give.
That’s why, at this and every Mass, we’ve invited to “lift up” our hearts – to raise our hearts to Jesus and place them in his hands, that he might take our hearts, and place them next to his.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/020911.shtml
Monday, February 7, 2011
Tuesday of Ordinary 5 - February 8
As you go through your day, what is it that you think about? I know that my mind is filled with all kinds of thoughts- about work and worries, plans and regrets, hopes and resentments, daydreams and memories. Some of it’s good, some of it’s bad.
However, how often during our day do we think about God? In today’s gospel, Jesus laments that while some people honor God with their lips, their hearts are far from him. And when Jesus speaks about the heart, he’s not talking about feelings. Instead, he’s referring to our thoughts. In other words, then, Jesus is telling us that God wants us to think about him- a lot!
Unfortunately, because we’re so busy and get distracted so often, it’s easy for God to get pushed out of our minds. That’s why we need to make a concerted, intentional effort to lift up our hearts and direct our thoughts toward him throughout the day.
I’ve heard it said that how we start our day makes a big impact on how we spend the rest of the day. That’s why I’ve been trying, every morning, to offer a little prayer in which I ask the Lord to help me turn all of my anxious, resentful, proud, envious, and otherwise ungodly thoughts into opportunities for prayer, so that my mind might be directed toward God, instead of those things that separate me from him.
Nothing profound, to be sure, but it’s one little way I can think a bit more about God who, after all, is thinking about all of us, all the time.
Readings for this Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/020811.shtml
However, how often during our day do we think about God? In today’s gospel, Jesus laments that while some people honor God with their lips, their hearts are far from him. And when Jesus speaks about the heart, he’s not talking about feelings. Instead, he’s referring to our thoughts. In other words, then, Jesus is telling us that God wants us to think about him- a lot!
Unfortunately, because we’re so busy and get distracted so often, it’s easy for God to get pushed out of our minds. That’s why we need to make a concerted, intentional effort to lift up our hearts and direct our thoughts toward him throughout the day.
I’ve heard it said that how we start our day makes a big impact on how we spend the rest of the day. That’s why I’ve been trying, every morning, to offer a little prayer in which I ask the Lord to help me turn all of my anxious, resentful, proud, envious, and otherwise ungodly thoughts into opportunities for prayer, so that my mind might be directed toward God, instead of those things that separate me from him.
Nothing profound, to be sure, but it’s one little way I can think a bit more about God who, after all, is thinking about all of us, all the time.
Readings for this Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/020811.shtml
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Monday of Ordinary 5 - February 7
There are 46 million people without health insurance in the United States today. Making adequate health care available to them is one of the most pressing challenges facing our nation right now.
However, access to health care isn’t just a 21st century problem. It was seemingly just as pressing an issue in the first century, as reflected in today’s gospel. When people heard that Jesus was nearby, we’re told that people “scurried about the surrounding countryside” to gather the sick and lay them in the village marketplaces, in hope that Jesus might come. And when Jesus did come, the sick literally begged him for help. The picture that emerges is one of desperation and urgency. Not too dissimilar, I think, to the desperation and urgency experienced by those in our country today, who are both uninsured and sick.
Our Church teaches that access to adequate health care is a fundamental human right, and our nation's bishops call providing it “an urgent national priority. We have the duty, as praying Catholics and voting citizens, to do what we can to ensure that good health care is available to everyone within our borders, that anxiety might be replaced with peace, that fear might be replaced with hope, and that sickness might be replaced with health.
Reading for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/020711.shtml
However, access to health care isn’t just a 21st century problem. It was seemingly just as pressing an issue in the first century, as reflected in today’s gospel. When people heard that Jesus was nearby, we’re told that people “scurried about the surrounding countryside” to gather the sick and lay them in the village marketplaces, in hope that Jesus might come. And when Jesus did come, the sick literally begged him for help. The picture that emerges is one of desperation and urgency. Not too dissimilar, I think, to the desperation and urgency experienced by those in our country today, who are both uninsured and sick.
Our Church teaches that access to adequate health care is a fundamental human right, and our nation's bishops call providing it “an urgent national priority. We have the duty, as praying Catholics and voting citizens, to do what we can to ensure that good health care is available to everyone within our borders, that anxiety might be replaced with peace, that fear might be replaced with hope, and that sickness might be replaced with health.
Reading for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/020711.shtml
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time
You're probably familiar with the old stereotype that the English are a very reserved people- you know, stiff upper lip and all that. Well, I know from experience that it doesn't hold true for all English people, but it was largely true of the English seminary I attended. We seminarians world often talk about religion, but rarely spoke about our personal faith. That was practically taboo.
But near the end of my final year a priest came to give us a retreat. He told us at the outset that we would be breaking into small groups one night to share our stories of how God lead us to prepare for ministry. At first, many of us feared that this would be a lot of touchy-feely nonsense. But when the night finally came, and we shared our stories with one another, it was as if someone had opened a window and let the Holy Spirit in.
I'll never forget one story from a fellow named Brian. Brian had been a true English punk rocker- Mohawk hair, leather jackets, pierced ears, and an angry, belligerent attitude. Then one day he saw that a youth event was being held at a local monastery. He and his friends decided to go, not because they were looking for faith, but because they wanted to cause trouble and rough things up. When they got to the front door, a monk opened it and welcomed them in. Brian responded with an obscenity and shoved him so hard that he fell to the ground. But this monk didn't miss a beat. He picked himself up, dusted off his robes, extended his arms in welcome and said, "Peace be with you." Brian was so stunned by this non-violent, loving response, that he was converted to Christianity on the spot.
That's a good story, isn't it? And there were a lot of good stories that night in my seminary. Sharing them with each other was a powerfully unifying experience for us. It was important for us to learn what an impact sharing our faith had on other people, and on ourselves.
St. Paul, I think, needed to learn the same lesson. In today's second reading, from his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul explains that he didn't preach with sublime words of wisdom. However, it wasn’t for lack of trying. When he had visited Athens earlier in his ministry, he tried a very philosophical approach to preaching, and it bombed. After this experience, he changed his approach and preached a simpler message. What's more, he began to share his powerful conversion story of how he was struck blind on the road to Damascus in an encounter with the risen Christ. In fact, we encounter this story no less than six times in the New Testament, and we can imagine that Paul told it again and again in the course of his great missionary journeys.
Each one of us has a story of how God has acted in our life. It's probably not as dramatic as St. Paul's or my friend Brian's, but that doesn't make it any less real. We wouldn't be here if God weren't active in our life in some way. Just think about how God has touched you. In our faith journeys, we've had ups and downs, struggles and joys, periods of doubt and moments of great certainty. We’ve walked hand in hand with God,
and we've run away from him as fast as we can. Sometimes he seems a stranger, while at other times he's very present, very real. He's taught us hard lessons, and he's wiped away our tears. He's both confused us and guided us. He's brought us to our knees and made us jump for joy. He's spoken to us through other people, through the pages of Scripture, and by these special events we know weren't a coincidence, but instead were moments of grace. Maybe we've thought that God was unfair, maybe we've tried to tell him how to do his job, and maybe we've had no choice but to trust him. At times we could have cared less about God, and at times we couldn't have cared more. Sometimes we've just gone through the motions, and sometimes we've been driven by love. And then there are our memories- of first Holy Communion, of our grandmother who prayed the rosary, of the special priest or nun who helped make a difference, of that retreat that changed the course of our life.
Each one of us has a story to tell, and Jesus wants us to tell it. He told us so in today's gospel when he said that we are the salt of the earth and the light of the world. In other words, we need to give witness to our faith. It's true that Jesus is the light of the world. But you and I are members of his body, the Church. We are Jesus' witnesses in the world today; we too are the light of the world; and we are called to manifest what we are.
To do this, we need to cultivate an awareness that we are public witnesses to Christ. Because I wear a clerical collar, it's obvious that I'm a public witness to Christ. People see my collar and they come up to me, wanting to talk about faith and religion. It's happened in the supermarket checkout line, in airports, at a bar waiting for a carryout hamburger, and while pumping gas.
But the truth is that each of us has opportunities to share our faith story. We just need to take advantage of them. For instance, do we share our faith at the dinner table with our family? Do we ever speak of our faith with our friends? When someone we know is hurting or grieving, do we tell them how much our faith has helped us? Or if someone should bring up in conversation the Da Vinci Code or their dislike of the Church, is that our cue to speak of what God has done for us?
It should, because we have a story to tell. God has indeed touched our lives. Let's share our stories, so that he can touch a couple more.
But near the end of my final year a priest came to give us a retreat. He told us at the outset that we would be breaking into small groups one night to share our stories of how God lead us to prepare for ministry. At first, many of us feared that this would be a lot of touchy-feely nonsense. But when the night finally came, and we shared our stories with one another, it was as if someone had opened a window and let the Holy Spirit in.
I'll never forget one story from a fellow named Brian. Brian had been a true English punk rocker- Mohawk hair, leather jackets, pierced ears, and an angry, belligerent attitude. Then one day he saw that a youth event was being held at a local monastery. He and his friends decided to go, not because they were looking for faith, but because they wanted to cause trouble and rough things up. When they got to the front door, a monk opened it and welcomed them in. Brian responded with an obscenity and shoved him so hard that he fell to the ground. But this monk didn't miss a beat. He picked himself up, dusted off his robes, extended his arms in welcome and said, "Peace be with you." Brian was so stunned by this non-violent, loving response, that he was converted to Christianity on the spot.
That's a good story, isn't it? And there were a lot of good stories that night in my seminary. Sharing them with each other was a powerfully unifying experience for us. It was important for us to learn what an impact sharing our faith had on other people, and on ourselves.
St. Paul, I think, needed to learn the same lesson. In today's second reading, from his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul explains that he didn't preach with sublime words of wisdom. However, it wasn’t for lack of trying. When he had visited Athens earlier in his ministry, he tried a very philosophical approach to preaching, and it bombed. After this experience, he changed his approach and preached a simpler message. What's more, he began to share his powerful conversion story of how he was struck blind on the road to Damascus in an encounter with the risen Christ. In fact, we encounter this story no less than six times in the New Testament, and we can imagine that Paul told it again and again in the course of his great missionary journeys.
Each one of us has a story of how God has acted in our life. It's probably not as dramatic as St. Paul's or my friend Brian's, but that doesn't make it any less real. We wouldn't be here if God weren't active in our life in some way. Just think about how God has touched you. In our faith journeys, we've had ups and downs, struggles and joys, periods of doubt and moments of great certainty. We’ve walked hand in hand with God,
and we've run away from him as fast as we can. Sometimes he seems a stranger, while at other times he's very present, very real. He's taught us hard lessons, and he's wiped away our tears. He's both confused us and guided us. He's brought us to our knees and made us jump for joy. He's spoken to us through other people, through the pages of Scripture, and by these special events we know weren't a coincidence, but instead were moments of grace. Maybe we've thought that God was unfair, maybe we've tried to tell him how to do his job, and maybe we've had no choice but to trust him. At times we could have cared less about God, and at times we couldn't have cared more. Sometimes we've just gone through the motions, and sometimes we've been driven by love. And then there are our memories- of first Holy Communion, of our grandmother who prayed the rosary, of the special priest or nun who helped make a difference, of that retreat that changed the course of our life.
Each one of us has a story to tell, and Jesus wants us to tell it. He told us so in today's gospel when he said that we are the salt of the earth and the light of the world. In other words, we need to give witness to our faith. It's true that Jesus is the light of the world. But you and I are members of his body, the Church. We are Jesus' witnesses in the world today; we too are the light of the world; and we are called to manifest what we are.
To do this, we need to cultivate an awareness that we are public witnesses to Christ. Because I wear a clerical collar, it's obvious that I'm a public witness to Christ. People see my collar and they come up to me, wanting to talk about faith and religion. It's happened in the supermarket checkout line, in airports, at a bar waiting for a carryout hamburger, and while pumping gas.
But the truth is that each of us has opportunities to share our faith story. We just need to take advantage of them. For instance, do we share our faith at the dinner table with our family? Do we ever speak of our faith with our friends? When someone we know is hurting or grieving, do we tell them how much our faith has helped us? Or if someone should bring up in conversation the Da Vinci Code or their dislike of the Church, is that our cue to speak of what God has done for us?
It should, because we have a story to tell. God has indeed touched our lives. Let's share our stories, so that he can touch a couple more.
Friday, February 4, 2011
St. Agatha - February 5
The martyrdom of St. Agatha is a sad and tragic story. During a third century persecution of Christians, she resisted being forced into prostitution, and as a result was brutally tortured in prison, where she died.
In light of her story, and various traditions surrounding her life, Agatha became the patron saint of several very different categories of people, including bakers, foundry workers, miners, nurses, and alpine mountain guides.
To put it another way, we might say that as a saint, Agatha has a special concern for those in the food service, transportation, manufacturing, recreation, medical, and mining professions. Given the current state of the economy, only one category of those persons- the nurses- have stable employment prospects. Those in the others are experiencing or facing layoffs and deteriorating prospects of finding new gainful employment in those fields.
They and their families are suffering. Some of us are experiencing this suffering ourselves; probably all of know people who are undergoing this trial. Perhaps then, some inspiration and help can be found from St. Agatha. A victim of injustice, and subjected to horrible suffering, she found her strength and hope through Jesus her savior, whom she trusted when there seemed not much else that was trustworthy.
Her prayer in prison- a prayer for both protection and patience- can be a model for the prayers of all those hurting at this time. Agatha prayed, “Lord, my creator, you have protected me since I was in the cradle. You have taken me from the love of the world and given me patience to suffer.” St. Agatha, pray for those who suffer like you; St. Agatha, pray for us.
In light of her story, and various traditions surrounding her life, Agatha became the patron saint of several very different categories of people, including bakers, foundry workers, miners, nurses, and alpine mountain guides.
To put it another way, we might say that as a saint, Agatha has a special concern for those in the food service, transportation, manufacturing, recreation, medical, and mining professions. Given the current state of the economy, only one category of those persons- the nurses- have stable employment prospects. Those in the others are experiencing or facing layoffs and deteriorating prospects of finding new gainful employment in those fields.
They and their families are suffering. Some of us are experiencing this suffering ourselves; probably all of know people who are undergoing this trial. Perhaps then, some inspiration and help can be found from St. Agatha. A victim of injustice, and subjected to horrible suffering, she found her strength and hope through Jesus her savior, whom she trusted when there seemed not much else that was trustworthy.
Her prayer in prison- a prayer for both protection and patience- can be a model for the prayers of all those hurting at this time. Agatha prayed, “Lord, my creator, you have protected me since I was in the cradle. You have taken me from the love of the world and given me patience to suffer.” St. Agatha, pray for those who suffer like you; St. Agatha, pray for us.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Friday of Ordinary 4 - February 4
King Herod was a terribly conflicted man. He enjoyed listening to John the Baptist, but at the same time, he wanted to kill him. Herod knew John spoke the truth, but he feared truth’s consequences. So instead of facing the truth, Herod tried to sweep it under the carpet by having John thrown into jail.
But don’t we sometimes know the truth, but fear its consequences? Maybe we know we have to break that bad habit, but we don’t want to make the effort. Perhaps we know we need to work on a problem in a relationship, but we’re worried about getting into a big fight. It could be we know we need to make a difficult decision, but we procrastinate out of fear. Or possibly we know that we were wrong about something, but we won’t admit it or apologize, because we’re too stubborn.
In situations like these, we’re tempted to ignore the truth, instead of dealing with it courageously and constructively. The problem is: Whenever we try to avoid the truth, it’s going to come back and haunt us. King Herod actually thought that John had come back from the dead in order to haunt him! For us, we’ll be haunted by mental anguish, spiritual anguish, and even physical anguish in the form of ulcers, headaches, and backaches. Our lack of peace will affect our work and our relationships, because we’ll either become short-tempered and irritable, or we’ll retreat into our shell, and isolate ourselves. In short, whenever we deny the truth, we are denied peace.
Today’s gospel, then, presents us with a choice: We can walk Herod’s path, and become a captive to our fears. Or we can follow John the Baptist and discover that it is only the truth, even with its price, that can release us, and set us free.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/020411.shtml
But don’t we sometimes know the truth, but fear its consequences? Maybe we know we have to break that bad habit, but we don’t want to make the effort. Perhaps we know we need to work on a problem in a relationship, but we’re worried about getting into a big fight. It could be we know we need to make a difficult decision, but we procrastinate out of fear. Or possibly we know that we were wrong about something, but we won’t admit it or apologize, because we’re too stubborn.
In situations like these, we’re tempted to ignore the truth, instead of dealing with it courageously and constructively. The problem is: Whenever we try to avoid the truth, it’s going to come back and haunt us. King Herod actually thought that John had come back from the dead in order to haunt him! For us, we’ll be haunted by mental anguish, spiritual anguish, and even physical anguish in the form of ulcers, headaches, and backaches. Our lack of peace will affect our work and our relationships, because we’ll either become short-tempered and irritable, or we’ll retreat into our shell, and isolate ourselves. In short, whenever we deny the truth, we are denied peace.
Today’s gospel, then, presents us with a choice: We can walk Herod’s path, and become a captive to our fears. Or we can follow John the Baptist and discover that it is only the truth, even with its price, that can release us, and set us free.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/020411.shtml
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
St. Blase - February 3
We and thousands of other Catholics today will have our throats blessed through the intercession of St. Blase, who healed a boy with a chicken bone stuck in his throat with prayer and the sign of the cross. Considering the coughing I typically hear in church on St. Blase day, it’s a good thing that it falls in February. We might ask, however: Why just throats? Why not other body parts on other days? Shouldn’t laborers or surgeons have their hands blessed? I’m a runner- I’ve love a blessing for my knees.
Blessing throats on St. Blase day is a holdover from a time when blessings were far more common. We can still hear echoes of this. Filipnos Catholics ask me to bless their cars; those of Eastern European ancestry have Easter breads blessed on Holy Saturday; after Mass, I’m sometimes presented with rosaries or crosses to bless; occasionally I’ll bless a home. We might bless ourselves with Holy Water as we enter or exit a church. Some parents bless their children every night. Fishing boats are blessed each year in Southern Maryland. We say “Bless you” when people sneeze.
But typically that’s it. And that’s sad, because the Church has a rich store of official blessings for all sorts of people, places, and things: expectant mothers, adopted children, travelers, addicts and crime victims. There are blessings for work tools, seeds for planting, new workplaces and athletic fields, and friends as they move away from a parish. And there are countless informal blessings as well.
Maybe today’s blessing of throats can challenge us to reclaim something of what we’ve lost, and remind us, as all blessings do, that God is concerned with everyone and everything, and that anything can be a blessing, because they’ve all been given to us by God, He who is blessed forever.
Blessing throats on St. Blase day is a holdover from a time when blessings were far more common. We can still hear echoes of this. Filipnos Catholics ask me to bless their cars; those of Eastern European ancestry have Easter breads blessed on Holy Saturday; after Mass, I’m sometimes presented with rosaries or crosses to bless; occasionally I’ll bless a home. We might bless ourselves with Holy Water as we enter or exit a church. Some parents bless their children every night. Fishing boats are blessed each year in Southern Maryland. We say “Bless you” when people sneeze.
But typically that’s it. And that’s sad, because the Church has a rich store of official blessings for all sorts of people, places, and things: expectant mothers, adopted children, travelers, addicts and crime victims. There are blessings for work tools, seeds for planting, new workplaces and athletic fields, and friends as they move away from a parish. And there are countless informal blessings as well.
Maybe today’s blessing of throats can challenge us to reclaim something of what we’ve lost, and remind us, as all blessings do, that God is concerned with everyone and everything, and that anything can be a blessing, because they’ve all been given to us by God, He who is blessed forever.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Feast of the Presentation - February 2
There’s something wonderful about candlelight, isn’t there? It’s mysterious, comforting, joyful, simple, and relaxing. For we Christians, candlelight can speak to us of Jesus himself- he who is the light from light, the light of the world, the light that shall not be overcome by darkness.
Today we celebrate the feast of the Presentation of the Lord, traditionally known as “Candlesmas,” because the liturgy begins with our bringing blessed candles into the midst of the church.
We do this in memory of what we heard in today’s gospel: How when Mary and Joseph brought their child into the Jerusalem Temple, Simeon, proclaimed Jesus to be the “light of the nations.” This occasion of Jesus’ coming to the Temple is symbolic of Jesus coming to us, his people, because Scripture speaks of us as living stones of a living temple, of which Jesus himself is the capstone.
Through the Holy Spirit, Simeon and Anna recognized Jesus when he was presented to them as a baby. Through the Holy Spirit, we recognize Jesus coming to us in many ways: in his word proclaimed in Holy Scripture, in our sufferings and our joys, in our Christian brothers and sisters, in the faces of the poor and vulnerable, in the midst of this liturgical assembly, in the priest standing at the altar, and supremely in his Body and Blood given to us in the Eucharist, the one pure sacrifice foretold in the first reading, from Malachi.
When Jesus came to Simeon at the Temple, Simeon rejoiced and burst into song. We rejoice today that Jesus comes to us, we who are the temple, and that we have a loving savior who is so close, so intimate, and so near.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/020211.shtml
Today we celebrate the feast of the Presentation of the Lord, traditionally known as “Candlesmas,” because the liturgy begins with our bringing blessed candles into the midst of the church.
We do this in memory of what we heard in today’s gospel: How when Mary and Joseph brought their child into the Jerusalem Temple, Simeon, proclaimed Jesus to be the “light of the nations.” This occasion of Jesus’ coming to the Temple is symbolic of Jesus coming to us, his people, because Scripture speaks of us as living stones of a living temple, of which Jesus himself is the capstone.
Through the Holy Spirit, Simeon and Anna recognized Jesus when he was presented to them as a baby. Through the Holy Spirit, we recognize Jesus coming to us in many ways: in his word proclaimed in Holy Scripture, in our sufferings and our joys, in our Christian brothers and sisters, in the faces of the poor and vulnerable, in the midst of this liturgical assembly, in the priest standing at the altar, and supremely in his Body and Blood given to us in the Eucharist, the one pure sacrifice foretold in the first reading, from Malachi.
When Jesus came to Simeon at the Temple, Simeon rejoiced and burst into song. We rejoice today that Jesus comes to us, we who are the temple, and that we have a loving savior who is so close, so intimate, and so near.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/020211.shtml
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