Lent 3 Friday

Who is it today that you’re finding it difficult to love? Is it someone at home, on the job, in the neighborhood, at church, in the public spotlight? Whoever it may be, today’s gospel challenges us to make the intentional effort- to go the extra mile- to love that person.


As we heard, a scribe asked Jesus what he thought was the first of all the commandments. But Jesus didn’t just give him the first, which is the commandment to love God above all else. Jesus gave him the second as well, which is the commandment to love our neighbor as ourselves. Jesus did this because we cannot love God if we don’t love our neighbor.

But just how are we to love? What are we supposed to do? St. Thomas Aquinas said, “Love is wanting what is best for a person and doing what you reasonably can to bring goodness and good things to that person.”

Applying this to the person we’re finding it difficult to love will take different forms, depending on the circumstances. We may need to exercise patience, swallow our pride, offer forgiveness, be intentionally kind, give them some type of help, or make amends for something hurtful we may have done to them.

But regardless of what we might need to do to these difficult people, love them we must, if we wish to be people who truly love God.

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/040111.shtml

Thursday of Lent 3

Are you with me or against me? This is the choice Jesus presents to us in today’s gospel. As we heard, Jesus had performed a miraculous healing. Critics said his action was evil. Jesus said it was a sign of the kingdom of God. Then he said we needed to choose whose side we were on. If you think about it, this is a choice we need to make every day, if not several times a day.

On our worst days, we reject Jesus altogether. We’re like the people Jeremiah spoke about in the first reading: disobedient, disloyal, deaf to God’s word. On other days, however, we do want to side with Jesus…but only on our terms. In other words:

• We’re willing to sacrifice…within reasonable limits;

• We’re willing to forgive…those people who are truly sorry;

• We’re willing to love…those people we find lovable;

• We’re willing to give…so long as we receive;

• We’re happy to follow Jesus…as long as he goes where we want him to.

Today’s gospel reminds us that we can’t have it both ways. As Jesus said, the kingdom of God has indeed come upon us. And we need to choose to follow our king, without limit, and without compromise. So today when we hear his voice, let us harden not our hearts.

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/033111.shtml

Wednesday of Lent 3

Are you familiar with the expression, “Always read the fine print?” Do you always read the fine print? I know I don’t. I once heard a comedy routine that put “always read the fine print” in the same category as “rinse and repeat” and “do not insert cotton swab into the ear canal.” The point was, of course, that we usually ignore this good advice.

In today’s gospel, however, Jesus tells us that we do need to read the fine print when it comes to the law of God. He promises us that until the end of time, not an iota, not a dot of God’s law will pass away. Jesus explained that he wouldn’t abolish even the smallest part of it, as some of his contemporaries had feared, or perhaps had hoped.

But we might ask ourselves the question: Who would want this law to pass away? Who would wish to see it abolished? In today’s first reading, Moses said that the keeping of this just, life-giving law brings God close to us, and shows us to be wise and intelligent.

And let’s be honest: Who amongst us doesn’t want justice, life, wisdom, and intelligence? Who amongst us doesn’t want God to be close beside us? Deep down, this is what we all want, because God has made us this way. That’s why Jesus said that those who keep and teach God’s law are truly great in the kingdom of God. Indeed, when it comes to God’s law, we should always read the fine print.

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/033011.shtml

Tuesday of Lent 3

St. Peter never played baseball. Nevertheless, “Three strikes and you’re out!” seems to be what he had in mind when he asked Jesus about the limits of forgiveness. Like we’re often tempted to do, he assumed that forgiveness has its limits. Jesus understood this. That’s why he stressed that those who follow him are to forgive without limit.


Jesus doesn’t say that we need to condone what was done to us, deny our pain in being hurt, or trust the person who harmed us. However, he does call us to make the decision to forgive, and free ourselves from resentment and the desire for revenge.

When we refuse to forgive, we contribute to the world’s sorrow (and there’s enough of that already); we demonize the person who wronged us (and that’s unfair to them); and we deny ourselves the gift of God’s forgiveness (which is foolishness to us).

Forgiveness is indeed hard, but Jesus shows us the way. As Pope John Paul II reminds us, “Jesus’ cross invites us to respond to love with love.”

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/032911.shtml

Monday of Lent 3

One cell phone company’s ad campaign features a character in all sorts of remote places asking, “Can you hear me now?” The implication is that if he were using another cell phone provider, his words would have fallen on deaf ears.

It’s frustrating when others fail to hear what he have to say, for whatever reason. But it’s tragic when we fail to hear what God has to say to us. Consider today’s gospel. Jesus gave two examples of God’s people refusing to hear God’s word as spoken by God’s prophets, Elijah and Elisha. People didn’t like God’s word as spoken through Jesus either, and they tried to kill him.

All of us are guilty of failing to listen to God’s word. Maybe our Lord is challenging us through today’s gospel to ask ourselves what it is we don’t want to hear, won’t allow ourselves to hear, or are failing to hear because we just aren’t listening at all. Is it about money? Forgiveness? Our use of time? Sex? Are we too proud to hear? Too angry? Too indifferent? Too addicted?

Perhaps we can all use the remainder of Lent to truly open our ears to God, so that should he say to us, “Can you hear me now?” our answer will be an emphatic “Yes!”

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/032811.shtml

Solemnity of the Annunciation

It’s a very special and wonderful moment when someone learns that they’re going to become a new parent. Yet first-time moms and dads can be apprehensive too. They may worry: “Am I up to the job? How will I juggle work and family? Will my baby be okay? How is my life going to change? Can we afford this?" Expectant parents can feel overwhelmed by their new responsibilities. Some even suffer depression.

Given this, we can appreciate how Mary may have felt at the Annunciation. It was an angel of light- not a nurse- that told her that she’d be a mom. What’s more, she wouldn’t be an ordinary mom- she was going to be a queen mother, as her son was to be a king who would rule forever! To top it off, she wasn’t even married yet, and somehow her child was to be conceived by a “Holy Spirit.”

Scripture describes Mary as frightened and confused- and who could blame her? Thankfully, Gabriel understood. He told Mary to put away her fears, and assured her that nothing is impossible for God.

But-aren’t Gabriel’s words meant for us too? Like Mary, we may face situations that seem daunting- things that fill us with fear, look to be impossible, or make no logical sense, and we wonder how it all fits into God’s plan. We may find ourselves asking Mary’s question: “How can this be?”

When we do, Mary invites us to imitate her surrender, entrusting ourselves into the hands of a trustworthy God by saying, “Thy will be done.” Even though we may be afraid; even though we may not understand; even though the way ahead looks dark.

To know “The Lord is with thee” was enough for Mary. And praise God, the Lord will be with us too.

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/032511.shtml

Third Sunday in Lent

Like so many of us, English poet Francis Thompson spent much of his life running away from God. At one time he'd trained for the priesthood, but was rejected as unqualified. He later studied medicine, but never managed to pass his final examinations. Hopeless and angry, he turned away from God and became a destitute opium addict on the streets of London.

Yet all was not lost. He managed to submit an essay and a poem to a Catholic magazine. For months they sat unread in a file. But when they were finally examined, it was determined that they were the work of a true talent. The magazine editor and his wife befriended Thompson and arranged for his stay at a countryside monastery, where his health improved, and his faith in God was restored.

Thompson ultimately composed the “Hound of Heaven,” a well-known and much-loved poem. It describes God, like a hound chasing a hare, patiently but persistently pursuing the poet’s soul, in spite of his futile attempts to flee, avoid, or find substitutes for God. “I am He Whom thou seekest,” concludes God. “Rise, clasp my hand, and come.”

We can see a similar pattern in the relationship between Jesus and the Samaritan woman in today's gospel. Like Thompson, she at first didn’t want anything to do with Jesus. When she saw him approaching, her first thought must have been, “Please- just go away!” There was a reason she was drawing water at noon, the hottest part of the day: She wanted to avoid meeting anyone else! But Jesus understood that. And so it was he who opened the conversation.

This has been the experience of many people, including myself, and perhaps you too. We didn’t set out on a quest for Jesus; we didn’t go looking for God. Instead, it was God who came looking for us. As a priest friend of mine once said, “God isn’t like a stuffy aristocrat, sitting aloof in a drawing room somewhere, keeping a polite distance from us. Instead, he’s more like a Jewish mother, nudging us, pushing us, cajoling us, craftily scheming that we might allow him into our life.”

But back to the Samaritan woman. After Jesus’ initial approach, she remains guarded and cautious- and rightly so! As there was a long-standing animosity between Jews and Samaritans, it was highly unusual for Jesus to have spoken with her. And there were gender issues too. Men just didn’t speak in public with women, who were considered second-class citizens.

The Samaritan woman was understandably suspicious of Jesus’ motives, and she hesitated to accept his gift of living water. But don’t we sometimes act this way? Is not “No thanks, I already have all I need” our first reaction when someone tries to interest us in something religious? We get defensive, because we wonder what their true intentions are.

Thankfully, Jesus knows us- and the Samaritan woman- all too well. He persists and convinces her to accept his gift. But she sadly misunderstands what it is he offers. So Jesus tries a different tactic, revealing his knowledge about her multiple marriages. Jesus doesn’t reject her for this. He doesn’t say, “Come back here after you straighten out your life.” He says instead, “I know what your life is like, and with the grace I’ll give, it can change for the better!”

This is an important point, because for many people an imperfect past is an obstacle to continued conversion. One Methodist pastor recalls how he and his wife once suggested a dinner gathering with friends who had just moved into a new home. The new homeowners were eager to meet at a restaurant, but the pastor sensed that they weren’t ready for houseguests. The conversation at dinner confirmed this. “We want you to come see the house,” they said, “but only after we get it all cleaned up!”

The pastor concludes, “Is not this our way with God? We want everything to be just right when we relate to God. And when it’s not, we turn away and try to run. We dare not invite Christ into our life! The only problem: God pursues us.”

Again, back to the Samaritan woman. By this time, she’s warming to Jesus. She’s gone from seeing him as a hostile male Jew to perceiving him as a prophet! But maybe this frightens her a little. We can imagine that she’s had some painful relationships, in light of her five ex-husbands. Perhaps she’s afraid of getting too close to Jesus. And so, to sidetrack their new friendship, she asks distracting questions about the proper place for worship and the coming of the Messiah. In effect, to keep things from getting too personal, she steers the conversation away from matters of the heart to matters of the head.

We're sometimes guilty of exactly the same thing. We can be attracted to God, but we don’t want to get to close to him. Who knows what that may involve? We find it easy to pray to “Almighty God,” a title that reflects God’s distance from us. But it can be hard to call God “Father,” as Jesus always did, because this implies love, family, and intimacy. So often we seek to keep God at arm’s length- just like the Samaritan woman.

But Jesus wanted more from his relationship with her, and we wants more from his relationship with us. He’ll stop at nothing short of a deep, abiding friendship. At the end of their conversation, Jesus revealed to the Samaritan woman that he is the Messiah, and her faith came to completion. Today, Jesus continues his conversation with us, that we too might drink his living water. “How wonderful and how great,” wrote St. Cyprian, “is the patience of God!”

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/032711.shtml

Thursday of Lent 2

If you found on your doorstep this morning a filthy, starving, homeless man surrounded by stray dogs, how you your react? What would you do? What would you see?

Would you see an opportunity to love, an opportunity to heal, an opportunity to serve? Would you see a hurting and needy brother? Would you see the face of Christ himself? Or would you be disgusted, scared, annoyed, and worried about the impact on your property value? Would you try to ignore him and hope that he’d go away?

This seems to be what the rich man in today’s gospel did. It’s not that he couldn’t see Lazarus, because he even knew his name! He simply was too hard of heart, too indifferent, to do anything to help him. The rich man chose to separate himself from the plight of Lazarus his neighbor- a separation that continued after they both had died, except with a dramatic reversal of fortune.

Jesus told this parable to challenge our way of thinking about the needy, so that we can change our way of acting toward the needy. Jesus challenges us to see the Lazarus on our doorstep as a brother, not a burden; as an opportunity, not an inconvenience; as a person, not a problem.

He’s not asking us to do the impossible. What he is asking is that we change our attitude, and then to do what we can. Which may be more than we think! If you’ll recall, Lazarus would have been satisfied with table scraps- a reminder that even the small things we do can seem so great to those who have so little. Or as St. Anselm once said: “The fasts of the rich are the feasts of the poor.”

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/032411.shtml

Wednesday of Lent 2

Do you remember Norm from the TV series Cheers? He once said, “It’s a dog eat dog world, and I’m wearing Milk Bone underwear.” That’s funny, but also a tragic reflection on the nature of human relationships, especially in the world of work- even church work. As leadership gurus like to say, we need to learn to swim with the sharks.

When our hearts are set on gaining power and influence, it doesn’t matter who gets trampled upon or left behind. Perhaps this may make us a bit uneasy, but we can always rationalize it by saying things like “It’s not personal, it’s business,” or “Nice guys finish last.”

But is that really true? Not according to Jesus in today’s gospel. He had just told his disciples about his impending torture and execution. But what happens next? The “Sons of thunder,” along with their mother, make a power grab. They thought: Jesus’ time is short, so we’d better make our move to be on top in his kingdom. Carpe diem; you snooze, you lose.

They didn’t express any concern about Jesus’ fate, and they didn’t seem to care what their friends might think. Evidently, their selfish ambition had blinded them to compassion or concern about anyone else.

Jesus turned this situation into a teachable moment. He conceded that the world may seem to belong to those who can swim with the sharks. But as for his disciples, we are to swim against the tide. He invites us to follow in his footsteps- by living a life of service; by being focused on others’ needs; by being humble; by cherishing sacrifice, not selfishness.

The world may indeed delude us into thinking that “nice guys finish last.” Except, Jesus reminds us, in the race that really counts.

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/032311.shtml

Lent 2 Tuesday

When my grade school son asked me about the appropriateness of a word he’d heard at school, I explained that he shouldn’t use it under any circumstances. He looked at me and said: “But Dad, I’ve heard you and Mom use it!” Oops… I realized that what I had taught my son was: “Do as I say, but not as I do.”

Which is not a good position to be in, as Jesus acknowledged in today’s gospel, when he lamented that the religious leaders of his day didn’t always practice what they preached. But that could be said about any one of us, couldn’t it? We all give moral instruction or correction to others, and we run the risk of being a hypocrite: of talking the talk, without walking the walk.

Sometimes we realize this and choose not to say anything at all, when actually we should be saying something. For instance, many parents avoid speaking about sex or drinking or drugs with their children, because their own histories are, shall we say, less than perfect.

So what are we to do? If we say something, others might simply roll their eyes at us; but if we say nothing, they might turn their eyes elsewhere and find answers that are contrary to those Jesus would give. Thankfully, Jesus suggests a way forward when he taught about humility in today’s gospel. When speaking to others about moral matters, we need to humbly admit that we ourselves are far from perfect, and humbly place ourselves beside those we instruct, instead of exalting ourselves above them. Because at one level, we all stand before Christ as brothers and sisters: as students before our teacher, servants before our master, sinners before our savior.

Should we do this, what others will hear is: “Do as Jesus says…not as I do.”

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/032211.shtml

Monday of Lent 2

When a car speeds past us on the highway, we typically label the driver “reckless” or a “jerk.” But when we’re the one speeding, it’s because we’re in a hurry for a very important reason! We condemn others but excuse ourselves for doing the exact same thing! We reason that we act with the best of motives, but assume that others do not. Why? Because we evaluate ourselves based on our intentions, but judge others based on their behavior.

            Jesus cautions us in today’s gospel about applying this double standard; he warns us against being quick to judge and condemn. Instead, he invites us to imitate the compassion, forgiveness, and generosity of God the Father. He invites us, in the words of Charles de Foucauld: “Do unto others, as you would have God do unto you.”

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/032111.shtml

Second Sunday in Lent

Over the holidays I was approached at a party by a friend whose eyes were filled with tears. She had lost her dad earlier in the year, and she still grieving. The fact that it was Christmastime only made things worse, as it often does. My friend also shared with me that her dad’s death was affecting her faith. She said: “I’m not really sure what I believe any more.” God seemed very distant to her. She was wondering if God even existed at all.

My friend’s experience is not unusual. When someone close to us dies, we’re often forced to take a good hard look at our beliefs- beliefs we may have been taking for granted. It can seem as if God doesn’t care; we can feel as if God has abandoned us; we can think that we’re being punished. But in reality Jesus understands what we’re going through. And he doesn’t leave us to face our crisis alone. When we’re filled with grief, Jesus is right there beside us, whether we’re able to recognize it or not.

We can see Jesus’ love for those who grieve in the gospel account of the Transfiguration. Jesus knew that his death was approaching. Jesus knew also that his death would leave his disciples sad, confused, and angry. So he took three of them-Peter, James and John- up to a mountaintop, to show them something they would never forget. On that mountaintop, Jesus was transfigured before them. The disciples were awestruck by the magnificence of his glory, amazed to see him speak with Moses and Elijah, and knocked to their knees upon hearing the voice of God the Father himself. Jesus blessed his friends with this experience to leave them with a memory that would be a source of hope when it would be easy to despair, and a sign that his story would end, not with death and a cross, but with resurrection and an empty tomb.

I imagine that many of us here today have been through a significant experience of grief. At some point, all of us will, as we face the death of those we love. And of course, death isn’t the only thing that can lead to grief. There’s also divorce, the loss of a job, suffering a major illnesses, and moving away from a beloved home, just to name a few. Grief is inevitable. Today’s transfiguration gospel, however, gives us five clues about how we as Christians can prepare for, face, and emerge on the other side grief.

First, we need to prepare ourselves beforehand, just as Jesus prepared his disciples for his death. To do this, we need to develop our relationship with God now. Because if God is a stranger to us today, chances are he will still be a stranger to us when grief strikes. We need something to fall back on when things fall apart.

Second, we need to embrace our memories. Jesus wanted his friends to remember his transfiguration in the hours and days after his death. We too need to remember how God has touched our lives in special ways. This will help us to trust and to endure during difficult times. If we’re grieving someone who has died, we need to hang on to and celebrate the good memories we have of that person. And if there are bad memories, then we can’t ignore them either. Perhaps we’ll need to forgive that person for things they did to us. Perhaps we’ll need to forgive ourselves for things we did to them.

Third, we need to reach out to others for their support. It’s been said that misery loves company. But misery is more miserable when we face it alone. That’s why Jesus shared the transfiguration with three disciples, and not just one, because after his death, he didn’t want them to suffer alone. And he doesn’t want us to suffer alone either. When we grieve, others can pray for us, pray with us, give us practical help, and bolster our faith by sharing their stories of how the Lord may have help them during their time of grief.

Fourth, we need to express our grief. Jesus shared his transfiguration with his friends because he knew they would be sad after his death. Jesus himself had wept at the grave of his friend Lazarus. And it’s okay for us to cry too. When someone we love has died, sometimes people say things like: “He’s in a better place now;” or “At least she’s not suffering any more;” or “I guess God needed another angel.” They mean well. But there’s an implication that we should cheer up, or even that our sadness is selfish somehow. But tears aren’t selfish. They’re a sign of our loss, and often a sign of our love.

Fifth, we need to pray while we grieve, even if we don’t feel much like praying. We may think that we can’t pray, because we associate prayer with feelings of warmth and peace. Any when we’re grieving, we usually feel anything but warm and peaceful. But prayer isn’t just about happy feelings. Prayer is an honest communication between us and God. If we’re feeling angry, confused, hurt, or hopeless, we need to share this with God, even if we think he isn’t going to like what we have to say! At the same time, we need to listen to the voice of Jesus spoken to us in Scripture, just as God the Father told the disciples to do on the Transfiguration mount.

The truth is that when we grieve, God knows exactly how we feel, and God knows what we’re thinking. There’s no sense trying to hide it from him, especially since he loves us so much. And because he loves us, he won’t allow grief to have the final word. Because for we Christians, it is our resurrection hope that night is always followed by the morning, and that grief can be transfigured into joy.

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/032011.shtml

Lent 1 Friday

Have you ever thought: “You know, I’m not a bad person. I haven’t robbed a bank or murdered anyone!” I know I have. And for the most part, it’s true: we’re people of good will who want to do the right thing. Chances are we haven’t seriously been tempted to robbery or murder.

But that’s not surprising. Good people usually aren’t tempted to do really bad things. What they are tempted to do are things that are less good, such as settling for a “good enough” morality that’s satisfied with not being a bank robber or an ax murderer. For Christians, however, that’s not enough. Our “righteousness must exceed that of the scribes and the Pharisees.” We’re called to a higher standard.

Jesus explained what this involves in today’s gospel. He confirmed that we aren’t to kill anyone! But we also aren’t to burn bridges, hurl insults, or feed resentments. Instead, we are to be fence menders- people who reconcile, forgive, and apologize. Has anyone hurt us? We’re to forgive them. Have we hurt anyone? Then we need to say we’re sorry. Even if they hurt us back; even if they hurt us first.

We might protest and say: “That’s not fair!” And we’d be right. But Jesus doesn’t call us to be fair; he doesn’t call us to be “good enough.” Jesus calls us to love.

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/031811.shtml

Memorial of St. Patrick

Everyone’s a bit Irish on St. Patrick’s Day, it’s often said. Of course, this is just an excuse so that those who aren’t Irish (like me) can join in all the fun. Erin go bragh!

At the same time, it does happen to be true- in a manner of speaking. All Catholics are part of St. Patrick’s family, though the communion of saints. We’re all one in the household of God, just as God is one: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

In perhaps the most famous story of his life, St. Patrick was standing in a grassy field, teaching a crowd about the Trinity. His listeners, however, couldn’t comprehend that three Persons could be one God. So St. Patrick picked up a shamrock, showed it to the people, and they understood: God is three and one, just as one shamrock has three leaves.

The shamrock is a symbol seen at every St. Patrick’s day celebration. But it’s also a symbol of what we celebrate as Catholics every day: That regardless of where we come from- Ireland or India, Tipperary or Timbuktu, we are all one in God.

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/031711.shtml

Wednesday of Lent 1

In view of the selfishness and self-absorption that pervades our culture, we hear these days about the “Me Generation.” One psychologist, however, refers to it as the “Don’t Blame Me Generation.” She writes, “it is based on a belief system like this: ‘I am more important than most people; I am good; therefore I am incapable of doing bad things.’” What we have, she concludes, is a generation of people who don’t think they need to change anything about themselves.


In today’s gospel, Jesus spoke about another generation of people who didn’t see their need for change. Through his very presence amongst them as the incarnate Son of God, this generation was presented with something far greater than the wisdom of Solomon and the preaching of Jonah. Yet still they didn’t change; they just didn’t see the need. Jesus might very well have directed his words to our “Don’t Blame Me Generation” of today. And indeed he does.

In contrast, the people of Nineveh, when they heard God’s word through Jonah, recognized their need for change. And when they repented in sackcloth and ashes, they learned that God never spurns a humble and contrite heart. You and I will experience this as well, whenever we embrace our need for change and repent. As we celebrated in today’s psalm, God has mercy on us in his goodness; in his compassion he wipes out our offenses; he washes us from our guilt; and cleanses us from our sins. So while “Don’t blame me” may be the cry of our generation, Jesus invites us to make “Have mercy on me” our cry of faith.

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/031611.shtml

Tuesday of Lent 1

A familiar expression, “The squeaky wheel gets the grease,” means that noisy, pesky people usually are heard, and get what they want. Thankfully, as Jesus explained in today’s gospel, we don’t need to be a “squeaky wheel” with God. When we pray, we don’t need to pester God to get his attention; we don’t need to jump and shout or, to borrow Jesus’ phrase, “babble on and on like the pagans,” to get God to hear us. The truth is, God is already listening. He knows what we need even before we ask, because he knows us and loves us better than we know and love ourselves.

Nevertheless, we are to ask God for what we need, simply and honestly, for four reasons:

• First, so that we can learn to depend on God, and not on ourselves;

• Second; so we can acknowledge that all good things come from God, and give him thanks and praise in return;

• Third, so we can share with God, in a relationship of mutual love, those people and situations that are important to us;

• And fourth, because our prayer- really and truly- does change things.

We might say that God loves to hear our voice! We don’t have to raise it or cry out, because we already have his undivided attention. For us, God is “all ears.”

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/031511.shtml

Monday of Lent 1

A youth minister once shared with me how he had led a group of young people in song outside a high security prison. After some time, hands were seen sticking wet pieces of toilet paper on the prison wall’s small slit windows. Letters began to emerge, then a complete message. It read: “Pray for us.” “We went to visit our brothers in prison,” the speaker explained to me, “because Jesus was a prisoner too.”

As I listened to this, I recalled another conversation, this time with a parish volunteer. Her pastor had asked her arrange for parish children to stuff Christmas goody bags of toiletries for local inmates. She was appalled at this suggestion and flatly refused. Those people were being punished for their crimes, she insisted; they didn’t deserve any goody bags.

What a contrast between these two people. Both are committed Catholics. Yet they held very different attitudes about the exercise of mercy. In today’s gospel, Jesus makes clear what he wants our attitude to be. He spoke of prisoners, the sick, the poor, and strangers in our midst - people we might be tempted to judge, condemn, dismiss, ignore, or neglect out of selfishness, indifference, and hardness of heart. Yet Jesus refers to them as his brothers, and explained that we serve him when we serve them. His challenge to us today, then, is to extend mercy to others, just as he has showered his mercy upon us.

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/031411.shtml

First Sunday of Lent

One Mardi Gras, Today Show personality Al Roker was broadcasting from New Orleans. He had before him a traditional Mardi Gras king cake, in which is hidden a small baby Jesus. Whoever finds Jesus in his or her slice of cake at a party is declared king or queen for the day, and is expected to bring another king cake to the next Mardi Gras party. As Al Roker was explaining this, he was slicing the king cake before him, looking for the little baby Jesus. As time wore on, he began to slice and chop at his cake with increasing frustration. With a note of mock panic in his voice he exclaimed: “I can’t find the baby Jesus!” When he finally did find it, the cake had been reduced to a crumbled mess. Needless to say, this was not one of Al Roker’s finer moments.

Today’s gospel account of the temptations of Jesus shows how easy it is for us to be unable to find Jesus, or even lose him altogether. When we read the temptation story, it’s natural for us to identify with Jesus, because we’re all familiar with being tempted. But have we ever placed ourselves in the devil’s shoes? We should, because most of us, at one time or another, will make the same demand of Jesus that the devil did, by insisting that he prove himself.

The devil began each of his three temptations by saying to Jesus: “If you are the Son of God…” These were the same words used by mocking bystanders as Jesus hung dying on the cross. But haven’t these same words come from our own mouths? When we’ve been frustrated or in trouble, haven’t we said, “If you are the Son of God, fix my problem now?” Or when Jesus seems to be absent from some situation, like a terrible disaster, haven’t we said, “If you are the Son of God, why did you let this happen?” And when our faith is shaken, and we wonder if Jesus even exists at all, haven’t we said: “If you really are the Son of God, you’d better show yourself more clearly than you’re doing now!”

Throughout his ministry, people were always complaining that Jesus never did enough to show who he really is. Throughout history, we Christians have continued to make the same complaint. So we put Jesus to the test. We ask him to jump through hoops. We throw down the gauntlet, and condition our faith and discipleship upon a set of conditions that we lay out. Jesus needs to play by our rules.

Whenever we fall into this trap, we will lose Jesus. We may seek for him, but we will not find him. We’ll be like Al Roker, frantically chopping at our king cake, but unlike Al Roker, Jesus will not be revealed to us. In his book, Jesus of Nazareth, Pope Benedict writes: “The arrogance that would…impose our laboratory conditions upon (God) is incapable of finding him. For it already implies that we deny God as God by placing ourselves above him. To think like that is to make oneself God.” And isn’t that what the devil wants us to do? Isn’t that what he tempted Eve to do in the Garden of Eden? “Eat this apple,” he hissed, “and you will be like God.”

Now, sometimes the demands we make of Jesus are simply expressions of our fear, frustration, and confusion. Jesus understands that. He knows that we are weak. At the same time, he wants us to appreciate that he was weak as well. Yes, as the Son of God he possesses unlimited, almighty power. And while he was on earth, people wanted him to demonstrate this power all the time. They wanted him to crush their enemies and fix all their problems. They wanted him to use power like the world likes to use power. But Jesus came among us in weakness, not in power. He became weak to share our weakness and save us from the mess our weakness has made. That’s why people got so frustrated with him. That’s why we too can get so frustrated with him. If we had a choice, we wouldn’t want to see Jesus on a cross. We’d want to see him on a throne! But that’s for the end of time. Not now.

Sometimes we just don’t want Jesus to be Jesus. We want him to be our kind of Jesus. Not the kind of Jesus he really is. Which isn’t really fair, if you think about it. Most of us want other people to know and understand us for who we really are. We want other people to let us be ourselves! But do we try to understand Jesus for who he really is? Do we try to let Jesus be who he really is? When we don’t, we again find ourselves in the devil’s shoes. The devil tempted Jesus to be someone other than the real Jesus. He showed Jesus all the kingdoms of the world and promised that they could all be his if he would only fall down and worship him. Yet if Jesus were to do that, he would be denying that he is God’s Son. He would be denying himself. But Jesus was true to himself. He always is. And we need to accept that.

This is perhaps the greatest challenge that the temptations of Jesus place before us. They teach us that we’re not to make demands of Jesus; we’re to embrace his demands of us. We’re not to place ourselves above Jesus; we’re to humble ourselves beneath him. We need to let Jesus be Jesus, and not remake him in our image. And we need to follow Jesus, not along a path of worldly power, but the godly path of weakness, sacrifice, and trust. Should we do this, we’ll never have to frantically search for an elusive Jesus. He’ll always be there, at our side.

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/031311.shtml

Friday after Ash Wednesday

Wedding banquets don’t usually come to mind when we fast during Lent; I’ve never seen fish sticks served at a reception, and I’ve been to more than a few!

Nevertheless, when Jesus was challenged about fasting in today’s gospel, he responded by calling himself a bridegroom, and by referring to us, his friends, as his wedding guests. Jesus was saying that our relationship with him, in many ways, is like a joyful wedding feast.

Jesus wants us to keep this joy in mind as we approach the discipline of fasting. We fast during Lent, not primarily to lose weight, not because it’s a Catholic cultural badge, and not because we need to prove our holiness to God or anyone else. As Catholics, we fast- from food or from anything else that can become a compulsion in our life- to help us grow in freedom, and thus bring us a little bit closer to Jesus. And anytime we grow a little bit closer to our Lord, the result is always joy. You might say, then, that we fast in order to feast- feast upon the new and abundant life that Jesus wishes to pour out on us, during this special season of grace.

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/031111.shtml

Thursday after Ash Wednesday

An old joke asks: Why did Moses and the Israelites wander in the wilderness for 40 years? Because they didn’t ask for directions!


We’re on a journey too - not of 40 years, but 40 days of Lent – and proper direction is just as important for us. Consider today’s gospel: Jesus invites us to carry crosses. Those crosses are the suffering that enters every human life. Jesus stresses, however, that when we bear a cross, we’re to “follow him.” That’s our proper direction.

If we take off in a different direction, and follow a path different than our Lord’s, we’ll wind up exhausted, resentful, and alone. Chances are we won’t get very far, because our cross will become too heavy to bear.

But when we do follow Jesus, we’ll be given the courage we need to carry on, and a strength that can only come as God’s gift. We’ll have the consolation of seeing Jesus’ footsteps before us, or even planted right alongside ours. Because if there’s one thing his own cross can teach us, it’s that Jesus doesn’t want us to carry our crosses alone.

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/031011.shtml

Ash Wednesday

Public relations are very important in our culture, aren’t they? Great value is placed upon how we’re seen and perceived by others, and we’re very concerned about doing things that will get us noticed, appreciated, and admired. This is true even for matters of faith and religion.


That’s why Jesus’ words in the gospel today can be so challenging. He told us that we should be on our guard against performing religious acts for others to see. Our left hand must not know what our right hand is doing; we’re to pray in private behind closed doors; and our appearance shouldn’t reveal that we’re fasting.

Jesus knows that we often bring mixed motives to our religious undertakings. Some of our motivations- the ones inspired by God- are noble and good. Things like wanting to serve others, meet their needs, alleviate their suffering, grow closer to God, and do penance for our sins.

But sometimes we have other motives that aren’t as laudable. We may do religious things because we hope others will see us as holy or be grateful to us for the kind things we’ve done.

When we act in this way, we’re seeking to glorify ourselves- and there’s the catch. Because as Christians, all we do, in one way or another, should be done for the glory of God. As we journey through the 40 days of Lent, let’s always examine our motives, and ask the Lord to purify them, so that what we do is not driven by concern for public relations, but by a spirit of private praise.

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/030911.shtml

Memorial of St. John of God

During a big religious festival, a seventeenth century Portuguese shepherd and soldier heard a homily which convinced him of his need to repent. For months afterwards he wandered the streets, beating his breasts and screaming for mercy, until he was thrown into an insane asylum.

Blessed John of Avila, who preached the homily, visited St. John of God and insisted that instead of punishing himself for his past, it was better to try and build a better future. The repentant man did exactly that, through loving service to the sick and poor as a friar. We know him today as St. John of God.

As we celebrate his memorial today, St. John of God's story is good to reflect upon as we move toward Lent, a season of renewal and penance. Penance shouldn't be about beating up ourselves for past sins. Instead, it should be about building up ourselves into saints. In short: Do good, instead of feeling bad.

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/030811.shtml

Monday of Ordinary 9

One long-suffering landlord tells of having to evict tenants who refused to pay their rent, in spite of repeated calls and personal visits. Before they left, however, the tenants trashed the house: The front door was shattered; the drains were clogged with paraffin; the electric system was intentionally shorted out; beer bottles were used to smash the windows; all the appliances were sold; the carpet was ruined with bleach; battery acid was poured on the floor tiles; and the walls were spray painted and hacked with a knife.

The parable Jesus told in today’s gospel includes a landlord horror story. These tenants, however, didn’t simply refuse to pay the rent. The beat and killed those whom the landlord sent to collect it- including the landlord’s son. These tenants weren’t just vandals and deadbeats. They were murderers!

Jesus told this parable as a challenge and a warning to certain religious leaders of his day: They were the tenants in the story; the landowner is God the Father; the son is Jesus himself; and the vineyard represents the people of God.

But in a sense, we can understand this parable as being a challenge to us too. Just as the religious leaders in question had been given stewardship of God’s people, we too have been given stewardship, or responsibility, for the things of God- people, property, talents, opportunities, and time. Indeed, all of creation is ultimately God’s, and nothing takes place in it unless he allows it to happen. As Christians, even our own lives are not our own. “A Christian is not his own master,” wrote St. Ignatius of Antioch, “since all his time belongs to God.” In all things, we are simply custodians.

You and I have been entrusted with great gifts, for which one day we must render an account. We have a generous and patient landlord; may we be faithful and responsible tenants.

Reading for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/030711.shtml

Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Some two hundred years ago, a Cherokee Indian named Drowning Bear allowed a missionary to read to him several chapters of the Bible. After having listened for some time, Drowning Bear said to the missionary: “It seems to be a good book; strange that the white people are not better after having had it for so long.”
Drowning Bear’s implication was that if we actually lived in obedience to the Word of God, our lives would be dramatically better as a result. This was precisely our Lord’s point in today’s gospel. Jesus invites us not only to hear his Word; he wants us also to act on it. To put it another way, God’s Word was spoken not simply for our information. Instead, it’s meant for our application, that our lives might be blessed with transformation.

For this to happen, however, we first need to listen. We can’t act on God’s Word if we can’t hear it! Unfortunately, listening isn’t something we’re always good at doing. In an old joke, a crabby husband asks his wife, “Why do women talk so much?” To which his rightfully annoyed wife replied: “Because we have to say everything twice!” The joke’s point is that we don’t always listen very well to each other. Sometimes we also don’t listen very well to God- and there’s nothing too funny about that

It might be that we’re too distracted to listen to God. When the “Word of the Lord” is proclaimed for us, our expected response is “Thanks be to God.” If we were honest, however, we probably should say, “Huh? Could you say that again?” One contributing factor is “information overload.” Through every conceivable form of media – electronic and otherwise- we’re bombarded with more data than we’re able to handle. It can shatter our attention spans and make us very reluctant to add any additional voices to the mix- even if it’s God’s.

Another reason we don’t listen well to God’s Word is that it gets drowned out by “cultural static.” It’s easy to understand why this happens. The world literally shouts at us – “Look at me! Buy me! Sleep with me!”- and we can’t seem to hear anything else- especially God, who typically speaks in whispers. And the same world that shouts at us insists that we join the rat race. We wind up so exhausted that making time for God’s Word seems like a luxury, something to put off for a day when we’re less stressed. It’s not that we’ve pushed God’s Word away; it’s simply been squeezed out.

But sometimes we do push God’s Word away, because we don’t want to hear it. We’re afraid of what we might be told and what changes God will call us to make in our lives. Maybe it’s about money. Or forgiveness. Or our relationships. Or sex. Perhaps we’re too proud, too angry, or too addicted to listen. Whatever it may be, we know that with knowledge comes responsibility, so we try to take the “ignorance is bliss” approach. When we do this, it’s not society or our schedules that’s interfering with the Word of God. We have only ourselves to blame, because we’ve stuck our fingers in our ears.

We only plug our ears, however, when we think that God’s Word might have something valid to say to us. At times, we think just the opposite. We don’t make ourselves deaf to God’s Word; we simply dismiss it, because we’re convinced that it has nothing to say to us, or that it’s too confusing or old-fashioned to bother with. Should this be the case, we’re in good company. St. Augustine, a great figure from the Church’s first centuries, once felt exactly the same way. As a young man, he read the Bible in his quest for truth, but found himself disappointed. He didn’t encounter the lofty philosophy he preferred to read, but accounts of violent conflict and very imperfect people that left him confused.

All that changed when Augustine met St. Ambrose, whose preaching helped him understand the Bible for what it is: An inspired account of God’s unfolding plan throughout history, all leading to Jesus. Augustine came to appreciate that not only is Jesus the key to understanding the Bible, but that Jesus himself is heard through the Bible. The Bible is the Word of God- because through it we hear the voice of Jesus, who is the Word of God: the Word-made-flesh.

It is this voice that today’s Scriptures challenge us to listen to, and act upon, today. In our noisy world, we can be deaf to God’s Word. In our selfish world, it’s tempting to resist God’s Word. In our skeptical world, it’s fashionable to dismiss God’s Word. In our overscheduled world, it’s easy to neglect God’s Word. Yet we neglect God’s Word at our peril. Life can be hard, challenging, painful, confusing. Maybe that’s why Jesus spoke of powerful winds and rain in his parable, because they describe what we feel like we’re contending with at times. Jesus’ point was that if we build our life upon his Word, we’ll have the strength and resources to withstand the flood waters when they rise. And if we don’t, we won’t, and we risk being swept away by the currents.

To build our lives upon God’s Word is like building our house on rock, as Jesus said. Think of Manhattan, if you will: Perhaps the greatest concentration of brick, mortar, steel and timber anywhere in the world. And all of it rests upon a huge mass of rock. Anything else couldn’t bear the weight. That’s true of our lives, too. Sometimes we have a heavy load to bear; it can seem like we have the weight of the world upon our shoulders! We can bear the strain…but only if our life’s foundation is the rock of the Word of God.

Drowning Bear was right: God's Word is good, and we have indeed had it a long time. But it's up to us to listen, act, and allow ourselves to be changed.

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/030611.shtml

 

Friday of Ordinary 8

Two men approached a standing ladder. One passed right under it. His companion, however, gave it a wide birth. “You don’t believe that old superstition, do you?” asked the first man. “Not really,” the other answered, “but I don’t want to take any chances- just in case.”

Sometimes we approach prayer the way the second man approached the ladder. We don’t really think it’s going to make a difference, but we go ahead and do it – just in case.

That’s how Peter thought in today’s gospel, when he expressed amazement that a fig tree Jesus cursed had withered. Jesus used this moment to teach us that we shouldn’t be surprised or shocked when our prayers make a difference. Prayer isn’t like wishing upon a star or tossing a coin down a well. Instead, our prayers are offered to a living God who listens, cares, and who always answers in the way that’s best for us. Prayer changes things, and we should always have faith that it does.

We don’t want to be like the crowd who gathered during a drought to pray for rain. The priest sent them home, insisting it wouldn’t rain that day. “Why not?” they demanded. “Because none of you brought an umbrella.”

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/030411.shtml

Thursday of Ordinary 8

After losing an important battle, King Louis XIV of France complained, “Has God forgotten how much I’ve done for him?” That’s a deeply arrogant statement! But let’s not cast any stones. It’s easy to conclude that God owes us something.

That’s what James and John did in yesterday’s gospel. Because they were disciples, they assumed they were entitled to special favors, and approached Jesus with a demand: “We want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.”

In today’s gospel, Bartimaeus also approached Jesus. But he didn’t make any demands. Instead, he offered a humble plea: “Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me.”

These two different approaches were met with two different responses from Jesus. James and John’s request was denied, and Jesus actually took them down a notch. But Bartimaeus’ prayer was granted. His sight was restored, and he was praised for his faith.

Maybe it’s significant that Bartimaeus is described as a beggar. As St. Augustine wrote, “Man is a beggar before God,” because it’s as a beggar that we should approach God in prayer. If our prayer is “Give me what I deserve,” we’ll likely wind up disappointed. But if we pray, “O Lord, please give me what I need,” we’ll find, like Bartimaeus, that God always does.

Reading for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/030311.shtml

Wednesday of Ordinary 8

In a letter, a woman complained bitterly to an advice columnist that a homeless person hadn’t thanked her for the pocket change she’d given him. The columnist explained to her that we don’t always get recognized for the good we do. Today’s gospel reminds us that we shouldn’t expect to.


Yet that’s exactly what James and John did. They assumed that because they followed Jesus, they deserved special positions of honor and prestige. Jesus had to teach them that to follow him is to be a servant, and servants don’t go looking for recognition or reward. True service is selfless. It’s concerned with others’ needs, not our own.

This is something we often need to be reminded of, especially in our relationships. So often, we’ll try to love others…if they’re loving to us. Or we’ll try to love them… because we want them to love us in return. Or we’ll try to love them… because we want to feel good about ourselves.

But how often do we love others just for love’s sake? Probably not as often as we should. Maybe not as often as we think. Yet that is what Jesus does for us; this is what Jesus calls us to do. The world needs the love we have to share. And this love doesn’t seek rewards. Because true love is reward enough in itself.

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/030211.shtml