One Sunday while at college, I invited a roommate to attend church with me. “No thanks” he said, “it’s just not my thing.” For him, having faith was fine for those who found it attractive, but he just wasn’t interested. From his perspective, faith is kind of like a hobby. I have a hobby- running- which I enjoy very much. Many people, however, find running boring or painful. Running, therefore, is definitely “my thing.” But is that all my faith is? Is that all your faith is?
Some say that it is. Some even say that faith is our “thing” because we’re “weak-minded.” If you recall, that’s what pro-wrestler turned Governor of Minnesota Jesse Ventura said to Playboy magazine. But of course, Ventura is far from being alone. Psychologist Sigmund Freud, for instance, insisted that religious faith makes people into neurotic, psychological infants. Karl Marx, the founder of Communism, criticized religious faith as the “Opium of the Masses,” a drug we take to keep us from seeing the world as it really is. And bestselling atheist Sam Harris says that religious faith “allows otherwise normal human beings to reap the fruits of madness and consider them holy.”
Other critics say that our faith is not only a sign that we’re dumb, but also that we’re dangerous. They point out all of the horrible things that have been done, and continue to be done, in the name of religious faith: Wars, persecutions, forced conversions, crusades, inquisitions, jihads, crucifixions, and the like. At the very least, they maintain, faith flies in the face of reason and creates unnecessary divisions within society: believers versus unbelievers, Catholics versus Protestants, Muslim versus Jew. Because of this, claims God is Not Great author Christopher Hitchens, author of God is Not Great: “All religious belief is sinister.”
But that’s not all. According to some critics, like evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins, who wrote The God Delusion, not only does faith make us dumb and dangerous, it also shows how backward and behind-the-times we are. According to them, religious faith is a product of blind evolution that we just don’t need any more. It once served a purpose for primitive, unenlightened humans, offering security in a dangerous, scary world, and providing answers to the meaning of life, but we’ve progressed beyond that now. We don’t need faith anymore to understand our world. All we really need is science.
In today’s gospel, we heard how “doubting Thomas,” as he’s come to be called, refused to believe in Jesus’ resurrection, even though his friends said it was true. You and I believe in Jesus’ resurrection. Yet there are those who say to us that our resurrection faith shows that we’re crazy, weak, backwards, and dangerous. “Doubting Thomas’” disbelief vanished when Jesus appeared to him in person. But that’s probably not going to happen to us. So how can we keep a firm grip on our faith in the face of criticisms that can easily sow seeds of doubt, and tempt even the most faithful among us, to wonder if what they say might just be true?
We can begin by remembering all of the different ways our faith makes us strong. For starters, numerous studies have shown that people of faith are healthier and live longer. Faith, therefore, helps make us physically strong. And it helps us be emotionally strong too, because our faith can fill us with joy, happiness, contentment, and peace. Even more than this, our faith gives us strength in the face of life’s difficulties, and whenever we confront the realities of pain, suffering, and death. Our faith gives meaning to these events, reminds us that we have a God who walks with us, offers hope for a better life beyond this one, and empowers us to forgive those who may have done us wrong. We should ask ourselves: What kind of people would we be without faith? Probably weaker, less happy, more confused, and certainly not stronger-minded! As the philosopher Kierkegaard once said, life is not a question of belief versus unbelief. It’s a question of belief versus despair.
But does our faith make us dangerous? It’s true that terrible things have been done in the name of Christian faith. As Christians, we should apologize for them and seek to heal any damage that has been done. But let’s not forget that lack of faith has led to far more terrible things. Just think of the tens of millions who have died under Communist regimes. We must also never forget that faith has inspired people and the Church to do wonderfully good things: The promotion of human rights, and the care, protection, and education of the sick, poor, persecuted, and forgotten members of society. Our faith inspires us to a goodness and generosity we wouldn’t have without faith. One prominent atheist today dismisses love of enemies as a “monstrous notion,” while our faith teaches that it’s a virtue. So are people of faith more dangerous than those without it? You tell me.
Yet even if we’re less dangerous, might we still be behind the times? Is our faith nothing more than a left-over evolutionary by-product? Is faith in God is simply a function of the way our brains are wired, and nothing more? Or is it God who wired our brains to have faith in the first place? The answer to that is, well, a matter of faith! But maybe a voice from long ago, St. Augustine, can help us out. He maintained that it is natural for people to have faith. To lack faith, on the other hand, is unnatural, because of the way God has made us. So while there will always be those who say faith is crazy, dangerous, out-of-date, or even just “our thing,” people of every time and place will hunger for Christian faith. Or as G. K. Chesterton once said: “Christianity has been declared dead many times. Thankfully, it has a God who knows his way out of a grave.”
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/050111.shtml
Friday, April 29, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Easter Friday
The fish is a Christian symbol that has become popular over the past thirty years or so. We see it quite a bit these days, especially on the backside of cars. Even though it’s newly popular, however, the fish is a very ancient symbol. It arose from the fact that, in the Greek language widely spoken in Jesus’ day, the first letters of the words “Jesus Christ, God’s Son, Savior” spell “ICHTHUS,” which is Greek for “fish.”
That the fish was an ancient symbol for Jesus can help us to understand today’s gospel. We heard how the risen Jesus, on the shore of the Sea of Tiberias, took fish and some bread, gave them to his disciples, and invited them to eat.
Each one of these details is significant, because they intentionally remind us of the time when Jesus, again standing on the shore of the Sea of Tiberias, fed a vast multitude of people by multiplying a small handful of loaves and fishes. After Jesus had multiplied the loaves and fishes, he taught the crowd about the Eucharist, and how it was necessary to receive his body and blood. Jesus meal of bread and fish in today’s gospel is meant to teach us about the Eucharist, too.
In a very subtle way, we learn that the risen Jesus- symbolized by a fish and the bread- feeds us with himself at this and every Eucharist. He invites us today, just as he invited his astonished disciples, “Come, and eat your meal.”
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/042911.shtml
That the fish was an ancient symbol for Jesus can help us to understand today’s gospel. We heard how the risen Jesus, on the shore of the Sea of Tiberias, took fish and some bread, gave them to his disciples, and invited them to eat.
Each one of these details is significant, because they intentionally remind us of the time when Jesus, again standing on the shore of the Sea of Tiberias, fed a vast multitude of people by multiplying a small handful of loaves and fishes. After Jesus had multiplied the loaves and fishes, he taught the crowd about the Eucharist, and how it was necessary to receive his body and blood. Jesus meal of bread and fish in today’s gospel is meant to teach us about the Eucharist, too.
In a very subtle way, we learn that the risen Jesus- symbolized by a fish and the bread- feeds us with himself at this and every Eucharist. He invites us today, just as he invited his astonished disciples, “Come, and eat your meal.”
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/042911.shtml
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Easter Thursday
“Peace be with you” are words we share at Mass. However, this is not just a specifically Catholic form of greeting, and it’s more than a simple expression of best wishes. Instead, this peace is a real gift- a gift that only Jesus can give. In today’s gospel, Jesus gave this peace to his friends when he appeared to them on Easter. Jesus extends this same peace to us at Mass, and invites us to share it with each other.
When Jesus offered his peace to his friends, the wounds of his Passion- the marks of the nails in his hands and feet- were plainly visible for all to see. We know, therefore, that a life touched by his peace is not necessarily free from conflict and pain.
Instead, we might best understand this peace as the peace of heart, and the peace of mind, that comes with the assurance that Jesus is always present with us. It’s the peace of knowing that in the midst of life’s ups and downs, the risen Lord is always at our side- offering us consolation, guidance, and challenge; instilling gratitude, joy, and wisdom; filling us with faith, hope, and charity; calling us to conversion and forgiveness; and strengthening us to carry our cross. With this peace comes an assurance that the Lord will always provide, that his love will never fail, and that the risen life he promises us, will never come to an end.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/042811.shtml
When Jesus offered his peace to his friends, the wounds of his Passion- the marks of the nails in his hands and feet- were plainly visible for all to see. We know, therefore, that a life touched by his peace is not necessarily free from conflict and pain.
Instead, we might best understand this peace as the peace of heart, and the peace of mind, that comes with the assurance that Jesus is always present with us. It’s the peace of knowing that in the midst of life’s ups and downs, the risen Lord is always at our side- offering us consolation, guidance, and challenge; instilling gratitude, joy, and wisdom; filling us with faith, hope, and charity; calling us to conversion and forgiveness; and strengthening us to carry our cross. With this peace comes an assurance that the Lord will always provide, that his love will never fail, and that the risen life he promises us, will never come to an end.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/042811.shtml
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Easter Wednesday
One Easter Sunday Mass, as I went through the church and sprinkled the people with Holy Water, was struck by how many long, gloomy, and sad faces I saw. After I was done I said, “I just want to remind you that it’s Easter Sunday- so it’s okay to smile in church!”
There were long faces on Easter in today’s gospel as well. When the risen Jesus joined two disciples on their journey and asked what they were talking about, “They stopped, looking downcast.” Or as another translation puts it, “They stood still, looking sad.” Just like so many of the people I saw at Easter Mass.
But let’s not forget the rest of the gospel story. After they recognized Jesus in the breaking of the bread, the two disciples were so filled with joy that they ran to tell their friends. The risen Jesus had replaced their sadness with joy!
The good news that Jesus has risen should also fill us with joy this Easter season. As St. Augustine once wrote, “A Christian should be an ‘alleluia’ from head to foot!” Do you remember the Opening Prayer at this Mass? We thanked God for the joy of the resurrection, and asked that the joy of our celebration may bring us to the joy of eternal life. And as we prayed together in the responsorial psalm, “Rejoice, O hearts that seek the Lord.”
Easter joy doesn’t mean that we ignore life’s real difficulties and problems. But it does mean that we confront them with the assurance that if we have a God who loves us so much that he died and rose for us, then surely he will lead us through our present troubles into his everlasting peace. Mother Teresa once put it very well. “Never let anything cause you so much sorrow,” she said, “that you forget the joy of Jesus risen.”
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/042711.shtml
There were long faces on Easter in today’s gospel as well. When the risen Jesus joined two disciples on their journey and asked what they were talking about, “They stopped, looking downcast.” Or as another translation puts it, “They stood still, looking sad.” Just like so many of the people I saw at Easter Mass.
But let’s not forget the rest of the gospel story. After they recognized Jesus in the breaking of the bread, the two disciples were so filled with joy that they ran to tell their friends. The risen Jesus had replaced their sadness with joy!
The good news that Jesus has risen should also fill us with joy this Easter season. As St. Augustine once wrote, “A Christian should be an ‘alleluia’ from head to foot!” Do you remember the Opening Prayer at this Mass? We thanked God for the joy of the resurrection, and asked that the joy of our celebration may bring us to the joy of eternal life. And as we prayed together in the responsorial psalm, “Rejoice, O hearts that seek the Lord.”
Easter joy doesn’t mean that we ignore life’s real difficulties and problems. But it does mean that we confront them with the assurance that if we have a God who loves us so much that he died and rose for us, then surely he will lead us through our present troubles into his everlasting peace. Mother Teresa once put it very well. “Never let anything cause you so much sorrow,” she said, “that you forget the joy of Jesus risen.”
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/042711.shtml
Monday, April 25, 2011
Tuesday of Easter Week
A beautiful love story lies at the heart of today’s Easter gospel. In a subtle way, the evangelist has portrayed Mary Magdalene as the woman lover in the Old Testament’s Song of Songs.
This lover searches for her beloved in the night, just as Mary Magdalene went to the tomb before the sun had risen. The lover asks the city watchmen if they had seen her beloved, just as Mary Magdalene laments to the angels keeping watch that she doesn’t know where Jesus is to be found. As it was in a secret garden that the lover would meet her beloved, so Mary Magdalene first mistook Jesus for a gardener. And finally, when the lover finally discovered her beloved she took hold of him and refused to let go, just as Mary Magdalene clung to Jesus, after he revealed himself to her.
Mary Magdalene’s deep love for Jesus gave her the courage to overcome the doubts and fears that seemed to paralyze the disciples after the crucifixion. As a reward for her courageous love, Jesus appeared to her first and appointed her the messenger to tell the others the good news of the resurrection. Because of this, she has been honored throughout history as the “Apostle to the Apostles.”
Mary Magdalene’s courageous love is an inspiration and example for us, because so often we need courage in order to be a follower of Jesus. For instance:
• We need courage to trust God, when we can’t see the road ahead of us;
• We need courage to confess our sins when our shame would hold us back;
• We need courage to witness to our faith in the face of injustice and ridicule;
• We need courage to love others when we risk being rejected by them;
• We need courage to forgive, when we’re afraid of appearing weak;
• And we need courage to grow in holiness, when we fear the change that growth requires.
Mary Magdalene serves to remind us that perfect love casts out fear, because we love a Lord whose love for us conquered not only fear, but even death itself.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/042611.shtml
This lover searches for her beloved in the night, just as Mary Magdalene went to the tomb before the sun had risen. The lover asks the city watchmen if they had seen her beloved, just as Mary Magdalene laments to the angels keeping watch that she doesn’t know where Jesus is to be found. As it was in a secret garden that the lover would meet her beloved, so Mary Magdalene first mistook Jesus for a gardener. And finally, when the lover finally discovered her beloved she took hold of him and refused to let go, just as Mary Magdalene clung to Jesus, after he revealed himself to her.
Mary Magdalene’s deep love for Jesus gave her the courage to overcome the doubts and fears that seemed to paralyze the disciples after the crucifixion. As a reward for her courageous love, Jesus appeared to her first and appointed her the messenger to tell the others the good news of the resurrection. Because of this, she has been honored throughout history as the “Apostle to the Apostles.”
Mary Magdalene’s courageous love is an inspiration and example for us, because so often we need courage in order to be a follower of Jesus. For instance:
• We need courage to trust God, when we can’t see the road ahead of us;
• We need courage to confess our sins when our shame would hold us back;
• We need courage to witness to our faith in the face of injustice and ridicule;
• We need courage to love others when we risk being rejected by them;
• We need courage to forgive, when we’re afraid of appearing weak;
• And we need courage to grow in holiness, when we fear the change that growth requires.
Mary Magdalene serves to remind us that perfect love casts out fear, because we love a Lord whose love for us conquered not only fear, but even death itself.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/042611.shtml
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Easter Monday
Ever hear of a “Come to Jesus” meeting? That’s how some refer to summons from a superior when they know they’re in trouble. It’s something to be dreaded.
Perhaps the disciples felt dread when the two Marys told them that the risen Jesus would meet them in Galilee. After all, most of them had abandoned him in his hour of need. One had denied him. And it wasn’t they who came to his tomb on Easter morning. It was the women. In light of all this, maybe they feared some sort of punishment from Jesus- a tongue-lashing, a dressing-down, or worse.
We too can dread coming before Jesus when we feel guilty about something. We imagine that he’ll shame us or even reject us. But that’s not the case at all, and today’s gospel gives us a hint of what to expect. In speaking to the two Marys, he calls his disciples “brothers.” He makes no threats. They’re family, he loves them, and he very much wants to see them.
We’re Jesus’ family too. He loves us, and he wants to see is. He will call us to a “Come to Jesus” meeting! Not to make us shake in fear! But so we can share his resurrection joy.
http://www.usccb.org/nab/042511.shtml
Perhaps the disciples felt dread when the two Marys told them that the risen Jesus would meet them in Galilee. After all, most of them had abandoned him in his hour of need. One had denied him. And it wasn’t they who came to his tomb on Easter morning. It was the women. In light of all this, maybe they feared some sort of punishment from Jesus- a tongue-lashing, a dressing-down, or worse.
We too can dread coming before Jesus when we feel guilty about something. We imagine that he’ll shame us or even reject us. But that’s not the case at all, and today’s gospel gives us a hint of what to expect. In speaking to the two Marys, he calls his disciples “brothers.” He makes no threats. They’re family, he loves them, and he very much wants to see them.
We’re Jesus’ family too. He loves us, and he wants to see is. He will call us to a “Come to Jesus” meeting! Not to make us shake in fear! But so we can share his resurrection joy.
http://www.usccb.org/nab/042511.shtml
Friday, April 22, 2011
Easter Sunday
As I cross the Potomac River on my Sunday morning drive to St. Hugh’s, I’m typically treated to a beautiful scene filled with peaceful water, impressive monuments, a rising sun, and a sky colored with brilliant shades of red, orange, and blue. As I take in this sight, I often imagine that another Sunday, the first Easter morning, must have been beautiful as well. I think of Mary Magdalene making her way to the tomb, and I picture her as disheveled, head hung low in grief, and bleary-eyed from weeping and a lack of sleep. But then I try to imagine the change that must have come over her when she finally realized that her beloved Jesus had risen from the dead. I wonder what she did. Did she shed tears of joy? Did she leap or dance or burst into song? Did she fall on her knees, lift her head, and raise her hands to the sky in a gesture of gratitude to God?
The Bible doesn’t tell us, so I guess that this side of heaven we’ll never really know what Mary Magdalene did. But I think it fair to say that she didn’t just stand there, and that her joy over Jesus’ resurrection was expressed with more than just words. Perhaps, for those first moments, she couldn’t find anything to say at all. Which would be understandable, because the Resurrection is such a marvelous and magnificent event that it’s hard to find the right words to describe it. Mere words can’t seem to do it justice.
In a sense, we Christians on Easter morning are a bit like the victorious team at the Super Bowl. As they celebrate their victory, the winning players express their jubilation by jumping, shouting, hugging, running, dog piling, pumping their fists, slapping high fives, lifting teammates on their shoulders, popping champagne bottles in the locker room, and dumping Gatorade on their coach. It would seem that they have to express their joy with much more than words.
The same is true for us today. We celebrate the rising of Jesus from the dead! The Son of God, who died for us on a cross, has risen to new life so that we might live in hope of living forever with him in heaven. This is something far more wonderful than winning a Super Bowl ring. In fact, it’s far more wonderful than anything else we will ever have, learn about, or experience. So how can words alone possibly be sufficient to celebrate such an event? We sing, “This is the day the Lord has made! Let us rejoice and be glad!” But that’s not enough. There has to be something we can do, in addition to what we can say. Not necessarily jumping or dancing, although maybe we can imagine doing that. And while I can sprinkle Holy Water on all of you, please do not dump any Gatorade on me.
Perhaps the greatest thing we can do to celebrate the resurrection with more than words it to share some of the love that Jesus has already shared with us by rising from the dead. Consider the two disciples in today’s gospel. We know that Peter was one of them. The other is simply identified as the “beloved disciple.” He’s not given a name here; we’re just told that Jesus loved him. But, in a sense, that’s all we need to know. Because even though he was a real person, the so-called “beloved disciple” represents each one of us because we, like him, are beloved of Jesus.
Remember what the beloved disciple did. When he and Peter learned from Mary Magdalene that Jesus’ tomb was empty, they ran to the tomb. Which is a reasonable thing to do, given the circumstances. Yet the gospel makes the point that they actually got into something of a race, and the beloved disciple won. Then he waited at the tomb, so that Peter could go in first. But what’s the point of our knowing this? Who cares which disciple was the fastest? Who cares that Peter went into the tomb first? Is this just a bit of biblical trivia, or is there some hidden meaning here?
Indeed there is a hidden meaning here. We’re meant to understand that the beloved disciple ran so fast, not because he was especially quick or Peter was particularly slow, but because he was impelled forward by his great love for Jesus. Yet he chose to allow Peter to enter the tomb first, not because he was courteous or catching his breath or afraid of going in, but because he acknowledged the authority of Peter, the head of the band of disciples and, of course, our first pope. By acting in this way, the beloved disciple shows the rest of us who are loved by Jesus how we can celebrate his resurrection with more than words. Like him, our lives are to be driven by love for Jesus within the fellowship of, and under the authority of, the Church and its chief shepherd, the pope.
At the beginning of this Mass, we were sprinkled with Holy Water, the water of baptism, to remind us of our own baptism and the promises that we made, or were made for us, on that day. Immediately after this homily, we will renew those baptismal promises, and pledge once again to live a life driven by the love of Jesus, and lived within the Church. We will promise to reject sin, so we can live in real freedom. We will promise to reject the “glamour of evil”- in other words, all the selfish, materialistic, and superficial temptations of our culture. We will promise to reject Satan, who hates us as much as Jesus loves us. And we will renew our promise, and I quote, “to serve God faithfully in his holy Catholic Church.” Should we honor these promises, we will be able to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus with far more than mere words.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/042411.shtml
The Bible doesn’t tell us, so I guess that this side of heaven we’ll never really know what Mary Magdalene did. But I think it fair to say that she didn’t just stand there, and that her joy over Jesus’ resurrection was expressed with more than just words. Perhaps, for those first moments, she couldn’t find anything to say at all. Which would be understandable, because the Resurrection is such a marvelous and magnificent event that it’s hard to find the right words to describe it. Mere words can’t seem to do it justice.
In a sense, we Christians on Easter morning are a bit like the victorious team at the Super Bowl. As they celebrate their victory, the winning players express their jubilation by jumping, shouting, hugging, running, dog piling, pumping their fists, slapping high fives, lifting teammates on their shoulders, popping champagne bottles in the locker room, and dumping Gatorade on their coach. It would seem that they have to express their joy with much more than words.
The same is true for us today. We celebrate the rising of Jesus from the dead! The Son of God, who died for us on a cross, has risen to new life so that we might live in hope of living forever with him in heaven. This is something far more wonderful than winning a Super Bowl ring. In fact, it’s far more wonderful than anything else we will ever have, learn about, or experience. So how can words alone possibly be sufficient to celebrate such an event? We sing, “This is the day the Lord has made! Let us rejoice and be glad!” But that’s not enough. There has to be something we can do, in addition to what we can say. Not necessarily jumping or dancing, although maybe we can imagine doing that. And while I can sprinkle Holy Water on all of you, please do not dump any Gatorade on me.
Perhaps the greatest thing we can do to celebrate the resurrection with more than words it to share some of the love that Jesus has already shared with us by rising from the dead. Consider the two disciples in today’s gospel. We know that Peter was one of them. The other is simply identified as the “beloved disciple.” He’s not given a name here; we’re just told that Jesus loved him. But, in a sense, that’s all we need to know. Because even though he was a real person, the so-called “beloved disciple” represents each one of us because we, like him, are beloved of Jesus.
Remember what the beloved disciple did. When he and Peter learned from Mary Magdalene that Jesus’ tomb was empty, they ran to the tomb. Which is a reasonable thing to do, given the circumstances. Yet the gospel makes the point that they actually got into something of a race, and the beloved disciple won. Then he waited at the tomb, so that Peter could go in first. But what’s the point of our knowing this? Who cares which disciple was the fastest? Who cares that Peter went into the tomb first? Is this just a bit of biblical trivia, or is there some hidden meaning here?
Indeed there is a hidden meaning here. We’re meant to understand that the beloved disciple ran so fast, not because he was especially quick or Peter was particularly slow, but because he was impelled forward by his great love for Jesus. Yet he chose to allow Peter to enter the tomb first, not because he was courteous or catching his breath or afraid of going in, but because he acknowledged the authority of Peter, the head of the band of disciples and, of course, our first pope. By acting in this way, the beloved disciple shows the rest of us who are loved by Jesus how we can celebrate his resurrection with more than words. Like him, our lives are to be driven by love for Jesus within the fellowship of, and under the authority of, the Church and its chief shepherd, the pope.
At the beginning of this Mass, we were sprinkled with Holy Water, the water of baptism, to remind us of our own baptism and the promises that we made, or were made for us, on that day. Immediately after this homily, we will renew those baptismal promises, and pledge once again to live a life driven by the love of Jesus, and lived within the Church. We will promise to reject sin, so we can live in real freedom. We will promise to reject the “glamour of evil”- in other words, all the selfish, materialistic, and superficial temptations of our culture. We will promise to reject Satan, who hates us as much as Jesus loves us. And we will renew our promise, and I quote, “to serve God faithfully in his holy Catholic Church.” Should we honor these promises, we will be able to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus with far more than mere words.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/042411.shtml
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Good Friday
How much is one human life worth? The head of our government’s compensation fund for 9/11 victims, Kenneth Feinburg, had to wrestle with that question over 1,500 times. In his book, appropriately titled What is Life Worth?, Feinburg shares his agonizing struggle in trying to ensure that victims’ survivors received a fair compensation for their loss. The average victim’s family received $2 million dollars. But not everyone received the same amount. For instance, the amount awarded for stockbrokers was higher that that awarded to military families, because stockbrokers’ annual salaries were higher. But some military families complained, saying that their relatives would have left the military soon and taken higher-paying civilian jobs. Feinburg also heard from people whose relatives had died when the Oklahoma City federal building was bombed. But those families received nothing, as Feinburg’s government mandate restricted the fund to 9/11 victims. Feinburg ultimately concluded that the whole process was unfair. He wrote: “Don’t ask one person to act like Solomon and try to calculate the value of lives. To be judge, jury, accountant, lawyer, rabbi, et cetera, is very, very difficult.”
Just what is one life worth? That’s a good question for us to ponder today. Perhaps a person’s value is his or her net worth of assets. Yet this would mean that Donald Trump is far more valuable than Mother Teresa of Calcutta. As Catholics, would we agree with that assessment? Our faith tradition holds in high esteem those men and women who have taken voluntary vows of poverty. But if the value of their lives were based soley upon what they possessed in this world, they would be worth very little indeed.
The truth is that at our most basic, physical level, we are worth very little. The combined value of all of the chemicals and minerals found in a typical human body, 96% of which is Oxygen, Carbon, Hydrogen, and Nitrogen, is less than one, single U.S. Dollar. One dollar is pocket change to most of us; it won’t even buy a small cup of coffee at McDonald’s. Contrast that with the price of an ounce of gold, which recently topped $1000. An ounce of gold is about the size of a matchbook, and can fit comfortably in the palm of our hand. But is it worth more than we are? Maybe on the commodities market. But not in the eyes of God. If you and I want to know what we are worth to God, all we need to do is listen carefully to today’s Passion gospel, and reflect on what is recalled in this solemn liturgy.
We are reminded today that God considers us to be so valuable, that his only Son surrendered his own life, so that we might live forever. If God thought that we were cheap, expendable, or dime-a-dozen, would he have bothered? How much effort do we make to save or protect that which we think has no value? Not much. We’re generally happy to throw it away, or write it off as a loss. But God, through the suffering and death of Jesus, has shown us clearly how much our lives are worth to him. As Pope Benedict has written: “Man is worth so much to God that he himself became man in order to suffer with man…as is revealed to us in the account of Jesus’ Passion.”
Can we put a dollar amount on how much we’re worth to God? If we were to try, we’d have to put a price on Jesus’ life, since he gave his life for ours. Judas Iscariot, when he betrayed our Lord, received 30 silver pieces for Jesus’ life. But this amount was an intentional insult, as it represented the fine to be paid a slave owner by anyone who injured his slave. Nicodemus, I think, was closer to the mark. We heard how he anointed Jesus’ dead body with over a hundred pounds of costly spices, an extravagant amount fit only for a king. Yet even this, of course, comes nowhere near to representing the true value of Jesus’ life. It would be absurd, and even obscene, to try to place a monetary value on Jesus’ life. It’s much better, and far more accurate, to say simply that Jesus’ life was priceless. And if Jesus’ life is priceless, then, in a sense, the same is true of ours.
In God’s eyes, we are indeed priceless. Nevertheless, God did pay a very specific price for us. More specifically, he paid the price of our sins. Like our lives, we can’t really attach a dollar value to our sins. But that doesn’t mean that our sins aren’t costly, because they are. Sin hurts our neighbors, our families, our enemies. Sin hurts us, as it keeps us from being the people God wants us to be. And sin harms our relationship with God. We might say that our sins have bankrupted us. Bankruptcy, of course, means that we owe more than we are able to pay. In terms of our sins, bankruptcy means that there’s nothing we can do to truly make up for all the harm our sin has done. Jesus had to do it for us. He is the one who satisfied our debt; he is the one who paid the price. And the price he paid was the cross.
In just a matter of minutes, we will venerate the cross of Jesus. We will bow before it, praise Christ for it, adore it as it’s lifted on high, and many of us, after the liturgy, will remain behind to reverence it with a kiss. We will do this because the cross shows us how precious we are in God’s sight; it shows us, more than anything else could, how much we are valued, and loved, by God. We may not be able to place a dollar value on our lives. But because of the cross, because of this “Good Friday,” you and I know exactly what our lives are worth.
Readings for today's liturgy: http://www.usccb.org/nab/042211.shtml
Just what is one life worth? That’s a good question for us to ponder today. Perhaps a person’s value is his or her net worth of assets. Yet this would mean that Donald Trump is far more valuable than Mother Teresa of Calcutta. As Catholics, would we agree with that assessment? Our faith tradition holds in high esteem those men and women who have taken voluntary vows of poverty. But if the value of their lives were based soley upon what they possessed in this world, they would be worth very little indeed.
The truth is that at our most basic, physical level, we are worth very little. The combined value of all of the chemicals and minerals found in a typical human body, 96% of which is Oxygen, Carbon, Hydrogen, and Nitrogen, is less than one, single U.S. Dollar. One dollar is pocket change to most of us; it won’t even buy a small cup of coffee at McDonald’s. Contrast that with the price of an ounce of gold, which recently topped $1000. An ounce of gold is about the size of a matchbook, and can fit comfortably in the palm of our hand. But is it worth more than we are? Maybe on the commodities market. But not in the eyes of God. If you and I want to know what we are worth to God, all we need to do is listen carefully to today’s Passion gospel, and reflect on what is recalled in this solemn liturgy.
We are reminded today that God considers us to be so valuable, that his only Son surrendered his own life, so that we might live forever. If God thought that we were cheap, expendable, or dime-a-dozen, would he have bothered? How much effort do we make to save or protect that which we think has no value? Not much. We’re generally happy to throw it away, or write it off as a loss. But God, through the suffering and death of Jesus, has shown us clearly how much our lives are worth to him. As Pope Benedict has written: “Man is worth so much to God that he himself became man in order to suffer with man…as is revealed to us in the account of Jesus’ Passion.”
Can we put a dollar amount on how much we’re worth to God? If we were to try, we’d have to put a price on Jesus’ life, since he gave his life for ours. Judas Iscariot, when he betrayed our Lord, received 30 silver pieces for Jesus’ life. But this amount was an intentional insult, as it represented the fine to be paid a slave owner by anyone who injured his slave. Nicodemus, I think, was closer to the mark. We heard how he anointed Jesus’ dead body with over a hundred pounds of costly spices, an extravagant amount fit only for a king. Yet even this, of course, comes nowhere near to representing the true value of Jesus’ life. It would be absurd, and even obscene, to try to place a monetary value on Jesus’ life. It’s much better, and far more accurate, to say simply that Jesus’ life was priceless. And if Jesus’ life is priceless, then, in a sense, the same is true of ours.
In God’s eyes, we are indeed priceless. Nevertheless, God did pay a very specific price for us. More specifically, he paid the price of our sins. Like our lives, we can’t really attach a dollar value to our sins. But that doesn’t mean that our sins aren’t costly, because they are. Sin hurts our neighbors, our families, our enemies. Sin hurts us, as it keeps us from being the people God wants us to be. And sin harms our relationship with God. We might say that our sins have bankrupted us. Bankruptcy, of course, means that we owe more than we are able to pay. In terms of our sins, bankruptcy means that there’s nothing we can do to truly make up for all the harm our sin has done. Jesus had to do it for us. He is the one who satisfied our debt; he is the one who paid the price. And the price he paid was the cross.
In just a matter of minutes, we will venerate the cross of Jesus. We will bow before it, praise Christ for it, adore it as it’s lifted on high, and many of us, after the liturgy, will remain behind to reverence it with a kiss. We will do this because the cross shows us how precious we are in God’s sight; it shows us, more than anything else could, how much we are valued, and loved, by God. We may not be able to place a dollar value on our lives. But because of the cross, because of this “Good Friday,” you and I know exactly what our lives are worth.
Readings for today's liturgy: http://www.usccb.org/nab/042211.shtml
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Holy Thursday
Imagine yourself to be Jesus on this very night, nearly two thousand years ago. You’ll soon be betrayed, arrested, and subjected to a horrifically violent death. If you knew that this was going to happen, what would you do? Many people, I think, would want to meet violence with violence. They’d try to rally the troops and start a fight. It wouldn’t have been hard for Jesus to do. Many people in Jerusalem were looking for a warrior messiah. And Jesus, by his own admission, even had angel armies at his disposal!
But Jesus did something very different. With his apostles gathered around him, Jesus insisted that they love one another as he loved them. He washed their feet and told them to be servants. And then he took broke bread and said “This is my body.” He next took wine and said, “This is my blood which will be shed for you.” In so doing, Jesus instituted the sacrament of the Holy Eucharist, an act we recall this Holy Thursday night.
Every time we celebrate the Eucharist, we remember that Jesus died a violent death. We “proclaim the death of the Lord,” as St. Paul explained in today’s second reading. However, the Eucharist also reminds us that Jesus didn’t respond to violence with more violence. At his Passion, Jesus practiced non-violence. One might say then, that the Eucharist is a sacrament of non-violence. In fact, this is exactly what Fr. Raniero Cantalamessa, the official preacher to the Papal Household, proclaimed in his Good Friday homily at St. Peter’s Basilica in 2005. He said: “The Eucharist is the sacrament of non-violence! Thanks to the Eucharist, God’s absolute "no" to violence, spoken on the cross, echoes alive down the centuries.”
But what does this mean for us, who live in a world filled with violence? What implications does our participation in the Eucharist, the sacrament of non-violence, have for the way we live our lives? Fr. Cantalamessa said, “The Eucharist is not only a mystery to consecrate, to receive, to contemplate and adore. It is also a mystery to imitate.” In other words, if the Eucharist is a sacrament of non-violence, we ourselves need to practice and promote non-violence.
For starters, we can reject the glorification of violence in the media, through popular music, graphic video games, movies, and TV. Studies reveal that by the time a typical American child reaches 18, he or she will witness on television 200,000 acts of violence, including 40,000 murders. This saturation exposure leads children to be less sensitive to the pain and suffering of others; more fearful of the world around them; and more likely to engage in aggressive or harmful ways to others. As media consumers, we need to say “no” to this sort of content.
We can also say “no” to the death penalty, as both Pope John Paul II and Pope Benedict have clearly done. Recently, the Vatican contributed a position paper to the World Congress Against the Death Penalty, in Paris. It described the death penalty as “a refusal of the right to life” and “an affront to human dignity” which contributes to a “culture of violence” and shows “a contempt for the Gospel teaching on forgiveness.” It concludes by stating that the Vatican defends “all human life from conception to natural death.”
Of course, defending human life from the moment of conception would lead us to oppose the violence of abortion. 1.31 million abortions are performed in the US each year, which equates to 24.5 percent of all pregnancies. The majority of these abortions are performed after the baby’s heart has started beating, and many babies can feel pain when being aborted. But the violence of abortion extends to the mother too, who often experiences significant physical or emotional harm.
Another threat to women is domestic violence, which includes physical, sexual, psychological, verbal, and economic abuse. Our nations’ bishops issued a statement entitled, When I Call for Help: A Pastoral Response to Domestic Violence against Women. They encourage victims not to blame themselves, think they’re being punished by God, or fear that they betray their marriage vows if they leave an abusive husband. They challenge male perpetrators to find the courage to seek help and break the cycle of violence. And they call upon the rest of us to compassionately help victims and their children, while we work and pray to stop the violence.
Other forms of violence we encounter today are torture, bullying at school, and perhaps even some forms of child discipline. It goes without saying, however, that the most destructive form of violence in our world is warfare. For a Christian, war is always a tragic last resort, to be used in defense only when all other options have been exhausted. We need to be people who seek to avoid war with every ounce of our strength, by challenging our nation’s leaders to be peacemakers, and asking the Lord to purify our hearts of any resentments or hatred which might lead us to relish war, or be indifferent to its victims. “No to war!” said Pope John Paul II. “It is always a defeat for humanity.”
To say “no” to war requires courage. When Judas and the soldiers came to arrest Jesus, Peter and other disciples drew their swords and attacked- an act of both fear and courage. But when Jesus ordered them to drop their swords, their courage vanished, and they fled into the night. Sometimes a non-violent stance takes more courage than a violent one.
That’s why we need the Eucharist, the sacrament of non-violence, so that Jesus may fill us with the courage we need to be his non-violent disciples. To quote Father Cantalamessa again, “The cry ‘This is the Lamb of God!’ which resounds at every Mass…is an invitation addressed to all believers in Christ not to let themselves be contaminated by the violence of our world, but to respond to it with the meekness and the strength of love.”
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/042111a.shtml
But Jesus did something very different. With his apostles gathered around him, Jesus insisted that they love one another as he loved them. He washed their feet and told them to be servants. And then he took broke bread and said “This is my body.” He next took wine and said, “This is my blood which will be shed for you.” In so doing, Jesus instituted the sacrament of the Holy Eucharist, an act we recall this Holy Thursday night.
Every time we celebrate the Eucharist, we remember that Jesus died a violent death. We “proclaim the death of the Lord,” as St. Paul explained in today’s second reading. However, the Eucharist also reminds us that Jesus didn’t respond to violence with more violence. At his Passion, Jesus practiced non-violence. One might say then, that the Eucharist is a sacrament of non-violence. In fact, this is exactly what Fr. Raniero Cantalamessa, the official preacher to the Papal Household, proclaimed in his Good Friday homily at St. Peter’s Basilica in 2005. He said: “The Eucharist is the sacrament of non-violence! Thanks to the Eucharist, God’s absolute "no" to violence, spoken on the cross, echoes alive down the centuries.”
But what does this mean for us, who live in a world filled with violence? What implications does our participation in the Eucharist, the sacrament of non-violence, have for the way we live our lives? Fr. Cantalamessa said, “The Eucharist is not only a mystery to consecrate, to receive, to contemplate and adore. It is also a mystery to imitate.” In other words, if the Eucharist is a sacrament of non-violence, we ourselves need to practice and promote non-violence.
For starters, we can reject the glorification of violence in the media, through popular music, graphic video games, movies, and TV. Studies reveal that by the time a typical American child reaches 18, he or she will witness on television 200,000 acts of violence, including 40,000 murders. This saturation exposure leads children to be less sensitive to the pain and suffering of others; more fearful of the world around them; and more likely to engage in aggressive or harmful ways to others. As media consumers, we need to say “no” to this sort of content.
We can also say “no” to the death penalty, as both Pope John Paul II and Pope Benedict have clearly done. Recently, the Vatican contributed a position paper to the World Congress Against the Death Penalty, in Paris. It described the death penalty as “a refusal of the right to life” and “an affront to human dignity” which contributes to a “culture of violence” and shows “a contempt for the Gospel teaching on forgiveness.” It concludes by stating that the Vatican defends “all human life from conception to natural death.”
Of course, defending human life from the moment of conception would lead us to oppose the violence of abortion. 1.31 million abortions are performed in the US each year, which equates to 24.5 percent of all pregnancies. The majority of these abortions are performed after the baby’s heart has started beating, and many babies can feel pain when being aborted. But the violence of abortion extends to the mother too, who often experiences significant physical or emotional harm.
Another threat to women is domestic violence, which includes physical, sexual, psychological, verbal, and economic abuse. Our nations’ bishops issued a statement entitled, When I Call for Help: A Pastoral Response to Domestic Violence against Women. They encourage victims not to blame themselves, think they’re being punished by God, or fear that they betray their marriage vows if they leave an abusive husband. They challenge male perpetrators to find the courage to seek help and break the cycle of violence. And they call upon the rest of us to compassionately help victims and their children, while we work and pray to stop the violence.
Other forms of violence we encounter today are torture, bullying at school, and perhaps even some forms of child discipline. It goes without saying, however, that the most destructive form of violence in our world is warfare. For a Christian, war is always a tragic last resort, to be used in defense only when all other options have been exhausted. We need to be people who seek to avoid war with every ounce of our strength, by challenging our nation’s leaders to be peacemakers, and asking the Lord to purify our hearts of any resentments or hatred which might lead us to relish war, or be indifferent to its victims. “No to war!” said Pope John Paul II. “It is always a defeat for humanity.”
To say “no” to war requires courage. When Judas and the soldiers came to arrest Jesus, Peter and other disciples drew their swords and attacked- an act of both fear and courage. But when Jesus ordered them to drop their swords, their courage vanished, and they fled into the night. Sometimes a non-violent stance takes more courage than a violent one.
That’s why we need the Eucharist, the sacrament of non-violence, so that Jesus may fill us with the courage we need to be his non-violent disciples. To quote Father Cantalamessa again, “The cry ‘This is the Lamb of God!’ which resounds at every Mass…is an invitation addressed to all believers in Christ not to let themselves be contaminated by the violence of our world, but to respond to it with the meekness and the strength of love.”
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/042111a.shtml
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Tuesday of Holy Week
“Neither snow nor rain nor gloom of night,” tradition claims, will keep letter carriers from completing their rounds. To complete his mission of redemption and salvation, Jesus had to contend with much worse than that. Darkness, denial, ignorance, betrayal, cowardice, and the demonic all confronted Jesus as the Last Supper, on the eve of his passion. Yet Jesus pressed on, in spite of it all, demonstrating that his love for us, and his desire to save us, will never fail.
Jesus’ love is resolute. He would never force himself upon us, but he doesn’t keep a polite distance either. Instead, he keeps knocking at the door of our hearts. Sometimes we open our hearts to him on our own, and welcome him in. At other times, we need his help. Maybe our hearts are frozen, and Jesus needs to melt them; it could be that our hearts are broke, and Jesus needs to mend them; perhaps our hearts are made of stone, and they need replacing with Jesus’ own, sacred heart.
Regardless of the state of our heart, Jesus persists in his efforts to open its door, not to assert his power, but to share his love. Nothing will stop him! Not even death itself.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/041911.shtml
Jesus’ love is resolute. He would never force himself upon us, but he doesn’t keep a polite distance either. Instead, he keeps knocking at the door of our hearts. Sometimes we open our hearts to him on our own, and welcome him in. At other times, we need his help. Maybe our hearts are frozen, and Jesus needs to melt them; it could be that our hearts are broke, and Jesus needs to mend them; perhaps our hearts are made of stone, and they need replacing with Jesus’ own, sacred heart.
Regardless of the state of our heart, Jesus persists in his efforts to open its door, not to assert his power, but to share his love. Nothing will stop him! Not even death itself.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/041911.shtml
Monday, April 18, 2011
Monday in Holy Week
Mary and Martha were close friends of Jesus. He once raised their brother Lazarus from the dead! Another time, during a meal together, Martha complained that Mary sat listening to Jesus speak while she was busy serving. Jesus had to gently explain to her that, on this occasion, Mary had made the better choice. Today’s gospel finds Martha serving once again, while Mary worships Jesus by anointing his feet with oil.
We who also wish to be friends of Jesus should look closely at Mary and Martha’s example. Martha shows us that friends of Jesus are servants. They serve their Lord, each other, and especially the needy and poor. Mary reminds us of the importance of prayer and worship. You and I would do well to combine the virtues of Mary and Martha, by finding a balance between prayer, worship, and service.
Prayer and worship without service can become hollow flattery. Service without prayer and worship can become misguided, self-serving, or lead to burn out. Just consider Mother Teresa. Without question, she was one of God’s great servants. But how did she do it? “My secret is simple,” she said, “I pray.”
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/041811.shtml
We who also wish to be friends of Jesus should look closely at Mary and Martha’s example. Martha shows us that friends of Jesus are servants. They serve their Lord, each other, and especially the needy and poor. Mary reminds us of the importance of prayer and worship. You and I would do well to combine the virtues of Mary and Martha, by finding a balance between prayer, worship, and service.
Prayer and worship without service can become hollow flattery. Service without prayer and worship can become misguided, self-serving, or lead to burn out. Just consider Mother Teresa. Without question, she was one of God’s great servants. But how did she do it? “My secret is simple,” she said, “I pray.”
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/041811.shtml
Friday, April 15, 2011
Passion Sunday
A story is told of a king who had a nightmare. His wizard interpreted the dream to mean that the king would be killed on his next birthday and all his wealth would be stolen.
Upon hearing this, the king was filled with fear. He gathered his riches into his throne room and surrounded it with armed guards. But as his birthday drew closer, the king only became more afraid. He moved his riches to a more secure room and doubled the number of guards. On the day before his birthday, he moved his treasures to a vault with only one entrance. The king himself entered the vault, ordered that the doorway be sealed up with a wall of bricks, and instructed his guards not to take the wall down until his birthday had come and gone.
At one minute past midnight, the day after the king’s birthday, the guards tore down the wall as they’d been instructed. The found the king. But he was dead- from suffocation. His nightmare had indeed come true- he was dead and his possessions had been taken from him. But the guilty party wasn’t an enemy. It was his own fear.
Our fears can consume us and paralyze us. Fear can lead us to act irrationally and make poor decisions. That’s why our faith tradition has always insisted that we “be not afraid.”
But what exactly does this mean? That we shouldn’t fear anything at all? That’s a pretty impossible standard, because fear is a natural response to scary situations. In fact, to not be afraid might sometimes be a bad thing, as it might lead us to do something reckless, or be a sign that something isn’t quite right with us. Actor Hugh Laurie, of the TV series “House,” began treatment for depression after driving in a charity demolition derby, and discovering that he was bored instead of frightened. “Boredom,” he reflected, “is not an appropriate response to exploding cars.” But fear is.
When he was in the Garden of Gethsemane, knowing that he faced an unimaginably painful and brutal death, Jesus experienced fear. Like any of us would be, he was afraid. We may find it hard to accept that Jesus would have had such feelings. But think of it this way: in Jesus, the Son of God became like us in every way except sin. Jesus had to experience fear, if he was to be truly human.
So what about “Be not afraid?” Does what happened to Jesus in Gethsemane turn that into nonsense? No. There’s a difference between “Be not afraid” and “Do not be afraid.” “Do not be afraid” means what it says, and it’s just not possible in certain circumstances. But “Be not afraid” means that we shouldn’t “be” our fear. In other words, we shouldn’t let fear define us or control us or overwhelm us or make us do things that we wouldn’t do if the fear wasn’t there. Fear happens. But there are ways we can respond to it that are better than others.
Think back to Gethsemane. Jesus was afraid, and the sleepy disciples with him were afraid too. But they reacted to the same frightening situation in very different ways. At least one of them lashed out in violence, and all of them ran away, leaving their friend to those who hated him. For his part, Jesus was probably angry, but certainly not violent; he was afraid, but he was courageous too. His fortitude was greater than his fear.
Why this difference? And how is it that you and I might be able to follow our Lord’s example and face our fears with courage? To begin with, Jesus trusted in God the Father. Through this trust, Jesus knew that evil and darkness would not have the final word, and that the Father would be always with him in his trials. Because he knew these things, Jesus could hope that beyond the sufferings he would endure, there was something better- something better for him, and something better for the rest of us, too.
This hope and trust of Jesus was fed by prayer. In Gethsemane, the disciples failed to pray, even after Jesus had basically ordered them to do so. That’s one reason why, when the test came, they failed and fled the scene. On the other hand, Jesus prayed through his fears. It was an honest prayer in which he shared his fear with the Father: “Let this cup pass from me!” At the same time, he surrendered himself into the Father’s hands, asking for help to do what the Father wanted him to do: “Nevertheless, not as I will, but what you will.”
Today’s Scripture readings share with us other prayers of faithful people who faced frightening challenges, but who nevertheless had hope in God. “Hasten to help me!” was the plea of the psalm. “My God, why have you forsaken me?” it asked, words Jesus himself cried from the cross. But it ended on a note of glory and praise to God. The first reading, from Isaiah, spoke of one who would face a cruel mocking and beating, but who still could insist: “The Lord God is my help.”
All of us fear something: Terrorism, a struggling economy, a warming climate, a rapidly changing public morality. We may fear rejection, failure, violence, loss of a job, the death of a loved one, the prospect of an illness. Maybe we’re afraid of the consequences of doing the right thing, like what might happen if we blew the whistle in a corrupt workplace, kept the baby of the unplanned pregnancy, or challenged the negative behavior of a friend or relative.
To us, our fears might be nightmarish, like the king in our opening story. But unlike that king, we need not let our fears defeat us. We can take our cue from the King of Kings, and turn to our heavenly Father, and find in him all the hope and courage we need.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/041711.shtml
Upon hearing this, the king was filled with fear. He gathered his riches into his throne room and surrounded it with armed guards. But as his birthday drew closer, the king only became more afraid. He moved his riches to a more secure room and doubled the number of guards. On the day before his birthday, he moved his treasures to a vault with only one entrance. The king himself entered the vault, ordered that the doorway be sealed up with a wall of bricks, and instructed his guards not to take the wall down until his birthday had come and gone.
At one minute past midnight, the day after the king’s birthday, the guards tore down the wall as they’d been instructed. The found the king. But he was dead- from suffocation. His nightmare had indeed come true- he was dead and his possessions had been taken from him. But the guilty party wasn’t an enemy. It was his own fear.
Our fears can consume us and paralyze us. Fear can lead us to act irrationally and make poor decisions. That’s why our faith tradition has always insisted that we “be not afraid.”
But what exactly does this mean? That we shouldn’t fear anything at all? That’s a pretty impossible standard, because fear is a natural response to scary situations. In fact, to not be afraid might sometimes be a bad thing, as it might lead us to do something reckless, or be a sign that something isn’t quite right with us. Actor Hugh Laurie, of the TV series “House,” began treatment for depression after driving in a charity demolition derby, and discovering that he was bored instead of frightened. “Boredom,” he reflected, “is not an appropriate response to exploding cars.” But fear is.
When he was in the Garden of Gethsemane, knowing that he faced an unimaginably painful and brutal death, Jesus experienced fear. Like any of us would be, he was afraid. We may find it hard to accept that Jesus would have had such feelings. But think of it this way: in Jesus, the Son of God became like us in every way except sin. Jesus had to experience fear, if he was to be truly human.
So what about “Be not afraid?” Does what happened to Jesus in Gethsemane turn that into nonsense? No. There’s a difference between “Be not afraid” and “Do not be afraid.” “Do not be afraid” means what it says, and it’s just not possible in certain circumstances. But “Be not afraid” means that we shouldn’t “be” our fear. In other words, we shouldn’t let fear define us or control us or overwhelm us or make us do things that we wouldn’t do if the fear wasn’t there. Fear happens. But there are ways we can respond to it that are better than others.
Think back to Gethsemane. Jesus was afraid, and the sleepy disciples with him were afraid too. But they reacted to the same frightening situation in very different ways. At least one of them lashed out in violence, and all of them ran away, leaving their friend to those who hated him. For his part, Jesus was probably angry, but certainly not violent; he was afraid, but he was courageous too. His fortitude was greater than his fear.
Why this difference? And how is it that you and I might be able to follow our Lord’s example and face our fears with courage? To begin with, Jesus trusted in God the Father. Through this trust, Jesus knew that evil and darkness would not have the final word, and that the Father would be always with him in his trials. Because he knew these things, Jesus could hope that beyond the sufferings he would endure, there was something better- something better for him, and something better for the rest of us, too.
This hope and trust of Jesus was fed by prayer. In Gethsemane, the disciples failed to pray, even after Jesus had basically ordered them to do so. That’s one reason why, when the test came, they failed and fled the scene. On the other hand, Jesus prayed through his fears. It was an honest prayer in which he shared his fear with the Father: “Let this cup pass from me!” At the same time, he surrendered himself into the Father’s hands, asking for help to do what the Father wanted him to do: “Nevertheless, not as I will, but what you will.”
Today’s Scripture readings share with us other prayers of faithful people who faced frightening challenges, but who nevertheless had hope in God. “Hasten to help me!” was the plea of the psalm. “My God, why have you forsaken me?” it asked, words Jesus himself cried from the cross. But it ended on a note of glory and praise to God. The first reading, from Isaiah, spoke of one who would face a cruel mocking and beating, but who still could insist: “The Lord God is my help.”
All of us fear something: Terrorism, a struggling economy, a warming climate, a rapidly changing public morality. We may fear rejection, failure, violence, loss of a job, the death of a loved one, the prospect of an illness. Maybe we’re afraid of the consequences of doing the right thing, like what might happen if we blew the whistle in a corrupt workplace, kept the baby of the unplanned pregnancy, or challenged the negative behavior of a friend or relative.
To us, our fears might be nightmarish, like the king in our opening story. But unlike that king, we need not let our fears defeat us. We can take our cue from the King of Kings, and turn to our heavenly Father, and find in him all the hope and courage we need.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/041711.shtml
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Friday of Lent 5
A classic case of the pot calling the kettle black is to be found in today’s gospel. Certain critics scolded Jesus, saying: “You, a man, are making yourself God!” Of course, Jesus wasn’t making himself God- he is God! However, don’t we try to make ourselves God all the time? Isn’t this an accusation that Jesus could legitimately make of those critics and many others- including us?
Just think about it:
So often, we want to glorify ourselves, and not God;
We want to be independent, not dependent on God;
We want to do what we want, not what God wants;
We want God to serve us, not the other way around.
The truth is, God didn’t create us to be God. God created us to be ourselves! Which is a good thing, as we’re all made in God’s image and likeness. And that’s why God calls us, not to be God, but to be godly, God-like.
Our challenge, then, is for us to stop trying so hard to be God, and instead surrender to God, that we may become like God, just a little bit more, every day.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/041511.shtml
Just think about it:
So often, we want to glorify ourselves, and not God;
We want to be independent, not dependent on God;
We want to do what we want, not what God wants;
We want God to serve us, not the other way around.
The truth is, God didn’t create us to be God. God created us to be ourselves! Which is a good thing, as we’re all made in God’s image and likeness. And that’s why God calls us, not to be God, but to be godly, God-like.
Our challenge, then, is for us to stop trying so hard to be God, and instead surrender to God, that we may become like God, just a little bit more, every day.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/041511.shtml
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Thursday of Lent 5
When he published a work about St. Joan of Arc, the French Catholic poet Charles Peguy intentionally left the first pages blank. He did this, he explained, to give the reader time to think.
Perhaps giving people the time to think was Jesus’ motivation in today’s gospel. As we heard, hostile men had confronted him about what to do with a woman who had been caught in adultery.
But Jesus didn’t respond right away. Instead, he sat quietly on the ground, tracing his finger in the dirt. It was only after the angry mob continued to press him for an answer that Jesus finally spoke. “Let the man among you who has no sin,” he said, “be the first to cast a stone.”
But why did Jesus take so long to speak? Why the hesitation? Was Jesus stalling for time so he could find something appropriate to say? I don’t think so.
Maybe Jesus was trying to teach us that we need to take the time to think before we impulsively cast a stone at another. Time for our emotions to cool. Time to consider all the variables and circumstances involved. Time to recall our own sins. And time to think of God’s mercy, not only to others, but especially to us.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/041411.shtml
Perhaps giving people the time to think was Jesus’ motivation in today’s gospel. As we heard, hostile men had confronted him about what to do with a woman who had been caught in adultery.
But Jesus didn’t respond right away. Instead, he sat quietly on the ground, tracing his finger in the dirt. It was only after the angry mob continued to press him for an answer that Jesus finally spoke. “Let the man among you who has no sin,” he said, “be the first to cast a stone.”
But why did Jesus take so long to speak? Why the hesitation? Was Jesus stalling for time so he could find something appropriate to say? I don’t think so.
Maybe Jesus was trying to teach us that we need to take the time to think before we impulsively cast a stone at another. Time for our emotions to cool. Time to consider all the variables and circumstances involved. Time to recall our own sins. And time to think of God’s mercy, not only to others, but especially to us.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/041411.shtml
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Wednesday of Lent 5
“I’m free, to do what I want, any old time!” insisted the Rolling Stones. Their song reflects how many people today understand freedom: It’s about doing whatever we want, whenever we want to.
Jesus, on the other hand, spoke in today’s gospel of a freedom not to do as we please, but the freedom to do what is pleasing to God; a freedom that involves not just the right to make choices, but the freedom to choose what is right; a freedom not from discipline but dependent on discipline; a freedom that doesn’t give us a license to sin, but a freedom that liberates us from sin; a freedom not just to “be you and me,” but a freedom to become all we were meant to be.
This freedom is rooted in a knowledge of the truth- a truth that is not just a body of knowledge, but a truth who is a person, Jesus Christ our Lord. What Jesus is saying to us today, then, is that if we follow him and live as he taught, we will truly be free- free from sin, free from unhappiness, free to love, free from fear, free to be his brothers and sisters, free to be sons and daughters of God.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/041311.shtml
Jesus, on the other hand, spoke in today’s gospel of a freedom not to do as we please, but the freedom to do what is pleasing to God; a freedom that involves not just the right to make choices, but the freedom to choose what is right; a freedom not from discipline but dependent on discipline; a freedom that doesn’t give us a license to sin, but a freedom that liberates us from sin; a freedom not just to “be you and me,” but a freedom to become all we were meant to be.
This freedom is rooted in a knowledge of the truth- a truth that is not just a body of knowledge, but a truth who is a person, Jesus Christ our Lord. What Jesus is saying to us today, then, is that if we follow him and live as he taught, we will truly be free- free from sin, free from unhappiness, free to love, free from fear, free to be his brothers and sisters, free to be sons and daughters of God.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/041311.shtml
Monday, April 11, 2011
Tuesday of Lent 5
Kevin and Chrissie were two individuals I became acquainted with during my seminary days. Chrissie was Kevin’s mother. At one time, Chrissie had been a nurse and Kevin an aspiring football player. But then Chrissie became an alcoholic, and Kevin soon followed suit. They became homeless, and when not in jail, they would roam the streets, shouting obscenities, getting into fights, and passing out on the sidewalk.
While praying one night, I shook my fist at God, demanding to know why he allowed something so terrible to have happened. But as I shouted, God answered by powerfully impressing upon my mind a vivid image of the cross. I felt chastised but peaceful, because this experience reminded me of an essential truth: To know God, we need to know the cross; without the cross, we can’t really understand God.
Jesus says as much in today’s gospel. People had asked, “Who are you?” To which Jesus replied, “You will know that I AM- you will know that I am God- when I have been lifted up” – lifted up on the cross.
To see Jesus on the cross is the key to understanding who Jesus really is. On the cross, we see humility, obedience, suffering, mercy, forgiveness, glory, kingship, sacrifice, priesthood, death, and victory over death. But most importantly, what we see on the cross is love. Because when Jesus was lifted up, he stretched out his arms, as if to welcome us into the eternal embrace of his love. Truly, to know the cross is to know Jesus. And to know Jesus is to experience his love.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/041211.shtml
While praying one night, I shook my fist at God, demanding to know why he allowed something so terrible to have happened. But as I shouted, God answered by powerfully impressing upon my mind a vivid image of the cross. I felt chastised but peaceful, because this experience reminded me of an essential truth: To know God, we need to know the cross; without the cross, we can’t really understand God.
Jesus says as much in today’s gospel. People had asked, “Who are you?” To which Jesus replied, “You will know that I AM- you will know that I am God- when I have been lifted up” – lifted up on the cross.
To see Jesus on the cross is the key to understanding who Jesus really is. On the cross, we see humility, obedience, suffering, mercy, forgiveness, glory, kingship, sacrifice, priesthood, death, and victory over death. But most importantly, what we see on the cross is love. Because when Jesus was lifted up, he stretched out his arms, as if to welcome us into the eternal embrace of his love. Truly, to know the cross is to know Jesus. And to know Jesus is to experience his love.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/041211.shtml
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Lent 5 Monday
Are you familiar with the “halo effect?” It refers to our tendency to judge a person based on only one characteristic that we find attractive or impressive. It’s as if we place a halo over their heads; they can do no wrong. We do this especially with those we think are physically attractive. We think: They’re good-looking, so surely they’re also intelligent and talented. The opposite of the halo effect is the “devil effect.” We dislike one thing about a person, or find something about them unappealing, and we write them off entirely.
I think that some of this was going on in today’s Scripture readings. In the story from Daniel, we heard of a terrible rush to judgment. The crowds were absolutely convinced that the two elders were telling the truth, because they were seen as respected and wise religious figures. And that almost got Susanna killed!
Then, in our gospel, certain Pharisees were absolutely sure that Jesus wasn’t who he claimed to be- because he didn’t fit into their pre-conceived notions. And that ultimately did get Jesus killed.
Now, the judgments you and I make don’t generally have life-and-death ramifications. However, the judgments we make do have the potential to deeply hurt others, when we judge them wrongly.
Our Lord challenges us to be aware of this, and proceed with caution. So we don’t rush to judgment; so we don’t just judge by appearances. Jesus said to his Pharisee critics: I do not judge, but when I do judge, my judgment is right, because my Father is with me.
We would do well to follow Jesus’ example- to suspend judgment, until we’re able to judge like him.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/041111.shtml
I think that some of this was going on in today’s Scripture readings. In the story from Daniel, we heard of a terrible rush to judgment. The crowds were absolutely convinced that the two elders were telling the truth, because they were seen as respected and wise religious figures. And that almost got Susanna killed!
Then, in our gospel, certain Pharisees were absolutely sure that Jesus wasn’t who he claimed to be- because he didn’t fit into their pre-conceived notions. And that ultimately did get Jesus killed.
Now, the judgments you and I make don’t generally have life-and-death ramifications. However, the judgments we make do have the potential to deeply hurt others, when we judge them wrongly.
Our Lord challenges us to be aware of this, and proceed with caution. So we don’t rush to judgment; so we don’t just judge by appearances. Jesus said to his Pharisee critics: I do not judge, but when I do judge, my judgment is right, because my Father is with me.
We would do well to follow Jesus’ example- to suspend judgment, until we’re able to judge like him.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/041111.shtml
Friday, April 8, 2011
Friday of Lent 4
It’s easier for an elephant to fit into a mouse’s swimsuit, a Benedictine abbot once explained, than it is for God to fit into our ideas about him. This is an intentionally funny observation, but it’s certainly true, especially in light of today’s gospel.
The people of Jerusalem thought that they has Jesus all figured out. They were convinced that he wasn’t the Christ, because they were sure they knew where he came from! But Jesus simply shook his head and told them otherwise.
Jesus sometimes has to do the same thing with us. We create idols- caricatures of Jesus- and he has to come along and smash them. Usually, like the mouse’s swimsuit, our image of Jesus is just too small. We tend to emphasize one aspect of his person and minimize the others. For instance, we might count upon his mercy, but forget about his justice. We focus on his power, but overlook his humility. We highlight his humanity, but neglect his divinity. And vice versa.
However, whenever we think we have him in a nutshell, the real Jesus eludes us, just as he slipped away from the angry Jerusalem mob. He knows that we’re always tempted to refashion him in our own image. Thankfully, he never stops trying to re-create us in his.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/040811.shtml
The people of Jerusalem thought that they has Jesus all figured out. They were convinced that he wasn’t the Christ, because they were sure they knew where he came from! But Jesus simply shook his head and told them otherwise.
Jesus sometimes has to do the same thing with us. We create idols- caricatures of Jesus- and he has to come along and smash them. Usually, like the mouse’s swimsuit, our image of Jesus is just too small. We tend to emphasize one aspect of his person and minimize the others. For instance, we might count upon his mercy, but forget about his justice. We focus on his power, but overlook his humility. We highlight his humanity, but neglect his divinity. And vice versa.
However, whenever we think we have him in a nutshell, the real Jesus eludes us, just as he slipped away from the angry Jerusalem mob. He knows that we’re always tempted to refashion him in our own image. Thankfully, he never stops trying to re-create us in his.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/040811.shtml
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Fifth Sunday in Lent
Many of you will recall the horrible bombing of the Oklahoma City federal building back in 1995. Until 9/11, this bombing was deadliest act of terrorism ever on US soil. Not far from where that building stood is St. Joseph’s Catholic Church. In its garden now stands a tall, white-robed Jesus. His back is turned to the bombing site, and his shoulder is slumped in grief. With tears streaming down his cheeks, Jesus faces a brick wall with 168 empty spaces- one space for each person who died that terrible day. Inscribed at the base of the statue are two short words: “Jesus weeps.”
This statue, and its inscription, were inspired by today’s gospel. While walking to the tomb of his dear friend Lazarus, Jesus is filled with grief, and he burst into tears. John 11:37 says, very simply, “Jesus wept.” It’s the shortest verse in the Bible, but it’s also one of the most beautiful, because in it, Jesus’ humanity and compassion so clearly shine forth.
Jesus’ tears assure us that it’s okay to be sorrowful when we lose someone we love. Sometimes, well-intentioned people may react to our grief by trying to cheer us up. They’ll say things like, “We’ll, he’s in a much better place now” or “She’s gone to be with the Lord.” We certainly hope and pray that that’s the case. But nevertheless it’s acceptable- indeed, it’s normal and even necessary!- to be sad when a loved one dies. Just think of Jesus. He can appreciate our grief because he’s experienced it himself. When we cry, Jesus cries right alongside us.
In addition to sadness, however, Jesus also experienced anger at the death of his friend. Twice, in the passage we just heard, Jesus was “perturbed and deeply troubled.” A better translation might say that he “shuddered with anger.” Jesus did this first when he saw Mary and her friends weeping. He did it again when he stood before Lazarus’ tomb. Significantly, Jesus reacts the same way on two other occasions in this gospel: Shortly after he entered Jerusalem and knew that the “hour” of his passion was now at hand; and again at the Last Supper, as he foretold Judas’ betrayal. In each of these episodes, Jesus is confronted with death- either his own, or that of Lazarus. Death, evidently, makes Jesus angry.
Jesus’ anger is not uncontrolled rage or self-pity. Instead, it’s righteous indignation against death itself. Jesus is angry because death can take people well before their time, and it leaves an aching void in the lives of those left behind. But most especially, Jesus is angry at death because it’s a consequence of sin, his greatest enemy of all.
All of this begs a question, however: If Jesus loved Lazarus so much that his death filled him with sorrow and anger, and if death is an enemy to be vanquished, why did Jesus linger for two days when he learned that Lazarus was on the verge of death? At first glace, it might appear that Jesus is heartless or cruel.
In reality, Jesus did what he did to demonstrate a point. As Jesus said to Mary, Lazarus’ sister, “I am glad for you that I was not there, so that you may believe.” Jesus knew that for Mary, and for all of us, death is a great test of faith. Whenever we face our own death or that of a loved one, we come to the realization that when we enter the grave, we do so alone. Anything we may have depended on before- friends, family, finances, reputation, accomplishments, hopes and dreams- are of no use to us when we pass through death’s door. When facing this prospect, even firm believers can be plagued with doubt and fears. It’s then we need to trust that death doesn’t have the final word, and that there truly is a God, who in his love offers us an eternal, heavenly existence beyond our wildest expectations.
However, this is precisely what Jesus wanted to demonstrate by raising Lazarus from the dead. This miracle is a sign anticipating Jesus’ resurrection, but it’s an intentional contrast, too. Lazarus was restored to a normal, earthly existence. He was resuscitated, not resurrected. Jesus brought him back to life only to die again another day. When Lazarus came shambling from his tomb, he was still wrapped in his burial cloths, reminding us that one day he’d have to be wrapped in those cloths again. But when Jesus emerged from his tomb on Easter morning, his burial shroud was left neatly in a corner- a sign that his body had been liberated forever from the bonds of death and corruption. Jesus didn’t die and rise again so that we could live forever in our present state. He came that we might enjoy a new life- a resurrection life!- a life of union with God which begins at baptism, but is perfected only after we have died. “I am the resurrection and the life,” Jesus said. “Whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live. And everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.”
Death brings with it sorrow and anger. Jesus shows us that. But for Christians, death can also bring our faith life to completion, and Jesus shows us that too. During his final days of battling pancreatic cancer, a Cardinal wrote of receiving a hospital visit from an old friend, who was a priest. Seeing the Cardinal in extreme pain and exhausted from radiation therapy, the priest offered words of comfort about his friend's approaching death. “It’s very simple,” he said. “People of faith, who believe that death is the transition from this life to life eternal, should see it as a friend.”
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/041011.shtml
This statue, and its inscription, were inspired by today’s gospel. While walking to the tomb of his dear friend Lazarus, Jesus is filled with grief, and he burst into tears. John 11:37 says, very simply, “Jesus wept.” It’s the shortest verse in the Bible, but it’s also one of the most beautiful, because in it, Jesus’ humanity and compassion so clearly shine forth.
Jesus’ tears assure us that it’s okay to be sorrowful when we lose someone we love. Sometimes, well-intentioned people may react to our grief by trying to cheer us up. They’ll say things like, “We’ll, he’s in a much better place now” or “She’s gone to be with the Lord.” We certainly hope and pray that that’s the case. But nevertheless it’s acceptable- indeed, it’s normal and even necessary!- to be sad when a loved one dies. Just think of Jesus. He can appreciate our grief because he’s experienced it himself. When we cry, Jesus cries right alongside us.
In addition to sadness, however, Jesus also experienced anger at the death of his friend. Twice, in the passage we just heard, Jesus was “perturbed and deeply troubled.” A better translation might say that he “shuddered with anger.” Jesus did this first when he saw Mary and her friends weeping. He did it again when he stood before Lazarus’ tomb. Significantly, Jesus reacts the same way on two other occasions in this gospel: Shortly after he entered Jerusalem and knew that the “hour” of his passion was now at hand; and again at the Last Supper, as he foretold Judas’ betrayal. In each of these episodes, Jesus is confronted with death- either his own, or that of Lazarus. Death, evidently, makes Jesus angry.
Jesus’ anger is not uncontrolled rage or self-pity. Instead, it’s righteous indignation against death itself. Jesus is angry because death can take people well before their time, and it leaves an aching void in the lives of those left behind. But most especially, Jesus is angry at death because it’s a consequence of sin, his greatest enemy of all.
All of this begs a question, however: If Jesus loved Lazarus so much that his death filled him with sorrow and anger, and if death is an enemy to be vanquished, why did Jesus linger for two days when he learned that Lazarus was on the verge of death? At first glace, it might appear that Jesus is heartless or cruel.
In reality, Jesus did what he did to demonstrate a point. As Jesus said to Mary, Lazarus’ sister, “I am glad for you that I was not there, so that you may believe.” Jesus knew that for Mary, and for all of us, death is a great test of faith. Whenever we face our own death or that of a loved one, we come to the realization that when we enter the grave, we do so alone. Anything we may have depended on before- friends, family, finances, reputation, accomplishments, hopes and dreams- are of no use to us when we pass through death’s door. When facing this prospect, even firm believers can be plagued with doubt and fears. It’s then we need to trust that death doesn’t have the final word, and that there truly is a God, who in his love offers us an eternal, heavenly existence beyond our wildest expectations.
However, this is precisely what Jesus wanted to demonstrate by raising Lazarus from the dead. This miracle is a sign anticipating Jesus’ resurrection, but it’s an intentional contrast, too. Lazarus was restored to a normal, earthly existence. He was resuscitated, not resurrected. Jesus brought him back to life only to die again another day. When Lazarus came shambling from his tomb, he was still wrapped in his burial cloths, reminding us that one day he’d have to be wrapped in those cloths again. But when Jesus emerged from his tomb on Easter morning, his burial shroud was left neatly in a corner- a sign that his body had been liberated forever from the bonds of death and corruption. Jesus didn’t die and rise again so that we could live forever in our present state. He came that we might enjoy a new life- a resurrection life!- a life of union with God which begins at baptism, but is perfected only after we have died. “I am the resurrection and the life,” Jesus said. “Whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live. And everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.”
Death brings with it sorrow and anger. Jesus shows us that. But for Christians, death can also bring our faith life to completion, and Jesus shows us that too. During his final days of battling pancreatic cancer, a Cardinal wrote of receiving a hospital visit from an old friend, who was a priest. Seeing the Cardinal in extreme pain and exhausted from radiation therapy, the priest offered words of comfort about his friend's approaching death. “It’s very simple,” he said. “People of faith, who believe that death is the transition from this life to life eternal, should see it as a friend.”
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/041011.shtml
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Thursday of Lent 4
One evening, Stephanie my wife prayed for guidance as to whether or not she should return to work part time. The very next morning, an absolutely perfect job practically fell into her lap. To us, this was an obvious sign from God. Yet that night, as we adjusted our family budget to reflect Stephanie’s new income, we started to worry about money. God had just answered our prayer and shown us how much he cares for us. But still we didn’t “get it;” still we didn’t trust.
Sadly, that’s all too common, as reflected in today’s Scripture readings. In the first, God’s people rejected him for an idol, even after he had freed them from slavery in Egypt. And in the gospel, there were those who refused to believe in Jesus, even though they were surrounded by evidence that he was the one sent by the Father. In both cases, people just didn’t “get it.” God had done so many good things for them. But still they doubted him, rejected him, and forgot about him.
Sometimes we’re guilty of the same things. When times are hard, we can doubt God’s love and care for us. And when times are good, we can forget about God altogether, and replace him with the idols of success, beauty, security, and wealth. We do this even after God has done so many good things for us. Things that should make us “get it,” and call forth our obedience, our trust, and most of all, our love.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/040711.shtml
Sadly, that’s all too common, as reflected in today’s Scripture readings. In the first, God’s people rejected him for an idol, even after he had freed them from slavery in Egypt. And in the gospel, there were those who refused to believe in Jesus, even though they were surrounded by evidence that he was the one sent by the Father. In both cases, people just didn’t “get it.” God had done so many good things for them. But still they doubted him, rejected him, and forgot about him.
Sometimes we’re guilty of the same things. When times are hard, we can doubt God’s love and care for us. And when times are good, we can forget about God altogether, and replace him with the idols of success, beauty, security, and wealth. We do this even after God has done so many good things for us. Things that should make us “get it,” and call forth our obedience, our trust, and most of all, our love.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/040711.shtml
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Wednesday of Lent 4
Certain husbands are quite comfortable calling their fathers-in-law “Dad.” Other husbands, however, find that to be awkward or inappropriate. The prospect makes them uneasy.
Sometimes we can be uneasy about calling God our “Father,” or even “Dad,” as Jesus always did. In fact, this so outraged our Lord’s critics in today’s gospel that they wanted to kill him! Calling God our “Father” hopefully doesn’t infuriate us like that, but it sure can make us feel uncomfortable.
We can be fine praying to “Almighty God,” as that title reflects God’s distance from us. But “Father” speaks of God’s nearness; it implies love, family, and intimacy. And that can scare us, because we worry about getting too close to God. After all, who knows what that might lead to? We wonder: “What will God ask of me? What demands could he make? How might my life have to change?” It can seem easier, and a whole lot safer, to keep God at arm’s length.
Jesus challenges us to move beyond our fears. As our brother, he wants us to know the Father, not only as one who dwells above us, but also as one who abides within us. The same life and love the Father gives to Jesus, is also offered to us. Our Father doesn’t want to be kept at arm’s length. Instead, he wants to hold us in his arms.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/040611.shtml
Sometimes we can be uneasy about calling God our “Father,” or even “Dad,” as Jesus always did. In fact, this so outraged our Lord’s critics in today’s gospel that they wanted to kill him! Calling God our “Father” hopefully doesn’t infuriate us like that, but it sure can make us feel uncomfortable.
We can be fine praying to “Almighty God,” as that title reflects God’s distance from us. But “Father” speaks of God’s nearness; it implies love, family, and intimacy. And that can scare us, because we worry about getting too close to God. After all, who knows what that might lead to? We wonder: “What will God ask of me? What demands could he make? How might my life have to change?” It can seem easier, and a whole lot safer, to keep God at arm’s length.
Jesus challenges us to move beyond our fears. As our brother, he wants us to know the Father, not only as one who dwells above us, but also as one who abides within us. The same life and love the Father gives to Jesus, is also offered to us. Our Father doesn’t want to be kept at arm’s length. Instead, he wants to hold us in his arms.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/040611.shtml
Monday, April 4, 2011
Lent 4 Tuesday
“Practice random acts of kindness and senseless acts of beauty,” a popular slogan a few years back, challenged our culture in which what we do, and how we do it, is carefully calculated to help us get ahead and get noticed. In our world, stopping to perform a small kindness can knock us off schedule; reputations and resumes aren’t enhanced by random, unrecognized deeds.
Consider, however, what Jesus did in today’s gospel. He saw a pool full of sick, needy, diseased people. As far as the world was concerned, they had nothing of much value to offer. Nevertheless, even though he was busy, Jesus stopped, healed a disabled person, then vanished into the crowd before others made a big deal about it.
Why did Jesus do this? First of all, because he could. Likewise, each and every one of us, with our time, talent, and treasure, is able to do a lot. Perhaps more than we often realize.
Second, Jesus did what he did because he is humble. It would have been easy for him to have drawn attention to himself by his miracle. Yet Jesus acted discretely, and without fanfare.
Third, Jesus did what he did purely out of love, because there was nothing to gain in return for healing this man. Jesus didn’t even receive a “Thank you” for his efforts; the man he healed didn’t even know Jesus’ name.
Our Lord invites us today to follow his example by making random acts of kindness with humility, and out of love, just because we can.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/040511.shtml
Consider, however, what Jesus did in today’s gospel. He saw a pool full of sick, needy, diseased people. As far as the world was concerned, they had nothing of much value to offer. Nevertheless, even though he was busy, Jesus stopped, healed a disabled person, then vanished into the crowd before others made a big deal about it.
Why did Jesus do this? First of all, because he could. Likewise, each and every one of us, with our time, talent, and treasure, is able to do a lot. Perhaps more than we often realize.
Second, Jesus did what he did because he is humble. It would have been easy for him to have drawn attention to himself by his miracle. Yet Jesus acted discretely, and without fanfare.
Third, Jesus did what he did purely out of love, because there was nothing to gain in return for healing this man. Jesus didn’t even receive a “Thank you” for his efforts; the man he healed didn’t even know Jesus’ name.
Our Lord invites us today to follow his example by making random acts of kindness with humility, and out of love, just because we can.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/040511.shtml
Lent 4 Monday
Sir Alec Guinness, the famous actor, made what he called a “negative bargain” with God when his eleven-year old son contracted polio. If his son recovered, Guinness promised, he wouldn’t stand in his son’s way to become Catholic. The boy did recover, and his father kept his promise. A few years later, Alec Guinness became Catholic himself.
Some might take a rather cynical view of Guinness’ attempt to lure God to the bargaining table. After all, he only turned to God when he had no one else to turn to! Yet that’s been the experience of many people, not just Alec Guinness. So often it’s only when we have our backs pressed against the wall that we give God any real consideration. But God can work with that. He knows that it’s when we’ve hit rock bottom that we’re the most open to receiving his grace.
We can see this in today’s gospel. The royal official approached Jesus in desperation, with no other motive than to secure the healing of his dying son. Jesus knew this. “Unless you people see signs and wonders,” he complained, “you do not believe.” The royal official didn’t contest the point. He simply continued to beg Jesus. And Jesus did heal his son, whereupon the official’s entire household became believers.
All this goes to show that God will meet us wherever we are, because even more that we might desire to be with God, God desires to be with us!
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/040411.shtml
Some might take a rather cynical view of Guinness’ attempt to lure God to the bargaining table. After all, he only turned to God when he had no one else to turn to! Yet that’s been the experience of many people, not just Alec Guinness. So often it’s only when we have our backs pressed against the wall that we give God any real consideration. But God can work with that. He knows that it’s when we’ve hit rock bottom that we’re the most open to receiving his grace.
We can see this in today’s gospel. The royal official approached Jesus in desperation, with no other motive than to secure the healing of his dying son. Jesus knew this. “Unless you people see signs and wonders,” he complained, “you do not believe.” The royal official didn’t contest the point. He simply continued to beg Jesus. And Jesus did heal his son, whereupon the official’s entire household became believers.
All this goes to show that God will meet us wherever we are, because even more that we might desire to be with God, God desires to be with us!
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/040411.shtml
Friday, April 1, 2011
Fourth Sunday in Lent
Throughout her life, a dear friend of mine has endured many hardships and experienced much heartbreak. During her twenty-five years of marriage, her husband had numerous affairs, became an alcoholic, and subjected her to extreme psychological abuse, giving her no support as she struggled to raise five children. Since their separation, he has been unfaithful to their divorce settlement, often leaving her in a precarious financial situation. She now is wrestling with a number of health problems. Yet instead of becoming a bitter and defeated individual, she has come to enjoy a deep, abiding, and truly remarkable faith.
She tells me that she used to find strength in the popular “Footprints” story in which a man dreams of his life as a walk along the beach with the Lord. Most of the time, two sets of footprints were visible in the sand- one for Jesus, and one for the man. However, during times of suffering, pain, and trial, there was only one set of footprints. The man was angry and he challenged Jesus. “Where were you when I needed you most?” he cried. Jesus replied, “I was with you all along! When you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.”
These days, however, she doesn’t find much inspiration in this story. She explains that she no longer has to ask Jesus about where he was during the most painful periods in her life. She now knows, through her experience, that Jesus is always at her side. Suffering didn’t weaken her faith. Instead, it made it grow stronger.
This is also the experience of the “man born blind” in today’s gospel. Like my friend, he has endured a truly “hard knock life.” Until his encounter with Jesus, he’d spent his days as a panhandler, begging small change from passers-by. Most probably, people tossed him insults as often as they tossed him money, considering that the disciples themselves suggested out loud that he must be some sort of sinner. But then Jesus healed him, restoring his vision and giving him a new lease on life.
Ironically, however, this is when the man’s plight becomes even worse. Nobody shares his joy in his newfound sight. Instead, he’s met with suspicion, interrogation, and hostility. His own parents kept him at arm’s length. Religious leaders berate him as one “born in utter sin” and cast him out of the synagogue. Not only did this make him a pariah in the Jewish community, it also placed him in violation of Roman law, as it legally made him an atheist. So pity the poor man born blind! Instead of being allowed to celebrate his grace-filled encounter with Jesus, he’s alienated from his family, ostracized by his religion, and made a criminal in the eyes of the state. Yet, even after all of this, the “man born blind” was still able to embrace Jesus as his savior.
The story of the “man born blind” is meant to be our story as well. As St. Augustine once wrote, the man born blind stands for the whole human race. His experience teaches that our life of faith, which begins at baptism, can grow through difficult testing and suffering.
The gospel demonstrates this in a subtle way. It begins by making suggestive references to the sacrament of baptism. Consider how Jesus healed the “man born blind.” To begin with, Jesus made clay with his saliva and anointed the man’s eyes. This recalls two things. First, the anointing intentionally calls to mind the anointing with oil in the baptism ritual. Second, the clay expresses our belief that in baptism one is made a “new creation,” just as the first human being was created from clay in the Genesis story.
Next, Jesus instructs the blind man to wash in the “Pool of Siloam,” which, we’re specifically told, means “Sent.” These too are baptismal references. Baptism washes away our sin in a pool of water, and it unites us with Jesus, the one sent by the Father. Finally, having followed Jesus’ instructions, the man was able to see Jesus, who had just identified himself as the “light of the world,” just as in baptism we’re “enlightened” to “see” Jesus with eyes of faith.
This healing event, however, was only the beginning of the man’s journey of faith. His faith came to maturity only through his experience of testing and suffering. When his back was against the wall, he found no help or comfort from his family, the government, or his community of faith. He had no one else to turn to but Jesus! And even that took a leap of faith, because Jesus was seemingly absent throughout his ordeal. It was only when the man had hit “rock bottom” that Jesus re-appeared in person.
But maybe that’s precisely the point. It takes great faith to trust in Jesus when he doesn’t seem to be there. But that’s what the “man born blind” did. He trusted, and his faith grew. We can see this in the progressively more insightful terms he used in reference to Jesus. For instance, when first asked as to how his eyes were opened, he explained that he was healed by the “man called Jesus.” Later, when challenged again, he called Jesus a “prophet.” When pressed he even further, he asserted that Jesus was “from God.” Ultimately, after having been expelled from the synagogue, he fell down at Jesus’ feet and worshipped him as Lord.
It’s true that, as the old proverb goes, “Into every life a little rain must fall.” For some people, this rain is just a sprinkle; for others, it’s a downpour. Yet the story of the “man born blind” offers us hope that this inevitable rain, instead of dampening our faith, may help it blossom and flourish.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/040311.shtml
She tells me that she used to find strength in the popular “Footprints” story in which a man dreams of his life as a walk along the beach with the Lord. Most of the time, two sets of footprints were visible in the sand- one for Jesus, and one for the man. However, during times of suffering, pain, and trial, there was only one set of footprints. The man was angry and he challenged Jesus. “Where were you when I needed you most?” he cried. Jesus replied, “I was with you all along! When you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.”
These days, however, she doesn’t find much inspiration in this story. She explains that she no longer has to ask Jesus about where he was during the most painful periods in her life. She now knows, through her experience, that Jesus is always at her side. Suffering didn’t weaken her faith. Instead, it made it grow stronger.
This is also the experience of the “man born blind” in today’s gospel. Like my friend, he has endured a truly “hard knock life.” Until his encounter with Jesus, he’d spent his days as a panhandler, begging small change from passers-by. Most probably, people tossed him insults as often as they tossed him money, considering that the disciples themselves suggested out loud that he must be some sort of sinner. But then Jesus healed him, restoring his vision and giving him a new lease on life.
Ironically, however, this is when the man’s plight becomes even worse. Nobody shares his joy in his newfound sight. Instead, he’s met with suspicion, interrogation, and hostility. His own parents kept him at arm’s length. Religious leaders berate him as one “born in utter sin” and cast him out of the synagogue. Not only did this make him a pariah in the Jewish community, it also placed him in violation of Roman law, as it legally made him an atheist. So pity the poor man born blind! Instead of being allowed to celebrate his grace-filled encounter with Jesus, he’s alienated from his family, ostracized by his religion, and made a criminal in the eyes of the state. Yet, even after all of this, the “man born blind” was still able to embrace Jesus as his savior.
The story of the “man born blind” is meant to be our story as well. As St. Augustine once wrote, the man born blind stands for the whole human race. His experience teaches that our life of faith, which begins at baptism, can grow through difficult testing and suffering.
The gospel demonstrates this in a subtle way. It begins by making suggestive references to the sacrament of baptism. Consider how Jesus healed the “man born blind.” To begin with, Jesus made clay with his saliva and anointed the man’s eyes. This recalls two things. First, the anointing intentionally calls to mind the anointing with oil in the baptism ritual. Second, the clay expresses our belief that in baptism one is made a “new creation,” just as the first human being was created from clay in the Genesis story.
Next, Jesus instructs the blind man to wash in the “Pool of Siloam,” which, we’re specifically told, means “Sent.” These too are baptismal references. Baptism washes away our sin in a pool of water, and it unites us with Jesus, the one sent by the Father. Finally, having followed Jesus’ instructions, the man was able to see Jesus, who had just identified himself as the “light of the world,” just as in baptism we’re “enlightened” to “see” Jesus with eyes of faith.
This healing event, however, was only the beginning of the man’s journey of faith. His faith came to maturity only through his experience of testing and suffering. When his back was against the wall, he found no help or comfort from his family, the government, or his community of faith. He had no one else to turn to but Jesus! And even that took a leap of faith, because Jesus was seemingly absent throughout his ordeal. It was only when the man had hit “rock bottom” that Jesus re-appeared in person.
But maybe that’s precisely the point. It takes great faith to trust in Jesus when he doesn’t seem to be there. But that’s what the “man born blind” did. He trusted, and his faith grew. We can see this in the progressively more insightful terms he used in reference to Jesus. For instance, when first asked as to how his eyes were opened, he explained that he was healed by the “man called Jesus.” Later, when challenged again, he called Jesus a “prophet.” When pressed he even further, he asserted that Jesus was “from God.” Ultimately, after having been expelled from the synagogue, he fell down at Jesus’ feet and worshipped him as Lord.
It’s true that, as the old proverb goes, “Into every life a little rain must fall.” For some people, this rain is just a sprinkle; for others, it’s a downpour. Yet the story of the “man born blind” offers us hope that this inevitable rain, instead of dampening our faith, may help it blossom and flourish.
Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/040311.shtml
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