Solemnity of All Saints

Imagine my wife’s surprise when, after Mass on All Saints Day two years ago, a bishop walked straight up to her and said with a smile: “Be a saint.” As she did not know this bishop, she was surprised, to say the least. But she took the message to heart as a serious call to holiness.

Jesus challenges each one of us today to be a saint. Today of course is All Saints’ Day, when we celebrate the “holy men and women of every time and place,” and ask their prayers that we might become saints ourselves.

But what is a saint? A young boy once asked this question of his parish priest as they were standing together in church. The priest pointed to the saints on the stained glass windows and said, “The saints are those people who let God’s light shine through.”

I think that’s a good a definition as any. Pope Benedict agrees. “Nothing can bring us into close contact with Christ himself,” wrote the Holy Father, “other than the…light that shines out from the faces of the saints, through whom his own light becomes visible.”

Today, the whole company of saints says to us: “Be a saint.” The light of Christ shone from their faces. And the light of Christ can shine from ours.

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/110111.cfm

Saturday of Ordinary 30

As the great English Catholic G.K. Chesterton once wrote, “Angels can fly because they take themselves so lightly.” Chesterton was trying to be witty, of course, but his point was that humility is a hallmark of holiness- both for angels, and for us.

Consider an episode from the life of Dorothy Day, who founder of the Catholic Worker Movement who is now a candidate for sainthood. The sociologist Robert Coles once went to meet her at one of the soup kitchens she ran. When he arrived, Dorothy Day was in a conversation with a homeless woman who was drunk and mentally ill. The woman rambled on and on in a loud voice and kept nervously touching a large mole on her face. Only when the woman was finished did Dorothy Day politely excuse herself. She walked over to Coles and asked, “Do you wish to speak with one of us?”

Coles was astonished. He had expected her to say, “Do you wish to speak with me?” as we might have been tempted to do. But Dorothy Day was humble, and she didn’t assume that she was somehow more important than the homeless woman.

Jesus speaks of humility in today’s gospel, and promises that the humble will be exalted. In his parable about taking the lowest seat at a wedding banquet, Jesus warns us not to think too highly of ourselves at the expense of others. Because if we do, we’ll find it difficult to truly love other people. When we look down on other people, we might pity them, but pity is not love. And if we don’t think that they look up to us as we think they should, we’ll get huffy and bent out of shape.

In short, arrogance alienates, but it’s love that unites. And people that are full of love, are never full of themselves. 

Thursday of Ordinary 30

A woman I know of was mistreated by her husband. For years he had put her down, would snap at her after coming home tipsy, and then one night he actually hit her. Her counselor urged her to protect herself by leaving the house for a safer place. She refused, however, as she thought that would be an unchristian thing to do. She loved her husband, she said; she reasoned that he was stressed and that she needed to meet his needs better. And after all, she concluded, Jesus calls us to embrace suffering for others- just like he embraced suffering for us.

Thankfully the counselor was able to help her appreciate the difference between necessary and unnecessary suffering. Necessary suffering springs from the loving choices we make to help others or ourselves become the people God created us to be. Unnecessary suffering perpetuates another person’s illness or sin, and it destroys the person who is trying to help.

Consider Jesus in today’s gospel. He said that he would indeed suffer in order to “accomplish his purpose” of dying and rising for our salvation. And for him to do this, he explained, his suffering had to happen at the right time- not today or tomorrow, he said- and in the right place- the city of Jerusalem. Meanwhile, he avoided that suffering which would prevent him from carrying out his mission. Jesus never suffered just for the sake of suffering. He was abused, but he was not a doormat; he was a victim, but he was not co-dependent.

For us, this means that sometimes, in our relationships with others, we may need to draw a line in the sand, say enough is enough, put our foot down, blow the whistle, change jobs, leave the house, defend ourselves, distance ourselves, maybe even end a relationship. Both for our good- and for theirs. Because love without suffering is sentimentality; but not all suffering is consistent with love.

Wednesday of Ordinary 30

In an old Peanuts cartoon, Linus says to Charlie Brown: “I’ve got this whole Santa Claus thing licked. If there is a Santa Claus, he’s going to be too nice not to bring me anything for Christmas, no matter how I act, right? Right! And maybe Linus is right, because I’ve never heard of any kid really getting the threatened lump of coal.

However, sometimes we can think about God the way that Linus thought about Santa Claus. We know that God is love, and that he loves us regardless of what we do! But then we can conclude that because God loves us no matter what we do, we can go ahead and do whatever we want. Classically, this has been referred to as the “sin of presumption.”

Jesus knows that sometimes we’re tempted to think this way; he’s well aware that sometimes we try to excuse our behavior and get morally lazy.  That’s why he cautions us in today’s gospel to strive to enter God’s kingdom through the narrow door, if we wish to be saved. Salvation is our hope, and salvation is God’s free gift! But salvation is not a guarantee. As believers, this shouldn’t scare us. But it should motivate us- to repentance, to conversion, to love.

Saint Pope Leo the Great once offered some wisdom about this. “What does the Lord recommend,” he says, “except that no one should presume upon his own justice and no one distrust God’s mercy.”

Tuesday of Ordinary 30

When you and I think of kings and kingdoms, more often than not what comes to mind are things grand and majestic: palaces, thrones, crown jewels- things like that. In today’s gospel, however, Jesus describes his Father’s kingdom in much humbler term- a mustard seed, a lump of yeast. Humble images for a humble God.

Let’s face it: God’s humility is a concept we can sometimes find difficult to grasp. As Mother Teresa once wrote,” We can understand the majesty of Go, (but) it is very difficult to understand the humility of God.”

We expect God to be powerful- and he is! As we profess in the creed, “We believe in one God the Father almighty.” But we don’t always imagine God being humble, do we? However, it’s very important that we do.

Think of it this way: If we only knew God as all-powerful, would we really be able to believe that he is all-loving? Probably not, because in our experience power dominates, power corrupts, and power creates distances and barriers between one person and another.

That’s why God has to remind us of his humility. We might say that God reveals the depths of his humility, so we might know the depths of his love- a humble love revealed in a manger, at an altar, and upon a cross.

Monday of Ordinary 30

A non-churchgoer once said to a priest: “I don’t go to church because there are too many hypocrites.” To which the priest said, “That’s okay, there’s always room for one more.”

            We encountered hypocrites in today’s gospel. They were the religious leaders Jesus challenged because they told the people to do things that they themselves did not do.

            But in a sense, the label of hypocrite can be applied to all of us. We don’t always practice what we preach; we don’t always live in a manner consistent with the faith we profess. This not only harms our relationship with God; it can harm other peoples relationship with God too. They can see the way we act, and it can put them off God and religion.

            Not long before I was to leave for seminary at age 22, I went out for the evening with some old college friends. I was carousing a little too enthusiastically, I think, when one friend turned to me and said, “Some priest you are.” She meant it in jest, but it was a fair comment, and it cut me to the heart. I’ve never forgotten it.

            Each one of us is a public representative of Jesus. Which means that people will evaluate Jesus, to a certain degree, based on their evaluation of us. That’s why today’s gospel challenges us to live a way of life consistent with the gospel, so that others won’t be turned off from the gospel way of life.

Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

We live in a very competitive culture, don’t we? This competitiveness is reflected, I think, in the popularity

of today’s reality TV shows, in which people try to beat each other through raw power, manipulation, and

humiliation. Just consider their names: “Survivor,” “The Biggest Loser.”

Don’t get me wrong: competition can be a good thing. The down side, however, is that it can make us think that life is all about getting ahead of others. This worldview turns us into very selfish people, who concerned only about our needs and our goals. We encounter this selfishness today when children, the sick, or the elderly are seen as burdens who get in the way of our plans or our lifestyle. We see it in the resentment, envy, and depression people struggle with today because they don’t think they’re getting everything they deserve. And we see it reflected in the fact that fewer and fewer people these days enter the “service” professions of teacher, nurse, or priest- jobs concerned with giving, instead of getting.

This selfishness can also affect our relationship with God. It makes religion and spirituality nothing more than an exercise in self-fulfillment and self-discovery. It reduces forgiveness to a therapy which we do only when we’re ready, and only so we can be at peace after having been hurt. It turns helping people in need into an effort to feel good about ourselves.  And I heard a bishop recently complain that whenever he preaches about Christian sacrifice today, he feels a need to explain what its benefits are, because so many people are concerned only with “What’s in it for me?”

Such selfishness can make us lonely, because it leads us to view other people as either the competition to

be beaten or as the means to an end- our end. And if we don’t think they’re helping us to achieve our 

goals, we drop them like a hot potato. That’s why the famous Christian writer C.S. Lewis once described 

hell, not as a fiery pit, but as an existence of supreme selfishness, in which people become more and more 

separated from each other, until they wind up in a terrible, eternal isolation.

Of course, selfishness is by no means unique to our culture. A tendency toward selfishness is a universal quality of our fallen, sinful human nature. That’s why in today’s gospel Jesus taught us to love our neighbor as ourself. Love is the antidote to selfishness- and the loneliness that comes with it. However, because selfishness can be such a powerful force in our lives, Jesus had to actually command us to love.

When I was younger I didn’t understand how love could be a commandment. But that’s because I was confusing “love” with being “in love.” Being in love is a wonderful thing. But it can also be a selfish thing, because by it we feel needed, wanted, accepted, and loved. However, the being “in love experience” doesn’t last forever, and it usually lasts less than two years. It’s when it ends that the real work of love begins- the love Jesus commands us to give. This love is not a feeling, but a choice. It’s a gift of our self that we make for the benefit of others so they can become the people God created them to be. It’s a choice to meet another’s person’s need, instead of focusing exclusively on our own. It’s sacrificial, not selfish.

Today’s gospel challenges us to give this kind of love. We should ask ourselves: Do we love others as much as we love ourselves? Consider the people in your life. Do we serve them, or do we expect them to serve us? Do we ever consider their needs? Do we even know what they really are? And if we do know, what should we do to meet those needs?

For instance, do we need to spend quality time with them? Do we just need to be with them- instead of being somewhere else? Do we need to talk with them and share our feelings? Do we need to really listen without judging, interrupting, or giving advice? Do we need to give them a hug or physical affection? Do we need to tell them that we love them? Do they need our forgiveness? Maybe they need us to help with the kids, repair the house, or read them a story. Maybe they need us to get professional help for a problem or addiction. Maybe they need a token of our love- a little gift, a night out, a note.

Everyone’s needs for love are somewhat different. We can’t just assume we know what they are. And we can’t assume that they’re the same as hours. We have to ask, then we have to act. Even if doing those things doesn’t come naturally to us. Even if we don’t feel like doing them. Even if we don’t think the people we’re doing them for really deserve them.

Sometimes it’s hard to love other people this way when they’re being difficult, or when we feel they don’t love us back. It’s tempting to withhold our love from them or shut ourselves off from them, because that’s a way we can punish them. But Jesus hasn’t called us to punish. He has commanded us to love. Let’s face it: Lovable people are easy to love. Difficult people are hard to love. Sometimes they require tough love. As disciples of Jesus, however, they are the measure of our love.

Loving others can indeed be a challenge. Our selfishness tries to prevent us from considering others’ needs in addition to our own. That’s why Jesus commands us to make the choice to love. Because life is not about getting ahead of others. And life is not just about us. As Christians, life is about loving- in the same way that Jesus loves us.


Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/102311.cfm

Friday of Ordinary 29

Benjamin Franklin once said, “Never leave that ‘till tomorrow which you can do today.” It’s good advice, and it also happens to be Jesus’ message in today’s gospel. First he told us to look at the signs of the times and see that the kingdom of God is at hand. Then he spoke of the need to settle with one’s opponent before it’s too late, and we be thrown into prison. This was Jesus’ way of saying that when it comes to matters of faith, religion, and conscience, don’t put off until tomorrow what we should do today. For instance,

·         Do we have a sins we need to confess?

·         A wound we need to heal?

·         A restitution to make?

·         A good intention to act upon?

·         Priorities to shift?

·         A relationship to restore?

If so, Jesus says to us: “What are you waiting for?” Do what you need to do today! Because one day, there will be no tomorrow.

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/102111.cfm

Thursday of Ordinary 29

A priest from Nepal once shared with me his amazing conversion story. Born and raised a Hindu, Fr. Silas Bogati became involved with the American “hippie” drug scene of Katmandu in the 1970’s. He was headed down the wrong path until he was introduced to Jesus Christ by a street preacher.

Fr. Silas was ultimately was ordained the first native-born Nepalese priest. But his conversion came at a terrible cost. When he became a Christian, Fr. Silas was shunned by his Hindu family because, according to the caste system, he had become an “untouchable.”

Many of the earliest Christians, who were Jewish, experienced much the same thing, because when Jews became Christian, they were expelled from the local synagogue and effectively cast out of their families. Jesus’ words in today’s gospel about divided families spoke directly to their situation, and to their pain.

However, these early believers must have been consoled by the fact that by following Jesus they received a new family: the Church, a family of brothers and sisters in Christ, united not by blood ties, but by the unbreakable bonds of the Holy Spirit.

The same is true today. We Christians, throughout the world, are one big family. And in a world full of broken families, families separated by great distances, and those who have no families, this reality should fill many people with inspiration and hope.

The task for us, however, is to act and live as if we are family. In our parish communities, we need to work at being welcoming, friendly, and inclusive. We need to serve one another, respond to one another’s needs, and challenge, support, and pray for each other. In short, we need to make our parishes feel like family to attract those who are looking for a new family to call their own.

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/102011.cfm

Memorial of St. Isaac Jogues and Companions

You’ve heard the old expression, “Once bitten, twice shy?” It means that if we’ve been hurt by something, we’re going to stay away from it in the future. It’s probably true for us in lots of circumstances. But not for St. Issac Jogues. At least when it came to this young Jesuit’s serving as a missionary in what is now Quebec and upstate New York, during the earliest years of European settlement.

Once he was captured by hostile natives who brutally tortured him and actually chewed his forefingers off. He was held captive for some time until he managed to escape and return to his native France. He had been so abused that he was unrecognizable to those who knew him.

One would think that, after his horrific experience, Jogues might have chosen to stay at home- safe, comfortable, and admired by those who thought him a hero. But Jogues willingly chose to return, and he was ultimately martyred with a tomahawk.

Why would Jogues go back to a place where he had been harmed and could possibly die? The answer, I think, has to do with love. St. Isaac Jogues loved God, he loved people, and he wanted the people he loved to love God. It’s as simple as that.

His witness challenges us to ask ourselves: How much do we love God? How much do we love people? Truth be told, I’m not sure my love would measure up to that of St. Isaac Jogues. Perhaps you feel the same way. But should that discourage us, we can find encouragement from the words of St. Isaac himself: “My confidence is placed in God,” he wrote. “Our single endeavor should be to give ourselves to (God’s) work and be faithful to him, and not spoil his work by our shortcomings.”

Feast of Saint Luke, Evangelist

Have you ever picked up a book and thought: “Wow! This was written just for me! This is exactly what I needed to hear.” I have a suspicion that this is what St. Luke wanted each of us to think about the gospel he wrote.

            In the very first line, he addressed his gospel to a person named “Theophilus.” In Latin, Theophilus means “Lover of God”- which is what we are! Luke, it would seem, wrote his gospel just for us. And as we read it, I’d bet he’d want us to think: “This is exactly what I needed to hear!”

            Luke’s gospel is distinguished by themes of thankfulness, joy, and praise. It paints for us a portrait of Jesus who is prayerful, merciful, forgiving, concerned for the poor and outcast, and welcoming of all people- men and women, Jew and Gentile- into the kingdom of God. And Jesus is depicted as teaching at a series of meals as he journeys toward Jerusalem, where he celebrates a final meal- the Last Supper- at which he gives us a meal, the Holy Eucharist.

            Like Jesus, we are on a journey to Jerusalem- the heavenly Jerusalem. And as we walk with Jesus, Luke would have us be nourished by the Eucharistic meal, so we can become more prayerful, joyful, thankful, compassionate, merciful, forgiving, and welcoming like Jesus- in other words, a true “Theophilus,” or lover of God.

            Deep down, this is what we all want to become. That’s why Luke wrote his gospel, just for us. So we might say: “This is exactly what I needed to hear!”

Twenty-Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time

A cartoon I once saw featured a boss speaking to his staff. “Honesty may be the best policy,” he said, “but
it’s not our company policy.” And while it may be funny, this cartoon reflects the sad truth that lying in
our society has reached epidemic proportions. For instance, newspaper headlines speak of corporate scandals, fraudulent accounting practices, and insider trading. In schools today, surveys have shown that a majority of students cheat on tests or download research papers which they try to pass off as their own work. Job seekers pad their résumés with fake or exaggerated information. Car odometers are rolled back, expense accounts are padded, and spouses fib about how much they spent on that new dress or set of golf clubs. A recent university study revealed that a quarter of people’s “most serious lies” related to an affair. And considering that Jesus in today’s gospel spoke of the need to pay one’s taxes, it needs to be said that tax cheating is all too common.

           Jesus gave this teaching after he had been approached by his opponents. They said to him, “Teacher, we know that you are a truthful man and that you teach the way of God in accordance with the truth.” The irony is, when they said that they believed Jesus to teach the truth, they were lying through their teeth. In a sense, all of us can relate to this experience of our Lord, because all of us have been lied to. And let’s face it: We’ve probably told a few lies ourselves.

            People tell lies for all sorts of reasons. In our highly competitive society, , lies can help one gain an advantage over others and stand out from the crowd. And if everyone else is doing it, that makes it all the easier! Some people lie to get their “fifteen seconds” of fame- like the guy a few years ago who made up the story about witnessing one of the sniper attacks.

            Other people, seeking revenge against someone they believe has hurt them, may start a vicious rumor. Some experience a thrill from lying because it gives them a feeling of having power over others. It’s not uncommon to lie in order to avoid punishment. You may remember Susan Smith, who in 1994 strapped her two boys into her car and then sent them into a lake to drown. If you recall, she tried to stay out of trouble by going on TV, saying her sons had been kidnapped, and pleading for their safe return. Finally, low self-esteem can lead some to exaggerate or even make up accomplishments or achievements, in order to feel better about themselves or impress others. For instance, phony war stories allow people with feelings of inferiority to be linked with the virtues of loyalty and courage.

            Most of us believe that we do what we do for good reasons and with honest intentions. Therefore, when we lie, it’s easy to rationalize that what we’re doing is justified or even the right thing to do. We can think things like: “Nobody’s really getting hurt, so there’s really nothing wrong.” Or “I cheated on taxes or insurance- but only to get the money I rightly deserve.” Or “If everyone else lies on their resume, I better do it too so I won’t lose that job offer I want.” Or “If I told the truth about the way I feel, we’d just get in a fight and things would become even worse.”

            As Christians, however, we are called to honesty and truth. This doesn’t mean that we have to be a bull in a china shop. We do need to be prudent and discrete in revealing the truth, because we don’t want to needlessly hurt or antagonize others. And this doesn’t mean that everyone has the right to hear the truth from us. To give an extreme example, no one would have to tell the Nazis where a Jewish family was hiding.

            Nevertheless, God insists that we be honest people. As we all know, “You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor,” is one of the Ten Commandments. Indeed, God himself is truth, Jesus his Son reveals the truth, and they have sent the Holy Spirit of truth into our lives that we might walk in the truth and bear witness to it. Any lie, then, is really an offense against God himself.

            Honesty and truthfulness are also requirements for justice and are essential for a civil society. “Men could not live with one another,” wrote St. Thomas Aquinas, “if there were not mutual confidence that they were being truthful to one another.” This is because lies always hurt those around us- even when we think they don’t.

            In addition, Jesus has promised that the truth will set us free. It will free us from having to cover our tracks, live with shame and guilt, and the fear of our lies being discovered and exposed. The truth will liberate us to take off our masks and just be ourselves. It will also result in better relationships, less stress for ourselves, and less anger from others.


           There is a cost to being honest! We may lose that job offer to the person who lied on their resume. We may have to “face the music” for something we’ve done or accept the reality of who we are, and not who we’ve been pretending to be. Our co-workers may resent us, because as one human resources expert has said, “employees who operate honestly and ethically often inspire anger, guilt, and resentment (from others).” Maybe we’ll end up with less money than we may have had if we’d fudged our tax returns. Nevertheless, we’ll be blessed with the assurance that God smiles upon our honesty, and we can unite our suffering with those of Jesus upon the cross.

            As Mother Teresa once wrote, “If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you; be honest and frank anyway. You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.”

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/101611.cfm

           

St. Teresa of Avila

My kids were once playing with an electric keyboard in our house, and it sounded to me like they were making “spooky music.” “We must be in a haunted house,” I said. “Oh Daddy,” came the reply, “it’s not a haunted house. It’s church!”

            This reminded me that some people think of Christianity as a somber, glum affair. For some people it is a somber, glum affair. It’s not without reason that popular songwriters say that they’d “rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints!”

            But the saint we celebrate today would have none of that. St. Theresa of Avila, the sixteenth century Spanish nun, was a woman who radiated joy, and who had a good sense of humor to boot. There were certainly plenty of things in her life that might have caused her to become somber or glum. "Oh, my Lord!,” she once cried, “How true it is that whoever works for you is paid in troubles!” She suffered a lot of physical pain. She was reported to the Spanish Inquisition. She met with stiff resistance to her reform plans, both inside and outside the Church. At times, she found prayer to be extremely difficult. And she sometimes found herself surrounded by pious but gloomy individuals. But none of this could dampen her joy in being a child of God.

            St. Theresa can certainly teach us about many things. She is, after all, a Doctor of the Church! She had much to say and write about the life of prayer and friendship with God. It’s for good reason that she’s called the “Doctor of Prayer.” But perhaps today we can allow her to remind us that joy should be at the heart of our life as Christians. As St. Teresa herself once said, “From sour-faced saints, Good Lord, deliver us!”

           

Friday of Ordinary 28

“Everyone has a little dirty laundry.” Or so proclaimed an ad for a popular TV show about desperate housewives. Well, I don’t know if everyone has a little dirty laundry, but I do know that today’s gospel speaks to us when we do. Jesus reminded us that while we might keep secrets from other people, we can’t keep them from God. He sees and knows all that we do, and he holds us accountable for it.

Yet at the same time, God wants to forgive us of these things. We might say that while God sees all our dirty laundry, he wants to wash it for us too! Or as St. Augustine once said, “The one who made you is watching you, and the one who called you is helping you.”

It’s important that we me realize this, because sometimes our “dirty laundry” can fill us with so much shame that we become afraid to bring it to the Lord. We worry that we’ll be rejected or condemned. Then we avoid confession, we avoid Holy Communion, and sometimes we avoid church altogether.

But this is not what God wants us to do. He wants instead to release us from our shame and lift the burden of our guilt so he can fill us with his peace and joy. As the author of today’s psalm wrote, “I said, ‘I confess my faults to the Lord, and you took away the guilt of my sin.’”

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/101411.cfm

Thursday of Ordinary 28

Many applicants to become permanent deacons confess that they don’t think they’re worthy enough to answer such a high calling. They often say this as if such a belief is a bad thing. In reality, however, it’s a good thing. It means that a person is approaching ordained ministry with reverence and humility, and not with pride, indifference, or a sense of entitlement. To be a deacon is a wonderful privilege. But it is also a great responsibility. To him whom God has given much, much will be expected.

I think we see this reflected in today’s gospel. Jesus spoke very stern words of judgment to certain scribes and Pharisees. Here, as always, Jesus harshest words are for those in religious authority. Jesus could be very gentle with thieves, prostitutes, adulterers, even his own executioners. But he was very different when dealing with religious authorities- the bishops, priests, and permanent deacons of his day.

He held them to a higher standard, because they should have known better, and because their attitudes, practices, and beliefs harmed many other people’s relationship with God. Think about what we have seen and experienced in our own day: If ministers are arrogant or lazy, their parish suffers; if they teach false doctrine, the sheep are led astray, and divisions are created; if they cause a scandal, the church is wounded, and the world laughs.

Today’s gospel should challenge all of us to be always mindful of the great trust God has placed in us as ministers of the gospel. This shouldn’t fill us with fear, because God is merciful and all things are possible with him. But it should fill us with awe for what God expects of us, and commit us to do his will and seek his kingdom above all else, that we might be faithful servants of the one who came only to serve.

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/101311.cfm

Wednesday of Ordinary 28

My sister-in-law chuckled as she told me about her job interview, because she was asked all of the textbook interview questions, such as “What are your weaknesses?” and “Tell me a mistake you’ve made and what you learned from it.”

Her experience reminded me, however, that job-hunting today forces us to identify areas for growth and improvement in our work life. Today’s readings from Scripture call us to do the same for our spiritual life.

For instance, we heard St. Paul speak of God’s impartial judgment that we’ll all face one day. Our psalm response was, “Lord, you give back to everyone according to his works.” And in the gospel, we heard Jesus challenge the behavior of certain religious people of his day. We might ask ourselves how our Lord might challenge our behavior.

The truth is that all of us have room to grow. That’s why we should regularly examine our conscience, make changes, pray for grace, and bring our failures before the Lord in confession. As C.S. Lewis once said, “There is no standing still in the Christian life. We’re either moving forward, or we’re sliding back.” 

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/101211.cfm

Tuesday of Ordinary 28

St. Francis de Sales once said that all of us should pray for a half hour each day. Except, of course, when we’re busy- then we need an hour!

I think that most of us smile when we hear St. Francis’ words, because we can see his point: Prayer is indeed essential, especially when our plates get full and things seem a little crazy. When we’re overburdened by life’s demands, we know we need to pray so we can keep everything in perspective and not become too absorbed with the things of this passing world. We also know how important it is to lift up in prayer those stressful situations that threaten to make us anxious or angry.

You and I understand these things. But do we actually take St. Francis’ advice? For many of us the answer often is “No.” As pastoral psychologist Robert Wicks once said, “You’ve been promising yourself a half hour a day for years- and you still aren’t doing it!” So what does he recommend? Two minutes of silence with the Lord each day. If we can do more, that’s great, but two minutes is a promise and discipline that everyone can keep, regardless of their circumstances. As one popular slogan puts it, we need to “Pray as we can, and not as we can’t.”

I raise this point because in today’s gospel, Jesus laments that committed religious people- the Pharisees- have been neglecting their interior life- the life of the prayer. Jesus actually calls them fools, because they of all people should know better. But listen to Jesus’ advice: “As to what is within,” he says, “give alms, and behold, everything will be clean for you.” In other words, Jesus said that they really needed to pray, because prayer is what they really needed.

Like the Pharisees, we too are committed religious people. And what Jesus said to them, Jesus says also to us: We need to pray, every day- be it for sixty minutes, for thirty minutes, or maybe even just for two.

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/101111.cfm

Twenty-Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time

At a retreat my family attended, one evening the adults gathered for a social, and the conversation turned to how we had come to know our respective spouses. It was great fun listening to how, after their initial introduction, our new friends had come to know each other by spending time with each other.
All people- be they spouses, friends, family and workmates- need to spend time with each other in order to truly know each other. The same is true if we really want to know the Lord. We see this in today’s gospel. Jesus’ disciples told him that people thought that he might be one of the great prophets from of old. Which was a good guess, but not quite right. But when Jesus asked them who they thought he was, Peter answered on their behalf and proclaimed, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”

To most people who encountered him, Jesus was a distant acquaintance. They knew a little about him, but not enough to really know who he was. It was only the disciples- those who travelled with him, ate with him, listened to all his teaching- who could correctly identify who he really is. They knew Jesus, because they had spent enough time with him to get to know him.

What about us? Do we really know who Christ is? Have we spent enough time with him? I recall a banner that hung outside a church in the District, trying to encourage people to attend Sunday services there. It read: “One hour a week puts the other 167 into perspective” it said. Which is true! To know Jesus, we need to worship him on Sunday. Indeed, we’re commanded to do so! But is one hour a week really enough?

To really get to know Jesus, we need to give him the gift of our time. We’ve all heard talks at Mass about the importance of “stewardship,” and how we need to give of our time, talent, and treasure. We listen as we should, but we all really know that it’s a “sermon on the amount,” if you know what I mean, and that we’re ultimately going to be asked to contribute money. And fair enough! We all know that the church needs money to fund its mission. But in a very real sense, time is the most important and valuable gift we can give to our Lord. How we spend our time shows what’s important to us. Time is a finite resource; we have only so much of it. We can’t make any more of it, like we can make more money. To give a gift of time is to give part of our lives we’ll never get back. It’s a sacrifice. And sacrifice, of course, is the essence of love.

But do we really make a sacrificial gift of time to the Lord? A 60 year old priest, Fr. Dan Callahan, competes in Iron Man Triathlons to raise money for a Catholic rehab hospital. Fr. Dan has always been an athlete. But in college, he became obsessed with sports while he neglected to practice his faith. Then one day, while he was taking a daily swim, a voice said to him, “Dan, do you believe that I am in the Eucharist?” He said that he did and got the reply, “So why are you swimming so religiously and not going to (Mass)?”

What is it for us that keeps us from spending time with God as we should? Sports? TV? A hobby? Friendships? Work? Volunteering? A special project? Statistics show that we Americans are hard workers. But other statistics show that many of us make poor use of the leisure time we have. For instance, the typical American, both kids and adults, watch 28 hours of TV a week, on average. Video gamers, again both kids and adults, play video games on average of ten hours a week. Golfers, runners, and other sports enthusiasts can spend equally as much time on their passions. And let’s not forget all the time many of us spend mindlessly surfing the web.

How do we spend our time, especially our free time? Might we not spend some of it differently? Would it be possible to spend more of it getting to know our Lord? I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to face our Lord at the end of my life and tell him I couldn’t spend time with him because I was too busy watching American Idol or goofy videos on You Tube. In other words, I wouldn't want to tell him that I didn’t think he was worth the time. Because at the end of the day, nothing should be more important to us than our relationship with Jesus Christ.

Pope Benedict had something to say about this at a missionary congress in Quito, Ecuador. “There is no greater richness,” he said, “than to enjoy friendship with Christ and to walk beside him.” However, he stressed that such a friendship, like all friendships, requires time. In his words, “It is worthwhile to consecrate our best energies to this beautiful endeavor.” While on vacation recently, the Holy Father spoke to a group of local priests in the Italian mountains. He taught that we need to “structure our life so that God has access to us all the time” so that “we are in continuous contact with Christ.” But we can only do this, he cautioned, “if we are not too lazy, undisciplined, or sluggish.” Challenging words, but a challenge we need to hear.

We’re all busy people. Our time is precious, as it should be. But then, our Lord should be precious to us too. Perhaps then, we might need to make it a priority to spend more of our precious time with our precious Lord. So that when he asks: “Who do you say that I am?” we will, like St. Peter, know exactly what to say.

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/100911.cfm

Our Lady of the Rosary

As far as I can tell, today is the only day in the Church’s calendar which commemorates a military battle. Specifically, we remember that on October 7^th, 1571, a Muslim naval fleet was defeated at the Battle of Lepanto.

Because the pope, Saint Pius V, had called upon the church to pray the rosary for a victory, the battle’s outcome was seen as a direct response to Mary’s intercession. In gratitude, Pius V established the memorial of Our Lady of Victory, or as we refer to it now, Our Lady of the Rosary.

Just as in 1571, there are today tensions, hostilities, and misunderstandings between the Muslim world and the non-Muslim world. And, just as in 1571, it is imperative that we pray, and lift up this unhappy situation to the healing light of God’s love.

• We need to pray for “respectful dialogue” and peaceful coexistence between Christian and Muslims;
• We need to pray for the health and protection of the Church in predominantly Muslim countries;
• And as we recall the Battle of Lepanto, at which over 22,000 people died, we need to pray for peace.

It can be tempting for us to think that our relationship with the Muslim world will never change, and that praying for it is simply a waste of time. But Our Lady of the Rosary reminds us otherwise, because she is also Our Lady of Hope, and Our Lady, the Queen of Peace. May she pray for us to the Prince of Peace, that the blessing of peace, may come to our world today.

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/100711.cfm

Thursday of Ordinary 27

On a road trip one summer, my family and I ate pancakes in our minivan from a fast-food drive-through. When we were done, several little packets of maple syrup remained unopened on the center console. After a long while, my six-year old daughter piped up and asked, “Mommy, may I drink syrup?” Stephanie laughed, turned around and said, “What do you think the answer to that is going to be?” The answer, just in case you’re wondering, was “No!”

            Jesus, in today’s gospel, spoke of a parent giving a child food that he had asked for: specifically, fish and eggs. Our Lord’s point is that our heavenly Father gives “good gifts” to us, his children, when we ask. However, two elements are critical in this teaching. First, we have to ask. And second, God only gives us gifts that are good. We have to ask because he’s not going to force things on us we don’t want. At the same time, he’s not going to give us things that aren’t for our own good. Six year olds shouldn’t be given syrup to drink, even though they think it would be good. And in his wisdom, our loving Father refuses us certain things we ask for too.

            Sometimes God says yes; sometimes God says no; sometimes God says wait ‘till later. Only he truly knows what is best for us. But we’ll never know, until we ask.

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/100611.cfm

Wednesday of Ordinary 27

When he was six, I asked my son what I should say in a homily about the Our Father. He said, “Tell them it’s a word Jesus gave us to unlock the gate of heaven.”

This, of course, warmed my fatherly heart, but it also reminded me that this profound prayer, called “the most perfect prayer” by St. Thomas Aquinas, is also simple enough to be appreciated by young children.

But then that’s the point, isn’t it? We call this prayer the Our Father because regardless of our age, all of us are children of God our Father. We acknowledge in this prayer that we are completely dependent upon God as his sons and daughters: For our daily bread, for our daily grace, for forgiveness, and for the ability to forgive. We recall that the purpose of our life is our Father’s glorification, not ours, and that we’re to build up his kingdom, and not our own. And while he’s a parent who commands our obedience, he at the same time seeks to meet our needs with attention and love.

One ancient writer called the Our Father “the summary of the whole gospel.” because it says so much in so few words. Words simple enough for a young child. Yet so essential for all of us.

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/100511.cfm

Monday of Ordinary 27

On my commute to the Pastoral Center one morning, I passed by Holy Redeemer Church on New York Avenue. I saw in the church doorway a homeless man who had obviously spent the night there. And to my shame, I have to confess that one of my first thoughts was: “Thank God I don’t have to deal with that.” Of course, as I prayed with today’s gospel before Mass, I realized that my attitude was identical to that of the priest (go figure) in Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan.

Through this story, Jesus challenges all of us to help heal the needy and hurting people who happen to cross our path- be they the squeegee man at the stoplight, hurricane victims on TV, or the people under our own roofs who are in pain because of our selfishness or lack of attention. Our Lord calls us, not to pass judgment, make excuses, or look the other way, but to have compassion and extend some of the mercy that Jesus has shown to us.

As Mother Teresa once said, “The very fact that God has placed a certain soul in your way is a sign that God wants to do something for (him or) her. We are bound in conscience to help.”

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/100311.cfm

Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

I’m going to let you in on a little secret. You’ve heard of “preaching to the choir?” Sometimes we preachers are guilty of that. More often than not, however, the words we preach are directed primarily at ourselves- whether we’re conscious of it or not. One of the great preachers of the early church, St. John Chrysostom, said that if a preacher doesn’t practice what he preaches, he shouldn’t be stopped him preaching, because his own words might convince him to change.

I have a suspicion that St. Paul’s words in today’s second reading were intended for himself as much as for the Philippians to whom he was writing. He encouraged his readers not to have anxiety, but instead to pray and think about positive and lovely and true things. Certainly this was advice that the Christians of Philippi needed to hear! But Paul himself had worries too. He admits as much in his first letter to the Corinthians, in which he speaks of his “anxiety for all the churches.” He worried that they would be torn apart by divisions or led astray by false teaching. It’s possible that he was concerned about his own acceptance as an apostle, as he wasn’t part of the original twelve selected by Jesus. And because his was in constant danger of being imprisoned and tortured, we can imagine his sometimes being worried about this too. On one trip, for instance, Paul admits that he and his companions “were utterly weighed down beyond our strength, so that we despaired even of life.”

How Paul dealt with his own anxiety is surely reflected in the advice he gave the Philippians; he was preaching to himself as much as he was preaching to them. Of course, he’s preaching to us too. And we would do well to pay attention, because many of us, in some way or another, struggle with anxiety, worry, and fear- particularly these days. People worry about the economy, their jobs, retirement, house values, terrorism, the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan, and the effects of global warming. And let’s not forget worries about health, kids, reputations, the effects of growing older, and the inevitability of death.

Such worries can paralyze us, consume our thoughts and energies, ruin our mood, strain our human relationships, and effect our relationship with God too. We get angry with God, forget all the good things he’s done for us, lose sight of his presence in our lives, and worst of all, come to doubt his care and love for us. Yet this doesn’t need to be the case. St. Paul, in spite of everything he might have worried about, never lost his trust in God. He always remained grateful even in the most difficult circumstances, and he never failed to persevere in faith. The inspired advice he gave the Philippians certainly worked for him. Perhaps we should take it to heart too.

To begin with, Paul explains that when we begin to worry, we should lift up prayers and petitions to God. This may sound simple, even naïve. But have you ever been so consumed with worry that you forget to pray? We wring our hands, but forget to fold them. Not praying, however, only makes our worry worse. Yet when we pray, we put the whole matter in God’s hands, ask him to give us the help that only he can give, are reminded that he loves and cares for us, and allow him to give us direction on how to deal with the things we’re worried about. Have you heard the slogan, “Give your worries to God each evening; he’s going to be up all night anyway?” It’s corny, but true. Whenever we find ourselves worrying, we should turn that into a prayer opportunity. Even if the only prayer we can muster is “Help!”

In addition to praying, St. Paul says, we also need to change the way we think. Instead of letting our hearts and minds be filled with anxious thoughts, we should think instead of those things which are true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, gracious, and excellent. Paul knew that we can lose sight of these things when we’re worried, and in so doing, it warps our view of the world. We see only the darkness, and are blinded to the light. Have you ever been so consumed with worry that you failed to notice the sights and smells of a beautiful morning when you stepped outside? However, when we make an intentional effort to think of those things Paul mentioned, we’re reminded of what’s good and beautiful in our world, all of which comes from God’s loving hand. And whenever we remember the good things of God, we remember the goodness of God himself.

It’s important to recall that Paul didn’t make any false promises or create unrealistic expectations. He didn’t say that praying and changing the way we think would take away our difficulties. He wrote his advice, in fact, while he was in prison and in great danger. He knew full well that sufferings and hardships are inevitable for anyone who chooses to follow a crucified Lord. We can’t avoid it. What we can do, however,  is avoid losing sight that God can bring good out of evil, and that Jesus’ victory over evil offers us an eternal life without it. Praying and thinking won’t erase our problems. But they can replace anxiety and despair, with trust and hope.

Paul may very well have been preaching to himself as much as he is to us. But we can be grateful for that, because his advice is so timely and true, and we can see the good fruit that Paul’s practices bore in his life. He is, after all, a saint! However, there is one final thing Paul wrote today that’s intended exclusively for us: his request that we imitate him.  For if we do, “the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.”

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/100211.cfm