Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time

As a young man sixteen hundred years ago, St. Augustine sought meaning and purpose in his life. He had been raised by a Christian mother, St. Monica, and although he had drifted away from the Church, he was still fascinated by Jesus. That’s why, in his quest for truth, he early on turned to the Bible. But as he read it, he felt disappointed. In its pages, he didn’t find the scholarly philosophy he was used to reading. He found instead, especially in the Old Testament, tales of conflict and very imperfect people. It didn’t help that he was reading a poor translation. Augustine concluded that the Bible was of no use to him, so he put his copy aside to gather dust.

            Years later, in Milan, Italy, he encountered the magnificent preaching of St. Ambrose, the local bishop. Ambrose’s homilies led Augustine to view the Bible in an entirely new way, especially the Old Testament, which he had previously found so unsatisfying. Augustine came to appreciate that the Old Testament shouldn’t be approached as a philosophy textbook, but as a reflection of the great sweep of God’s plan in human history, culminating in Jesus himself. All of which the Old Testament spoke, was but a journey toward Jesus.

The real turning point was when Augustine, sitting in a garden, heard what sounded like a child’s voice urging him to “take up and read.” A Bible was nearby. Augustine opened it, and his eyes came to rest on words that cut him to the heart. At that moment, he knew that not only was Jesus the key to understanding the entire Bible, but that Jesus himself could speak with him through the Bible. In other words, the Bible wasn’t simply a resource for understanding God; it was instead a book in which one could encounter God.

            Elements of St. Augustine’s conversion story echo the experience of many people today; perhaps it strikes a chord with us. Like Augustine, so many of us are looking for meaning, purpose, hope, something that makes sense. And again like him, so many of us raised in Catholic households have turned to the Bible from time to time, looking for a clue or inspiration. But then we found it to be confusing or overwhelming or unhelpful or a “turn-off.” Perhaps, again like Augustine, the Bible we’ve picked up is a poor translation for our needs; that Gideon’s Bible in the hotel dresser was translated 400 years ago, after all. So we’ve written off the Bible as irrelevant, and our copy, should we have one, gathers dust.

            But that need not be the final word. St. Augustine ultimately met Jesus in the Bible, and we can too. How? First of all, like he did, we need to “take up and read”- something not all Catholics are especially used to doing. There was a time not all that long ago when Catholics weren’t necessarily encouraged to read the Bible, and many Catholic homes probably didn’t have one anyway. But times have changed. A few years ago, Pope Benedict led a meeting in Rome, called the World Synod of Bishops on the Word of God. Our own Cardinal Wuerl was there. The synod concluded that every Catholic should have a Bible – a good Catholic translation, of course- and read it regularly. We should read the Bible in the same way we would approach Jesus if we were to meet him face-to-face: humbly and prayerfully, so we can be transformed into more loving, faithful, generous, and compassionate people. In a word, to become more Christ-like. Something to think, as we consider what we’re going to do this Lent!

When we read the Bible, we should try to understand it as the Church understands it, because the Bible can’t be completely understood outside of the Church. Remember: When he ascended into heaven, Jesus didn’t leave behind a book; he left behind a Church, filled with the Holy Spirit. The Bible sprang from the Church as part of its living Tradition; for us to fully benefit from the Bible, we need to be immersed in the Church and its teaching. St. Augustine, for instance, only began to comprehend Scripture when he listened to the homilies of St. Ambrose in church, at Mass.

            And that raises another good point. Although we Catholics don’t always read the Bible as much as we might, we do hear it regularly proclaimed at Mass. Just moments ago, we heard a selection from the Old Testament, a psalm, a New Testament reading, and a passage from the Gospel. We refer to this as the “Liturgy of the Word.” Think back to today’s gospel. Jesus himself was teaching God’s people as they worshipped on the Sabbath day. Jesus taught with authority- and the people were astonished! We can have the very same experience in our Sabbath worship. We too can be astonished- especially if we make an effort to pay close and careful attention during the “Liturgy of the Word.” Hearing Jesus’ voice in his word at Mass can especially prepare us to receive Jesus under the forms of bread and wine, when we receive Holy Communion.

            Indeed, Holy Communion and the Holy Bible should go hand-in-hand. It used to be said that Protestants were all about the Bible while Catholics were all about the sacraments. But it’s not an “either/or” situation. It’s “both/and,” because Jesus gave us both. In Communion, Jesus feeds us with himself; in Scripture, Jesus reveals himself. In the Bible, we hear him speak; in Communion, we share his life. Moses, in today’s reading from Deuteronomy, foretold of a prophet whom God would raise up to speak his word and tell his commands. He was speaking, of course, of Jesus. “To him you shall listen,” said Moses. And that’s the challenge for us: to turn to the Bible and listen to Jesus, that we might become more like Jesus. Today’s psalm put it well: “If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts.”

Memorial of St. Thomas Aquinas

While celebrating Mass one day near the end of his life, St. Thomas Aquinas was blessed with a vision of God. This revelation affected him so profoundly that he stopped all work on his great Summary of Theology, or Summa Theologica. When he was asked by a friend to reconsider, Aquinas replied that after his experience, all his writings seemed like nothing more than “straw.” This famous statement is a key to understanding why Thomas Aquinas is a saint.

            We know that this Dominican friar was one of the greatest theologians of the high Middle Ages. It is for good reason that he is a Doctor of the Church! However, it is not because of his great intellectual abilities that he is a saint.

            Instead, Thomas Aquinas is a saint because he lived an authentically holy life, a life that we can imitate, even if we aren’t great intellectuals or scholars. For instance, Thomas was a man of deep and disciplined prayer who loved the Lord, knew his Bible well, and had a devotion to the Mass and our Lord’s presence in the Blessed Sacrament. And in spite of his academic gifts, Thomas was a humble man, because he knew it was the Lord who had given him his abilities in the first place.

            Once while he was praying, Thomas heard the voice of the Lord say to him: “You have written well of me, Thomas. What reward would you have?” Thomas replied: “Lord, I would have you.” As a saint, he knew that he should ask for nothing less. But then, neither should we.

Friday of Ordinary 3

It’s been said before that if God wants to make a mushroom, he can do so overnight. If, however, he wishes to make a giant sequoia, it takes him 150 years!

            So too with us. God wants to make us into saints. And saints aren’t mushrooms: they’re giant sequoias. Saints aren’t made overnight; saint making takes time- usually a lifetime.

            We can see this in today’s gospel. Jesus spoke of God’s kingdom as seed scattered on the ground. With time, and rain and sunshine, the seed becomes a stalk, which then produces full ears of corn, and then, at the end of the season, is ready for the harvest. This takes months- the full life cycle of the plant.

            You and I can be slow learners, and when it comes to being a saint, we often have a lot to unlearn. We resist change; we can be stubborn and proud; we prefer to trust in ourselves than trust in God; we get stuck in bad habits that are hard to break; we’re sometimes fearful, sometimes ignorant.

            But God knows this, and God is patient. He’s more patient with us than we are with ourselves! He knows that saint-making takes time. Thankfully, he has all the time in the world.

Memorial of Saints Timothy and Titus

A friend of mine works in a very tense work environment. Nevertheless, she’s always been able to maintain her composure and a sense of peace on the job. During one especially hard day, a colleague came to her in tears and asked her how she was able to handle all of their workplace stresses. My friend explained that she could do so only on account of her Catholic faith. As it was, she was on her way to the lunchtime Mass at St. Matthew’s Cathedral, and she invited her co-worker to come along. One year later, that co-worker was baptized at Easter- and my friend was her sponsor.

I share this story of evangelism because Sts. Timothy and Titus, whose feast we celebrate today, were great evangelists during the earliest years of the Church. Many people came to embrace the faith because of their evangelistic efforts. Titus himself probably came to faith through the evangelism of St. Paul, who was a friend and mentor. Timothy, however, as Paul acknowledged in today’s first reading, came to faith because of the witness of his grandmother Lois, and Eunice his mother. Just like my friend’s co-worker, Timothy came to faith thanks to the witness of those close to him.

This is something for all of us to keep in mind. As Pope Paul VI once said, “The church exists to evangelize.” Unfortunately, evangelism isn’t something we’re always comfortable with. That’s why Paul’s encouragement to Timothy, “do not be ashamed of our testimony to our Lord,” is good advice for us too.

Maybe we’re not called to be a Timothy or a Titus. But we can be like Lois, Eunice, and my acquaintance, and share our faith with those in our lives. They remind us that evangelism, like charity, begins at home. Beginning from there, let us, in the words of today’s psalm, “Proclaim God’s marvelous deeds to all the nations!”

Memorial of the Conversion of Saint Paul

A friend of mine once preached a homily in which he stood before an altar with a big green trash bag stuffed full with paper. He held the bag up and said, “This bag is our life.” “As Christians,” he continued, “we seek to give our lives to Christ.” He then turned around and reverently placed the bag before the altar. “But then,” he said, “we always try to take our life back again,” and he unceremoniously snatched the bag up.

Corny, I’ll admit, although I’ve remembered it for fifteen years. It does, however, happen to be true. All of us intend to surrender our life to Christ in trust and obedience. But we inevitably hold something back or take something back. There are always parts of our life we haven’t given to Jesus, are unwilling to give to Jesus, or we find really difficult to give to Jesus. Often, we don’t know ourselves well enough to give all of ourselves to Jesus. That’s why giving our lives to Jesus involves a process of ongoing, lifelong conversion.

Maybe that’s something to keep in mind on this Feast of the Conversion of St. Paul. It might be better to call it, “The Feast of the Beginning of the Conversion of St. Paul.” What we recall today was St. Paul’s conversion to the Faith, which was a key event in the worldwide spread of the Church. For Paul, however, it was only the beginning of his conversion to Christ.

Paul’s conversion process was a struggle. In his letters, he speaks of fighting the good fight, running the race, beating his body, growing from spiritual infancy to spiritual maturity, engaging in battle with the armor of God, and pressing on toward a prize he had yet to reach.

Yet Paul did reach the prize. His experience of lifelong conversion reminds us that while there are no overnight saints, there are saints nevertheless. A saint is what Paul became, and with the grace of God, so can we. St. Paul, pray for us!

Memorial of St. Francis de Sales

Jane de Chantal's pain was understandable. Her beloved husband had been shot to death by a close companion in a tragic hunting accident, leaving her a single mother at the mercy of a tyrannical father-in-law. Her best friend was now gone; her whole world had been turned upside down; she sank into depression. In her heartbreak, she was unable to forgive the man who shot her husband, whom she would encounter in town.

But then the Bishop of Geneva, Francis de Sales, came into her life as a spiritual director. By appreciating the depth of her pain, he knew that forgiveness would take time. In fact, it would take six years. Throughout, Francis was patient with Jane, because Francis knew the patience of God.

We sometimes speak of people who have "the patience of a saint." Francis de Sales had that type of patience. But then again, he is in fact a saint. And helped by that patience, so is Jane de Chantal.

We're called to be saints too. That requires patience. And don't we all need more of that? We need more patience with others; we need more patience with ourselves; we need more patience with God too.

Thankfully, patience is a virtue. Which means that, at the end of the day, patience is a gift from God. And if patience comes from God, then we can certainly ask him for it. Indeed, we should. St. Francis de Sales knew that well. "You need patience..." he once wrote to a friend. But then he added: "...and God will give it to you."

Monday of Ordinary 3

If you’ve ever worked with adult candidates in the RCIA, you’ve probably noticed how they act around the time of their first confession. Beforehand, they’re often afraid, anxious, and embarrassed, but when they’re done, they’re walking on cloud nine. They often feel as if a great weight has been lifted from their shoulders, and you can literally see the joy on their faces.

These people experience in a very real way the good news we heard in today’s Scripture readings, the fact that Jesus died to deliver us from our sins, and that every sin will indeed be forgiven. They can remind us of what a tremendous and priceless gift God’s forgiveness really is.

And we do need to be reminded from time to time, because we can all be tempted to take God’s forgiveness for granted. That’s why Jesus warned us in today’s gospel about the unforgivable blasphemy against the Holy Spirit. With these words he challenges us to take the Father’s forgiveness more seriously.

Our Lord knows that even we who are committed Christians can become comfortable with our sins. You know: when the things we used to wince become the things we now wink at. We shrug our shoulders about our sins and say, "That’s just the way I am." Or we "pass the buck" by blaming society or our circumstances. We can convince ourselves that our sins are a reward for being so good, kind of like time off for good behavior. We can get to the point where we don’t want to change our behavior, or think that we don’t have to. Our hearts become indifferent, and then our hearts become hard.

The bottom line is: We need to take our sins seriously, because God takes them seriously. So seriously that he died, that we might be forgiven.

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

Today’s gospel describes for us Jesus’ having called two sets of brothers- Simon and Andrew and James and John- to share in his ministry of preaching the good news. As Mark describes it, these four men literally dropped everything and immediately became followers of Jesus on the spot.

To do such a thing was a great risk for these men. People of their culture were expected to stay within their given place and occupation in society, and expectations of clan loyalty ensured that family ties were very strong. To branch out one one’s own, leaving family and livelihood behind, was not something undertaken lightly, and was done only for an exceptional reason. That being said, we can only guess why these first four apostles did what they did.

It could be that they were compelled by Jesus’ call to repentance. Perhaps they were convicted in their hearts that they needed to turn their lives around and start living in a more righteous manner, and Jesus’ preaching was the real catalyst for change.

Or maybe they were inspired by Jesus’ proclamation that the kingdom of God was breaking into the world. The kingdom’s promise of justice, liberation, and peace would have certainly appealed to first century fishermen in Galilee, who typically worked under oppressively difficult conditions. The fish they caught would have been traded for processed fish or sold for cash. Either way, ancient records show that they were chronically underpaid. What’s worse, they were highly taxed, up to forty percent of their catch.

We’ll probably never know exactly what inspired Simon, Andrew, James, and John to become disciples of Jesus that day. It wouldn’t be surprising if each of them had a different reason, because that’s true of all of us here today. Each one if us came to follow Jesus for slightly different reasons, because each one of us has our own unique faith history and experience of conversion.

Perhaps our parents had passed on the faith to us, and now we’ve come to embrace it on our own as adults. Maybe it happened after we became parents, and we started thinking about what are the truly important things in life. It could be that we reached a hand out to God during a period of crisis or suffering, only to realize that God’s hand was already reaching out to us. Faith may have come as the end result of a long intellectual and spiritual quest. Or possibly we were first introduced to Jesus through the witness and example of a spouse or a close friend.

Regardless of how we came to faith, or whether we lived in the first century or the twenty-first, there’s one thing that all Christian have in common: All of us has found in Jesus a person- or more specifically, a personal God- in whom we could place our hope. In Jesus, we find a hope for love; a hope for healing; a hope for justice; a hope for happiness; a hope that our deepest aspirations might be fulfilled; a hope for reconciliation; and a hope for everlasting life.

However, I’ve heard it said, and very rightly I think, that in our day we’re witnessing a theology of hope being replaced by a psychology of advertising. In response to the powerful images and messages sent through the media, many people in our day seek meaning and fulfillment, not in a relationship with a personal, caring God, but in materialism, sensuality, worldly achievement, and the pursuit of endless youth and physical beauty.

It’s often claimed that media is a reflection of culture, which is true. But it’s just as true to say that media shapes culture. The attitudes and values of our culture in general, and of ourselves as individuals, is greatly influenced by how the news is reported, the music we listen to, the books and magazines we read, and the films and TV shows we watch.

Advertising can have an especially negative influence, when it seeks to distort reality or promote lifestyles beyond people’s reach. A recent Vatican document laments that advertising "frequently (and) deliberately appeals to such motives as envy, status seeking, and lust." At its very worst, the document continues, it’s designed to "shock and titillate by exploiting content of a morbid, perverse, and pornographic nature."

Now it’s easy to view this problem as an "us-against-them" type of scenario; a situation of "church versus the world." However, we Christians are by no means immune to the negative influences of the media. Like it or not, we’re surrounded by, if not immersed in, our wider, secular culture, and it’s very hard not to be affected by it.

Henri Nouwen, the famous spiritual writer and Catholic priest, one wrote: "When we speak of our age as a secular age, we must first of all be willing to become aware of how deeply this secularism has entered into our own hearts… and corrod(ed) our relationship with God."

In other words, we should stop ask ourselves: Has the media in any way compromised our ethics? Has it warped our worldview in ways not consistent with our faith? Has it enticed us to live beyond our means or poses what we don’t really need? Has it affected how we view our physical appearance? Has it compromised the way we approach the opposite sex and the expression of intimacy? Has it seduced us into seeking happiness in what we have, instead of who we are?

In short, today’s gospel of hope challenges us to keep watch that the world doesn’t darken our faith, so that our faith may illuminate the world.

Friday of Ordinary 2

When I drive to St. Hugh’s each Friday morning, I always ask the Lord that more people might answer his call to come to daily Mass. I mention this in light of today’s gospel, because Jesus’ actions with his twelve apostles call to mind Jesus’ actions toward us when it comes to our participation in the Mass.

First, we were told that Jesus "summoned those whom he wanted and they came to him." In a similar way, Jesus has summoned us to this Mass, and we have come to him here. This is important to remember, because sometimes we think that we’ve come to Mass because we felt like we needed it or that it would be a good thing to do. The truth is, however, that we’ve come to Mass because Jesus has called us to be here, and we answered.

Next, today’s gospel says that Jesus sent his twelve apostles forth to preach and drive out demons. Jesus hasn’t made us bishops like he did with the twelve. But he does send us forth into the world- to witness to his love, to extend his forgiveness, to spread his compassion, to proclaim his truth, to offer his healing, and to build up his kingdom. And Jesus does this at every Mass, at the dismissal.

Some of you may recall that Mass used to end with the words, Ite, Missa est, which is Latin for "Go, you are sent"- sent into the world as witnesses to Christ. The words we use today are English, but they mean the very same thing. I would invite you then to join me in my daily prayer that more people might answer Jesus’ call to come to Mass, so that there might be more of us sent forth to renew our world.

Thursday of Ordinary 2

“The only worse thing than bad publicity,” they like to say in Hollywood, “is no publicity at all.” In our hyper-competitive, information-overloaded, celebrity-obsessed society, there are those who will do whatever it takes to generate “buzz” and remain in the public eye.

            But not Jesus. His healing ministry was bound to generate attention. Yet when demons shouted out, “You are the Son of God!” he warned them to stay silent. We might say that he didn’t want his enemies to take charge of his “branding,” to use a modern marketing term. It’s not that Jesus was denying that he is God’s Son. Far from it! But he wanted to ensure that people came to understand his identity on his own terms, not theirs.

Throughout his ministry, people speculated that Jesus was a king, a prophet, an insurrectionist, a miracle worker, even his deceased cousin, John the Baptist. Not bad guesses, all things considered, but none of them hit the mark.

Jesus can only be properly viewed through the lens of his death, resurrection, and ascension. That’s why he only wants those who know of and believe in such things to proclaim him to the world. In other words, the Church. And that means us. By what we say and do, our lives should proclaim, “You are the Son of God!” Same words as those demons, to be sure. But they spoke from fear. We speak from love.

Wednesday of Ordinary 2

“Nothing you can do or say will ever change my mind!” It’s frustrating to encounter stubbornness like that. Jesus was certainly frustrated in today’s gospel. In fact, he was “angered” and “grieved” at those who insisted that it was wrong to heal on the Sabbath.

Jesus tried reasoning with them, but they remained silent. Then he performed a healing before their very eyes! Surely they must have witnessed the man’s joy at being cured. But to no avail. They continued to maintain that what Jesus was doing was wrong. Jesus, for his part, continued to proclaim that what he was doing was right.

Isn’t that our experience in the Church today? We bear witness to the world the truth about many things: from marriage to the environment; immigration and religious freedom; economic justice and the sanctity of human life; war, peace, and sex; the very existence of God.

We’re under no illusion that we’ll change every mind. Human nature and human history make that clear. Jesus himself didn’t change every mind. But he did change some. And that gives us hope and encouragement to “keep on keeping on” in trying to change minds today. But most importantly- changing hearts, and changing lives.

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

Early in life, St. Francis of Assisi found himself at a crossroads. One the one hand, he thought that perhaps God was calling him to a cloistered life of prayer and contemplation. On the other hand, however, he wondered if God wanted him to be a travelling missionary and preach the gospel. To help him with his decision, he turned to two friends: Saint Clare and Brother Sylvester, whom he asked to pray and then get back to him. They did, and sent a messenger to St. Francis. When the messenger arrived, St. Francis asked, “What does my Lord Jesus Christ want me to do?” The messenger replied: “He wants you to go about the world preaching.” Upon hearing these words, St. Francis jumped up and exclaimed: “Let’s go, in the name of the Lord!”

            St. Francis knew that he needed to consult others to discern God’s will. The same is true for all of us. Our relationship with Jesus takes place within the community of the Church, the body of Christ. Catholic Christianity is not just “Jesus and me.” It’s also “Jesus and we.” And Jesus often uses our brothers and sisters in his one body to point us in the right direction. He especially can use those persons who are further along the spiritual path than we are; people who can offer us guidance based on experience that we don’t yet have.

            Consider today’s Old Testament reading from First Samuel. At the time, Samuel was a young disciple of Eli, who was training him to be a priest in the great Jerusalem Temple. One night, Samuel twice heard a voice that he thought was that of Eli. But Eli knew better, and was able to identify the voice as that of the Lord himself. We’re told specifically that Samuel was “not familiar with the Lord,” meaning that he was new and inexperienced. But Eli, who had been a priest for many years, knew better, and he could share his maturity with Samuel.

            This little story is instructive for us. God, as he did with young Samuel, wants us to hear his voice. And all of us should want to be more “familiar with the Lord.” To do that, we can, and should, seek help from others more experienced, more holy, than we are. But who, specifically, can we turn to for help?

            First, we can look for guidance from the lives of the saints. By considering their stories, we can be guided and instructed in how to become saints ourselves. How they lived out their faith in often challenging situations can inspire us to live out our faith in the challenging situations we ourselves face. Some of the holiest saints started out as pretty hopeless sinners, but with the grace of God they were radically transformed. Their witness can remind us that there’s hope for us too; if it can happen for them, then it can also happen for us. As Pope Benedict has written, “(The saints’) human and spiritual experience shows that holiness is not...an impossible goal for a normal person.”

            In addition to studying the lives of the saints, we can also study their writings. The saints, old and new, have left us a rich legacy- a treasure trove of writings that can greatly benefit us in our journey of faith. In the Creed at Mass we profess belief in the communion of saints; it only makes sense that we benefit from the wisdom of the saints! We can tackle entire books like St. Augustine’s Confessions, which, along with the Bible, the Holy Father said would be one of the two books he would want with him if he were marooned on a desert island. There also any number of websites and devotional books which can give little daily doses of saintly wisdom. I myself have two handwritten notebooks of quotes from the saints that I’ve collected over the years.

            Our “spiritual reading” might also include good and helpful books, websites, magazines, even blogs from brothers and sisters in Christ who have valuable insights, knowledge, and experience to share to us:. Whenever I visit someone’s home, I often take a look at what’s on their bookshelves. Typically I’ll see novels, biographies, travel guides, cooks books, do-it-yourself manuals, and parenting advice, but very little that can qualify as true “spiritual reading.” But we need such reading to grow in faith. Jesus taught us that the truth will set us free. But we’ll never experience that liberation unless we make the effort to study and learn what that truth is.

            Finally, we can grow in faith by seeking out a spiritual mentor, a guide who can help us find and stay on the right path. Sometimes we need another person to help us see what God is doing in our lives. In today’s gospel, Jesus walked right in front of two followers of St. John the Baptist. But they wouldn’t have recognized him at all, if John hadn’t pointed out to them that Jesus was the “lamb of God.” All of us can benefit from another person helping us to identify Jesus as he walks through our lives, because we can so easily fool ourselves, lose our perspective, get carried away by enthusiasm, become attached to unhelpful or unhealthy things, or be held back by fear. As St. Theresa of Avila once said, “The person who has himself as a spiritual director has a fool for a director!” A spiritual guide can be a priest, but not necessarily so. It can be anyone who is further along in their spiritual journey than we are, and who happy to walk alongside us in friendship and trust.

            If the likes of St. Francis of Assisi sought spiritual help from others, then it would certainly benefit us too. With help from the saints, good writing, and flesh-and-blood spiritual guides, we can more clearly see God’s plan for us and say, like St. Francis: “Let’s go, in the name of the Lord!”

           

Friday of Ordinary 1

If we were to meet Jesus face-to-face today, what would we want him to say to us? “Well done, good and faithful servant?” “I love you?” “Everything’s going to be okay?” “I want to spend eternity with you?”

I imagine that many of us would want to hear Jesus say: “I forgive you.” We long to hear these words, not just because we’re broken and sinful people, but because sometimes we can wonder whether Jesus really forgives us or not. We know what a struggle it can be to forgive other people, and sometimes we find it difficult to forgive even ourselves. Because of this, we can conclude that Jesus probably has a hard time forgiving us as well.

Today’s gospel, however, assures us otherwise. As we heard, Jesus told a crowd that it’s easy for him to say, “I forgive you.” And if you remember, Jesus loved that paralyzed man so much that he forgave him even before the man had a chance to speak.

You see, Jesus knew what that man needed; Jesus knew what was in his heart. And he knows what’s in our hearts too; he knows that we long for his forgiveness. We might say that he’s dying to give it to us. But then again, dying to forgive us, is something he already did…

             

Thursday of Ordinary 1

I imagine that most of us have had the experience of really looking forward to getting together with family or friends, and then not being able to join them because we got sick. Magnify this experience by an entire lifetime, and that will describe the plight of those who suffered from leprosy in Jesus’ day. Because people were so afraid of catching their illness, lepers by law had to live completely separate from the community  of their family and friends. We can only imagine how painful that must have been.


The leper we encountered in today’s gospel actually had to break the law in order to approach Jesus and ask for help. Yet Jesus didn’t turn him away. Instead, he was “moved with pity,” and he healed him. Jesus then sent him to see a priest, who was one person who could legally re-admit him to the fellowship of family and friends.

The experience of lepers reminds us that sickness, in addition to causing physical pain, can also lead to loneliness and alienation. Often the sick are unable to get out like they used to, because they’re confined to their home or a hospital. Perhaps they can have few or no visitors because of their condition. Sometimes people intentionally avoid the sick out of fear or ignorance, as can happen to people with AIDS. And it can happen that the sick are forgotten altogether, especially the elderly and nursing home patients.

This loneliness can be even more painful than the physical pain of sickness, because loneliness can lead to hopelessness and despair. “When we feel cut off from the human family,” wrote Fr. Henri Nouwen, “we quickly lose heart.” That’s why Jesus’ example should challenge us to reach out to those we know who are sick, with prayer, cards, visits, and offers of help. In this way, we express our love, lift spirits, ease burdens, generate hope, and touch people’s lives with the compassion of Jesus himself.

Wednesday of Ordinary1

Have you even known someone who recovered from a life-threatening illness? Perhaps someone who beat
cancer or who survived a serious heart attack. Often times, their experience of having been healed changes
their entire perspective on life. They live more simply and gratefully. They have a different appreciation for
what’s really important. And they have a greater concern for the welfare of others. They want to “give
something back.” They want to serve.


We see this in today’s gospel. Jesus cured Simon’s mother-in-law of a serious illness, and her response was to become a servant. We’re told specifically that she rose from her bed, and waited on Jesus and his friends.


Simon’s mother-in law is a model for us. Not all of us have received a gift of God’s healing as she did. However, all of us have received gifts from God- more than we often imagine or appreciate. Indeed, we will receive a great gift from God just moments from now- the gift of Jesus’ Body and Blood in the Holy Eucharist. In response, we too need to be servants. Just as Simon’s mother-in-law served Jesus, his friends, and her family, so we too can serve the needs of our families, the Church, and Jesus himself, especially in the faces of the poor. The Closing Prayer from today’s Mass puts it well: “God, you renew us with your sacraments. Help us to thank you by lives of faithful service.”

Tuesday of Ordinary 1

When people were introduced to Jesus for the first time, as in today’s gospel, they were often quite literally astounded by what he said and did. His teaching held people spellbound, and his miraculous deeds filled them with awe.

            Maybe we too were astonished at our first encounter with Jesus. Perhaps we once were enthralled by One whose promises and gifts seemed too good to be true. But then, with the passage of time, we lost our sense of wonder. Jesus became a little too familiar to us. We convinced ourselves that we had him all figured out, wrapped up in a neat, tidy package, and we ceased to be amazed.

            What once we found providential we now dismiss as coincidental. Moments of grace we write off as wishful thinking or naïve ignorance. The sacramental became empty symbol, and the super-natural something to rationalize or explain away.

            And what we ended up with is not faith in the living God, but a dead and lifeless idol. Today’s gospel invites us to embrace once more the mystery of Jesus, that we may be amazed, yet again.

Solemnity of the Epiphany

The three wise men, or magi, take center stage today. Yet, in spite of their importance, Scripture doesn’t give us much information about them. In fact, we're not even told that there were three of them. It wasn’t until later that they were numbered and identified by the traditional names of Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar. Scripture also doesn’t tell us exactly where they came from. Scholars tell us that Persia was a likely country of origin. The mention in today’s psalm of kings from Sheba, or present day Ethiopia, led to the ancient belief that Balthasar was a black African. Scripture, however, is content simply to tell us that they came from the East.

This vague geography is significant, however, as it identifies the wise men as Gentiles, or non-Jewish people. They foreshadow the truth that God in Jesus would gather people from every corner of the world into one, universal, catholic community that we know as “Church.” No one would be excluded from this assembly. Instead, all men and women, regardless of race, color, ancestry, ethnicity, or country of origin, would be invited to take their place within the new people of God.

Indeed, we discover this theme throughout our entire liturgy today. The Opening Prayer reminded us that, through the guidance of a star, Jesus was revealed to people of every nation. The reading from Isaiah and the psalm which followed spoke of people from all nations coming to Jerusalem to praise the Lord. And we heard St. Paul explain to the Ephesians that the good news of the gospel and membership in the church are meant for everyone- both Gentiles and Jews.

It could be that Paul had to stress this point because some people resisted it or found it difficult to accept. Unfortunately, this continues to be a problem today, and that’s what makes Paul’s words so relevant to our contemporary situation. They speak directly to the continuing scourge of racism and discrimination in the world, in our nation, and in the Church.

As many of you know, Catholics have been victims of racism and discrimination throughout the history of our nation. Here in Maryland, Catholics suffered greatly from 1690 to 1776 under unjust “penal laws.” In the first half of the nineteenth century, anti-Catholicism was a strong social and political force. For instance, the American or “Know-Nothing” party, which sought to exclude Catholics from public office and block Catholic immigration, received one fifth of the vote in the presidential election of 1856. In the 1920’s, the revived Ku Klux Klan vented their rage against Catholics and burned crosses in their yards. “No Irish Need Apply” was a warning seen in help wanted ads as late as the 1940’s. And according to some, anti-Catholicism is still a potent force today, especially in the media.

Perhaps in response to this experience, American Catholics- especially recently- have often been on the front lines of efforts to end discrimination and promote religious freedom and racial justice. The second Archbishop of Washington, Cardinal O’Boyle, courageously integrated our parochial schools before the public schools were. He stood on the stage near Dr. Martin Luther King when he gave his “I Have a Dream” speech. And standing in the crowd that day was the future Archbishop of Washington, Cardinal McCarrick, then the Dean of Students at Catholic University, who carried a sign calling for equal employment rights. Today, our Church advocates the rights of recent immigrants to our country, many of whom are Hispanic, Asian, and Africa. And our official Catholic Catechism states clearly that discrimination and racism are wrong. It says: “Every form of social or cultural discrimination in fundamental personal rights on the grounds of sex, race, color, social conditions, language, or religion must be curbed and eradicated as incompatible with God’s design.” (CCC 1935)

Yet it also must be said that our Catholic record on this issue is mixed. Maryland Jesuits held slaves during the colonial era. Until 1948, the Archdiocese of Washington had a dual parish structure- some churches for blacks, some for whites- because blacks weren’t welcome at white churches. Many religious orders refused to admit blacks. So at one time did the Knights of Columbus- an organization of which I’m a proud member- leading to the creation of a black group, the Knights of Saint Peter Claver.  And racism still plagues our church today. It’s been said that Sunday is the most segregated day of the week in America. As our U.S. bishops recently wrote: Racism is “an evil which endures in our society and in our Church.”

As Catholic and American individuals, what can we do to fight racism and discrimination? First, we can pray for racial reconciliation. Second, we need to examine our consciences and attitudes. For instance, do we see ourselves as superior to those of other backgrounds? Do we hate or have animosity towards those of different races? Do negative racial stereotypes contaminate our thoughts, words, and deeds? Do we belong to groups or institutions that subtly reinforce a sense of racial privledge, or at least diminish the contributions of other peoples and cultures? Based on our answers to these questions, we might seek God’s forgiveness in confession and the Holy Spirit’s help in changing our ways. Third, we can vote and advocate for justice and equal rights, and support those groups that promote them. And fourth, we can strive to be welcoming and hospitable to those in our parish and communities who are culturally different from us.

Racism and discrimination divide and wound the one body of Christ, the Church, a body which Christ calls to be lovingly, harmoniously unified in its rich diversity. On this feast of the Epiphany, we’re reminded that Jesus loves everyone, and that everyone should be loved, by those who follow Jesus.

Friday before Epiphany

A deacon I work with once teased me about a radio program he heard which claimed that men with beards are trying to hide their identity. I don’t know about that; I had a beard for nine years because I don’t like to shave and, most of all, because my wife liked it!


However, the reality is that all of us here this morning have an identity that is far too precious to ever try and hide- either with a beard or anything else. We’re reminded of this by today’s gospel. It spoke of Jesus’ baptism, when the Holy Spirit descended upon him and God the Father proclaimed him to be his beloved son.

This calls to mind our baptisms, when you and I were adopted as God’s beloved sons and daughters. Through baptism, we are the children of God; we are brothers and sisters in the Lord. That is our identity. That is who we are.

Yet sometimes the attractions, temptations, and attitudes of the world we live in can lead us to forget our identity through sin, or to try and hide it because of embarrassment. As today’s first reading explained, however, we Christians are called not to conform to the world, but to be victorious over it.

We would be wise, therefore, to heed the words of St. Leo the Great in a famous Christmas homily. “Christian, remember your dignity,” he wrote. “Bear in mind who is your head and of whose body you are a member. Through the sacrament of baptism you have become a temple of the Holy Spirit.”

January 3

While registering for a 5k road race at a local community center, I noticed that one of my parishioners – someone I know very well- was one of the race volunteers. I went over and started speaking with him. He was acting a little strangely until suddenly his eyes widened and he said, “Oh- you’re Father Hurd. I didn’t recognize you!” You see, I was dressed in running gear and a baseball cap, not my black clerical clothes, and we weren’t in a church. My parishioner didn’t expect to see me in that context, looking the way I did. He wasn’t even able to recognize me, even though I was standing right in front of him.

But don’t we sometimes do the same thing when it comes to Jesus? We expect, of course, to find him in the obvious places- Scripture, prayer, the Sacraments, at church, maybe even in the beauty and wonder of nature. But we fail to recognize him in other places and other contexts- situations where we don’t expect to find him- like the humdrum of our daily routine, at the office, in the midst of our difficulties and sufferings, in the faces of the needy and the poor. Indeed, Jesus is present in every situation in our lives. We just need to open our eyes, and look for him.

In today’s gospel, John the Baptist twice says that he did not know Jesus. Instead, he explained that Jesus’ presence was revealed to him by the Holy Spirit. Maybe we should take a cue from him, and ask the Spirit to reveal the presence of Jesus to us- not just in those places we expect to find him, but most especially in those places where seeing his face would come as a surprise. 

Readings for today's Mass: http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/010312.cfm