Saturday, March 31, 2012

Passion Sunday

When Jesus breathed his last and died on the cross, an onlooking centurion was heard to proclaim: "Truly this man was the Son of God." Through what we can only presume was a gift of grace, this man was able to discern God’ face in Jesus’ suffering, and to see divinity revealed in humility.

However, not everyone shared the centurion’s assessment that day. The idea of a suffering, humble God is a hard thing to accept, because we expect God to be powerful, not weak. That’s why Jesus had so many detractors who mocked and goaded him to save himself, and come down off the cross. The ancient Church fathers speculated that this is what caused the fallen angels to rebel. According to the this line of reasoning, Satan and his followers simply could not endure the knowledge that one day the Son of God would be a weak and limited human being. As St. Augustine wrote, they could not bear to see the all-powerful become tired, eternal happiness weep, and life itself suffer and die.

We too can struggle to reconcile ourselves with the image of a humble God, because we’re often not very humble. Pride is a temptation and a sin that we have to contend with our entire lives. Pride can spring from a great love of self- an arrogance that conceives of ourselves as superior to others based on income, looks, education, profession, social standing, ethnic background, or some other worldly criterion. It drives us to squander our time and energy trying to get people to acknowledge our importance- to take notice of our accomplishments, or maybe even our suffering, if we think our victimhood can attract the attention we seek. Prideful attitudes of superiority, ironically, can also be a mask for feelings of inferiority and powerlessness.

Spiritual pride is a very real danger too. We can become self-righteous, thinking that we’re holier than others because of our religious practices and observances. Spiritual pride can lead people to use forgiveness to demonstrate moral superiority, and shame their offenders. Spiritual pride can also delude us into thinking that we know better than God, or that perhaps he owes us something. It’s said that after having once lost an important military battle, King Louis XIV of France was heard to exclaim: "Does not God realize how much I have done for him?"

It was because of our pride and lack of humility that led God to humble himself to share in our humanity. In gratitude and faith, we need to humble ourselves, first and foremost, by recalling that we are not God. There’s an old saying that the two most important lessons in life are: First, there is a God; and second, I am not he. As God spoke to St. Catherine of Siena, "You are she who is not, and I am who is!"

We can learn humility by following Jesus along the way of the cross. "If you seek an example of humility," wrote St. Thomas Aquinas, "contemplate the crucifix!" As we heard, Jesus endured many humiliations on the way of the cross: He was abused, mocked, reviled, placed between common criminals, had lots cast for his clothing, and a scoffing inscription was placed over his head.

As we carry our crosses, we too may face humiliations. Hard as these might be to bear, they might at times have a silver lining. For instance, the popular priest Benedict Groechel was once the liaison of the New York Archdiocese with Mother Theresa’s Missionaries of Charity. Once Groechel and Mother Theresa had a friendly argument about policy, which Groechel lost. Afterwards, Mother Theresa asked: "Well, how do you feel about the whole thing?" "Humiliated," admitted Groeschel, "but unfortunately not humbled." "Cheer up!" she said. "Humiliation could be a road to humility." And she’s right, of course. Humiliations can serve to prick our pride and deflate our over-expanded egos.

However, Jesus bore the cross, not just as a sign of his humility, but supremely as a demonstration of his love. But humility and love go hand-in-hand, of course. Indeed, true humility is a by-product of love; it’s not something that we can pursue directly. In fact, trying to become humble on one’s own is likely to backfire and become and exercise in pride! As C.S. Lewis once said, "A man is never so proud as when striking an attitude of humility."

The only way to become truly humble is for us to open ourselves to God’s love. The more we do this, the more we’ll come to love others just as God loves them- equally and unconditionally, without regard for rank or importance. And we’ll come to live life, and to do what we do, not from a desire for recognition or affirmation, but out of selflessness and generosity. In other words, we’ll learn that in love, what counts is just loving, because love is its own reward. As St. Therese, the Little Flower discovered, "I found happiness the day I forgot myself and began to serve others."

We can’t expect ourselves to be transformed overnight. The way of the cross is a long, hard road. Jesus fell three times from exhaustion in the course of an afternoon; we can expect to fall three thousand times or more in the course of a lifetime. Yet we should never become discouraged. St. Bernard once said that on our spiritual journey we can face in one of two directions: We can look at ourselves and be saddened by our failings, or we can look at God and rejoice that we are lovable in his sight: lovable enough to die for; lovable enough to spend an eternity with.

Friday, March 30, 2012

Friday of Lent 5

A classic case of the pot calling the kettle black is to be found in today’s gospel. Certain critics scolded Jesus, saying: “You, a man, are making yourself God!” Of course, Jesus wasn’t making himself God- he is God! However, don’t we try to make ourselves God all the time? Isn’t this an accusation that Jesus could legitimately make of those critics and many others- including us?

Just think about it:

            So often, we want to glorify ourselves, and not God;

            We want to be independent, not dependent on God;

            We want to do what we want, not what God wants;

            We want God to serve us, not the other way around.

The truth is, God didn’t create us to be God. God created us to be ourselves! Which is a good thing, as we’re all made in God’s image and likeness. And that’s why God calls us, not to be God, but to be godly, God-like.

Our challenge, then, is for us to stop trying so hard to be God, and instead surrender to God, that we may become like God, just a little bit more, every day.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Thursday of Lent 5

A relationship guide for men features a list entitled "Promises Guys Must Keep." Promise number one? "I’ll call you right back!" And number two: "I’ll take care of it." When men don’t keep these promises, the guide continues, women (understandably) feel betrayed.

At times, we can be tempted to think that God doesn’t keep his promises. Consider Abraham in tonight’s first reading. God had promised that he’d be the father of a great multitude, who would enjoy the whole land of Canaan for themselves. But when Abraham died, he had only two sons and a tiny plot of land. At times, it must have been hard to trust that, in the words of tonight’s psalm, "The Lord keeps his covenant forever." But God did keep his promise…in his own time, and in his own way.

Jesus promised all of us in tonight’s gospel that those who keep his word "will never taste death." Yet all of Jesus’ disciples die. One day we will die. Jesus himself died! So has Jesus failed to keep his promise? It’s tempting to think so.

Like Abraham, we need to trust that God always keeps his promises…just not always in the way we think he should, hope he could, or wish he would. That promise about our not tasting death? It took a death to make it come true. We have to die to experience it ourselves. Jesus is indeed true to this and all his promises…but not always in a manner we would expect…or imagine.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Wednesday of Lent 5

“I’m free, to do what I want, any old time!” insisted the Rolling Stones. Their song reflects how many people today understand freedom: It’s about doing whatever we want, whenever we want to.

Jesus, on the other hand, spoke in today’s gospel of a freedom not to do as we please, but the freedom to do what is pleasing to God; a freedom that involves not just the right to make choices, but the freedom to choose what is right; a freedom not from discipline but dependent on discipline; a freedom that doesn’t give us a license to sin, but a freedom that liberates us from sin; a freedom not just to “be you and me,” but a freedom to become all we were meant to be.

This freedom is rooted in a knowledge of the truth- a truth that is not just a body of knowledge, but a truth who is a person, Jesus Christ our Lord. What Jesus is saying to us today, then, is that if we follow him and live as he taught, we will truly be free- free from sin, free from unhappiness, free to love, free from fear, free to be his brothers and sisters, free to be sons and daughters of God.


Monday, March 26, 2012

Solemnity of the Annunciation

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunday, March 25, 2012

Fifth Sunday in Lent

When you hear the word "glorious," what do you think of? A marvelous sunset? A majestic mountain? A magnificent cathedral? Something glorious is more than merely good, and greater than simply beautiful. Instead, something glorious makes our eyes widen, our jaws drop, and takes our breath away.

When the Bible speaks of the "glory" of God, it typically refers to the awesomeness of God. Consider today’s gospel passage. Certain people wished to see Jesus. In response, Jesus announced that his "hour" to be glorified had come. Jesus asked God the Father to glorify his name and a thundering voice announced that he had glorified it and would glorify it again! How? By Jesus’ being lifted up on the cross and drawing everyone to himself.

To see Jesus on the cross is to see the glory of God, and it is an awesome thing to see. The crucifixion itself isn’t awesome; it’s horrifying and gruesome. It’s awesome because it reveals God’s love for us in a way that nothing else can. It shows that God loves us so much that he’d die for us. That’s a love that can take our breath away. And that love is the glory of God.

However, God doesn’t want his love to simply amaze us. God wants us to love him back! We should ask ourselves: How much do we love God? Think of it this way: Relationships don’t tend to last very long when one person is more "into" the relationship than the other. That’s why pop culture these days encourages us to dump someone if he or she is "just not that into you." Thankfully, Jesus would never dump us, because we could never be "into" him as much as he’s "into" us. But we still might ask ourselves: Are we "into" Jesus as much as we might be? To answer that question, let’s take from the Internet one top ten list of signs that someone’s "just not that into you," and apply it to our relationship with the Lord.

Sign Number One: He’s too busy to meet up with you. Well, do we have time for prayer and doing God’s work? We make time for people who are important to us. Yet what about the Lord? Is time with him a priority? Or are we just too busy?

Sign Number Two: He won’t share his feelings with you. Many of us are afraid to share our deepest feelings with God. We think he’ll be disappointed or angry. So we tell God the things we think he wants to hear, instead of what we really want to tell him. It shows we don’t trust him or understand him. And it makes our faith stale and superficial.

Sign Number Three: He never picks up the tab. God invites us to a banquet every Sunday! But are we a cheap date? Do we give back to him generously, or grudgingly? Do we give with a smile or clenched teeth? Remember: It’s not the amount that counts; it’s the love behind the gift.

Sign Number Four: He’s afraid of commitment. Are we half-hearted Catholics? On again, off-again? Does our Christianity run hot then cold? True discipleship is about surrendering our whole lives into God’s hands. Yet so often we keep God at arm’s length. God doesn’t want us as a casual acquaintance. He wants our faithful friendship.

Sign Number Five: He disrespects you by putting down your values, thoughts, and ideas. Do we disrespect God by ignoring his will? Do we strive to follow his commands? Or do we ignore church teaching we think is unreasonable, too hard to follow, or we don’t really understand? Do we want to do what God wants us to do? Or do we do what we want and hope that God doesn’t mind?

Sign Number Six: There are other women in his life. Now, we probably don’t worship other gods like Zeus or Vishnu. But things like the love of money, power and prestige, an all-consuming project, a hobby, even a relationship, can become idols which displace God from the center of our lives. To be devoted to them can be like cheating on God.

Sign Number Seven: He only comes to see you late at night. Think about it: Do we only have time for God when it’s convenient for us? Is our faith important to us only if it makes us feel good? Do we have time for God only when we need or want something from him? God wants a relationship with us. He doesn’t want to be used.

Sign Number Eight: You never meet his friends or family. Do we introduce God to our friends and family, or are we embarrassed about or ashamed of our faith? If we were on trial for being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict us? Would people be surprised to learn that we’re Catholic? Or is it evident through what we do and say?

Sign Number Nine: He disappears for days, weeks, months at a time. Sound familiar? Are we Easter and Christmas Catholics? Once a month Mass-goers? And when was the last time we went to confession? Once a year is the minimum. "Out of sight, out of mind," the old saying goes. If God is in our mind, we’ll try to see him, all the time.

Sign Number Ten: He gives you the silent treatment. God wants us to spend quiet time with him. We don’t even need to speak; sometimes it’s best just to listen. But God doesn’t want the "silent treatment" from us. Because communication is key to any relationship.

In God’s love for us, we see his glory. But there’s another meaning to "glory." To give God "glory" is to give him praise. We might say that we glorify God on account of his glory! In other words, we praise God for his love. And the best way we can do that, is by showing how much we love him, in return.

Friday, March 23, 2012

Friday of Lent 4

It’s easier for an elephant to fit into a mouse’s swimsuit, a Benedictine abbot once explained, than it is for God to fit into our ideas about him. This is an intentionally silly observation, but it’s certainly true, especially in light of today’s gospel.

            The people of Jerusalem thought that they has Jesus all figured out. They were convinced that he wasn’t the Christ, because they were sure they knew where he came from! But Jesus simply shook his head and told them otherwise.

            Jesus sometimes has to do the same thing with us. We create idols- caricatures of Jesus- and he has to come along and smash them. Usually, like the mouse’s swimsuit, our image of Jesus is just too small. We tend to emphasize one aspect of his person and minimize the others. For instance, we might count upon his mercy, but forget about his justice. We focus on his power, but overlook his humility. We highlight his humanity, but neglect his divinity. And vice versa.

            However, whenever we think we have him in a nutshell, the real Jesus eludes us, just as he slipped away from the angry Jerusalem mob. He knows that we’re always tempted to refashion him in our own image. Thankfully, he never stops trying to re-create us in his.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Thursday of Lent 4

When I was a newly-minted priest many years ago, I was approached by a young man who sincerely wanted to know how one could believe in God. Over a plate of nachos, I explained some of the classical philosophical arguments for God’s existence. The young man listened politely, but it was clear that he remained unconvinced, and perhaps most of all, unmoved.

If this young man were to approach me today, I would take an entirely different approach. I certainly wouldn’t speak of philosophy, even though that’s an essential part of our Catholic tradition. I would speak to him instead of my personal experience of being loved by God; I would share with him my personal testimony.

In today’s gospel, Jesus spoke of who and what bore testimony to him: God the Father, John the Baptist, Moses, Holy Scripture, and the "works" Jesus performed. You and I also have opportunities to testify to Jesus. We don’t need to be great philosophers in these situations; we just need to honestly share all that the Lord has done for us. In a world filled with personal loneliness, moral confusion, and emotional pain, it’s our testimony that people want to hear; this is what will move their hearts.

Not everyone will accept it, just as in today’s gospel some people refused all that testified to Jesus. Nevertheless, many people will be open and receptive. In our little archdiocese alone, over 1,200 people who will become full Catholic Christians at Easter. I’d venture to say that they made their journey of faith, not because someone convinced them that God exists, but because someone testified that God is love.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Wednesday of Lent 4

Certain husbands are quite comfortable calling their fathers-in-law “Dad.” Other husbands, however, find that to be awkward or inappropriate. The prospect makes them uneasy.

            Sometimes we can be uneasy about calling God our “Father,” or even “Dad,” as Jesus did. In fact, this so outraged our Lord’s critics in today’s gospel that they wanted to kill him! Calling God our “Father” hopefully doesn’t infuriate us like that, but it sure can make us feel uncomfortable.

            We can be fine praying to “Almighty God,” as that title reflects God’s distance from us. But “Father” speaks of God’s nearness; it implies love, family, and intimacy. And that can scare us, because we worry about getting too close to God. After all, who knows what that might lead to? We wonder: “What will God ask of me? What demands could he make? How might my life have to change?” It can seem easier, and a whole lot safer, to keep God at arm’s length.

            Jesus challenges us to move beyond our fears. As our brother, he wants us to know the Father, not only as one who dwells above us, but also as one who abides within us. The same life and love the Father gives to Jesus, is also offered to us. Our Father doesn’t want to be kept at arm’s length. Instead, he wants to hold us in his arms.

Monday, March 19, 2012

Feast of Saint Joseph

When St. Joseph learned that Mary, his betrothed wife, was pregnant, he naturally assumed that she had committed adultery, a crime for which she could be stoned. But Joseph, being a “righteous man,” chose to “divorce her quietly,” and spare her a violent death.

            Women aren’t threatened with stoning in our culture, of course. But they are, very frequently, victims of domestic violence, which includes not only physical harm, but also sexual, psychological, verbal, and economic abuse. Younger, unmarried women are most at risk, but women of all ages, races, and economic situations can be victims. And, sadly, many victims don’t seek help- either out of religious guilt, fear of being rejected by their community, confusion about what to do or where to go, or because they risk being killed.

            Our nations’ bishops have issued a statement entitled, When I Call for Help: A Pastoral Response to Domestic Violence against Women. In it, they encourage victims not to blame themselves, think they’re being punished by God, or fear that they betray their marriage vows if they leave an abusive husband. They direct “first responders” to believe victims’ stories, help them assess the danger to themselves and their children, and refer them to safe shelters, and specialized counseling. And they call upon male perpetrators to have the courage to seek help and break the cycle of violence.

All of us, however, need to work vigorously against domestic violence, by examining our attitudes, learning to recognize warning signs, not being afraid to speak up when we think someone might be a victim, repenting for past actions or inactivity on our part, supporting shelters and special services, and of course, praying for an end to the violence, and the spread of domestic peace.

            In our prayer, we have a friend in St. Joseph who, as one betrothed to the Queen of Peace, made a choice against violence to women. St. Joseph, pray for us, and all women in harm’s way.

           

Feat of Saint Joseph

When St. Joseph learned that Mary, his betrothed wife, was pregnant, he naturally assumed that she had committed adultery, a crime for which she could be stoned. But Joseph, being a “righteous man,” chose to “divorce her quietly,” and spare her a violent death.

            Women aren’t threatened with stoning in our culture, of course. But they are, very frequently, victims of domestic violence, which includes not only physical harm, but also sexual, psychological, verbal, and economic abuse. Younger, unmarried women are most at risk, but women of all ages, races, and economic situations can be victims. And, sadly, many victims don’t seek help- either out of religious guilt, fear of being rejected by their community, confusion about what to do or where to go, or because they risk being killed.

            Our nations’ bishops have issued a statement entitled, When I Call for Help: A Pastoral Response to Domestic Violence against Women. In it, they encourage victims not to blame themselves, think they’re being punished by God, or fear that they betray their marriage vows if they leave an abusive husband. They direct “first responders” to believe victims’ stories, help them assess the danger to themselves and their children, and refer them to safe shelters, and specialized counseling. And they call upon male perpetrators to have the courage to seek help and break the cycle of violence.

All of us, however, need to work vigorously against domestic violence, by examining our attitudes, learning to recognize warning signs, not being afraid to speak up when we think someone might be a victim, repenting for past actions or inactivity on our part, supporting shelters and special services, and of course, praying for an end to the violence, and the spread of domestic peace.

            In our prayer, we have a friend in St. Joseph who, as one betrothed to the Queen of Peace, made a choice against violence to women. St. Joseph, pray for us, and all women in harm’s way.

           

Saturday, March 17, 2012

Fourth Sunday in Lent

The other day, while I was walking my dog early in the morning, I was literally overwhelmed by the beauty that surrounded me. A thin crescent moon hung in a crystal-clear sky, dew sparkled on the grass as the sun approached the horizon, and a reverent, hushed silence was broken only by the lovely song of a distant bird. I couldn’t help but offer a prayer of gratitude, not only for this glimpse of God’s glory, but also for this gentle reminder of his love.

Every one of us, from time to time, needs to be reminded of God’s love, because we can so easily forget about it. It could be that we’re preoccupied with our own anxieties or too self-absorbed with our own needs. Maybe we dismiss moments of grace as wishful thinking, or coincidence instead of providence. Perhaps we’ve grown too cynical or indifferent to care. Possibly the competing voices of our culture have deafened us to the loving voice of God.

Another factor is that we’re sometimes better at detecting what we think is the absence of God’s love than we are at discerning its true presence. I saw a cartoon once that depicted a father and little boy walking together, side by side. In the first panel, the boy points to a flower and says, "What’s that?" The father replied: "A flower." In the second frame, the boy looks up at a rainbow and asks, "What’s that?" "A rainbow," the father said. Next, the boy admires a sunset and wonders, "What is that?" "It’s a sunset," explained the father. Finally, the boy sees a fierce tornado and shouts in fear: "What is that?" "That," said the father with a scowl, "is an act of God." The point of the cartoon is that when things are going well, God and his love can easily slip our minds. But when the going gets rough, or when disaster strikes, God is the first one to be blamed. I’ve heard it said that when a storm causes death and destruction, people don’t vent their anger on a high pressure system- they vent it on God!

In particular, war can tempt us to doubt God’s love. We can reason that if God truly loved us, he would have stopped war from beginning in the first place. Just before the first Iraqi war in 1991, the Secretary General of the United Nations made a desperate attempt to negotiate a peace settlement. When his efforts failed, he returned to New York and announced, "Now it’s in the hands of God whether there will be war or not." The implication here was that if war broke out, it was all God’s fault. The other implication was that if a peace settlement had in fact been achieved, credit would have been given, not to God, but to the skill of the diplomats involved. In other words, God in war is blamed for being unloving; in peace, God is forgotten altogether.

So we need to be reminded of God’s love. And today’s gospel does precisely that. In it, we heard the famous words: "For God so loved the world that he gave his only son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish, but might have everlasting life." This beloved passage speaks of a love that is not earned, but freely given; a love that can be rejected, but is never withdrawn; a love that patiently endures in the face of our indifference; a love without boundaries or conditions; a love that longs for our salvation, not our condemnation; a love that invites, but never compels; a love that unites, and never divides; a love that reveals, instead of hiding behind a mask; a love that springs, not from neediness, but from boundless generosity. God’s love for us is a love for who we really are, not who we want or pretend to be; it’s a love that lasts, not for a fleeting moment, but for all eternity; it’s a love that meets us where we are, yet challenges us to realize our every potential; it’s a love that fulfills our deepest needs and desires, yet still exceeds our greatest expectations, and our wildest imaginings.

And it’s a love that is demonstrated. God doesn’t just tell us that he loves us; he shows us his love by sharing our humanity that we might share his divinity; by dying, in order that we might have eternal life. It’s been said that talk is cheap, and sometimes it is. But the cross wasn’t cheap: It was a terrible price to pay. But it was paid willingly, out of love. As we heard St. Paul write to the Christians of Ephesus, "God, because of the great love he had for us, brought us to life with Christ, raised us up with him, and seated us with him in the heavens…that in the ages to come he might show us the immeasurable riches of his grace."

This is what we need to be reminded of. We need to be reminded of because we so often don’t love ourselves. Experience may have convinced us that we’re unlovable, and that we’re unworthy of anyone’s love, let alone God’s. We need to be reminded that God loves us so much that he was willing to die for us. We need to be reminded of God’s love because we’ve looked for love in all the wrong places, only to wind up disappointed, wounded, used, and broken-hearted.

And we need to be reminded because we live in a world, as Jesus lamented, where many people prefer the darkness, instead of the light. We need to be reminded that the light has come into the world, and that the darkness has not overcome it- and it never will.

Friday, March 16, 2012

Friday of Lent 3


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

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

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

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

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Wednesday of Lent 3

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

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

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

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

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Tuesday of Lent 3

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

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

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

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

Monday, March 12, 2012

Monday of Lent 3

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

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

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

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

Friday, March 9, 2012

Third Sunday in Lent

Anger is a very tricky and dangerous emotion. Experience shows that it’s easy for our anger to be poisoned by resentments, self-pity, and attempts at self-justification. All too often anger is an expression of our jealousies, envies, fears, self-centeredness, and emotional immaturity. At times, anger erupts into fury, violence, and blind rage. When anger gains a foothold in our lives, it can truly become an all-consuming and personally destructive passion that’s difficult to let go. It’s for very good reason that anger is listed as one of the traditional seven deadly sins.

Because of these reasons, many people are afraid to express their anger. They think that anger, at it’s best, is a lamentable loss of self-control, and that at it’s worst, it’s an embodiment of evil. This assessment of anger is especially common among Christians. We remember that Jesus has commanded us to love our enemies and to turn the other cheek. We know that we are to be people who forgive, just as Jesus has forgiven us. We understand that anger can reflect a refusal to forgive or a desire for revenge. As a result, it’s easy for us to conclude that anger and Christian faith are incompatible.

However, today’s gospel shows us that anger was not an emotion forbidden to Jesus. We heard that when he saw moneychangers desecrating the holiness of his Father’s house and exploiting the financially poor pilgrims to Jerusalem, he gave free reign to his anger, overturning their tables and driving them out with a whip made of cords.

Jesus, here and elsewhere in the New Testament, was angry. However, his anger can’t be a sin, because Jesus never committed a sin. What’s more, as Jesus lived the perfect human life, Jesus’ actions here have implications for our own behavior. In other words, we are to live in imitation of Christ. And the Christ we are to imitate was, at times, angry. There must be, then, a Christ-like way to be angry. When we ask the question, "What would Jesus do?" the answer sometimes will involve the expression of anger. This suggests that not to express anger in certain situations might even be a sin.

It’s important to stress, however, that when Jesus was angry he did not stop loving. Everything that Jesus does, without exception, springs from his perfect love. In fact, we can even understand Jesus’ anger as a sign of his love. Think of it this way: If Jesus didn’t care about a house of prayer being turned into a house of commerce, and if he didn’t care for the welfare of the poor people who were being exploited, he could have turned a blind eye, or shrugged his shoulders and walked away. Jesus’ anger, then, demonstrates his love, because if he didn’t love, he would simply have been indifferent to what was going on.

Jesus’ anger doesn’t mean that his love for us has boundaries. It means instead that his love recognizes boundaries for our conduct. That Jesus can be angry doesn’t mean that he ever withdraws his love, or that his love is conditional upon our good behavior. It means instead that we, and how we act, matter greatly to Jesus. It means that our actions have consequences; it means that we are responsible for what we do.

As sinful human beings, and as people who have been sinned against, we know that anger can indeed be an evil thing. Jesus shows us, however, that this isn’t always the case. Anger, you see, is a feeling, an emotion. And feelings, in and of themselves, are morally neutral; they are neither good nor bad. Morality is the realm of action, not feelings. In other words, whether feelings are harmful or beneficial depends on how we use them. Yet God has created us, in his image, as creatures with feelings. We can be assured then, that God has given us feelings for a very good reason- anger included.

Jesus shows us what anger is for. "Righteous" anger, as we might call it, is our capacity to get "worked up" against injustice and sin- ours and those of others. It gives us the energy we need to confront that which is wrong, so that we might do something about it, and work to change things for the better. In other words, there are circumstances and situations in which our proper response as Christians is not indifference, but an indignation that leads us to act in courageously and prophetically.

Anger, at times, needs to be expressed in appropriate ways. If we try to repress it, it may explode in inappropriate circumstances against undeserving or innocent people, or it might just fester in our souls, leaving us joyless, cynical, and depressed. Studies have shown that repressed anger can easily lead to ulcers, high blood pressure, migraine headaches, and even asthma and arthritis. Our feelings are an important part of us; if we deny them, we essentially deny ourselves.

We can say then that anger, properly expressed for the right reasons, can be good and beneficial. This means that if we’re being trodden upon, exploited, or abused, we can rightfully defend ourselves. It means that couples can be free to disagree and argue, as long as they "fight fair." It means that parents can discipline their children, provided that it’s dispensed with unconditional love. It means that we can and should work to defend the rights of the poor, defenseless, and weak in our society. It means that we can and should seek to reform corrupt institutions and speak out against the abuse of power. And it means that we can and should seek to resist the allurements of a culture that threatens to demean our humanity by encouraging greed, selfishness, and promiscuity.

In short, Jesus doesn’t want us to deny our anger; he wants it to be sanctified.

Thursday, March 8, 2012

Friday of Lent 2

It’s been said that people in love sometimes do crazy things. Maybe this is true of God as well. God isn’t crazy, of course! But he is crazy in love- with us.

Think about the parable we just heard, in which a landowner’s servants were sent to collect rent from some tenants. When they arrived, the tenants attacked them! Now, if we were in the landowner’s shoes, what would we do? We’d call the police and call our lawyers, right? But what does this landowner do? He sends even more servants- and they too were attacked! Finally, seemingly against all reason, the landowner sends his own son, hoping that he of all people would be respected.

The landowner, of course, is God the Father, his servants are the prophets, his son is Jesus, and the tenants are the leaders of his chosen people. And at one level, this story is about the rejection of Jesus. But at another level, how the landowner treats those tenants says to us that God is crazy- head over heels- about us, the people he loves. We hear that God is patient with us; that God sees the potential for growth in us; that God gives us second chances. With God, strict justice takes a backseat to abundant mercy.

We might say: "What about the comment about the wretched tenants being put to a wretched death?" You’ll notice, however, that those aren’t Jesus’ words, but somebody else’s. Jesus says simply that the vineyard would be taken away from the tenants and given to others. A pretty merciful sentence, if you think about it.

The truth is, Jesus doesn’t call for their death; the only death that he speaks of is his own- a death for their sakes, a death for our sakes, a death that could only be accepted by a person deeply and madly in love.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Wednesday of Lent 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monday, March 5, 2012

Monday of Lent 2

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

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


Saturday, March 3, 2012

Second Sunday in Lent


Has there ever been a time in your life, or even a particular moment, when God was very real and present to you? When you heard the voice of God speak? When God reached down and tapped you on the shoulder (or whacked you on the head)? When the truths of our faith became crystal clear and made perfect sense? When God was nearby, like a friend, guiding you, protecting you, challenging you? Experiences and times like these move us so deeply, that they’re almost impossible to forget.

Peter, James, and John surely must have felt this way about their having witnessed the transfiguration of Jesus on a mountaintop. The brilliant divinity of Jesus as the Son of God shone so powerfully that it was blinding. The voice of God the Father proclaimed Jesus as his Son, and ordered the three disciples to listen. They were enveloped in a cloud; Moses and Elijah appeared; they fell on their knees.

But then it was all over in a flash. Perhaps it lasted a few minutes, maybe less. We don’t know. What we do know that it was not meant to last. Jesus had given his friends a privledged "mountaintop experience." But then he led them back down the mountain, and on toward Jerusalem, where he would suffer and die, and the disciples would experience sorrow, shame, fear, confusion, and anger. The light on the mountaintop had to give way to darkness.

Perhaps that’s been our story as well. We’ve had mountaintop experiences. They didn’t seem to last long, or as long as we might like. Then the darkness came. Our darkness might have been caused by all sorts of things. Maybe we lost a loved one. Maybe we lost a job. Maybe it was an illness or another hardship we had to endure. Things didn’t go the way we planned. A dream was shattered; our heart was broken. Perhaps we became discouraged by our sins or failings. Maybe someone else’s sins and failings got us down. Maybe the brokenness in the Church got us down.

We can call times like this a "spiritual darkness." We feel discouraged, empty, hurt, confused, mad. We can think that God doesn’t care. Or that he isn’t listening. Or that he’s not there for us. Or that he’s just not there at all.

It’s tempting at times like this to search for, or even try to force, another mountaintop experience, so we can feel God’s closeness again. But that’s a mistake. If we go searching for experiences, we might very well fool ourselves by making stuff up or imagining things. When we expect or demand mountaintop experiences, we usually end up being disappointed when they don’t come. If you think about it, it’s not a good way for us to conduct our end of our relationship with God. Because if we really love someone, we don’t make them jump through hoops to make them prove that they love us.

Periods of darkness, as hard as they might be, can serve a useful purpose. They’re opportunities for us to grow in trust of God. God knows that it’s easy for us to trust him when he seems very close and present to us. He knows it’s difficult to trust when he appears to be absent or far away. But it’s especially at times like this that our faith can grow much stronger.

God does give us mountaintop experiences for good reasons. He sometimes gives them so we can understand that he loves us or that he even exists in the first place. Sometimes he does it to change the direction of our life or heal us of a wound. But God allows periods of darkness too. We need to accept them, and ask God how we might benefit from them. In addition, there are three things we can do when we experience darkness.

First, we need to realize that everyone has them. They’re a normal and expected part of our following in the footsteps of Jesus. They’re an opportunity for us to ask ourselves: Do we really love God? Or do we just love what he might so for us or the way he makes us feel? Love like that, if we can call it love, is pretty selfish, if you think about it. It makes God into our servant. God can use darkness, however, to help us to love him for who he is, not what he can do.

Second, it’s important in times of darkness to persevere in faith, to keep putting one foot in front of the other- to keep praying, to keep receiving the sacraments. This is all part of the test. Woody Allen once said that 80 percent of life is just showing up. There’s a sense in which we can say that a huge part of holiness is just showing up- by keeping on when we don’t feel much like keeping on. Consider Mother Teresa. Her letters published after her death reveal that she spent most of her life in spiritual darkness. For over half a century she felt no presence of God whatsoever-either in prayer or in Communion. But she persevered, and came to appreciate the meaning, and purpose, of her darkness.

Third, Jesus wants us to remember our mountaintop experiences when we’re in the midst of darkness. He allowed Peter, James, and John to see him transfigured, so the memory of this event could strengthen them during the dark days that followed, when he suffered his Passion. He wants our mountaintop experiences to strengthen us in the same way.

Even if we’ve never had what we might call a mountaintop experience, there is something we can all remember during our dark periods. Something that Jesus commands us to remember. "Do this in remembrance of me." He’s talking about the Mass, at which we remember, and encounter ourselves, Jesus death on the cross. Even in our darkest moments, the memory of Jesus’ darkness, can give us hope to carry on.

Friday, March 2, 2012

Friday of Lent I

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

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

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

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

Thursday, March 1, 2012

Thursday of Lent I

“Preaching to the choir” is an expression that I imagine we’re all familiar with. We might think that Jesus himself was preaching to the choir in today’s gospel when he spoke to his chosen disciples about the importance of intercessory prayer. However, experience has shown that Christians don’t always ask God for the things they need. Perhaps this has been our experience.

Sometimes we get so anxious or angry about something that we forget to pray about it. At times we may think that asking things from God is kind of selfish. Maybe deep down we doubt that God even listens or wants to get involved. Perhaps we think that we should be able to take care of ourselves, instead of relying on God or anyone else. Or it could be that we’re just being lazy or indifferent.

The good news of today’s gospel, however, is that God wants to bless us with good things, even though we’re sinners, because he loves us so much. He’s ready and happy to give. It’s just up to us to ask.