Sunday Reflection - Prophetic Witness

Down through the centuries, Prophets have invariably been despised because of their courage to speak uncomfortable and inconvenient truths.

I have always been profoundly moved by the life, ministry and death of the latter-day prophet and martyr, Archbishop Oscar Romero.  Archbishop Romero was the chief shepherd in El Salvador in the 1970’s, during one of the most turbulent periods in his nation’s history.  During a period of unprecedented suppression of human rights and disregard for social justice by the government, Romero became the prophetic spokesperson for the poor and the marginalized.  He was unafraid to speak truth to power, to confront government officials who were oblivious to human rights and were corrupted by their thirst for dictatorial power.  In a profoundly moving speech he gave on February 2, 1980, at the Catholic University of Louvain in Belgium, Romero boldly spoke of the persecution of the Church that was taking place in El Salvador and the root cause for it:

In less than three years, more than fifty priests have been attacked, threatened, calumniated. Six are already martyrs--they were murdered. Some have been tortured and others expelled [from the country]. Nuns have also been persecuted. The archdiocesan radio station and educational institutions that are Catholic or of a Christian inspiration have been attacked, threatened, intimidated, even bombed. Several parish communities have been raided. If all this has happened to persons who are the most evident representatives of the Church, you can guess what has happened to ordinary Christians, to the campesinos, catechists, lay ministers, and to the ecclesial base communities. There have been threats, arrests, tortures, murders, numbering in the hundreds and thousands.... 

But it is important to note why [the Church] has been persecuted. Not any and every priest has been persecuted, not any and every institution has been attacked. That part of the church has been attacked and persecuted that put itself on the side of the people and went to the people's defense. Here again we find the same key to understanding the persecution of the church: the poor.

Such words of stinging truth would single Romero out as a marked man.  And so, the following month, on March 24th, while celebrating Mass in the small chapel of the Hospital of Divine Providence in San Salvador, he was gunned down at the altar of sacrifice – a martyr to the truth of the Gospel and all who hunger for the freedom and dignity of all God’s beloved children.

Indeed, down through the centuries, Prophets have invariably been despised because of their courage to speak uncomfortable and inconvenient truths.

Friends, God’s challenging words to us in Holy Scripture, once again is a call to rouse us from whatever complacency may be lulling us into living a faith of comfort, convenience and ‘cheap’ grace, into becoming prophetic Christians who are willing to confront the powers of this world with the inconvenient truth of God’s liberating mercy for all his children, especially, the poor and marginalized of our world, our society and our country.

This past week, the PBS series, Frontline, in a special segment entitled, Exodus, presented a comprehensive and dramatic overview to the plight of refugees from all parts of our torn world who are seeking a better life in Europe and the United States.  It was shocking to see how so many countries that historically had been bastions of the Christian ethic, beginning to close their doors to many of these men, women and families who are fleeing worn torn lands or persecution because of their religious beliefs or political convictions.   It is even more disheartening to witness such experiences in our own land whose striking symbol of Lady Liberty has beckoned countless generations of ‘hungry, homeless and tempest tossed’ to the freedom of our teeming shores.

It is precisely to the demonic of self-serving nationalism, racism and xenophobia that Christians are called to hear, once again, our call to be that prophetic voice calling our sisters and brothers to be attentive to the better angels of our nature.  At the heart of that prophetic call is the good news that God’s mercy and love know no boundaries or walls, that our solidarity as God’s beloved children calls us to ‘shelter the homeless and the widow, give food to the hungry, clothe the naked and welcome the stranger.’ 

Indeed, down through the centuries, Prophets have invariably been despised because of their courage to speak uncomfortable and inconvenient truths. Let us pray for that grace this day and every day of our lives.

Weekend Reflection - March for Life

In light of the annual March for Life that is held each year since Roe v. Wade in our Nation's Capital, I would like to share this splendid homily that was delivered by Fr. Sam Sawyer, SJ,  at the Jesuit Mass for Life at St. Aloysius Gonzaga Church before the 45th annual March for Life in Washington, D.C., on Jan. 19, 2018.

Readings: Jer 1:4-10, Ps 139, Mt 5:38-48

Today, when you go out to the Mall and walk along Constitution Avenue to stand before the steps of the Supreme Court, will you be going out as God sent out Jeremiah, formed from the womb to be a prophet to the nations, to uproot and tear down, to build and to plant? Or will you be going out to walk those 1.3 miles with thousands upon thousands of people the way Jesus invites his disciples: turning the other cheek, rejecting the logic of violence and supremacy, willing to walk the extra mile even in the face of persecution? And even, for this is Jesus’ great challenge and invitation to us, to walk that mile with and for the persecutor?

Of course, the answer that our faith calls for is, in the great refrain of the Catholic tradition, both-and. We will be doing both—we will be speaking truth to power on behalf of the defenseless unborn and, if God gives us the grace, at the same time loving our enemies and praying for those who persecute us.

Very few if any of the counter-protestors we meet at the steps of the court will be able to recognize in our faces any love at all.

What we are doing today will be ignored by many people in our country. Many of those who do not ignore it will misunderstand and even mistrust our marching today. Very few if any of the counter-protestors we meet at the steps of the court will be able to recognize in our faces any love at all—for them, for women struggling with pregnancy and considering abortion or even for the unborn.

But you know this already. If you have managed to get from your school or campus into a pro-life meeting, onto a bus or plane and all the way to Washington, you have certainly already had your motivations and your pro-life commitment challenged and mistrusted. You have probably had someone accuse you of wanting to control women’s bodies or of hating sex or of wanting to impose a theocracy or of only caring about babies until they are born. Of course, none of these caricatures are fair to what pro-lifers believe at our best. Nonetheless, we will be mistrusted, sometimes even persecuted, and these will be the excuses.

And let’s be honest: We often return that mistrust in our assumptions about pro-choice activists and politicians and sometimes even just people who tacitly support abortion or try to let themselves off the hook with something like “Well, I don’t believe in abortion, but I can’t impose my beliefs on someone else.” We think they are willfully ignoring the science on fetal development; we are tired of the way they keep changing the subject from the hard question of abortion to argue about something like funding for contraception; we suspect that their real reason for defending abortion is because it is the final back-up to birth control and the sexual revolution cannot keep going without it. But most of all, we do not trust that they really believe in human dignity as a basic moral rule—and that often means that we feel we cannot really trust them at all.

This mistrust is neither accidental nor inevitable. It is the product of our broken politics on the abortion question.

This mistrust—on both sides—is neither accidental nor inevitable. It is the product, most of all, of our broken politics on the abortion question: Forty-five tragic years of struggling against the constitutionalization of abortion, where no real progress or compromise seems possible until we finally win at the court. Forty-five years of abortion being used as a litmus test, for or against, for which candidates can get support. Forty-five years of abortion providing a reliable wedge issue, on both sides of the aisle, to turn out the base.

Lack of trust is not a problem for partisan politics; on a wedge issue like abortion, it actually serves as an advantage more often than not. But it is a problem for the Gospel.

Considered from the standpoint of politics, it seems the right tactical move is to press whatever advantage we have as far as it will go. Pass every law we can; appoint every judge we can; and align ourselves with whoever gets us closer to the goal of overturning Roe v. Wade, no matter the other costs. 

In contrast, the Gospel we heard today is a tactical trainwreck. It tells us to offer no resistance to enemies and love them instead. To be blunt, it calls for pre-emptive unilateral disarmament. To be even more blunt: When we began Mass with the Sign of the Cross, we were embracing exactly where the logic of today’s Gospel leads us and where it led Jesus.

On the cross, Jesus calls us to embrace our enemies, but we also need to remember how we got to the point of enmity to begin with. We become enemies when we lose the hope of being able to trust one another. We become enemies when our goals seem so different that we cannot imagine how we would ever walk together in the same direction for 20 feet, much less two miles.

The politics of the last year have, I fear, even further entrenched that enmity in many of our communities. We have only to look at how our politicians are, right now, trapped in a crazy zero-sum game where they cannot figure out how to pay for health insurance for children that almost everyone agrees is a good idea—or how to avoid deporting 800,000 young people who have lived here most of their lives, which almost everyone agrees is a bad idea. Even when we mostly want the same thing, we cannot figure out how to do it together.

Jesus calls us to embrace our enemies, but we also need to remember how we got to the point of enmity to begin with. 

And let’s be honest again: The pro-life movement is not blameless in this mess. We have allowed our support to be claimed by politicians who are right on abortion and wrong on nearly everything else and who have a more consistent respect for the pro-life vote than they do for the dignity of every human life at every stage. And these are among the reasons that we are often mistrusted and that we will be mistrusted by many people we pass in our march today. Even if the court reversed Roe v. Wade tomorrow, that mistrust would still need to be overcome in order for unborn children to be truly welcomed in love and protected in law.

I don’t know what rebuilding that trust will look like. But I do know how the Gospel calls us to start: by turning the other cheek, by walking the second mile, by loving our enemies and praying for our persecutors. The Gospel calls us, in other words, to accompany people who do not deserve it at great risk to ourselves, and in that accompaniment both we and our enemies may be transformed by grace in ways we do not expect.

The Gospel does not call us to win. It calls us to love.

And yes, we are also called to prophetic witness, as Jeremiah was. But Jeremiah was called to uproot and to tear down in order to clear the ground to build and to plant. He was formed from his mother’s womb to call Israel back to the covenant of love for which God had created them.

So, too, when we march, we must set out both to struggle for justice for the unborn and also to call our brothers and sisters back to the recognition of God’s love for each and every human life—both for the unborn and for themselves.

I have spent long enough in the pro-life movement to know how impractical and idealistic this all sounds. And if we leave it at the level of rhetoric, then it is impractical. Talking like this is not immediately likely to change any laws, get any judges appointed or win any cases.

But the Gospel does not call us to win. It calls us to love. And when we actually go out into the world and risk taking Jesus at his word, truly loving our enemies and walking the extra mile with them, we cooperate with God’s grace, grace so powerful that it was victorious even through death. I do not know what that is going to look like. But I trust that it will be better than any victory we could win for ourselves.

Sunday Reflection - The Extraordinary in the Ordinary

My first evening in the seminary as I began my journey to the priesthood, was September 14, 1966.  I had entered St. John’s Seminary College in Camarillo that was referred to by Time magazine as, the “Jewel in the Miter of Cardinal McIntyre,” the only Cardinal at that time West of the Mississippi and great post-war builder of the Archdiocese of Los Angeles.  He was also known for being one of the arch-conservative bishops who had attended the recently completed Second Vatican Council and, frankly, resisted its reforms.  Several months before I entered the beautiful Seminary College, Cardinal McIntyre had solemnly dedicated the heart of this seminary, the St. James Chapel.  With all the panoply that only the Catholic Church can display on these important moments, St. John’s would be the academic home of thousands of seminarians until the College section of the seminary was closed in 2002.

On one of his frequent visits, the Cardinal once gave a ‘pep-talk’ to the seminarians that has stayed with me all these many years.  To the hushed silence of the student body, he told us in his distinctive New York accent (a cross between Michael Bloomberg and Elmer Fudd), that we were not ‘ordinary men’ but rather, ‘extraordinary men’ because of the vocation that we were responding to.  Such talk not only fed a nascent clericalism that not so subtly instilled in us a sense that somehow, we were the ‘elite’ of the Church, but it also betrayed a foundational theological principal that lies at the heart of the Christian Church and her beliefs.

As we mark what the Church somewhat prosaically refers to as the ‘Second Sunday in Ordinary Time,’ that word, ‘ordinary,’ reflects how God, so often in Salvation’s history, has come to stir a revolution in our world and in our hearts.

At the core of the Mystery of the Incarnation whose festival of remembrance we have just completed with the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord this past Monday, we gloried in a God whose extraordinary and unmerited love and mercy for us, was revealed in the utter ordinariness of a new born child, cradled in the arms of his mother, Mary, with her husband, Joseph the carpenter, at her side.  Scripture and history tell us that, if I might be frank, these were ‘nobodies’ compared to the luminaries of the first century.  Scripture narrates, somewhat mockingly, the thoughts of Jesus’ contemporaries who would quote a saying, no doubt popular in first century Palestine, ‘could anything good come from Nazareth?’ the home town of this ‘nobody’ family and child.   With a thousand apologies for anyone who might be offended in my quoting President Trump, Nazareth was the quintessential ‘s***hole’ of this out of the way province of the great Roman Empire!  Yet, from this utterly ordinary place and time would emerge the Savior of the world.

This ‘incarnational principal,’ that God, who lives in unapproachable light, would embrace our world and our lives in one, like us in all things but sin, continues to be repeated within the sacramental life of the Church that the Savior founded. 

Through the utter ordinariness of water, wine, bread, oil, the simplicity of a human touch, words spoken and silence revered, God breaks into time and space to, once again, lavish us with his goodness, love and unfailing mercy.  The ordinary, then, becomes the astounding vehicle of the extraordinariness of God’s grace-filled presence in the messiness of the world in which we ‘live and move and have our being.’

This ‘sacramental’ perspective and ethic, touches most profoundly the holiness of the human person, created in the very image of God.  Our Catholic ‘pro-life’ ethic is profoundly rooted in this theological vision.  From the first moment of conception through to natural death, we hold to the intrinsic value of all persons, since they are indeed a reflection of their Divine Creator.

It is for this reason that one of my famous quotes from the 20th Century Anglican apologist, C.S. Lewis, has always been a source of inspiration and challenge in my walk of faith:

Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, the holiest object presented to our Christian senses is our brother or sister, for in him or her, God, the glorifier and the glorified, is truly present.

Friends, this ‘ordinary’ time now beckons us to reverence what the world might dismiss as all too unimportant, pedestrian, simple and unworthy of our time and attention.  We do that at our own peril, for within the ordinary, we can invariably find the extraordinary goodness of God’s grace-filled presence.

Sunday Reflection - Epiphany

We Catholics venerate our traditions.  So important is the role that tradition plays in our faith that we often posit that we are a faith founded upon both Scripture and Tradition.  In the many years that I was privileged to teach about the faith, I would invariably make a distinction between what I would call, big ‘T’ Traditions, and little ‘t’ traditions.  Big ‘T’ Traditions touch upon the very foundations of what it is we believe about the nature of Christ and his Church.  The creedal formulations of our belief, such as the Nicene Creed, would be one of the big ‘T’ Traditions of our faith.  Innumerable little ‘t’ traditions, down through the centuries, frame what we believe in lesser ways but, nevertheless, hold an endearing place in our life as Catholic Christians.  Such customs as ‘genuflecting’ before the Blessed Sacrament reserved in our Churches would be an example of a little ‘t’ tradition or custom of respect and honor given to the sacramental presence of the Lord in the Eucharist.  Fasting and abstaining from meat on the Fridays of Lent would be another small ‘t’ tradition of our Church.

As we continue to reflect on the meaning of the great mystery of the Incarnation during this Christmas Season, we mark and celebrate today the Solemnity of the Epiphany of the Lord, a feast rich with tradition.  The traditional images that take center stage today are, of course, the legendary three Kings who come from the East to present their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh before the newborn King, cradled in the arms of Mary his mother.  Only St. Matthew records this charming story for Christians of all ages, undoubtedly based upon the oral traditions that sourced Matthew’s recollections of this pivotal moment in the history of salvation.

These stories, biblical scholars tell us, are filled with symbolism to inspire and encourage Christians of all ages as we strive to ‘unpack’ the meaning and significance of the Incarnation. 

God’s particularity in selecting the Jewish people to be a people ‘peculiarly his own’ is a theme that is reinforced by one story after another in the Hebrew Scriptures.  With the longed for coming of the anointed one, a monumental break occurs in this traditional understanding of Jewish self-identity.  That break is dramatically and symbolically portrayed in the scene that is the focal point on this Feast of the Epiphany.  Wise men (Magi) from the East come to adore the Christ who has come to us in the vulnerability of a newborn infant.   

The narcissistic notion of ‘Israel first’ is forever shattered by the highly charged symbol of non-Jews, wise men from the East, Gentiles who were not part of the Mosaic covenant, being one of the first to behold the manifestation of God’s glory, clothed in human flesh and ‘lying in a manger.’  They were not the first, however, to behold this startling moment in history’s salvation.  No, the first to be drawn to wonder and adore were the shepherds and the sheep, cows and oxen – those that held no power and lived on the margins of society and the animals that they tended. 

Herein, my friends, lies the power and meaning of the mystery of the Incarnation that cannot be safely contained and controlled by mouthing defiantly ‘Merry Christmas’ to a world and a society that is hungering for more than platitudes.

God’s unearned and unfailing mercy and love has been made manifest to all of creation in Jesus who has now made his home with us.  That home particularly beckons with hospitality, the poor, the disenfranchised, the powerless, the nameless, the stranger, the alien and the widow.  Down through the centuries, we Christians have done our best to obscure the real meaning of Christ and his good news by siding with the cheap grace of reducing the good news to slogans that insulate us from the messiness of what it truly means to live the costly grace of the Gospel.  Whenever the gospel is subverted by worldly politics that gives only lip-service to Christ and his good news, we settle for cheap grace.  However, when we let the searing light of the Gospels, tear down the walls that separate God’s family from each other and we have the courage to forge greater solidarity among God’s holy people, then, we have paid the cost of true discipleship.

May this New Year that is upon us, be a time for all of us to be a people of the Epiphany as we manifest the all-embracing love of Christ to a world that longs to see his face.

Sunday Reflection - Feast of the Holy Family

It was 2:30 in the morning, December 23rd  some years ago.  Knowing that the next few days would be quite demanding, I tried to get to bed earlier than usual.  However, since I was on duty and responsible for emergency night calls, it fell to me to answer the emergency line which rang several times waking me from a sound sleep.  The call was from a local convalescent facility.  The nurse explained that one of the residents was near death and that her son was at her bedside requesting a priest.   Within 15 minutes I was at her bedside as I watched her son tenderly hold his dying mother’s hand and caress her face as he stood vigil beside her.   The other members of the family had been notified and they were arriving one by one at this painful yet graced moment of farewell.  We prayed together around their mother poised now between this world and eternity.  They shared with me briefly about the life and legacy of their mother.  Through their sorrow, there was a deep sense of gratitude for what their parents had left to them - a sense of responsibility to be moral guides to their own families, a wonderful sense of humor, a dedication to education, and finally a deep and abiding faith.  A faith that sustained them at this difficult hour.

As I left the bedside and walked out into the bracing winter morning my thoughts and prayers went out to this family.   I could not help but reflect on how important family is to all of us.  For it is the midst of the family that you and I first come to understand what it means to be a person in the most fundamental sense.  It is in the family that ideally, we come to know what it means to love and be loved; to give and receive; to forgive and be forgiven.  As Catholic Christians, it is in the midst of the family that we believe we first experience what it means to be Church - a community of believers - where the Lord Jesus is to be found in the daily give and take that is part of every family.  It is in the midst of the family that the legacy of faith is handed down lovingly from one generation to another. 

It should then come as no surprise to us that Jesus, the Lord and Savior of the World, would enter our world as a member of a human family with Mary as his mother and Joseph as her loving and caring husband.    The feast that draws us together calls us to remember and celebrate the gift of family - the gift of the Holy Family; the gift of our human families, and for us as a people of faith - the gift of our faith family in whatever faith communities we find ourselves drawn to.

While piety may idealize the Holy Family, we should never forget that like all families, Jesus, Mary and Joseph experienced the tensions and tragedies as well as hopes and joys that all families do.  Homelessness and financial hardship; misunderstanding and doubt; suffering in the face of persecution; the death of a husband and foster father; the understanding and love of a mother who had to endure the death of her own son - these were the moments that shaped the life of this Family from Nazareth.  Yet, in the midst of it all, there was a love that bound them together and would carry them from here to eternity.

This Feast of the Holy Family calls us to remember and be grateful for that reality which we can so easily take for granted.   Where family mealtime around the common table is sadly becoming an exception rather than the rule in many households, the Church calls us to stop and take the time to be grateful for what we have and who we have become because of our families.  Perhaps with Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter, this day could and should become another day to gather in a special way around a common table to give thanks to God for mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, brothers and sisters. As the author of the book of Sirach reminds us, we are to revere our fathers - even if their minds fail, and we are to bring comfort to our mothers; and as Paul in his letter to the Colossians reminds us, this is a day in which husbands should love their wives and not nag their children!

Finally, this Feast calls us to be thankful for who we are as a parish community who at its heart is a “family of faith.”  May the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary and Joseph continue to guide, protect and inspire our families and all communities which we are privileged to call our faith family in the Lord, now and in the New Year that is before us.

Christmas Reflection

It all began with a Christmas Tree.  It was December 1914 and the Great War was still young.  Along the Western Front, German solders on one side and British, French and Belgian troops on the other.  It took place in the improbable setting of the mud, cold rain and senseless killing of the trenches of World War I.  It happened in spite of orders to the contrary by superiors; it happened in spite of language barriers.  And it still stands as the only time in history that peace spontaneously arose from the lower ranks in a major conflict, bubbling up to the officers and temporarily turning sworn enemies into friends.

It began when German soldiers lit candles on a small Christmas tree.  That tree  was slowly raised above their heads in the trenches so that those on the other side of “no mans land” now strewn with the bodies of the dead, could see this most improbable site of candles twinkling in the darkness of night.  Then the carols began for it was Christmas eve.  Carols in English, French and German - crescendoing with “Silent Night” “Stile Nacht”.  Finally, one soldier tentatively started to crawl out of the trenches, very slowly - very tentatively.  He could see the same happening on the other side.  Finally, both sides were emerging from the darkness of the cold, damp trenches to meet each other on this Christmas night - not with guns and bayonets - but with the simple gifts received from home, plum pudding, cigars, cognac, and letters from worried mothers and fathers.  Yet, there was work to be done.  Soon both sides were gathering and burying the dead, in an age-old custom of truces. 

As the Sun of Christmas morning rose, it was surprisingly a crystal clear and bracingly cold day.  The spontaneous truce continued, eventually leading to friendly games of soccer.  These men in arms, naively hoped that the war would be short-lived, and that they were fraternizing with future friends.  When angry superiors ordered them to recommence the shooting, many men aimed harmlessly high overhead.  In the end, the troops had to be completely removed and replaced by new ones who merely saw the faceless and nameless enemy across “no mans” land.

My brothers and sisters, sometimes the greatest beauty emerges from deep tragedy. For people of faith, it all began with a baby cradled in his mother’s arms.  In the stark stillness of a Judean night, nestled in a cave-stable with the warmth of sheep and cattle and goats to comfort him, the King of all creation took on the vulnerability of a defenseless child.

That child whom we call wonder-counselor, Prince of Peace, would eventually grow to maturity and experience the deep tragedy of rejection and death as a common criminal.  Yet out of that paschal journey the greatest beauty would emerge...a truth that transfigures you and me. 

My brothers and sisters as we mark and celebrate the birth of our Savior this Christmas 2001 in the shadow of our nations deep tragedy, may we come to see and give thanks for the great beauty that continues to surprise us with its power to renew and bring forth light even in the midst of darkness:  For a deeper awareness that we are indeed our brothers’ and sisters’ keeper in this land of freedom; for friendships renewed, for faith rekindled, a passion for justice, and a profound reverence for all those who put their lives in harms way to protect the dignity and safety of all God’s children.  On this Christmas Day may we cherish the face of Christ, born again in those who give their lives in the service of others. 

O Come, let us Adore Him

Christ the Lord!

Sunday Reflection - Advent IV

There are two things that a seasoned pastor, particularly of a large parish, does not look forward to:  Christmas falling on a Sunday because you generally loose a Sunday collection! And, Christmas falling on a Monday because after celebrating all those masses for the Fourth Sunday of Advent, you turn around and in a matter of a few hours, begin celebrating masses for Christmas Eve!  Well, folks, it’s that latter situation that we have before us this year. 

With the great feast of Christmas occurring in just hours, it might be tempting for us to simply by-pass the rich meaning of God’s Word that we find in today’s celebration as we, like so many in our society and culture, rush forward to begin our Christmas rejoicing.  Yet, that would be unfortunate. For, our Scriptures this morning offer a marvelous opportunity for us to reflect on a central person in the Christmas story, and that is, Mary, Mother of the Lord.

We Catholics, together with Christians of the East and a growing number of our Protestant sisters and brothers, hold Mary in high esteem and venerate her role in the History of Salvation.  While the unfortunate caricature of the ill-informed have sometimes posited that we Catholics have ‘deified’ this woman, to the point of seeing her as more important than the Christ whom she bore, such nonsense could not be further from the truth.

Our true understanding, appreciation and veneration of this woman who was, indeed, ‘full of grace’ is anchored in the moving narrative story that the Church in her liturgy sets before us in today’s Gospel of Luke.  St. Luke, unlike the other Synoptic Gospel authors, presents unique narratives that touch upon the infancy of the child Jesus. It is to Luke that we owe our gratitude for preserving the ancient oral traditions and stories that have endeared themselves to us during the Christmas Season.  These stories begin with the dramatic encounter between Mary and the messenger of the Lord, the angel Gabriel.  Surprised by grace, Mary is greeted by this mysterious messenger of the Holy One and invited to share in the pivotal moment in the transformation of all history. 

The Church in her teaching never forgets that Mary was one like us in all things but sin.  God did not force his will upon her but was paradoxically ‘dependent’ upon Mary’s freedom to say ‘yes’ to his invitation to bear his Son, through the ‘overshadowing’ of the Holy Spirit.  With full human freedom, Mary’s ‘yes’ to the Father’s invitation would usher in the redemptive transformation of the cosmos that would be accomplished by her Son and Savior of the World.

So much of the meaning of this still point moment in the redemptive history of humanity is captured in the carols and songs that frame so beautifully the Christmas Season.  The 19th century carol, Tomorrow Shall Be My Dancing Day, sings of the moving significance of the Christmas story and the role that Mary, Mother of the Lord, continues to play as Mother of all believers in her Son.

Tomorrow shall be my dancing day;
I would my true love did so chance
To see the legend of my play,
To call my true love to my dance;

Sing, oh! my love, oh! my love, my love, my love,
This have I done for my true love.

Then was I born of a virgin pure,
Of her I took fleshly substance
Thus was I knit to man's nature
To call my true love to my dance.

Sunday Reflection - Rejoicing Sunday

An old man lived in New Guinea.  He made his living by cutting firewood for the mission hospital.  Everybody called him One Tooth, because his upper jaw contained just one tooth.  Besides cutting wood, the old man also spent a part of each day reading the Gospel to outpatients sitting in the hospital's waiting room.  Day after day, he shared his faith in Jesus with these suffering people.

Then one day something happened.  One Tooth began to have trouble reading.  At first, he thought it was something that would get better, but it didn't.  So, One Tooth went to see the hospital doctor.  After examining the old woodcutter, the doctor put his arm around the old man and said, "I have something difficult to tell you.  You're going blind, and there's nothing we can do."  "Oh no!" said One Tooth. "I'm already old. Now I'll be blind and useless, too." 

The next day One Tooth didn't show up at the hospital.  Nor did he show up the day after that.  One Tooth had vanished.  Later the doctor learned that One Tooth was living alone in a deserted part of the Island.  A boy who brought the old man food told the doctor where he was.  So, the doctor went to see One Tooth.  "What are you doing here?" the doctor asked.  One Tooth replied, "Ever since you told me I was going blind, I've been reading and memorizing the most important part of the Gospel.  I've already memorized Jesus' birth, several of his miracles and parables, and his death and resurrection.  "I've been repeating these over and over to the boy, to make sure I've got them right.  In about a week I'll be back at the hospital again, Doctor, telling the outpatients about Jesus."

Telling others about Jesus - that was what motivated old One Tooth to begin the difficult task of setting to memory the great Gospel stories.  Telling others about Jesus - that is what St. Paul was urging his early converts in Thessalonica to do.  Telling others about Jesus - that is what John the Baptist gave his life to, even to death, in the Gospel of today.

As Christians, we are all too painfully aware that we are not immune to the tragedies of life.  A young boy innocently riding in his parents’ car is killed instantly as a plane skids off an icy runway and crashes into the car.    Soldiers are taken from their loved ones in an instant of suicide bombing insanity.  A mother is presented with a life-threatening diagnosis by her physician.    No wonder, then, that Scott Peck in his now famous book, The Road Less Traveled, begins with the line, "Life is difficult".    Yes, life is difficult, yet for those whose lives are deeply rooted in the Gospel, for those whose minds and hearts have been fashioned by the promise and hope that Jesus Christ is in our lives,  then the pain and sorrow, the challenges and difficulties in life need not and will not have the final say.

The journey that began for Jesus in the backwater town of Bethlehem would lead him on a road that all of us have traveled at times.  He was loved by family and friends, but he also was misunderstood and misjudged.  He was consumed with passion in bringing the message of His Father to the world only to be crucified in the end like a common criminal.  But the darkness of this world could not hold him.  Through the transforming power of His Resurrection he opens a highway for all of us to face the darkness and pain of life with courage and hope.

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon us, because the Lord has anointed us; He has sent us to bring glad tidings to the lowly, to heal the brokenhearted, To proclaim liberty to the captives and release to the prisoners, To announce a year of favor from the Lord and a day of vindication by our God.

As we prayed in our Opening Prayer, in these final weeks of the Advent Season let us ask the Lord, "To prepare our hearts and remove the sadness that hinders us from feeling the joy and hope which his presence will bestow on us" now and in all the Seasons of our Life.

Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe

The Story that anchors today’s great Feast in honor of the Mother of God, continues to inspire and bring forth praise and thanks.

A poor Indian was baptized and given the name Juan Diego.  As a 57 year old widower, he lived in a small village near Mexico City.  On Saturday morning, December 9th, 1531, he was on his way to a nearby barrio to attend Mass in honor of Our Lady.

He was walking by a hill called Tepeyac, when he heard beautiful music like the sound of birds.  A radiant cloud appeared and within it there was the vision of a young Native American maiden dressed like an Aztec princess.  The lady spoke to him in his own language and sent him to the bishop of Mexico, a Franciscan, named Juan de Zumarraga.  The bishop was to build a chapel in the place where the lady appeared.

Eventually the bishop told Juan Diego to have the lady give him a sign.  About the same time Juan Diego's uncle became seriously ill.  This led poor Diego to try to avoid the lady.  The lady found Diego, nevertheless, assured him that his uncle would recover and provided roses for Juan to carry to the bishop in his cape or tilma.  Juan Diego opened his tilma in the bishop's presence, the roses fell to the ground and the bishop sank to his knees.  On Juan Diego's tilma appeared a painting of Mary as she had appeared at the hill of Tepeyac.  It was December 12th, 1531.

The meaning of this event particularly for those of us who are the ancestors of those men and women who carefully handed down the faith to us here in the Americas is profoundly important.  Mary's appearance to Juan Diego, who has now been canonized as a Saint of our Church, is a powerful reminder that Mary and the God who sent her accept, all peoples.  In the context of the sometimes rude and cruel treatment of the Indians by the Spaniards, the apparition was a rebuke to the Spaniards and an event of vast significance for Native Americans.  For up to this point, few had been converted to the faith.  But with the spread this story that the Mother of the one whom Christians called the Christ, had appeared as one like themselves, speaking their language, over nine million Indians became Catholic in a relatively short period of time.   No longer was the faith viewed as an alien belief brought by Western conquers, but now it was seen embracing them in one like themselves.  Once again, the ancient Christian belief was realized - "Ad Jesum per Mariam" - "To Jesus through Mary".

An ancient chronicler records for us the words that Mary spoke to Juan Diego on that hillside 486 years ago.  They are words that continue to inspire, comfort and support us in this Advent Season:

My dearest son, I am the eternal Virgin Mary, Mother of the true God, Author of Life, Creator of all and Lord of the Heavens and of the Earth...and it is my desire that a church be built here in this place for me, where, as your most merciful Mother and that of all your people, I may show my loving clemency and the compassion that I bear to the Indians, and to those who love and seek me..."

As devoted sons and daughters of Mary, Mother of our Savior and Mother of the Church, may we continue to hold her in a special place in our lives of faith.  May her simple faith and complete trust in the Lord's will for her be an inspiration for us all as we await the Advent of her Son at the Feast of His Birth.

Sunday Reflection - Advent II

Some time ago, I had the good fortune of having lunch with one of our elected officials.  After our time together I came away with a much better understanding of the unique challenges facing those who are elected to public office in this day and age.  While elected officials at times must face the unfair caricature of being inflated with their own self-importance, making decisions motivated by selfish interest, it was refreshing for me to hear the moral struggle and soul searching that this individual candidly shared with me when it came to being a leader of principle and conviction. 

To be a person of principle and conviction has never been an easy task.  To be a person of principle and conviction is to live our lives out of a personal character that has been shaped by the perennial values of goodness, fairness, integrity, compassion and a commitment to the truth.  The term “character” has been defined as the collective qualities or characteristics, esp. mental and moral, that distinguish a person or thing. [The Oxford Modern English Dictionary, Second Edition]

In the second letter of Peter today, we are challenged with the question, “What sort of persons ought you to be...?”  What is it about our character that should distinguish us as a man or woman of integrity?  My sisters and brothers, one of the great tragedies in our contemporary society is that in midst of incredible scientific and technological advances, what has become of the person of character? 

The word of God during this Advent Season helps us all to reflect on the qualities that should shape our lives if we are to be men and women of character. 

The Prophet Isaiah sets before us the image of a God whose greatness is imaged through compassion.  “Like a shepherd he feeds his flock; in his arms he gathers the lambs, carrying them in his bosom, and leading the ewes with care.”   Compassion is that human characteristic that enables us to be merciful and to enter into the struggles of others.  More often than not, there is no material gain that comes from compassion.  You’ll rarely find that term on the pages of the Wall Street Journal or in the Congressional Record.  But it is compassion that has the ability to shape our lives and our hearts into being men and women of Gospel Integrity.

In the letter of Peter, we hear that we are to conduct ourselves “in holiness and devotion, waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God...”  A person of character, possesses a perspective on life that sees beyond the hear and now.   The fatalism that so often stifles creativity and hope gives way to the realistic expectation that in the end, all will be well because our lives and our world are in the hand of a good and loving God.   A person of character can indeed say together with the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., “I have a dream...”  That dream is not pie in the sky wishful thinking, but rather living our lives trusting in the power and providence of the God of gift and promise.

In the Gospel of Mark on this Second Sunday of the Advent Season our liturgy presents us with the familiar Advent character, John the Baptist.  John’s greatness as a man of character was shaped by a keen understanding that one mightier than himself was coming after him.  John knew who he was.  He knew his strengths and his gifts.  But he was also aware that his call in life was to point to another - Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths. 

A person of character is a person for others.  A person of character is one whose greatest meaning and joy in life comes from his or her ability to be at the service of others.  A person of Christian character is one who humbly acknowledges that there is indeed one mightier than oneself to whom belongs obedience in faith and that is the God of our lives and surrender to the one has come in his name, the Lord of our lives.

During this Advent season, let us open our lives to the power of God’s spirit that our character may more and more be shaped by a sense of compassion, a vision of hope for the future and a humble acknowledgment of the one who is Lord of this Advent Season and all the seasons of our lives.

Sunday Reflection - Advent I

The telephone rang and woke me from a very sound sleep at around 2:00 AM.  I had just been ordained a few months and was just getting into the routine of my new life as a priest.  Yet, these early morning calls were still taking some time to adjust to.  I could hear muffled voices in the background as a rather distraught voice said, “Father, we need you quickly, there’s been a sudden death in the family.”  I quickly and carefully wrote down the address, knowing that I do not have an innate sense of direction.  Mind you, these were the days before GPS devices in cars!  Throwing on my clerics, I made my way to the home. Cars were arriving and distraught family members were being greeted at the doorway.  The family saw the collar before they saw my face and were relieved that I had arrived.  They quickly ushered me into the bedroom.  The father, grandfather, brother, uncle and friend to many had been suffering from a minor illness.  No one expected this.  It was sudden and swift.  Shock was registered on all their faces.  I gathered those who were there around the bed as we prayed the prayers for the dead and I invited each member to gently trace the cross on their beloved’s forehead.  Soon, the mortuary staff would arrive and the ancient and comforting rituals of leave taking of our Church would unfold. 

My friends, in the course of my 45 years as a priest, that scene would repeat itself and time again in my life.  Yet, thankfully and with God’s grace, never routine but always providing a graced moment of pause and reflection reminding me and all those gathered in shock and sadness that, “we have not here a lasting city.”

As we mark once again as a community of believers a new beginning in this new Liturgical Year on this First Sunday of Advent, God’s word challenges us with its familiar theme of ‘watchfulness’ at the coming of the Lord. St. Mark reminds us that, “you do not know when the Lord of the house is coming….”  Indeed, while there are those whose final chapter in life’s journey comes slowly and predictably as a result of some serious and lingering illness, we are reminded of those, like our beloved service men and women, who in these recent years of conflict have been tragically taken from their families suddenly and swiftly.

While these readings might easily conjure up the unsettling feelings of dread and apprehension particularly for us living in a death denying culture, for the faithful Christian, my friends, our focus should be on a beautiful passage in today’s second reading from St. Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, “God is faithful…”  Indeed, for those whose hearts rest secure in the unfailing mercy of our loving God, each of the chapters of our lives, the inevitable twists and turns, the moments of triumph and failure, the times of indescribable joy and numbing fear, all of them are companioned by the one who has known these feelings and experienced them himself and now Triumphs as victor over sin and death.  The Lord of life, Jesus, is indeed Savior – OUR Savior who stands ready to free us from our fears about both the past and the future, fears that that can so often and easily rob us of living the present moment that is before us.

And so, my friends, let us “be watchful!” and “ready,” for the innumerable surprises that the Lord has in store for us in our journey to the fullness of the Kingdom.

Sunday Reflection - Christ the King

The Roman Emperor Constantine was baptized in 337. He put it off for years. In the early church Christians could only confess their sins once in their lives, so Constantine remained a catechumen until he was nearing the end. Despite what The Di Vinci Code says, when he thought his death was imminent, and that he could probably sin no more, Constantine asked for baptism, received Holy Communion, and later confessed his sins. It was a watershed moment for the church.

In 313, a few years before his death, Constantine had already declared that Christianity was to be the new state religion. No one could hold any other belief. It was meant to unify the Empire as trade, law, taxation, and Roman culture had done. In retrospect, I think it would be safe to conclude that this move has been a mixed blessing for the church ever since.

On the positive side of the ledger, it finally sealed the end of the persecution of the earliest Christians. The blood of the martyrs had been so eloquent that their witness caused even a few emperors to ask what sort of love would see so many followers be prepared to die for their beliefs. It also saw the church become a significant player in shaping the values of society, especially in the West. There is no question that Christianity moderated, cultivated, and humanized some of the worst of Roman excesses.

On the cost side, the church became very powerful very quickly. Bishops started to wear the purple robes of the senators. Churches took on the shape of the Roman basilicas, while the government of the church mirrored that of the Empire. Our liturgy imported all sorts of practices that were popular in the Roman temples. Tragically, for the next few hundred years, conversions were demanded at the end of a sword. No religious dissent or pluralism was tolerated. It’s in this context that Islam arises against imperial Christianity in the sixth century.

It cannot surprise us that after Constantine’s conversion the image of Christ the King became one of the most popular ones used in religious art. Up to this time the image of Jesus as the Good Shepherd was the most represented. After 313, however, Jesus is dressed in royal robes, with a crown, scepter and orb. Mary is often presented in similar dress and starts to be called Queen of Heaven.

The problem with all this is not that worldly imperial language was now being used in reference to Jesus. For before Pilate, the day of his crucifixion, Jesus referred to himself as a king. Christianity, however, started to forget that Jesus also pointed out that his kingdom was “not of this world” and that his followers could be recognized by how they feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, welcome  strangers, cloth the naked, care for the sick, and visit prisoners. Jesus reign and his followers are of an altogether different order from that usually prized in worldly kingdoms.

My brothers and sisters, that’s why today’s feast is so important. On the last Sunday of the church year we are challenged by Christ our King to give our true allegiance to what really matters. Not ambition, greed, status, and power, but the quiet revolutionary work of making the world a more just and peaceful place for everyone to live in.

To the degree that we do this we are coheirs to the kingdom Jesus lived, died, and was raised for, then we are witnesses to the real meaning of Christ’s reign in our lives.

Thanksgiving Day - 2017

The holiday that we celebrate this day in our Nation, has its roots deep within the history of this land. Historians tell us that after the first harvest was completed by the Plymouth colonists in 1621, Governor William Bradford proclaimed a day of thanksgiving and prayer, shared by all the colonists and neighboring Indians. In 1623 a day of fasting and prayer during a period of drought was changed to one of thanksgiving because the rain came during the prayers. Gradually the custom prevailed in New England of annually celebrating thanksgiving after the harvest. During the American Revolution a yearly day of national thanksgiving was suggested by the Continental Congress.

In 1871 New York State adopted Thanksgiving Day as an annual custom, and by the middle of the 19th century many other states had done the same. In 1863 President Abraham Lincoln appointed a day of thanksgiving, and since then each president has issued a Thanksgiving Day proclamation, generally designating the fourth Thursday of November as a National holiday.

Over the years this Holiday has naturally endeared itself to the people who call this land their home. At the heart of this celebration stands the meal around which family and friends gather to give thanks for the rich bounty of this Land. God forbid that anyone should tamper with traditional fixings clustered around the big bird.

In an issue of Newsweek magazine, some years ago, I was amused by the following article and would like to share it with you. It was entitled Mom in a Can:

Beware Turkeys Bearing air freshener. Chicago's Fairmont Hotel has its own holiday catering service, promising to cook up a giblet-to-pumpkin-pie Thanksgiving dinner for any host with $ 79 to spare, six to eight people to feed and a desire to spend T-day in pursuits other than basting. Far less tempting, however, is the new pie-scent-in-a-spray-can they threaten to throw in with every order. The idea is to fool guests into thinking you labored over a hot stove all day, stuffing the bird and delumping the gravy. Samples that promised fresh apple and pumpkin pie scents, however, were reminiscent of a perfume counter, not a kitchen!

While this account may be a far cry from what the colonists had in mind, nevertheless, it is the desire to speak our thanks around a meal that continues to be so closely connected to this Holiday celebration.

For us, as Christians, it is only natural that we associate Thanksgiving with a meal. At the center of our life of prayer stands the meal of the Eucharist, that remembers and gives thanks to the one in whom "we live and move and have our being". This moment is called the "great remembrance" for in it, you and I are invited by the Lord to become a people of gratitude for the many ways in which our lives have been enriched by the giver of all good gifts.

As we gather with family friends around our Thanksgiving tables that bear the bounty of this Land, - whether its homemade or not - let us be grateful for the simple gifts that we can so often take for granted:

The gift of our lives in this land of freedom.

The gift of those who love us and whom we love.

The gift of our children who will shape the future of this Land.

The gift of our faith that gathers here in Thanksgiving.

May this Thanksgiving Day be an opportunity for us all to "grow rich in the sight of God" in this land "from sea to shining sea".

Sunday Reflection - How are we using our talents?

The Reader's Digest is translated into 15 different languages.  It sells over 28 million copies each month.  Assuming each copy is read by four people, the Reader's Digest touches the lives of 100 million people monthly.  One of the magazine's occasional features is called "Heroes for Today."  For example, some years ago an issue featured three people whom it considered to be heroes for our time.

One of these heroes is Bob Wieland.  When Bob went to Vietnam in 1969, he was six feet tall and weighed 200 pounds.  When he came back from Vietnam a few years later, he was three and a half feet tall and weighed 87 pounds.  Bob had malaria and a temperature of 106 degrees.  He was strapped to a board and packed in ice.  Later he joked, "Outside of having no legs and being a physical wreck, I wasn't in bad shape."  In 1993, nearly 25 years later, at the age of 45, Bob competed in the 26-mile New York Marathon.  He covered the entire distance on his hands, propelling himself along in a leapfrog fashion.

The second Reader's Digest "hero for today" is John Penne, a retired businessman.  He and his wife both developed cancer at the same time.  His wife died, but John lives; and his cancer went into remission.  While driving back and forth from the hospital for regular treatment, John noticed the number of sick people waiting at the hospital's bus stop.  Sometimes the weather was bitter cold and these people, many of them elderly, were obviously in pain.  John went to the local chapter of the American Cancer Society and said, "Give me a car and a little gas money, and I'll volunteer my days driving these unfortunate people home."  For over 15 years now, John has donated all of his time doing just that.

The final hero is a bit different.  He's Bubba Smith.  A former college and pro football star, Bubba won national fame for his beer commercials on television.  In October 1985, Michigan State University honored Bubba by making him the grand marshal of its homecoming parade.  Bubba was thrilled to be back at his old alma mater.  As he rode through the student-lined streets, one side started chanting, "Tastes great!"  The other side chanted back, "Less filling!" It was obvious that Bubba's commercials had impressed a lot of young people.  That night Bubba was deeply disturbed.  At a rally, he saw many of those same students.  Only this time - as they say - they were totally wasted - drunk out of their minds.  Then and there he made a decision.  He would stop doing the beer commercials.  Bubba was concerned that his commercials were influencing a lot of young people.  "I was selling to children," he said.  Bubba's decision cost him a lot of money.  But Bubba was convinced that something more than money was at stake.

All three of these stories put flesh and bones on the central story that the Lord sets before us in today's Gospel.  Each of these individuals were given an opportunity like the servants in today's parable to make some life changing choices in their lives with the gifts and talents God had given them.  It is interesting that the man in the Lord's parable with the least amount of money or talents is the one who made no effort to do anything with his talents.  He probably reasoned that he had so little in comparison to the others that he could be excused.    How different from the first two "heroes for today":  the Vietnam vet and the cancer patient.  If anybody had a legitimate excuse for doing the minimum with the rest of their lives, they did.  Instead they are doing the maximum with their lives.   The final "hero for today" however is a kind of reverse case.  He's more like the man in the parable who was given the largest sum of money. Yet, Bubba' decision was motivated not by selfish concerns but rather by a value beyond fame or money.  He felt a need to make a dramatic statement - one of far more importance than fame or money. 

The point of today's parable and hero stories should be obvious.  How are we using the talents God has given us?  As our liturgical year draws to a close and the Advent Season nears, it is fitting that we ponder St. Paul's words to us this day, "Brothers and sisters, you yourselves know very well that the day of the Lord will come like a thief at night...Therefore, let us not sleep...but let us stay alert and sober.”  In other words, you and I are going to be held accountable for what we do with our talents.  And that day of accountability may be closer than we think.

Let's close with this prayer:

Lord, teach us to be generous.  Teach us to serve you as you deserve; to give and not to count the cost; to fight and not to heed the wounds; to toil and not to seek for rest; to labor and not to ask for reward, except to know that we are doing your will" - and using our talents to the best of our ability.

Sunday Reflection - Who will go with me on my final journey?

"We do not want you to be unaware, brothers and sisters, about those who have fallen asleep." These words from our second reading direct our attention to a subject we mostly try to avoid: death. The Church puts death front and center during this month of November. It begins with All Saints’ Day, which is immediately followed by All Souls’ Day, when we pray in a special way for our departed loved ones.

The celebrated eighteenth century Englishman and wit, Dr. Samuel Johnson, said once: "Depend upon it, Sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it does concentrate his mind wonderfully." In a sense, we are all like the man who knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight. We all know we must die. What better time to think about death than in this month of November, when we can do so calmly and prayerfully, rather than pushing the whole uncomfortable subject out of our thoughts until the knife is at our throat?

In our second reading Paul says that when the Lord Jesus returns in glory, those who have already died "will rise first. Then we who are alive ... will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air." That is poetry. It is symbolic, not literal. Throughout the Bible clouds symbolize God’s presence. God appeared to Moses in a cloud atop Mount Sinai to give him the Ten Commandments (Ex. 24:15-18). God spoke from the same cloud at Jesus’ transfiguration (Mk 9:7). At his ascension Jesus disappeared into a cloud (Acts 1:9). He said he would come again "on the clouds of heaven" (Mk 14:62).

People who say that we must take every word in the Bible literally, miss the poetry in Paul’s language, turning it into prose. Though ironically, they say that Jesus’ words at the Last Supper, "This is my body," are not literal but only symbolic, they believe that the words about being "caught up to meet the Lord in the air" mean that at Jesus’ return those still living will rise vertically into the air to meet him. They call this "the rapture." That explains the bumper stickers you may have seen: "In case of rapture, this vehicle will be unmanned."

If you look at the Sunday religious broadcasts on television, most of them produced by fundamentalist Protestants, you will hear preaching about "the rapture", and very likely a song about it: "See you at the rapture." The TV preachers contend that Christ’s return in glory, and what they call "the rapture", are just around the corner. They offer many biblical texts to prove this.

Using the Bible in that way, taking isolated texts out of context, it is possible to prove just about anything. In reality, the Bible nowhere gives us any kind of timetable for predicting the end of the world. Jesus himself says quite specifically: "That day or that hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, not even the Son, but only the Father" (Mk 13:32). The TV preachers are onto something, however. The Bible does tell us that we are living in the final age of world history. How long this age will last, we cannot know. What we do know is that history is not aimless. It is moving toward an end pre-determined by God. At that end, the power of evil, already crippled by Jesus’ victory on Calvary, will be swept away, and God will reign unhindered.

The Bible tells us that we are to prepare for this great and final event, and for our own personal death, not by speculation about the date, but by living here and now in the light of Christ’s return and God’s final triumph. This means living not for ourselves, but for God and for others. It means pursuing justice instead of exploitation; trying to build people up rather than tearing them down; being more interested in giving than in getting. That way of living is the "wisdom" we heard about in our first reading: "The perfection of prudence," that reading told us, which makes those who pursue it "quickly free from care."

In today’s gospel reading Jesus warns that those who spurn this wisdom, living for themselves, heedless of life’s meaning and of God’s claims on them, are headed for disaster. They are like the foolish bridesmaids who made no preparations. They assumed that they could always get more oil for their torches whenever they needed it, and that the door of the house would be opened for them even if they arrived late. The foolish bridesmaids are shocked to discover that, at the decisive hour, they are unprepared, and excluded. Until then there seemed to be no difference between the wise and foolish bridesmaids. "They all became drowsy and fell asleep," Jesus tells us. The midnight call to action finds the wise prepared, however, and the foolish unprepared.

Somewhere right now someone is asking: When will the midnight call come for me? Which of us has never asked that question? Jesus himself gives us the answer: "You cannot know the day or the hour." Does this mean we must live always tense, on tiptoe? That is impossible, and Jesus never asks the impossible. Jesus’ warning in this parable is cause for anxiety only for people who live carelessly and thoughtlessly.

Let me conclude by telling you the story of the medieval morality play Everyman. At the play’s opening Everyman is walking home, thinking happily of dinner, family, and fireside. He almost bumps into a black-clad figure. Startled, he asks the man’s name.

"My name is Death," the man replies. "I have come to take you with me."

"There must be some mistake," Everyman insists. "I never felt better in my life."

"There is no mistake," Death tells him. "You must come with me."

Desperate, Everyman pleads: "At least let me bring a friend with me. I don’t want to go alone."

Death smiles, "If you can find a friend who will go with you, he may come. I will give you one hour. Then meet me here."

Everyman hurries back toward town to the house of a friend he knows well, knocks on the door, and pours out his story to his friend. The man looks at him with mingled sadness and terror. "I cannot come, my friend. It’s impossible." The friend’s name is "Riches." Increasingly desperate, Everyman hurries to the house of a second friend, then to a third. In each case the answer is a frightened, "I’m sorry. I cannot come." Their names are "Fame" and "Pleasure."

Slowly Everyman turns back down the path to his rendezvous with Death. As he walks along, he comes upon another old friend, one he has not seen lately. Without much hope, he tells his sad story again. To his astonishment, this friend replies: "Sure, I’ll go with you." His name is "Good Deeds."

Death was a familiar figure in the Middle Ages. Average life expectancy was under forty; infant mortality was common. There were no hospitals or nursing homes. People tended their dying and buried their dead. Death at a great age was rare. Today we take it for granted. We Americans tend to insulate ourselves from death. When it comes, we cosmeticize it. Perhaps it’s all a way of trying to avoid Everyman’s question:

Who will go with me on my final journey?

Sunday Reflection - Service in Humility

Few Presidents in modern times have elicited the strong emotional reactions as President Donald Trump.  Either you are delighted in the unconventional and ‘tell it like it is’ manner that he exhibits with virtually every tweet or you have a strong visceral reaction of revulsion at his abrasive and ‘un-presidential’ demeanor.  There is no question that in the annals of American Presidents, President Trump will go down in history, for good or ill, as one who has broken the mold when it comes to the character and temperament for an American President.

Political analysts of the 2016 election have stated that it was the Evangelical Christian vote that catapulted Trump to win his relatively thin Electoral College majority.  The President’s late in life ‘conversion’ to the pro-life agenda as well as his vociferous commitment to naming a Supreme Court Justice ‘in the ideological image’ of Justice Antonin Scalia, a promise he kept, were extremely helpful in garnering the vote of this constituency for whom these values played a central motivating force.

In the shadow of the 500th Anniversary of Martin Luther’s Reformation, Evangelical Christianity is that branch of the Christian Church for whom the word of God as found in the Scriptures presents the inerrant and foundational core of what it means to be a Christian.  Often viewing the word of God from a fundamentalist perspective, these sacred words are to be interpreted literally.  If the Book of Genesis states that creation took place in seven days, then who are we to say otherwise?  Evangelical Christianity often views the moral dilemmas of contemporary life from a simple or simplistic ‘black and white’ perspective.  Invariably, the defining criterion for virtuous living can be summarized in the simple phrase, “What would Jesus do?”

As we reflect on God’s word this Sunday, our Gospel taken from St. Matthew, presents a dramatic and stirring image of ‘what Jesus did’ when he encountered the duplicity and hypocrisy of the religious leadership of his time, the scribes and the Pharisees.  In contemporary parlance, the term ‘Pharisee’ is synonymous with hypocrisy.  Not so, at the time of Jesus.  Pharisees were the scrupulous keepers of the Law of Moses.  It was their responsibility to keep alive the flame of the Mosaic law that mediated God’s presence and ratified his covenant with them.  However, as is sometimes the case with ‘professional’ religious leadership, the law that they were to mediate to the people was far from their own hearts.  It was precisely this duplicity, this failure to let God’s word and law permeate and transform their own lives that prompted Jesus to righteous judgment against them.

For Jesus, religious integrity has nothing to do with titles and everything to do with conversion of the heart.  And, for Jesus, the first step in that conversion begins with the virtue of humility.  The word ‘humility’ comes from the Latin word for ‘earth’ or ‘soil.’  Humility, then, is a clear-eyed understanding that all that we have and all that we are comes by way of gift from the One who is the giver of all good gifts.  Humility is the virtue that acknowledges that, in the end, we are not the masters of the universe but rather, we are called to be stewards of all that comes to us by way of gift from the loving hand of our God. 

Hence, from Jesus’ perspective, the greatest leaders, whether religious or political, are ones that understand that their ultimate credibility will be determined in proportion to their ability to humbly serve the needs of others.  The greatest leaders in our world have invariably learned from their brokenness and have humbly acknowledged that greatness will inevitably be found in humble service of their sisters and brothers.

The greatest among you must be your servant.
Whoever exalts himself will be humbled;
but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.

Reflections on All Soul's Day - November 2nd

In his fascinating and incredibly insightful book entitled, Being Mortal: Medicine and what Matters in the End, Dr. Atul Gawande speaks of the challenges that physicians struggle with when confronted with the inevitable human reality of death.  Trained to bring comfort and healing to the sick, often, the dying process in their patients and death itself are viewed as failure.  However, there is a growing consciousness today among physicians and care givers of the invaluable role that doctors and nurses can play in companioning their patients, providing comfort and dignity in this final chapter in life’s journey.  This companioning can be especially and movingly realized in those involved with hospice, a type of care and philosophy focused on helping the dying pass through this chapter in their lives with dignity, autonomy and with as little pain as possible.

My brothers and sisters, as we mark and celebrate this All Soul’s Day, the church calls us on this day of remembrance to continue to companion our loved ones who have died with our own grateful memories and prayers.  For all who have experienced the death of a family member, loved one or dear friend or acquaintance this past year, know that we continue to surround you with our prayers as you mourn the loss of a husband or wife, father or mother, a dear son or daughter, beloved grandparent or a dear and cherished friend.

Sooner or later most of us have the experience of watching a loved one move through his or her final days and then pass from this earth.  It can be a tremendously sad process for those who are about to be left behind and who know in advance the loneliness that will be theirs.  But in most cases, there’s a marvelous and touching grace-filled aspect of this process as well, and that is watching our dying friend progressively letting go of all sorts of things that don’t count, old baggage in the form of grievances, fears, doubts, and so much more.  It’s a grace for the bystanders to watch that happen, and it presses us to let go of our own baggage sooner rather than later.

Yet, even the best of us, even the saints, leave this life with at least a little bit of unfinished business and a bit of left over baggage.  And that’s why we Catholics pray for the dead.  Our prayers are not aimed at changing God’s mind about our departed friends.  God’s mind doesn’t need any changing.  His love for us is unchanging, and he’s always ready and waiting to welcome home even the worst of us.

No, our prayers are for the deceased themselves, that they will relax in the Lord and let the Lord help them let go of what remains of their old baggage, and help them finish what is unfinished in them.  For those whose hearts are loving and trusting of the Lord, it will come naturally to open their hearts and let the Lord in.  For those of us whose hearts are more ambivalent and in the habit of withholding trust, the work will be more difficult.

So, my friends, on this All Souls Day, hold in prayer all the deceased whom you love, and look to your own heart, that it may be open and welcoming to each of God’s people now.  This day and every day are dress rehearsals for that final day when you and I will give back our heart to the One who gave it to us.

May our heart be true and open and ready this day and always.

Sunday Reflection: Faith and Good Works

This coming Tuesday, October 31st, the eve of All Saints Day, we will mark the 500th anniversary of a turning point moment in the History of Christianity in the Western World.  On that day in 1517, a little-known Augustinian Friar and professor of theology at in the relatively obscure college town of Wittenberg, Germany, by the name of Martin Luther, nailed 95 objections or theses to the door of the collegiate chapel.  These theses were points of contention that Luther had with the prevailing theology of the Roman Catholic Church.  To be more precise, they were pointed objections to a caricature of Catholic theology that was being popularized among the poorly educated folk in Germany.  At the heart of these objections was the popular practice of making indulgences available for an ‘offering’ and thus obtaining the remission of temporal punishment for the souls in purgatory, enabling them to experience heavenly bliss.  In the all too crass popularization of these indulgences, the tenuously thin line between ‘offering’ and ‘selling’ was all too often crossed.  For the pious Luther, a man who had spent his life to this date wrestling with the Word of God, this practice was the very antithesis of the great conversion that had been percolating in his life. 

In the recently published biography of Luther by Eric Metaxas, the author tells the story of a good and pious man who sought to do God’s will but felt his life to be an utter failure in God’s eyes.  Endlessly confessing his sins, he continued to doubt that anything he did for the Lord was ever good enough.  He fasted, prayed endlessly, confessed his sins with greater frequency and yet, he was forever tormented by the spiritual and psychological angst rooted in the self-perception of his worthlessness. 

Luther lived at a time when few Christians were familiar with the Word of God in the Scriptures.  Prior to the invention of movable type, copies of the Bible were rare and more often than not, carefully guarded in monasteries.  Even the clergy were poorly educated in the Word of God and rarely preached to the people at Mass, a ritual that itself was done in a language totally incomprehensible by the common folk.

Luther as a university professor and specialist in Scripture, found himself more and more pondering the meaning of God’s Word that was now becoming more accessible through the invention of the printing press.  It was his pondering and wrestling with the Word that eventually led to the tectonic revolution of insight in his life, catapulting him to this moment of defiance at the doors of the University chapel. 

As we have heard in the conclusion of our first reading from the Book of Exodus, the Lord reminds his hearers that he is ‘compassionate.’ Compassion is the irrevocable hallmark of God’s nature.  Luther in his pivotal conversion moment, came to realize that no matter how many prayers, fastings, indulgences one might earn in life, they can never be a substitute for the utter gratuity of God’s unfailing and amazing grace, or unearned love, that is accessible by faith alone.  Hence, this notion of ‘faith alone’ – ‘sola fide,’ became the rallying cry for the revolution that would come to be known as the Reformation.

Viewing this moment from the perspective of the post-Conciliar, 21st century, we thank God that the division in the Body of Christ occasioned by the Reformation is more and more experiencing moments of healing and greater understanding.  Some years ago, we rejoiced in a joint declaration by both the Lutheran Church and the Roman Catholic Church, affirming a common understanding and appreciation for the priority of faith and God’s amazing grace in the process of salvation, with good works as a manifestation of what it means to be God’s redeemed people in Christ.  Rather than viewing ‘faith’ and ‘good works’ as a matter of ‘either/or,’ it is now understood as another example of the Christian, ‘both/and.’

In our Gospel reading today from St. Matthew, the Lord sets before us the Great Commandment, to love God above all things and to love our neighbor as ourselves.  One great writer opined that in this one phrase we have the essence of God’s holy word, the rest is merely commentary.

As we remember this turning point moment in the Christian Church, may it be an opportunity for us all to humbly acknowledge the brokenness that has so often characterized the human face of the Church.  Yet, out of that brokenness and with humility, may we come to an ever more deeper awareness of the Lordship of Christ and our own role as servants of the word.

Sunday Reflection: Making choices

The sum and substance of our lives are made up of a variety of choices that you and I make will make in the course of our lives.  At regular intervals in our Country, we have the great opportunity and privilege of making critical choices at the ballot box that will impact the course of our Country in the years to come.  Whether those choices deal with persons for public office, or choices that can impact State and National policies - these choices are important because of the potential impact they can have on who we are as a Nation.

God’s word today, particularly in the Gospel of Matthew, sets before us the familiar scene of Jesus being challenged to make a choice in his life.  A choice that his antagonists, the Pharisees and Herodians, were hoping would not only create a dilemma for Jesus but more importantly would potentially pit him against either the State or his co-religionists, his Jewish brothers and sisters.

With the insight and skill that our modern day presidential debaters perhaps wished they themselves had, Jesus uses the image of the denarius - the common coin of that time - to point out that the “either/or” question that he was presented with, could very realistically be answered “both/and”.  In other words, it was not a matter of either paying taxes to Caesar and compromising one’s religious commitments.  Rather, as children of the light - men and women of the Kingdom of God, we are called to be a leaven of righteousness in the world in which we live - influencing the political structures that are part of our lives with the values that come from God.

In the not too distant past, we Catholics were sometimes questioned as to whether we could play a role in the political life of our Country.  The first Roman Catholic to run for the office of the President in our Land, Alfred E. Smith of New York, was bitterly opposed primarily because of his Catholic faith and suspicions among many that he would be more loyal to the Pope than to his Country.  That same argument raised its ugly head when John F. Kennedy ran for the office of the President in the early 60's. For Kennedy, the turning point, however, occurred in a famous pre-election speech at a Baptist Convocation in Texas when he basically reiterated the substance of what Jesus stated centuries before to his detractors - pointing out the proper areas of responsibility for the State and for the Church. 

In recent years, however, the separation clause in our Constitution between Church and State has sadly been interpreted as almost an adversarial relationship between the two.   Hopefully as Catholics we approach and shape the political choices that we make based upon the values and convictions that flow from our Gospel beliefs regarding the importance of justice and equity; a consistent life ethic that sees the intrinsic value of all life from womb to tomb.  The decisions that we make as we mark our ballots are ones that balance the rights of the individual with our responsibility to be “our brother or sisters” keeper - insuring the basic dignity of all people especially the poor and the powerless.

As Catholics, we cannot abdicate our responsibility to be part of a civil and public discourse that challenges others to see the great issues that confront us in our Country in the light of the Gospel of Christ. 

As faithful citizens let us pray for the wisdom and insight to be good citizens of this land of freedom.   Good citizens who are willing to let the convictions and values we hold shape the choices we make in our daily life and in the life and destiny of our Country.

Sunday Reflection: Have you been saved?

Of all the theological terms that are frequently tossed around among Christians, the term salvation is one of the most misunderstood and misused of them all.  What does it mean to be saved?  I’m sure at one time or another we’ve been approached by an enthusiastic Christian of the evangelical fundamentalist variety who has recently had a dramatic experience of the Lord in his or her life.  Bursting forth with zeal they approach us with that fundamental question: Have you been saved?  or Have you received the Holy Spirit?  I have often told the story of a wonderfully holy yet bit naive woman who ran up to the late Cardinal Timothy Manning at a Confirmation.  She was bursting with her newly experienced charismatic fervor and asked the Cardinal, “Have you received the Holy Spirit?”  Without missing a beat or losing one once of episcopal composure, he turned to her and said, “Madam, I give the Holy Spirit.”

Confronted with these fundamental questions that touch at the heart of our Christian existence, God’s word to us this day provides a healthy and traditional guide for us to understand what salvation is really all about.  It challenges us to reflect on what it truly means to be gifted by the Holy Spirit in the Reign of God.

And so, what does it mean to be saved?  So often the notion of salvation is rather narrowly and simplistically understood as a dramatic turning point in one’s life.  It is often imaged as a highly emotional personal experience that brings one to acknowledging Jesus as one’s personal Lord and Savior.  This picture of salvation painted with broad strokes is classic among the Evangelical and more fundamentalist Christians denominations.  It flows from a Reformation tradition that saw the priority given to one’s personal surrender in faith to the sovereign Lordship of Jesus Christ. 

Martin Luther’s classic maxim taken from Paul’s letter to the Romans placed salvation squarely on the shoulders of faith alone - sola fide.  It was faith alone that would bring salvation and justification to an individual.  This became the rallying cry of subsequent Protestant reformers.

The orthodox and traditional Catholic position on the question of salvation, however, balances this Reformation emphasis on faith alone with the concept of faith in action - living our faith through good works.  Historically, one could say that the Reformation was rightly reacting to a poorly articulated belief and almost magical understanding of the relationship between good works and faith.  Among the common folk and uneducated clergy of the time there reigned a belief that as long as you performed certain pious practices correctly, regardless of where your heart was with God, these external practices somehow guaranteed salvation.  This belief, however, was a gross caricature of authentic Catholic belief - an authentic belief that flows from the Word of God and refined down through the centuries by theological reflection.

God’s life giving word in the Scriptures calls all to share in the rich banquet of God’s life and love which Isaiah speaks of in symbolic terms.  No one is excluded from this invitation.  Yet, this invitation awaits a response - as do all invitations.  That response to the call of the Lord is ultimately rooted in our willingness to surrender in love and trust.  In other words, faith gives shape to our surrender to the Lord’s invitation.  It is our saying “yes” to share in his banquet of unending life and love.  Faith is grounded in a personal surrender to the Lord of our lives, Jesus the Christ.  And faith is lived fully when it is enriched, challenged and deepened by the Body of Christ which is the Church. 

The authenticating gauge, the truest test as to whether faith has truly taken root in our lives is the evidence we give that we truly wear the garment of the invited guest - the garment of righteousness.   Each day the Lord continues to invite us to let our faith be seen in action - through our care for the poor, through our moral choices, as well as the political decisions we make that are informed by Gospel values.  To be saved is not to isolate ourselves into a privatized “me and Jesus” world, but rather to open our lives in service of our brothers and sisters who like us have been invited to feast at the Table of the Lord.