Sunday Reflection - The God of Surprises

We human beings crave orderliness, stability and predictability. That’s why many of us spend so much time trying to organize things. It’s why we study history and economics - we’re looking for patterns of predictability. It’s why we pass laws - to build some order into our lives. It’s also why some of us withdraw from life, while others become manipulative and controlling. Disorder frightens us, surprises and scares us.

There was a time, not so long ago, when we thought our scholars and scientists would soon be able to predict and therefore control just about everything. And we’d be able to make neat little rules and procedures for making the world perform exactly as we’d like. But we’ve learned that life is more complicated than we thought. We’re coming to realize that weather forecasters will never be able to predict the weather perfectly, economists will never be able to tell us what we really want to know, and, no rules or procedures, however carefully drafted, will ever suffice for all occasions.

It is our destiny to dwell in a land of surprises, in which new challenges and new opportunities await us around every bend in the road. In the absence of an all-purpose rule book or a comprehensive owner’s manual, how shall we ever know how to respond? Today’s gospel tells us.

Joseph is betrothed to a beautiful young girl, who is living with her parents till he can raise the dowry. She drops by his carpenter shop.

His face brightens when he sees his lovely bride, and then she drops the bomb, she’s pregnant...by the Holy Spirit!? He’s devastated. He goes numb, and cannot speak. She leaves crying. As the hours pass, he slowly turns it over and over in his heart. He knows what the rules say: denounce her to the authorities and assist in stoning her to death in front of her parents’ house - what a tragedy that would have been for us.

But even in his hurt, his heart won’t let him blindly follow that harsh rule...Perhaps he should just divorce her quietly...Still he doesn’t act. He prays some more. And in the middle of the night, the Spirit who

dwells in our hearts shows him the way, “Don’t be afraid to take Mary as your wife.” So with a peaceful heart Joseph puts aside his fears and takes Mary into his house.

On that day of terrible surprise, shock, and pain, a day that Joseph could never have imagined in his wildest nightmares, something very powerful enabled him to reach beyond the narrow, programmed response dictated by his upbringing. What was it? It was the habits of his heart - a lifetime habit of walking with the Lord and listening to the Lord who always helps us see life afresh - with new eyes - even the midst of what may appear so crushing or devastating.

Out of those habits of the heart came Joseph’s ability and willingness in a moment of surprise to look past the rules to the person of Mary and to act with compassion, forgetting his fears and his doubts, forgetting all else but the person. In doing that, he acted like God himself.

My brothers and sisters there will never be an end to life’s surprises, and no rules or easy axioms will ever fully prepare us for them. Only those hearts whose habits are gracious and compassionate and whose traveling companion is the Lord will be ready for life’s surprises. And their deeds will mirror the face of God.

And so we pray: Lord, grant us great hearts and let us walk with you always!

Sunday Reflection - Thy Kingdom Come

Some years ago, one of the “venerable” parishioners from my former parish who at that time was in her nineties had just come back from Las Vegas.  She pulled me aside following one of the Sunday morning masses and said “Father, Las Vegas was just magnificent, incredible! - can you imagine what heaven will be like!”  This wonderful comment reflected not only this lovely lady’s appreciation for the beautiful things of this earth, but also the longing which should be in the heart of every Christian for heaven.  A yearning in our lives for the fullness of God’s Kingdom to become a reality. 

One of the predominate themes which the Advent Season sets before us is the great biblical concept of the “Kingdom of God” or “Reign of God”, as it is sometimes translated.  Isaiah, our Advent prophet, has been painting word pictures for us these past few Sunday’s to evoke images in our mind of what the fullness of God’s reign will be like: The desert and the parched land will exult, the steppe will rejoice and bloom...Then will the eyes of the blind be opened, the ears of the deaf be cleared; Then will the lame leap like a stag, then the tongue of the dumb will sing...sorrow and mourning will flee. [Isaiah 35]. 

John the Baptist speaks of the definitive in-breaking of the reign of God in Jesus when he proclaims, “The Kingdom of God is at hand”!   

What exactly is this “Kingdom of God?”  Do we have to wait until we die and go to heaven to experience it?  Are we as Christians active or passive participants in this Reign of God?”  On this Third Sunday of the Advent Season, our gathering in faith provides a good opportunity to reflect and perhaps come to a deeper understanding of these important questions.

Unlike the Deists who believe in the existence of a Creator God who is uninterested and uninvolved with creation - Jews and Christians alike believe in a God who is passionately concerned and involved with the work of His hands.  All of Scripture narrates the saving stories of God’s intervention into human history so that his plan for humanity might become a reality.  And what is that plan?   Perhaps the old Baltimore Catechism said it best in response to the question: Why did God make us?  The response being, To love and serve him in this life and to be happy with him forever in the next.  Our God, then, has a plan for you and for me - that plan involves our coming to experience all that life can be for us - from God’s perspective. 

In Jesus Christ we come to understand fully what living life from God’s perspective is all about.  No wonder then, that John the Baptist pointed to the Lord and said, “The Kingdom of God is at hand!”  In Jesus, God our Father, has set before us the model of how we are to live our lives as members of this new way.  With an enduring conviction for the truth, selfless love for our brothers and sisters, forgiveness and compassion as a way of life - This is what distinguishes the Kingdom of God from the kingdoms of this World.  And in Jesus, the Kingdom of God has begun - we don’t have to wait until heaven to experience it.    The Second Vatican Council, while not equating the Kingdom of God with the Church, tells us that it is within the community of believers bound together by our baptismal dignity that God’s reign in our world begins to be experienced. 

Yet, as realists, we need only look around us to realize that what has begun in Christ groans ever so slowly to become a perfect reality in our world.  Violence and terrorism in the homes and streets of this nation is a daily occurrence.  Yesterday, so many in our land sadly marked the seventh anniversary of the tragic shootings at Sandy Hook Elementary School in New Town, CT, a tragic reminder to us all of how our world in many respects is far from God’s Kingdom of peace and justice.  We are painfully aware of a world scared with poverty; we witness on the evening news the haunting eyes and bloated stomachs of children who not only go to bed hungry but have never known what it means to be full.    Yes, the definitive reign of God has begun with the Jesus of History but all too sadly it fails to become a living reality because we have not let the living Christ take root in us. 

Jesus tells us that the Kingdom of God is within us.  In other words, you and I have a dramatic and significant role to play in helping to make God’s reign a reality in our world today. What has begun in Christ must come to fulfillment through us - we who are members of His Body, the Church.  

As wonderful as all the popularizations of Christmas are in our society, there is a danger that the power and challenge of the Incarnation might be missed in seeing the meaning of this feast solely in the charm of a little baby born in a manger.  That child, of course will grow to maturity to challenge and confront the powers of darkness with the light of his truth - a truth lived by his life.   As we continue our Advent preparation for the celebration of the Feast of Christmas, may we come to know and live, the call and commitment this day asks of us.   So that the prayer we pray this day may become a living reality in our midst - Thy Kingdom come.

Sunday Reflection - Conversion

In 1911 Captain Robert Scott and four other British explorers set out on foot for the South Pole. They traveled 800 miles through deep snow and bitter cold. A year later they reached the South Pole. But on their journey, their glorious victory turned into bitter defeat. Two men died along the way. The other three froze to death just a few miles from safety. When the bodies of the men were found, the last words that each had written were still readable. One of the men was Bill Wilson, the doctor of the expedition.

Twenty years before, Bill had attended Cambridge University. His classmates nicknamed him “the cynic.” He had a mean personality and an even meaner tongue. He once wrote to a friend, and I quote: “I know I am...proud...bitter...insulting...and always selfish.”

On the polar expedition, “Bill the cynic” became “Bill the peacemaker.” And just before he died, Captain Scott wrote to a friend: “If this letter reaches you, Bill and I have gone together. We are very near it now; and I should like you to know how splendid Bill was...everlastingly cheerful and ready to sacrifice himself for the others. His eyes have a comfortable blue look of hope, and his mind is peaceful.”

Meanwhile, in his last hours Bill Wilson wrote: “So I live now, knowing that I am in God’s hands to be used to bring others to him, if he will a long life...[for me], or to die tomorrow. We must do what we can and leave the rest to him...My trust is in God, so that it matter not what I do or where I go.”

The story of Bill Wilson powerfully illustrates what God’s word challenges us to do in our lives. The Gospel today invites you and me to take to heart the words of John the Baptist: “Repent, for the Kingdom of heaven is at hand!” St. Paul in his letter to the Romans

challenges us to live according to the spirit of Jesus, saying: “May the God of endurance and encouragement grant you to think in harmony with one another, in keeping with Christ Jesus, that with one accord you may with one voice glorify...God.”

Bill Wilson’s remarkable change of heart, his profound conversion is a living example to us all of what the Church urges us to do during this Advent Season. It urges us to “repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!” When Bill Wilson was at Cambridge University, he never dreamed how close the kingdom of God was for him. He never dreamed that in 20 short years he would be called by God to give an account of his life. And Bill Wilson’s classmates never dreamed how much he would change in those 20 short years. The man who was proud, bitter, and selfish became a man who was splendid, cheerful, and self-giving. The man who was known as “the cynic” became the man who was known as “the peacemaker.”

My brothers and sisters, history is filled with men and women like Bill Wilson - men and women who began life as selfish individuals and ended life as loving, generous people. The witness of people like Bill Wilson is an encouragement to us all of the grace and power of the Lord to begin the process of conversion in our own lives - moving us from self to others, from spiritual immaturity to become men and women of Gospel integrity.

Advent is a time when we recall what God had in mind for us when he created us. Advent is a time when we recall what God wants us to become. Advent is a time when we recall that God wants us to make a difference in this world of ours. Advent is a time when we try to respond to God’s plan for us as generously as the men and women whose goodness has left a lasting legacy in our own lives. This is what Advent is all about. It’s the season that invites us to be open to the grace that can indeed transform us from sinners into saints; from spiritual infants to men and women of adult faith whose minds and hearts have been made new by the Good News of Jesus Christ.

Sunday Reflection - Memento Mori

Some years ago, public television’s Masterpiece Theatre broadcast an interesting play titled, “Memento Mori.” It’s about a group of eccentric London aristocrats each of whom receives a series of anonymous phone calls with the same frightening message.

“Remember, you must die,” says the caller. “Remember, you must die.”

The reaction of each of them speaks volumes. The first to receive a call is a very rich, self-centered woman. When her call comes, she’s utterly shocked - she’d never even considered that her perfect little self-contained world might come to an end. Her arrogant facade crumbles, fear consumes her, and she dies.

Next in line is an elderly gentleman. After receiving his call, he decides to go for broke and take just one more nubile young wife - his fourth. Unfortunately, it’s more than his heart can take. And he too is gone in a trice. Another gent dismisses the caller as a prankster, and thinks no more about it, while the nastiest-tempered of the lot takes the call as a signal to settle old scores and get even with all his enemies before it’s too late.

Each in turn reacts thoughtlessly out of a lifetime of habit, till finally the last woman is called. She thanks the caller, “I’m so glad you called,” she says. “You know, at my age one forgets so many things.

It is good of you to remind me of this most important fact.” And with that she sets about rebuilding her life, healing old wounds, and putting aside all that doesn’t really matter. There is no question that she got the message!!

My brothers and sisters, as Advent begins today, the Lord is giving us this same kind of wake-up call: “Remember, you must die.” So how are we going to respond? By panicking or despairing or binging or,

the old reliable, shopping? None of the above. We’re going to respond to the wake-up call by waking up! Waking up to what we may have been missing, namely, the preciousness of the present moment - cherishing each moment, and living it graciously, generously, and single-mindedly - as if this were our only moment.

That’s all that God asks: if we’ll attend to today, he’ll handle eternity.

It sounds so easy, just one moment at a time, lived with care. But all of us have a hard time doing it, because the moments have always been there, as long as we can remember, just rolling in - one after another - like waves. So we take them for granted, treat them as throwaways and make very little of most of them. We get into little ruts, and fall into habits that numb our brains and let us go through the motions of living without noticing we haven’t got a life.

Like the rude guest at the cocktail party, who talks to us distractedly while watching over our shoulder for someone more interesting, we regularly look right over the present, with its special people and unique opportunities, and squander our attentions on trivia or on nothing at all. So often we settle for the table scraps of life instead of relishing the banquet that’s within reach.

Advent’s wake-up call is an invitation to stop settling for table scraps or for half a life. It’s a call to seize this day and to cherish every single part of it as God’s personal gift to us It’s a call to value the things that really matter. And it’s a promise that, if we take care of our moments, God will take care of eternity.

May God grant that we learn to cherish the gift of life by giving our whole selves wisely and graciously to each moment. Then, when our life’s course is run, and that last moment is upon us, we will walk into the arms of our Lord without fear and without regret.

In 'Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme', performed by the Netherlands Bach Society for All of Bach, everything revolves around the parable of the wise and foolish virgins. They wait throughout the night with burning lamps for the arrival of the bridegroom. Five of them have brought along extra oil to keep their lamp burning. The others run out of oil and go off to buy some more. The bridegroom arrives while they are away.

Grateful Remembrance

We cannot give thanks unless we remember! My brothers and sisters, God has given each of us a marvelous gift in our ability as human beings to remember the past, to celebrate the present moment, and to look into the future with hope.

One of the great tragedies in life is to suffer a loss of memory. While we might all admire former President Ronald Reagan for his courageous and forthright acknowledgment of the disease that is slowly robbing him of his memory, there is a sadness that we cannot help but feel knowing that this precious human gift is gradually slipping away from his life.

It is our ability to remember that brings a smile and special twinkle to the eyes of a man and woman who renew their wedding vows of 50 years before God’s altar. Their minds think back to the first time they set eyes on one another; the day of their wedding; the birth of their children; times of challenge and difficulty; moments when they were surprised by unexpected joy. Out of such memories comes a sense of gratitude for the wonder and gift of life.

On this Thanksgiving Day, 2019, we come together as a Nation and enter into the collective memory of this Land and its people. Many of us know the story of the first Thanksgiving, but it is good to remember and tell that story again - to hand on the memory of that event to another generation who call this Land their own.

The Pilgrims, the Calvinist settlers in New England, held the first Thanksgiving Day celebration in 1621. Many of the English settlers did not celebrate Easter or Christmas. They had abandoned Catholic feast days and seasons, but they were devoted to the Bible. They based their laws and customs on it.

After landing in Massachusetts the Pilgrims had a tragic winter. They found the New England winters far colder than in England, and half the settlers died. In the spring, help came from a Pawtuxet Indian named Squanto, who showed them how to plant corn and other native crops. Because of the generosity of a native of this land - these immigrants to a new and strange land had a bountiful harvest.

Inviting their Native American saviors to join them, they prepared turkeys and other wild game, seafood, corn, dried berries and vegetables. Their harvest festival lasted three days.

Thanksgiving Day didn’t become an annual event until much later. In 1789, President George Washington proclaimed a day of thanksgiving for the new country. For many years after that, some states celebrated on one day, some on another. In 1863, in the midst of the Civil War, Abraham Lincoln proclaimed the forth Thursday of November as the official Thanksgiving Day of the nation.

How fitting it is that on this national day of Thanksgiving, we Catholics gather to do what we have done for 2000 years - gather around a Holy Table to Remember and to Give Thanks - to make Eucharist.

The strength of this nation must always be found in a people who are willing to humbly acknowledge that all that we have and all that we are comes from the hand of a good and gracious God. We must never forget that the strength and richness of this nation is found in its arms opened wide to bring solace and comfort to others - as it was given to the Pilgrims four centuries ago. This profound conviction was captured poetically by a young woman of Spanish Jewish stock who penned these words which grace the base of the Statue of Liberty:

Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses, yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

We cannot give thanks unless we remember. As we gather today around our dinning room tables surrounded by family and friends - let us remember - the precious gift of life, the love of family and friends that is stronger than death, the smile on the faces of children who are our hope for the future. And let us remember this nation in which we live - blessed by God - with the promise of liberty and justice for all.

May we strive to make that promise more than words but a living reality in our hearts, in our homes, in this city and in our Country - from sea to shining sea.

Christ the King

I have a dear friend who is the CEO of a large and prosperous company.   He has a marvelous expression that he loves to use every now and then – often, that expression morphs into a toast that he gives as he raises a glass of fine wine at a wonderful dinner.  He will raise the glass and say, “It’s good to be King!” 

         Indeed, in virtually every culture, the power and prestige of leadership, of being the boss, is something to be valued above all else. 

         So often the symbols of national leadership include a prestigious desk in an oval office, surrounded by secret service agents, and an army of supportive staff.  In business, leaders enjoy the perks of the company private jet, the executive washroom, the corner office, and a healthy golden parachute retirement plan.  It’s good to be a leader, it’s good to be King! huh? 

         But eventually the question emerges for every leader, “How will I be remembered?”  In ancient Egypt, the Pharaoh would try to be remembered by carving his story and name on large buildings, pyramids, and obelisks.  In modern America, ex-presidents write memoirs and establish presidential libraries.  In sports, leaders try to set records and hope to be enrolled in the Hall of Fame for that sport.  Maybe this is the Achilles heel of all famous people; they must live with the growing realization that their present position of prominence is fleeting.  The next leader is already waiting in the wings, eager to take their place on center stage.  And so leaders, like everyone else, must wrestle with the basic fear, “Will I be forgotten after I am gone?” 

         Our gospel lesson today is a snapshot taken on the darkest day in the life of Jesus—the crucifixion.  But even on that dark Friday, there is enough light to see that Jesus remained true to his identity, true to his heavenly Father, and true to his love for humanity.  At Calvary, Jesus turned a cross designed for torture and death into a throne from which his true kingship and reign flowed.  This Sunday we celebrate that Christ is King, and on that triumphant note the Church concludes another liturgical year.  Let’s look today at the brief conversation between Jesus and the thief hanging beside him another cross, for in that verbal exchange is a light of hope for us all. 

         First, look at Jesus on the cross.  Even here he is the supreme leader, the King of all Creation. 

         It is one of the great mysteries of our faith that the suffering and indignity of the cross would nevertheless prove to be a coronation of the Kingship of Jesus.  Unlike our political candidates who wave to cheering supporters, Jesus was surrounded by crowds of people who scorned him and mocked his kingship.  What a motley crew they were, this crowd of witnesses!  Soldiers assigned to the messy execution detail.  Religious leaders seeking the death of a heretic and threat to their power base.  And others who were simply part of the curious mob that gathers to stare at any spectacle of human suffering.  And flanking Jesus on two other crosses are two thieves who just happened to be scheduled for execution on that same day.  All of these people mocked Jesus, adding to his shame and pain and isolation.  They pick up the voice of the tempter in the wilderness, “If you are the King of the Jews . . .if you are the Messiah, save yourself!” According to the other gospel records, even the thief who later repented originally joined in the mockery against Jesus. 

         It doesn’t look much like a coronation of a King, does it?  And yet, even in the midst of this derision, Jesus spoke words of forgiveness for those who did not deserve it, and who did not even ask for it.  And maybe it was those words that turned the penitent thief around.  For the only more potent force in the universe than hate is love.  And even on the cross, Jesus continued his ministry of reconciliation, and showed the true character of his kingship and reign over human souls.  As a woodworker will tell you, the best way to see the true grain of a piece of wood is to split it open and reveal its heart.  On the cross, we see God’s heart laid bare.  And what we see and hear is love; a love that is so strong that even hate and fear cannot extinguish it. 

         This is the sign of Jesus’ power as King.  It is not armies at his disposal, nor posh seats of prestige, nor perks of personal comfort.  The sign of Jesus’ reign is God’s redeeming and reconciling and transforming love.  And never did we see it so forcefully displayed as on the cross.  That is why the cross can be a throne from which Christ reigns. 

         But notice also today, the penitent thief on the cross beside Jesus.  He represents all of us who might follow Christ as King in the midst of our own infidelities and sins. 

         Here is the great hope of this story for each of us.  This unnamed man in Scripture, known to us only as “a thief”, is dying for crimes he committed.  How many people did he rob?  How much money did he steal?  We do not know.  But he is guilty as sin, nonetheless.  And he is at arm’s length from Jesus on that dark Friday.  From that close range he saw and heard a new way of life as he watched Jesus live those final hours.  He did not know much about Jesus when he spoke that kind word and made his petition.  His faith hung by only a slender thread, that somehow and in some way, this tortured Jesus beside him would still be alive before God after this terrible day ended for them both.  And in that hope, he asked simply to be remembered.  He did not ask for a mansion in heaven.  Just to be remembered.  It is mercy at its purest form he seeks, for he knows that justice is what he is getting on that cross. 

         My friends, we are that thief.  When we have cheated on our taxes, or padded an expense account, we have stolen.  When we have held another’s body in our lustful minds, we have stolen from their dignity by making them an object for our lust.  When we have raised our voice in anger we have robbed the world of some of its peace.  When we have harbored bitterness or spread gossip, we have been thieves against someone’s reputation.  We are all this thief.  Guilty as sin. 

         But there is hope for thieves like us.  Just an arm’s length away is the mercy of Christ.  Before we even ask, he offers forgiveness to us on the basis of his love.  And if we but let him, he will meet us in a place of his Father’s care, both in this life and the next.

Sunday Reflection - A taste of heaven

            The family loads up the car to drive to grandmother’s house for Thanksgiving.  The father and mother plan the trip carefully, packing the necessary things to keep their two young children safe and happy on the trip.  And then, early on the morning of the trip, while it is still dark, the parents pack the car, and the father gently carries his two sleeping children down to the car, buckles them in their car seats, and off they go for a five-hour drive to grandmother’s house.  And as they pull out of the driveway, with the children asleep in the back seat, the parents think to themselves, “This will be a great thanksgiving, a wonderful feast, a little taste of heaven.” 

            But five minutes into the trip the unthinkable happens.  The children, ages three and six, wake up.  And instantly, the quiet of the early dawn is shattered with the question from the back seat, “Are we there yet?”  This is the first of forty-seven times that question will be asked during this five-hour drive.  And each time, with infinite tenderness and patience, that only God could give to young parents, they answer their children, “Not yet.  We’re almost there.  Just a little while longer.” 

            It helps little for the father to tell the children how many more miles, or how many more hours or minutes, until grandmother’s house; for the children have no context or understanding to evaluate what 245 miles means, or how long 4 hours and 35 minutes will last.  So instead, the parents must simply urge their children to trust them, and encourage them that they are getting ever-closer to their destination.  Eventually the children begin to lose patience, and their buckled car seats begin to feel like prisons.  They do not understand their present suffering, nor why the trip seems to last forever.  “Are we there yet?” they ask with greater and greater impatience and frustration.  Sometimes the horizon is hard to see from the back seat. 

            My brothers and sisters our gospel reading today from Saint Luke shows that Jesus understood, and anticipated, our frustration while awaiting the final outcome of God’s future for humanity.  While touring the magnificent buildings and grounds of Herod’s Temple in Jerusalem, Jesus saw that his disciples were overly impressed with the architectural wonder of the facility.  And indeed, it was an impressive building, which even the master-builder Herod took 46 years to complete!  But Jesus used the moment to teach his disciples, like a parent to children in the back seat on a long journey.  Jesus said the days were coming when this great temple would crumble, and no two stones would be standing on top of each other.  “When will this be?  How will we know when it will happen?” they asked in wide-eyed amazement.  They might as well have asked, “Are we there yet?”  We are all curious and impatient about the future, and if we don’t have a specific clock or map to that future, how quickly it is for US to lose hope. 

            But Jesus does not offer his disciples, or us, a detailed timeline by which to foretell the future, or even to help us mark our progress toward that future.  That we delight in such exact schemes and calculations is obvious, just see how readily we buy books by authors who claim to know the signs of the end times, or pander after astrologers or psychics who claim to know the future.  But all such claims are bogus.  As Jesus himself said, “No one, not even the Son of Man himself, knows the exact times or seasons of the Father’s plans” (Mark 13:32).  But Jesus does offer us something in our gospel lesson today that is even more valuable. 

            Jesus cannot tell us how long it will be in clock time before the end, for own sakes.  Imagine how devastating it would be if any one of us knew exactly how many years, or days, or minutes it would be before our death?  We would become preoccupied with the countdown, and therefore miss so much of life’s joys in the meantime.  But Jesus did help his followers anticipate the conditions of God’s gradual unfolding of history as He moved it surely toward its destination. Even if the time of the end was wrapped in surprise, Jesus did not want the meantime to be a surprise. 

            So he told us all that before the end, his followers would experience suffering for the sake of their faithfulness to God.  They would be dragged before authorities, they would be betrayed by their closest friends and family, they would even suffer and die in some cases—all for the sake of their relationship to God.  This may not seem like a very comforting picture of the future, but it is important to know that God does not always rescue His children from suffering.  In fact, suffering may even refine faith.  Every attempt by an enemy of God to destroy Christian faith by persecuting a Christian serves only to spread the message, and bear witness to the power and suffering love that God has for all humanity.  So, although no one can eagerly hope to suffer for the cause of Christ, when such suffering occurs we should not say that Jesus did not warn us it would be so.  So, we need not wonder if God has abandoned us when we suffer, anymore than God abandoned Jesus or the apostles or the history of faithful martyrs when they suffered. 

            You will often these days hear or read of some Christian author/speaker who speaks of a “rapture” of Christians before the end times, a swift and sure exodus of all believers by God that saves them from suffering.  In the more fanciful of these schemes, they will imagine airplanes crashing and cars colliding because the pilot or driver of that vehicle was suddenly “raptured” up to heaven leaving the poor ones on board who are left behind to a miserable fate.  It is tempting to think in terms of God rescuing His faithful ones from all suffering and persecution in this way, but that is not the teaching of Jesus in the reading for today.  He clearly tells us to anticipate such suffering, as a sign that the times are progressing toward God’s destination for history.  Such suffering means “we are not there yet,” but we are closer than we were before. 

            So, take heart, even if the horizon is not visible from the limited perspective of the back seat.  The destination will make the journey worth the wait.  The suffering may be difficult, but it will not last forever.  And in the end, like a grandmother’s wide and loving embrace at the end of long drive, God will welcome us all home.  And on that good day, we will say to each other, “This is a great thanksgiving, a wonderful feast, it is a taste of heaven.”

Sunday Reflection - 'Eulogy Virtues'

Truth be told, brothers and sisters, the moving story that we have heard this morning from the Second Book of Maccabees always makes me chuckle a bit.  While it speaks of the incredible courage and integrity of the Jewish brothers who would rather face death rather than violate the Jewish dietary laws and be defiled by eating pork, it reminds me of a story that occurred some years ago when I was Rector of Holy Family Cathedral.  I was proclaiming this very same first reading and as I looked down to the congregation, sitting right there in front of the ambo was a gentleman who worked for the National Pork Association – and he was wearing a sweatshirt that had emblazoned on it “Pork, the other white meat!”  Frankly, I had to do everything in my power from not breaking out into laughter at the incongruity of the moment. 

Aside from this little humorous anecdote, this story of the brothers willing to face death because of their deeply held convictions has resonated down through the centuries with men and women who have sacrificed much, if not all, to live lives of conviction rather than convenience. 

As we find ourselves poised on another election year that for many of us couldn’t come any sooner, a story of conviction and the price we are willing to pay for the truths that shape our lives and that of our country, could not be more fitting. 

In the 243 years of our republic, the arc of our history has thankfully been attentive to the ‘better angels of our nature’ a beloved phrase taken from Abraham Lincoln’s first inaugural address.  While there is no question that the dark side of our history has not always been a reflection of the best of who we are as a people and a nation, the striving to shape ‘a more perfect union’ continues to be a burning passion for men and women of integrity and conviction down through the decades of our existence. 

I’m very fond of the writing of David Brooks, author and  commentator for the New York Times. In his book, Road to Character, Brooks speaks of what he refers to as ‘résumé virtues’ and ‘eulogy virtues.’  Resume virtues focus on all the things we have accomplished that focus on self-advancement.  Eulogy virtues, on the other hand, are the ones that touch at the very heart of what it means to be a person of character: selflessness, bridge-builder, a person of compassion and empathy, one who nurtures the goodness in others, a passionate truth teller, one who is willing to sacrifice one’s own personal needs and wants for the good of the other.  

In our second reading today from Paul’s Second Letter to the Thessalonians, he speaks of the virtue of hope and encouragement that you and I are to reflect to the world because we have been recipients of those same gifts from Christ Jesus Himself.  

And so, my friends, as the great moment in our democracy nears, let us see in this tremendous privilege of our Republic the opportunity to shape our decisions and choices by the résumé virtues that are the foundation of true character and integrity in life.  Let us seize this opportunity to help shape a community and nation of hope and encouragement where all God’s children are reverenced and provided the opportunity to experience the freedom of the sons and daughters of God.  

Sunday Reflection - God's unfailing mercy

Tax collectors from time immemorial have not been the most honored or venerated individuals in society.  I think it would be fair to say that in Biblical times and specifically at the time when Jesus physically walked this earth, they were one of the most despised classes of people – right up there with lepers and prostitutes.  Now, why was this the case? Aside from the obvious, tax collectors in Roman occupied Palestine made their living by charging more that the prescribed tax.  While the tax itself was onerous enough, the added ‘personal’ surcharge made it an unbelievable burden on the folks they extorted. 

My friends, holding that image in your mind, you can see why the contemporaries of Jesus were astounded and pious Jews were literally scandalized when Jesus dared to befriend tax collectors, like little Zacchaeus in today’s Gospel, or even Matthew whom he called to be one of his apostles.  This certainly was not the way to ‘win friends and influence people!’  What in the world was Jesus doing?   

We must never forget that Jesus was a master teacher and all teachers know the effectiveness of dramatic examples in getting a point across to their students.  And so it was for Jesus.  Entrusted with the ‘good news’ of His Father, Jesus came to upend so many of the traditional values that had come to be enshrined in the religious culture of His time.  There is one enigmatic line in the Gospels that captures the radicalness of Jesus’ message, “The last shall be first and the first shall be last!” 

At the heart of the good news is indeed a preferential option for the losers, the outcasts, the broken, the wayward, the sick in soul and the sick in heart.  It is as if the good Lord relished those moments when He left his disciples with their mouths gapping as he reached out to pardon prostitutes, embrace lepers, dine with tax collectors, forgive a thief hanging next to him on the cross.  In the minds of his contemporaries these individuals did not ‘deserve’ mercy or forgiveness.  But it is precisely there, my friends, we find the truest and deepest meaning of the term ‘grace.’  For in these and countless other encounters in the scriptures, the free and totally unearned gift of God’s ‘amazing grace’ is poured lavishly on these daughters and sons of His loving and merciful Father. 

And so, my friends, what brokenness do you want to put before the amazing grace of God’s unfailing love this day?  What darkness that might haunt us do we want the light of God’s grace to illumine and make new?  Whatever it might be, it is there that the good news will come alive for us this day!

Sunday Reflection - The poison of spiritual narcissism

Frederick the Great, who was King of Prussia from 1740 to 1786, is said to have visited a prison one day.  Each of the prisoners he spoke with claimed to be innocent: the victim of misunderstanding, prejudice, or simple injustice.  Finally, the king stopped at the cell of an inmate who remained silent.  “I suppose you’re innocent too,” Frederick remarked.  “No, sir,” the man replied.  “I’m guilty.  I deserve to be here.”  Turning to the warden, the king said: “Warden, release this scoundrel at once before he corrupts all these fine, innocent people in here.”  What better example could we have of the words in our first reading: “The prayer of the lowly pierces the clouds”?          

The story is a good introduction too to the parable we heard in the gospel about the two men praying in the Temple.  Both believed in the same God.  One went home at peace with God.  The other did not.  Well sure, we think.  Our image of the Pharisees is so negative that the story’s conclusion doesn’t surprise us.  For Jesus’ hearers, however, the conclusion was not just a surprise.  It was deeply shocking.  They knew that the Pharisees were deeply religious.  The Pharisee in the story was no hypocrite.  He really had done all the things he listed in his prayer.           

The Jewish law enjoined fasting only once a year.  He fasted twice a week.  Many things were exempt from the law of tithing.  This Pharisee made no use of the exemption: he gave back to God, out of gratitude, ten percent of everything he received.  The modern equivalent of the Pharisee in Jesus’ story would be a Catholic who goes daily to Mass and Communion, performs many good works, and returns a full tithe of his or her income to Church and charity.           

The tax collector, on the other hand, belonged to a class despised by all decent Jews in Jesus’ day.  Tax collectors worked for the hated Roman government of occupation.  They used all kinds of shakedowns and protection rackets to extract money from people.  Much of it went into their own pockets.  For Jesus’ hearers this tax collector was a public sinner on the road to hell.  And like the prisoner who confessed to the Prussian king that he really was guilty, the tax collector knew that his bad reputation was well deserved.  His visit to the Temple shows, however, that he still believed in God.  Unable, like the Pharisee, to point in his prayer to any semblance of a good conduct record, he appeals simply to God’s mercy: “O God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”         

Though both men believe in God, their image of God is quite different.  The tax collector prays to a God of mercy.  The Pharisee prays to a God who rewards good people like himself and comes down hard on bad people like tax collectors.  Jesus addressed the story, the gospel writer Luke tells us at the outset, “to those who were convinced of their own righteousness and despised everyone else.”  The Pharisee’s image of God was wrong.           

Wrong too was the Pharisee’s attitude.  He measured himself not by God’s law, but by those around him.  Measuring ourselves against others is always a mistake.  If we see, like the Pharisee, that we are better, we become complacent and proud.  If we see that we are worse, we can become discouraged.  Comparisons with others are meaningless.  If others have done better than we have, this may have been because they had advantages we never enjoyed.  If they have done worse, this could be due to difficulties of which we have no conception.  If you must measure yourself at all, compare yourself not with others, but with Jesus Christ.  Instead of looking around at others and looking down on those whom you consider bad people, place yourself beneath the cross of Jesus.  Look up at the One who hangs there.  Judged by his standard, we all fall short.   

Like both men in Jesus’ story, we have come into God’s house to pray, to worship.  We want to go home reconciled with God and others, and at peace.  To do so we must avoid two common mistakes.  The first is thinking that we are so bad that God is angry with us and cannot forgive us.  That is wrong.  God never stops loving us.  No matter how badly we have fallen, God is always ready to forgive.  To receive his forgiveness, we need only say, with the tax collector: “O God be merciful to me, a sinner.”  If our sin was grave and deliberate, we need to receive God’s forgiveness in the sacrament of penance, or confession.           

The second common mistake which keeps us from going home reconciled with God and at peace is thinking that we have a credit balance in some heavenly account book which God is bound to honor.  That was how the Pharisee thought. God owes us nothing.  We owe him everything.  Does that mean that God is not generous?  That there is no reward for all our efforts to be good?  Of course not.  God is unbelievably generous.  And Jesus speaks of reward often in the gospels.   To experience God’s generosity, however, we must stand before him with empty hands, appealing not to our deserving, but to his mercy.             

That is what the tax collector did.  Jesus gives us this story to help us do the same.  Let me conclude by telling you what Pope emeritus Benedict says about these two men in his book, Jesus of Nazareth [pp. 61f]:         

“The Pharisee can boast considerable virtues; he tells God only about himself, and he thinks that he is praising God in praising himself.  The tax collector knows that he has sinned, he knows he cannot boast before God, and he prays in full awareness of his debt to grace.  [“Grace” is the technical term for God’s freely given love, something we can never earn.] ... The real point is ... that there are two ways of relating to God and to oneself.  The Pharisee does not really look at God at all, but only at himself; he does not need God, because he does everything right by himself.  He has no real relation to God, who is ultimately superfluous – what he does himself is enough.           

“The tax collector, by contrast, sees himself in the light of God.  He has looked toward God, and in the process his eyes have been opened to see himself.  So, he knows that he needs God and that he lives by God’s goodness, which he can not force God to give him and which he cannot procure for himself.  He knows that he needs mercy and so he will learn from God’s mercy to become merciful himself, and thereby to become like God. ... He will always need the gift of goodness, or forgiveness, but in receiving it he will always learn to give the gift to others.”         

Happy are we if those words describe us: people who know we shall always need the gift of God’s goodness, and of his forgiveness; and if, in receiving these gifts we learn to pass them on to others.

Sunday Reflection - Speak Lord, your servant is listening

Alan Bennett, the English playwright who wrote “The Madness of King George,” has a line in his autobiography that needs sharing.  He says, “The majority of people perform well in a crisis and when the spotlight is on them; it’s on the Sunday afternoons of life, when nobody is looking, that the spirit falters.” 

Isn’t it so!  The Sunday afternoons, the et cetera parts of life, those flat places where there’s nothing of interest in sight and no visible curves in the road around which something wonderful might be about to appear.  The spirit does falter, and whisper of “why bother” and “what’s the use” echo in our ear. 

Those are the times we have the least heart for praying, but they are the times we most need to pray.  Why?  Because those are the days we most need to see the world through God’s eyes.  That is where good prayer always starts, trusting God enough to let go and look through his eyes - the eyes of a wise father.  If we do that and if our hearts are open, we’ll begin to see what God sees, and hope as God hopes.  We’ll begin to want what God wants, and do what God does. 

That’s what prayer in faith does inside us.  It slowly reshapes our ideas and our perspectives to match God’s, slowly reshapes our values and our expectations of life to match God’s. 

Ever so slowly praying changes us, and in time it even changes the way we pray.  And precisely because real change comes only gradually, we have to stick with that inner conversation with our Lord, even and especially on the Sunday afternoons of life - which sometimes last all week long!

My friends, God has so much to show us and to teach us.  We have so much to learn, so many new doors that need to be opened, and so many old ones that need to be closed permanently.   

So where do we begin?  By telling God our story once again, all the parts of it this time, both the grim and the bright.  And then by speaking the words the prophet Samuel spoke in darkest night so long ago, “Speak, Lord.  Your servant is listening.”  If we are listening from the heart, we will change.  Even the most gnarled parts of us can be transformed and changed!  “Speak, Lord.  Your servant is listening!”

Sunday Reflection - The Mystery of Evil

For the last decade in our country we have sadly witnessed the spiraling escalation of gun violence that has tragically snuffed out the lives of literally thousands of innocent lives from the children at Sandy Hook Elementary School to people of all ages innocently enjoying a concert in Las Vegas.  Such senseless tragedies cannot help but trigger the age-old question for people of faith: “How can a good God permit such evil - the death of so many innocent lives?”   

This wrenching question undoubtedly prompted the Prophet Habakkuk to utter his words of lament in our first reading this morning: 

How Long, O Lord? I cry for help

but you do not listen!

I cry out to you, “Violence!” 

But you do not intervene.  

Why do you let me see ruin;

why must I look at misery?

Destruction and violence are before me

There is strife, and clamorous discord. 

As the French saying goes, “The more things change, the more they remain the same.”  Humanity continues to struggle with the powers of darkness that frustrate the plans of a loving and gracious God.  Philosophers and theologians have wrestled with the problem of evil for centuries.  They too have tried to come to some understanding of the paradox that evil presents for those who believe in the goodness of God.   

What has in time provided at least a beginning of an answer for me over the years is seeing the problem of evil, particularly moral evil, tied to the mystery of human freedom.  We believe that God created us in freedom.  We are not puppets manipulated by the strings of some heavenly spirit.  When God breathed life into the human soul, God breathed the freedom that creates the possibility for both love and, sadly, hate to exist.  Coercion to love is manipulation.    Because we are created in freedom, we can choose to love or not to love - Paradoxically, that is what makes love genuine. 

God’s word that informs our faith is an ongoing message that challenges us daily to “choose love and life.”  Yet, all of us know that at times that message goes unheeded.  At the root of sin, lies the self-destructive tendency in all of us to close our ears to this challenge and to choose self, to choose the way of that will satisfy solely “my needs, my wants, my desires.”  Carried to its extreme, this absorption and preoccupation with self creates the lethal environment in our world that can trigger the darkness that can so brutally scar the human spirit.   

No wonder then that the apostles asked the Lord for an “Increase in faith.”  For there is no other antidote to this human tendency toward self absorption than the larger vision of life that comes to us by way of the gift of faith.   

Faith broadens our vision to realize that we have an eternal destiny that is shaped by one who triumphed over the power of darkness and refused to be defeated by death.  The triumph of the cross and the one who hung upon it empowers us to confront the darkness with eternal hope.   “If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you would say to his mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.” 

My sisters and brothers, the evil of these times, must be confronted not with the spirit of darkness but rather the spirit of light that gives focus and direction to our courage.  Paul in his letter to Timothy sets before us wise advice when he reminds us that “God did not give us a spirit of cowardice but rather of power and love and self-control.” 

In the days and weeks ahead, may our prayer be for an increase in faith that can indeed empower us to build a world where all God’s children will be free from fear. May the Lord  “lead us to seek beyond our reach and give us the courage to stand before his truth with hearts renewed by love.

Sunday Reflection - Lazarus at the Gate

My friends, think with me for a few minutes about the two people in today’s Gospel lesson.  First, meet the rich man, clothed in purple and fine linen.  Write in the imagination of your minds “rich.”  He was aristocratic, entitled, but here in the Gospel passage from Luke, a nameless individual.  In fact, how ironic in the parable that the man of great affluence and status is nameless; wealthy, but anonymous. 

         Now, meet Lazarus.  Lazarus is dressed in rags glued to his body by the pus oozing from his sores.  He is hungry.  He is always hungry.  All he has besides the rags hugging his body is his name.  His name is Lazarus, meaning in the language of that day, “He whom God helps.”           

         Now imagine with me two places.  The first place belongs to the rich man.  It is a palace, a villa, a mansion.  Excavations in Israel, in places like Jericho and Jerusalem, have uncovered mansion after mansion, palatial villa after villa from the time of Jesus.  See in these villas marbled walls and steam baths, even indoor plumbing and mosaic floors.   

         And what of Lazarus’ place?  All we know is “the gate.” Lazarus is at the gate.  What is this gate?  A gate denotes access; a gate means security, boundaries.  People build gates not so much to keep themselves in as to keep others out.  You know, we human beings are master gate builders.  We have spent the whole history of our human species building gates. Who’s in and who’s out, who’s acceptable and who’s unacceptable, who’s worthy and who’s unworthy.  Go through the rubble of cities ancient and modern and there, you will find gates.  Lazarus exists at the gate.     

         My sisters and brothers, I want you to struggle with me as we see Lazarus at the gate, existing there in the shadow of such plenty.  What if the gate in the story is not so much an iron door guarding a palatial villa long ago, but any barrier we put around our lives? And what if Lazarus is someone with sores, dressed in rags, not so much someone who lived back there, but someone wounded and destitute, needy and hungry, sitting just outside our self-made, carefully watched gate? 

         One thinks immediately of the poor, the homeless, indeed all dehumanized human beings.  I don’t know how you read the New Testament, but I can’t read the teachings of Jesus and overlook that our Lord was proactive when it came to the poor. Jesus was the one who ate with the poor, who touched the poor, who put his loving hands on those whom no one else would ever touch.   

         No, I am troubled today because so often, so many of us put gates around our lives that keep us from the poor. I don’t think we consciously install these gates, we simply allow them to be built.  We don’t see the poor.  But, like Lazarus, they have names.  We simply don’t know them or see them.  

         Lazarus is at the gate. 

         I think of the countless immigrants that are escaping their homeland because of violence or exploitation.  I think of the divorced, the widowed, the abandoned.  I am haunted by these others, all with names but who are nameless to me and to you.  We do not see them.  We may not want to see them, those who wait at the gate.  There are folks you and I pass by every day who are sitting at a gate who need good news.  But our gates are there, keeping them at bay, out of reach, out of sight, out of mind. And the gates go by several names. 

         We can build gates framed by an intolerant religious fundamentalism that carefully monitors our faith and the faith of others.  Why?  Supposedly to keep the Christian faith pure, undefiled – an orthodoxy so often of our own narrow making.  Sad to say, however, much of that religious fundamentalism has little to do with the richness of our faith and it can be a gate that separates, even isolates us from others.  Lazarus is still at the gate not in need of a religious ideological system, but a Savior. In a word, Lazarus needs Christ’s presence, offered him or her with generous grace.   

         I am thinking of other gates we construct called “tradition,” “bigotry,” and all too often, “ignorance.”  We inherit old gates from well-meaning elders who, in our formative years, told us to keep certain kinds of people at a distance.  For some, those consigned to the gate were people of color, or those who speak another language, or, in some communities, those who lived “on the other side of the tracks.”  Such gates are not so much built as they are passed on from one generation to another in a vain attempt to keep us safe. 

         And yes, perhaps the thickest and highest gate erected outside our lives, keeping Lazarus at a distance is boredom, what the mystics used to call, acedia, which is ennui, disinterest, the idea captured by the phrase, “Who cares?”  We who now see that it is Lazarus at the gate must ever be vigilant against the toxic and numbing virus of our own apathy. 

         A long time ago, the One who told us this story saw the gate from a long way off.  God the Father had a conversation with God the Son and God the Holy Spirit.  It was decided that God the Son would come in human flesh and walk among us.  God not only saw the gate, God became the gate so much so that Jesus said in the Gospel of John, “I am the gate and whoever comes and goes through me will have everlasting life.” 

         My friends, we can build barriers of intolerant religious ideology and class, race or social status, economics or neighborhoods, and delude ourselves into thinking we are okay.  But we would be wise to listen again to Jesus who said, “I am the gate.”  The only gate that matters is not some flimsy thing you and I make.  Rather, God gives Jesus as the Gate through whom all come to life everlasting. There are men and women, boys and girls who sit at that gate today who need us to tell them that there is a Gate that is not a barrier, but a gift through which they can walk; a Gate whose name is Jesus, the living presence of God, who can change their lives and make them whole. 

         And, so friends, let us listen attentively with our ears and our heart today.  If you think this message is hard to hear, know for a fact how difficult it is to say.   Lazarus is at the gate.  And we of faith who feast at God’s table are called by the Lord who gave us this feast to meet Lazarus and to invite him or her to come through the Gate that is Jesus and to join us at this table.  Such is the work to which our Lord calls us. Amen.

Sunday Reflection - Faithful Citizenship

Brothers and sisters, one would have to be living on Mars not to be aware that we are in living in one of the most contentious of political times. Never in the course of my 71 years have I ever witnessed what could charitably be called, the most anomalous Presidency in history.   It is no wonder then that I’m hearing from folk’s time and time again saying, “Msgr. Art, we really need to pray that all will be well with our country!”  Indeed, prayer for our country is a hallmark of being a faithful citizen of this blessed land of freedom and opportunity. But not only is it a duty for us to pray for the common good of our country but, as we have heard in today’s second reading from Paul’s 1st letter to Timothy, we are called to pray “for all in authority.”  In other words, it is not only good and virtuous to pray for all those who have been elected to insure the common good of our land, it is an obligation that is incumbent upon our role as faithful citizens. 

However, at the very heart of being a faithful citizen is our solemn obligation to be engaged in helping to shape the common good of our land so that liberty and justice might be the gift and promise for all.  More often than not, the simplest yet most profound way in which we do this is by casting our vote to elect our political leaders at the National, State and local levels as well as to make our voices heard on the other ballot issues that call forth our vote. 

As it has been said time and time again, it is not the role of the Church or its leaders to tell us who to vote for.  Rather, it is the role of the Church to assist the faithful in the formation of a right conscience that will assist us in discerning the values that should inform the decisions we make in the voting booth.  As much as some might like a ‘black and white’ answer to these challenging questions that face the electorate today, proper formation of conscience is wisdom at work, discerning what might be the best individual or approach in achieving the common good.  There is tremendous wisdom in the old adage that politics is not the art of the perfect but rather that which is possible within the diverse electorate that is ours in this country. 

In recent years, the National Conference of Bishops in our land, has published a very thoughtful guide to assist Catholics in fulfilling their political obligations.  That document is entitled: Forming Consciences for Faithful Citizenship.  As the 2020 election season draws ever closer, it is not too soon to let the following insights from this important document begin to take root in our minds and hearts enabling us to gain the wisdom and discernment necessary for the choices that we will face in 2020: 

34.  Catholics often face difficult choices about how to vote. This is why it is so important to vote according to a well-formed conscience that perceives the proper relationship among moral goods. A Catholic cannot vote for a candidate who takes a position in favor of an intrinsic evil, such as abortion or racism, if the voter’s intent is to support that position. In such cases a Catholic would be guilty of formal cooperation in grave evil. At the same time, a voter should not use a candidate’s opposition to an intrinsic evil to justify indifference or inattentiveness to other important moral issues involving human life and dignity.  

35. There may be times when a Catholic who rejects a candidate’s unacceptable position may decide to vote for that candidate for other morally grave reasons. Voting in this way would be permissible only for truly grave moral reasons, not to advance narrow interests or partisan preferences or to ignore a fundamental moral evil. 

36. When all candidates hold a position in favor of an intrinsic evil, the conscientious voter faces a dilemma. The voter may decide to take the extraordinary step of not voting for any candidate or, after careful deliberation, may decide to vote for the candidate deemed less likely to advance such a morally flawed position and more likely to pursue other authentic human goods.  

My friends, our Gospel today has spoken of the criteria for good stewardship.  As faithful citizens we are called to be careful stewards of the values that have made our country a beacon of light and freedom to so many around the world.  As 2020 draws near let us pray for the wisdom and grace to be wise stewards of this land of freedom and justice, from sea to shining sea.

Sunday Reflection - 9/11

The following homily was given on the weekend following the horrific terrorist attack on our country on September 11, 2001. I was Rector of Holy Family Cathedral in Orange at that time. As we recently celebrated the 18th anniversary of this event that has changed so much in our land, its message is still relevant after these many years. The prescribed Gospel of the day was replaced with the Gospel of the Beatitudes for this day.

September 11th, 2001, a date in our history that will forever sear our minds and hearts as it marks a chapter of senseless brutality in our land.  Like other turning point moments in our history - the bombing of Pearl Harbor, the death of Franklin Roosevelt, the assassinations of President Kennedy, the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Senator Robert Kennedy - this unspeakable and unimaginable terrorist attack on innocent human life remains a terrifying and chilling reminder of the power of darkness and evil in our world. 

These days have numbed us all with their senseless brutality.  Yet, in the midst of these acts of terrorism, in the midst of this darkness, acts of grace and courage have shown their light.   Who could not have been moved by the heroism of firefighters, police and emergency response personnel, in the cities of New York and our nation’s capital, who have literally laid down their lives - by the hundreds - to save their sisters and brothers injured and trapped in the rubble.  With a characteristic self-effacing attitude that is so common among these protectors of the common good, one fire fighter in New York simply said, “This is my job! - I just want to help people!” Thousands of men and women throughout this good land have stood in line, hour upon hour in order to give blood to those whose lives have been torn apart by this national outrage. 

My brothers and sisters, whenever our personal and communal worlds are torn apart and upended, it is only natural for us to seek the stability and comfort of our families and friends and seek solace in the faith values and convictions that root our lives. And in doing so we tend to America’s wounded spirit.  And so it is understandable that our Churches, Synagogues and Mosques have become places of refuge and peace in this time of national crisis.  Earlier this week, I had the opportunity to gather our 600 Cathedral School children here in this holy place.  Their solemn faces spoke volumes as they too sensed both the tragedy and pain of this moment.  I shared with them that this is a time for all of us to grasp the hand of  the two families that can sustain us in this valley of darkness - our human families and our faith families. 

This is a time for us as a nation and as a community to set aside the partisan bickering that can so easily fragment us and keep us from living our noble call to be “one nation, indivisible with liberty and justice for all.”  This is a time for us to focus our energies to heal the heart of this land that has been so wounded by this despicable act.  While these messengers of death have broken our hearts, they have not broken our wills.  As President Bush has said, adversity allows us to know and see ourselves in a new light. This is a time for us to be our best selves and to avoid the mindless stereotyping and scapegoating, rooted in understandable feelings of powerlessness, that might seek revenge toward the millions of good and devout Arab Americans as well as our fellow citizens who follow the virtuous path of Islam and love this country and all for which it stands.   We must always remember that while it is our right and responsibility as a nation to seek justice and to bring those who have perpetrated these acts to face the consequences of their actions, vengeance is not justice but rather vengeance defeats justice. 

As we experience a renewed sense of solidarity with our fellow citizens in this dark moment, we are all keenly aware - that we are not alone -  that we are spiritually connected this weekend with millions of men and women of faith and good will who gather in their houses of worship - as we do this weekend - to seek the strength and consolation that our faith brings to us as we remember those who have died this week and to pray for our Nation in these perilous times.  God’s word to us in the Book of Exodus is a powerful reminder that the greatness of any nation is grounded in its ability to avoid the false gods that can so easily tempt us from being our best selves - The false gods of isolationism, materialism, prejudice, and vengeance.  Paul’s letter to Timothy speaks of the dramatic conversion that brought Paul to be the great preacher of God’s reconciling love and his gratitude in relying on the strength and power of God in his life.  Our special Gospel today, the Beatitudes as found in the Gospel of Matthew, is a sobering and positive reminder that the Lord’s blessing will be upon those who selflessly work for peace and justice in our world;  for those who protect the powerless, comfort the sorrowful and work together to build a world where all God’s children can live free from fear and in freedom and peace.  God’s unwavering judgement, however, will be wielded against those who so callously trample upon the defenseless and innocent. 

And so, my sisters and brothers, as we gather in this holy place,  now hallowed anew by our solidarity in grief - hallowed anew by our resolve to be a people of light and hope for all in our world who live in the shadow of death and oppression - may God bless us, may He let his face shine upon us, and may he grant us courage in the days ahead - from “sea to shining sea.”

Sunday Reflection: Humility

A pastor decided it was high time to give his people a serious talking to.  His sermon hit fever pitch when he roared, “Every member of this parish is going to die....every member!”  As he scanned the congregation in a somewhat self satisfied way to gauge the impact of his dramatic and sobering words, he was pleased to see that his people looked duly sober, except for one middle-aged woman who had a big smile on her face.  “What are you smiling at?” growled the pastor.  “Well, said the smiling lady, “I’m not a member of this parish - I never registered!” 

My brothers and sisters, we can certainly give that lady a “A-plus for denial!” as well as an “A-Plus for Hubris- that marvelous word that means foolish pride that has a way of persuading us to think that we’re not like the rest of folks. In our more honest moments, of course, we know that’s a lie, but isn’t it amazing how much energy so many of us can waste trying to prove it’s true. 

Unwholesome pride can take many different forms in many different people.  For some, it can be slavery to a lifestyle that’s supposed to prove we’re different and better.  For some, it can be a fierce competitiveness in even the silliest things...the need to win at all costs...to prove we’re different and better.  For some, it can be an intellectual arrogance, taking pride in gathering up knowledge about arcane subjects again to prove we’re different, smarter, and better than the rest.  

Whatever it’s shape, pride is always ugly.  And it always cuts us off from others and deprives us of the one thing we really desire: solidarity and communion with one another.  What an irony that is: To work so hard to prove we’re special and then to end up scorned and alone because people can’t stand being around us. “For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled.” 

So what about the alternative, humility?  Unfortunately, the word itself has been so caricatured in recent times that I suspect the first thing that pops into most our minds on hearing it is the image of some groveling, spineless individual, who lacks self determination and direction in life.  Or the image of the self-effacing individual who shudders at the thought of praise or recognition.   

Where in the world did we get such images?  Where in the world did we get the idea that humility means brushing off all praise and minimizing our gifts?  My brothers and sisters, that’s not humility  - that’s ingratitude to God, who gave us good gifts to be developed, enjoyed, and shared.   

So what does real humility look like?  Real humility is truth.  And the essential truth about us is that under the skin we’re all the same, made from the same earth, short-lived, in need of one another’s help, rejoicing in the compassion of others, equally hungering for spiritual depth, all destined to grow old and die. 

That’s the truth about us.  And once we face it, face our own pains and fears and our own need for help, we begin to see and understand the same needs in others.  We begin to recognize one another as sisters and brothers.  And the thought of trying to prove we’re different or better is exposed as bizarre, irrelevant, and a lie.  Suddenly, we’re not alone.  We’re surrounded by fellow pilgrims, all walking the same road to the Lord.  Jesus was indeed right: If we humble ourselves - if we are vulnerable enough to speak the truth and live the truth about ourselves - we will be exalted and transformed. And we won’t have to wait for heaven for that to begin.

My brothers and sisters, the Lord invites us to relax in Him; to relish his good gifts to us and to share them with others.  The Lord invites us to walk in the truth - a truth that will truly make us free and faithful in Christ.

A response to Dr. Peter Kwasniewski's comments on Christ Cathedral

On July 17th, the Diocese of Orange solemnly Dedicated its new Christ Cathedral in Garden Grove, California. This was the culmination of a nearly five year, utterly unique project of renovating and repurposing the former Protestant ‘Crystal Cathedral’ to serve as the liturgical Mother Church for the Diocese. 

Undoubtedly, such a monumental and challenging project in this day and age, would inevitably prompt reactions from the architectural and liturgical critics that abound.  Since its completion, the Diocese and its leadership, have been gratified by the generous and positive responses of those who have had the opportunity of experiencing as well as worshiping within this transformed ‘Catholic’ environment. 

The designers, architects and liturgical consultants, however, were not as naive as to think that in this day and age of liturgical tensions fueled by strong ideological feelings and convictions regarding 21st century architecture for worship verses those who are committed to ‘reforming the reform,’ that our project would not prompt vigorous and spirited debate and discussion.  We have read with interest these comments and critics who have brought their professional backgrounds as architects, artists and liturgist to bear on their assessments of both the positive as well as perceived negative aspects of this renovation project.   

While one would hope that within the household of believers, charity and civility would characterize the vigorous conversations our project has occasioned, sadly, the toxic nature of so much of the polemic these days has witnessed some isolated criticisms that are beyond the pale of civility and have made pointed personal attacks, questioning the orthodoxy of the Bishop as well as all those associated with this renovation project.   

Specifically, in this regard, the recent comments on Christ Cathedral by Dr. Peter Kwasniewski, appearing in One Peter 5 (August 21, 2019 - https://onepeterfive.com/dark-symbolism-christ-cathedral/), present such a seriously flawed and personal attack, prompting this response, to assist in setting the record straight.   As a frequent contributor to The New Liturgical Movement, a cursory review of Dr. Kwasniewski’s musings and essays, reflect that there is no ambiguity as to where he stands regarding the post-conciliar Church, it’s theology, the reformed liturgy and the contemporary liturgical art that has characterized much of the last and present century.  He doesn’t like it!  Fair enough. As is often said, ‘the Church is a big tent!’  In the world of sacred art, one could be enamored by the striking beauty of Chartres Cathedral and less attracted aesthetically by the Chagall Chapel of Saint-Paul de Vence.  Personal taste and sensibility understandably vary.  

It is one thing, however, to voice one’s own artistic preferences – likes and dislikes, verses, arrogantly raising them to be the final arbiter of what is or what is not beautiful, worthy, fitting and congruent for the Glory of God in sacred worship.  Sadly, the author has crossed that line. 

However, I take great objection and umbrage at the central accusation that he has made regarding the entire Christ Cathedral project, as evidenced in the following statements: 

What is clear is that a choice was made to avoid normative Christian symbolism and to make use of signs associated with other religious traditions — elements that narrate a tale as shocking and scandalous as any report covering the abuse crisis. 

But even if a cloaked message were not the objective of the artwork, the entire edifice remains a scandal, if for no other reason than the low quality of the work commissioned, the ugly manner in which holy persons are depicted, and the near comical awkwardness with which the mysteries of the Catholic Faith are proposed. It places a modernist caricature of the Faith before the eyes of those unfortunate enough to enter within it. 

The author would have the reader believe that there was a sinister cabal at work among the Bishop, architects and liturgical consultants, to purposely deconstruct the true essence of the Catholic liturgical tradition in shaping this neo architectural whore of Babylon as part of a modernist plot to subvert orthodoxy!   

The author’s overactive imagination, fueled by perhaps one too many bad Dan Brown novels, is truly an embarrassment to anyone who purports to be a serious and conscientious student of the Church’s rich liturgical, artistic and architectural patrimony. 

As a member of the liturgical team charged with working with the architects and designers for the renovation project since its inception, permit me to put the record straight, if there be a scintilla of ambiguity or doubt: “No, Dr. Kwasniewski, the careful planning, design and execution for the repurposing of the former “Crystal Cathedral” into Christ Cathedral, had no ulterior motive other than to reflect not only the liturgical norms and directives for the shaping of a Cathedral Church in this post-conciliar period, but also, to draw upon the artistic genius of the artists of this age to capture visually something of the ineffable beauty and mystery of the Holy Ones whose lives have been transformed by the Mystery of Christ.  There is no ‘counter-catechism’ here, but rather a ‘house for all God’s holy Church,’ drawing God’s people ever more deeply into the Eucharistic mystery that continues to shape our identity as a people of faith down through the ages. Perhaps the simple fact that our new Cathedral now draws some 14,000 to 15,000 faithful a week for weekend worship is a testimony to its power to inspire and edify by its beauty. 

The Rev. Dr. Robert Schuller to whom the Diocese of Orange is indebted for providentially bringing to full circle his campus as now the seat of our local Church, was a member of the Reformed Church.  One of their esteemed theologians of the 20th century, Reinhold Niebuhr, once said that, “Frantic orthodoxy is never rooted in faith but in doubt.  It is when we are not sure that we are doubly sure.” Perhaps, Dr. Kwasniewski could pause a bit from hurling anathemas in the name of orthodoxy and rediscover the virtue of Christian humility. 

Sunday Reflection - Traveling unencombered

There's a Peanuts cartoon that shows Charlie Brown getting up one morning and looking out the window.  It's a lovely winter day.  Snow covers the ground.  It's very cold, but perfect for skiing.  So, Charlie bundles up with several layers of clothes.  Then he puts on his big gloves and his skis.  When he moves toward the door, he discovers that he's so bundled up that he can't get through the door.  So, we see him in the last frame of the cartoon, standing there screaming at the top of his lungs in utter frustration. 

That image of Charlie Brown standing in front of the door too bundled up to pass through it, I think captures for us the teaching that Jesus is setting before us today in the Gospel of Luke.  I think it is safe to say that all of us in this Church want to follow Jesus.  But at times, we find ourselves so bundled up with the worries and concerns of life, so bundled up with the possessions that can easily dominate our lives and hold us captive, that we end up like Charlie Brown - so bundled up that we can't get through the door - the door that opens to the way of the Gospel and eternal life in Christ. 

Sometimes, though, it's not just our material possessions and concerns that keep us from passing through the door.  Sometimes it's the fear of what others may say or think of us as we struggle to live out our Christian convictions. 

One of the most famous photographs taken during World War II shows four marines planting the American flag on Mt. Surabachi on the island of Iwo Jima in the Pacific Ocean.  The famous photograph was taken just after the Marines had driven the enemy from this strategic location on the mountain.  

The photographer who took the picture braved mine fields and machine-gun fire to record it.  His name was Joe Rosenthal.  Joe was not a stranger to courage.  He was a Jew who became convinced that Jesus was not only the promised Messiah but also the very Son of God.  He decided to become a Catholic.  His family and friends fought his decision.  They thought he was making a mistake.  And so, to do what he thought was right, Joe had to go against their wishes. He loved his family deeply and so it was a wrenching and painful choice for him to make.  But he had to follow his own conscience. 

When the newspapers and magazines printed Joe's prize-winning photo, everyone wanted to know more about the man who took the photograph.  In an interview, Joe told a journalist:  "The day before we went ashore on Iwo Jima, I attended Mass and received Holy Communion." Then referring to his conversion to Catholicism, he said: If a man is genuinely convinced he has the truth, and still neglects it, he is a traitor, and that goes not only for my Jewish friends who fail to attend the synagogue each Saturday, but also for my Catholic friends whom miss Mass on Sunday." 

Joe's comment reminds us all that in order for us walk through that narrow door of faith, we must be willing to live that faith out of conviction rather than mere convenience, no matter what others may think. The ultimate strength and vitality of our Catholic way of life will be gauged by our willingness to let the values that shape our belief make an impact on the society and culture in which we live.  And that can only happen through us.  Through our willingness to let the light of the Gospel influence our decisions as a family, as employers or employees, and as citizens whose collective voice can truly make a dramatic difference in our neighborhoods, cities, county and nation. I sometimes here the critique that the Church should stay out of politics.   As men and women who are the Church, in a very real sense, it is our calling as Christians to be part of that great dialogue within our land that continues to move our nation in the way of liberty and justice for all.  All of us are called to faithful citizenship in our land, now more than ever as we face critical life issues touching all aspects of what it means to form a more perfect union.  As Catholic Christians, we would do well to realize that a nation without a conscience is one that has truly lost its soul. 

Jesus continues to be the door of eternal truth for us all.  It is wide enough to pass through - but only for those who value Jesus more than anything else, including our possessions and what other people think.

Sunday Reflection - People of conscience

One of the more dramatic moments during the 2016 Republican National Convention was the speech given by the former candidate for the Presidency, Senator Ted Cruz from Texas.  After an extremely contentious primary battle, pundits speculated endlessly prior to his speech as to whether he would formally endorse the Presidential candidate of his party, Donald Trump.  Seated in front of him as he spoke from the dais were the delegates from Mr. Trump’s home state of New York.  Articulate and persuasive speaker that he is, Senator Cruz mesmerized his audience as he outlined many of the fundamental principles of the conservative wing of his party.  But, one could sense that the audience was becoming progressively more or more restive. You could hear the crowd beginning to chant ‘Endorse Trump’ but Cruz was being extremely carefully as he was weaving toward the final crescendo of his long anticipated speech.  The delegates from New York were yelling, “Endorse,” “Endorse,” but Cruz refused and finally ended his speech by urging the delegates and all listening through the media to ‘vote their conscience!’  Political pundits endlessly commented on the speech, some predicted that this would forever taint Cruz’s chances for a future run for the Presidency, others maintained that he was cautiously posturing himself for a future run.  Time will only tell.  However, the Senator’s appeal to ‘conscience’ was no thoughtless maneuver to avoid commitment.  Rather, it was an appeal to that human faculty by which you and I hopefully discern what is right and wrong, good or bad, virtuous or sinful, in living out lives of integrity before the Lord. 

Our first reading this morning is taken from the Prophet Jeremiah. The prophets of Israel held the unenviable role of functioning as the ‘conscience’ of Israel.  As has been often said of prophets in every age, their primary function is not to tell folks what they ‘want’ to hear but rather, what they ‘need’ to hear.  The prophets of Israel and Jeremiah was no exception, invariably were the goad to the consciences of their people when they had forgotten their first and foremost commitments in life.  For a faithful Jew, that commitment was to love the Lord with all their heart and to be faithful to the relationship that the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob had forged with them.  Unfaithfulness was the great temptation of the people of Israel.  It was, quite frankly, their greatest sin.  In their foolishness, time and time again, they thought they could ‘get a better deal’ somewhere other than with the Lord.  And time and time again, the prophets would call them to conversion and a recommitment to God and to living with a right conscience. 

However, living and walking with a ‘right conscience’ has never been easy. To be a person of integrity – doing good and avoiding evil – is the life work for all of us who strive to be faithful to our baptismal covenant – our fundamental relationship as a Christian. Our Gospel today, taken from St. Luke, presents one of the more enigmatic passages in the entire New Testament. How can embracing the way of Jesus, the Prince of Peace, possibly create conflict and division in the world and in one’s relationships?  How can this be? 

My friends, to follow the Lord with conviction, to be open to letting our consciences be formed by the values of the Gospel at times cannot but invite conflict and division – perhaps even in one’s own family.  Only those for whom the Christian message is a convenient armchair philosophy, a ‘cheap grace’ – asking very little by way of practically changing our lives and our hearts – will experience Christianity without the Cross.  

Yet for those who are willing to shape their own lives, values and convictions by the one who was willing to ‘speak the truth in love’ and experience the darkness of death for daring to confront the evil that exists in our world – the cross of conflict and division will inevitably come our way. 

The fundamental question that the Gospel challenges all of us with today is quite simply:  Am I a Christian of ‘convenience’ or am I a Christian of conviction?  May our conscience be our guide in answering that question.

Sunday Reflection - Nothing lasts forever

As many of you know, I have a great fascination for books.  It is not uncommon for me to wander through a used bookstore looking for interesting titles as well as bargains.  In fact, some years ago as I was browsing through one of these bookstores I came across an interesting book by Frank Kendig and Richard Hutton entitled Life Spans, or How Long Things Last.  In it, I discovered some interesting facts.  For example, I discovered that the average life of baseball shoes worn by your favorite major league star is only two months.  Even more surprising, you discover that the average life of the stick used by one's favorite hockey player is only two games.  You also discover that the average life of a soldier's boots in peacetime is fifteen months, while in wartime it drops to only three months. 

While the lifespans of certain things are shorter than we might think, the lifespans of other things are quite long.  For example, a beer can left behind by someone camping on a mountain will still be there 80 years from now.  And a leather shoe left behind at the same site will be there 50 years from now.  Finally, the average rock that protrudes from the ground will still be there a thousand years from now.   

But whatever it is, a hockey stick, a beer can, or a rock - the authors assure us that it will eventually disappear.  For nothing lasts forever.  What is true of these material objects is also true of human beings.  We too will eventually disappear.  None of us will last forever in the life we know now.  And that's precisely the point that Jesus makes in today's gospel. Isn't that the reason why we hear the sobering warning from his lips this day:  Light your lamps...You also must be prepared, for at an hour you do not expect, the Son of Man will come.

While Biblical scholars tell us that Jesus is referring here to his Second Coming, theologians assure us that the Lord's words may also be understood as referring to the end of our own individual lives - the hour of our death.   And for that moment, Jesus encourages us to be prepared. 

Sigmund Freud, the father of psychoanalysis, had a favorite story that touches on this point of preparedness.  The story concerns a sailor who was shipwrecked and washed ashore on a South Pacific island.  He was greeted enthusiastically by natives.  They clapped and sang, hoisted him on their shoulders, carried him to their village, and sat him on a golden throne.  

Little by little, the sailor learned what was going on.  The islanders had a custom of occasionally making a man king for a year.  During his kingship he could order his subjects to do anything within reason, and they would obey him without question.  The sailor was delighted that he had been chosen to be the king.  He couldn't believe his good fortune.  Then one day he began to wonder what happened to a king when his year of kingship ended. That's when his excitement and enthusiasm came to an abrupt end.  He discovered that at the end of his kingship, he would be banished to a barren island, called "King's Island".  There he would be left to starve to death as a sacrifice to the gods. After the sailor recovered from his shock, he slowly began to put together a plan.   

As a king, he ordered the carpenters of the island to build a fleet of small boats.  When the boats were ready, he ordered the farmers of the island to dig up fruit trees and plants, put then in the boats, and transplant them on King's Island.  Finally, he ordered the stone masons to build a house on King's Island.  In this way, the sailor prepared carefully for the day when his kingship would end and he would be banished to King's Island.  

And Jesus tells us: ...provide an inexhaustible treasure in heaven that no thief can reach nor moth destroy..." The Lord is inviting us to broaden the moral horizons of our lives to realize that you and I have a future destiny that will depend on how we have lived our lives in the present moment. That future destiny, however, is grasped by faith and not by sight.  A faith, as the author to the Hebrews reminds us, that is more a matter of the heart that trusts in love than the science of cold logic.  For in the end, as St. Paul so eloquently reminds us,  only three things will last - faith, hope and love - and the greatest of these is love.