Mark 10:45

Category: Homily

  • Unforgettable

    Unforgettable

    Friday of the 5th Week of Easter

    Acts 15:22-31; John 15:12-17

    “We hold these truths to be self-evident…”
    “Four score and seven years ago…”
    “I have a dream…”

    Every one of us recognizes these phrases, but what is it about them that makes them so unforgettable? Is it their eloquence, or the passion that drove men to speak them? No, it’s what they’re speaking about; powerful truths like liberty, justice, and equality, that resonate in the heart of every person, across time.

    Today, another phrase, just as powerful and resonant, appears. We don’t know who wrote it, or who spoke it for the first time; all we have are the words, It is the decision of the Holy Spirit and of us… (Acts 15:28). Where’s the power or resonance in that? Think for a moment. Before this, when men spoke for God, as in the prophets, we heard things like, “The word of the Lord came to the prophet…” But not here; these are men, gathered together, praying, talking, arguing, trying to resolve a difficult and divisive issue. This phrase dares to say that, as they did so, God didn’t decide for them, he decided with them. Who are they to make such a claim?

    Jesus told us in the gospel exactly who they are: Men, chosen by him, appointed to go and bear fruit. Vested with his authority, given the keys of the Kingdom, and gathered in his name, these men also received his promise, the Holy Spirit, who would lead them into all truth (John 16:13). Note: Lead them, not tell them.

    History bears witness to this. Every time the Church has been confronted with issues that threaten her unity, such as this one, her leaders have met in what is called a Council. To date, there have been 21 of these “ecumenical”, or worldwide, Councils, each taking the same form: Bishops gather, debate, pray, and decide. Emotions can run high, words can get sharp, and the issues can take days or even decades to work through. Still, and every time, decisions are reached, written down, and published for the world to see.

    And, as we hear, the process works. Luke tells us that the people were delighted with the exhortation (Acts 15:31). Some Councils have ended this way. At Ephesus for example, bishops were hoisted up by the people in a joyful parade. At the end of others, like Vatican I, some bishops have run for their lives. Regardless, each Council has done what it set out to do, always in union with the Holy Spirit and collaboration with each other.

    The secret to making it work was given by Christ in the gospel in another unforgettable phrase: Love one another (John 15:17). It is love – the love of a Master who humbles himself to be a friend; who holds nothing back; who reveals everything to his friends; who not only chooses but also empowers them to do as he has done: to hold love for one another as the highest value, even to the giving of their own lives.

    The readings today remind us that we have a lot to be thankful for. First, that God has given us the Church, to which we can turn for answers, confident that God himself leads her into all truth. Second, that God has given us the Holy Spirit in many ways, not least of which is what the Second Vatican Council called the “sense of the faithful” – that inner voice that helps us discern what is truly of God. Finally, that God has given us himself, for God is love, and it is his love that binds us together. Like the bishops, we face problems with the world and sometimes with each other. But, if we keep in mind that we always gather in his name, and pray to be led by the Holy Spirit as he leads the Church, then even though we may not come up with many solutions, we will come to a deeper understanding and love of God, ourselves, and each other. The key is unity; to paraphrase Fr. Henri Nouwen, our best solutions are words and actions that do not divide but unite, that do not create conflict but unity, and that do not hurt but heal.

  • The Power of the Group

    The Power of the Group

    Wednesday of the 5th Week of Easter

    Acts 15:1-6; John 15:1-8

    Anyone who has ever been a parent or started a job knows that you can read all the books, take all the classes, and get all the training you want. No matter; once you start doing it on your own, things are going to come up that never occurred to you, and that you’re going to have to deal with.

    This was true for the Apostles, too. Jesus trained them well: day after day they followed him, talked with him, asked him questions, watched him work; he even sent them out two-by-two for on-the-job training. But now, here they are, facing a problem they never dreamed would happen, but one they have to deal with.

    We might not think that the Church growing is a problem, but that’s because we aren’t the Christian Pharisees. In their opinion, Gentiles could not be admitted to the Church until they accepted Mosaic law and practices, including circumcision. We don’t hear their rationale, but it’s probably the logical one: Jesus was a Jew. Of course, others disagree; St. Paul, for example, who would write that in Christ Jesus, neither circumcision nor uncircumcision counts for anything, but only faith working through love (Galatians 5:6). Clearly, there is stalemate; they need a way forward, and they’re going to have to do it on their own, because Jesus never said anything about this.

    Or did he? Perhaps there were signs in his words or actions.

    As for his actions, the Apostles probably remember that Jesus worked with them as a group; he called them in groups, taught them as a group, even sent them out in groups. For another, he made it a habit to include rather than exclude people; for the Apostles in particular, he even gave them authority to govern, baptize and teach in his name. Finally, Jesus prayed for unity, that they may all be one as he and the Father are one (John 17:21-23). How could it be surprising that, in response to the crisis facing the Church, the Apostles would come together as a group, include the presbyters to whom they had also given authority, and then work to make sure that the unity Jesus prayed for was preserved at all costs?

    As if that weren’t enough, consider what the Apostles heard him say in just the last few days: I will not leave you orphans; I will come to you (John 14:18); I am going away and I will come back to you (John 14:28); the Advocate, the Holy Spirit… will teach you everything and remind you of all that I told you (John 14:26); I am the vine, you are the branches. Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit, because without me you can do nothing (John 15:5).

    All this serves as a context to better understand why the Apostles would respond as they did. Our Lord had given ample evidence that he would be with them, as would the Holy Spirit. He knew very well that problems would crop up again and again, threatening to divide the Church, and that we wouldn’t know what to do. That’s why he went to such lengths to reassure us that when difficulties arise, we don’t have to know what to do; that’s his job, and there is no one better at it.

    So then, what’s our job? Do what the Apostles did: Remain in him; assemble in his name, and in his name ask for whatever we want. When we do that, we will find exactly what the Apostles and presbyters found: No matter what problem we might have, Jesus is the answer; he is the power of the group.

  • Both Beggar and Bishop

    Both Beggar and Bishop

    Saturday of the 4th Week of Easter

    Acts 13:44-52; John 14:7-14

    One Sunday in late November, members of a Mormon congregation in suburban Salt Lake City were greeted by a homeless man in the parking lot. As he approached and wished them a Happy Thanksgiving, he got various reactions; most people ignored him, a few gave him money, still others asked him to get off the property. Imagine their surprise when the man not only attended the service with them, but revealed that he was actually a Mormon bishop in disguise.

    In the gospel, our Lord said, “Have I been with you for so long a time and you still do not know me, Philip?” (John 14:9). As usual, that question is meant for us, too, but before answering, keep in mind that the word John uses for “know” means “to know by experience.” So, the question is, have we been with Jesus for so long a time and still not experienced him?

    We certainly have ample opportunity. For one thing, we experience him in each other. As St. Paul taught, we are the Body of Christ. For another, we experience him in the Scriptures, where he has given us plenty to contemplate. Finally, we have the most profound experience of all – the Blessed Sacrament, Jesus Christ himself – Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity. All these experiences have been given to us that we might come to know and love him more deeply.

    Still, in the face of all that, we have the deep-seated problem of failing to find Christ when he’s standing right in front of us. I say deep-seated because we’ve been fighting it at least since the time of St. John Chrysostom, who said that if we cannot find Christ in the beggar at the church door, we won’t find Him in the chalice.1 What good is the faith that shows us Christ in the Blessed Sacrament, if in practice we ignore Christ in those around us?

    If only it was as simple as mistaking the bishop for the beggar! Although the example shows that we still struggle with it, we are well-trained (rightly so!), to see Christ in the poor, the marginalized, and the suffering: they, as St. Teresa of Calcutta said, are Jesus in his most distressing disguise.2 But what about our Lord’s more subtle disguise – the people we spend so much time with? That can be harder; for, as so many of us know, when it comes to our families, friends, co-workers, and fellow parishioners, familiarity often breeds contempt.

    Sadly, contempt has blinded religious people for centuries. It isn’t hard to understand. The first reading is a perfect example; Paul and Barnabas preached to the Jews what sounded an awful lot like heresy. Naturally, that’s going to stir up anger, resentment, and ill will. We expect that. What we don’t expect is the persecution that followed; such behavior hardly reflects the true love or knowledge of God. How could it surprise anyone that separation would result, a wound in God’s people that aches to this day.

    But again, the issue is not them, but us. We too disagree, make mistakes, hurt each other, and stir up feelings of resentment, disappointment, or even anger, that threaten to divide us. Constantly, we must go back to the question of Jesus, have you been with me so long and still do not know me? To know Christ is to know the love that unites us one to the other; that forgives as we have been forgiven, and that looks at both beggar and bishop and sees the only thing that matters – the image and likeness of Almighty God.

    1This seems a paraphrase of section 4 of Homily 50 on Matthew: https://www.newadvent.org/fathers/200150.htm

    2https://brandonvogt.com/his-most-distressing-disguise/

    And now, a word from our sponsor…

  • The End of All Perfect Storms

    The End of All Perfect Storms

    Saturday of the 2nd Week of Easter

    Psalm 33:22; John 6:16-21

    The term “perfect storm” dates back at least to the 19th century. We don’t know exactly what it meant then, but my guess is that we all know from personal experience what it means now: Life is going along fine; then, all of a sudden and from every direction, we have nothing but trouble, if not outright disaster.

    John certainly captured the essence of that in today’s gospel passage. The Apostles are in the midst of their own perfect storm, literally: in a boat, in the dark, out at sea, working hard to make it across, waves rising, and strong winds blowing against their every effort.

    While three evangelists tell the story of our Lord walking on the water, only John strips it down to the bare essentials. He says nothing about Peter going out to join Jesus, the Apostles mistaking him for a ghost, or thinking that he will pass them by. Rather, John keeps only two things in common with the other versions: First, the Apostles see Jesus walking on the sea (6:19); second, when Jesus comes to them, he says, It is I (or, I AM). Do not be afraid (6:20).

    Why would John do this? Possibly because of the way he wants to use the story to help us understand Jesus. Consider how this story fits into John’s narrative: Right before this, Jesus fed thousands with five barley loaves and two fish (6:4-14). Now, he walks on the sea and the Apostles get safely to shore. The next day, he will again encounter those he fed, but this time will reveal to them that he himself is the true bread come down from heaven that gives life to the world (6:32-33). In all this, John stirs up a memory and makes an association. Who in Israel’s history fed thousands in the wilderness, brought them safely through the sea, and guided them to a new life in the Promised Land? What the Father once did for Israel, his Son now does for the Apostles, and for all his people.

    And not just for them; for us, too. Through John’s simple but powerful retelling of the story, Jesus assures us that there is no storm in our life that is too much. They may seem so to us, but that’s because in the heat of the moment we tend to focus on the troubles, the failures, and the problems. That’s only natural; the storms in our lives come upon us so suddenly, and seem so big. But, if we can find it within ourselves to take a moment, step back, and remember how God has always been there, we will see that he hasn’t abandoned us; he is right there in the storm with us.

    In the storm with us… what does that mean? Won’t the storm be over? You might not have noticed, but that’s another difference between this version of this story and the others. John says nothing about Jesus calming the storm. His point wasn’t that Jesus makes storms disappear, it was that he is with us in them and keeps us safe despite them. So, let us resolve to do what the psalmist urges us to do: Place our trust in God. For, although we cannot eliminate the storms from our lives, we can remember that, even in the most perfect storm, it isn’t that we have nothing but trouble; it’s that we have nothing but God.

  • Doing What the King Would Not

    Doing What the King Would Not

    Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord

    Isaiah 7:10-14,8:10; Psalm 40:8-9; Hebrews 10:4-10; Luke 1:26-38

    In her wisdom and guided by the Holy Spirit, the Church has chosen each day’s readings to make a certain point. Often, the central theme of the readings is found in the psalm. Today is a good example; the psalm is quoted by the author of the Letter to the Hebrews, who puts on the lips of Christ the words, I come to do your will, O God (Psalm 40:9). The Church puts them on our lips too, for they are much more than a mere literary theme; it is the goal of every Christian to imitate Christ.

    The first reading and the gospel are also intended to go together. Some days, like today, that might seem a little less clear, but we do find some points of contact when we look at their two prominent figures, Ahaz and the Blessed Virgin Mary.

    Ahaz was king of Judah; just 20 years old when he gained power. As we see him here, he is worried about Jerusalem being invaded by hostile kings from the north. Although God has already assured him this will not happen, Ahaz doesn’t trust God; he prefers to trust in himself and his own plans. Thus, when he refuses God’s invitation to ask for a sign, it isn’t a display of piety, but of his own arrogance and lack of faith.

    Mary stands in stark contrast to this, apart from also being young and receiving an invitation from God. The king is concerned purely with earthly power; the virgin, with powerlessness. He trusts in his own plans; she in God’s. Ahaz, in false piety, will not ask God for a sign; Mary, truly pious, asks, how can this be? The pretentious king will not respond to God’s invitation, even when the sign of a virgin with child is given; the humble maiden not only responds, but consents to be the virgin mother of that child.

    This brings us to the heart of the readings: The child. Ultimately, today isn’t about the refusal of Ahaz or the fiat of Mary; it’s about the Annunciation of the Lord. The Church has chosen these readings to remind us that all of us, no matter who, are invited to bring God to the world in some way. Sometimes, this comes as an invitation to joy, healing, and unity; others, an invitation to suffering, rejection, and loss. Either way, submission to God’s will requires us to be as Mary was: Living each day as part of the plan without knowing the plan, trusting God and not our own understanding, and placing no restrictions on what faith in Him makes possible, for as the angel said, nothing will be impossible for God (Luke 1:37).

    We may catch ourselves thinking that when the angel said that, he wasn’t thinking of us. As our Lord and his Blessed Mother lived it, discipleship is a total commitment, body and soul. Mary couldn’t be a little pregnant; Jesus couldn’t be partly divine, or almost die on the cross. When Jesus and Mary said, I come to do your will, they meant it to the death and beyond. Not that we don’t mean it, but we know how easy those words are to say and how very difficult to live. Given enough of even the little disappointments or failures of life, our resolve can be sorely tested. Which of us is never tempted to put the cross down, to think of ourselves, and to ask, “But what about me and what I want?”

    This isn’t meant as an indictment but an acknowledgment of reality. But so is this: There was only one perfect disciple: the Blessed Virgin Mary, perfected in grace from all eternity by her Son and Redeemer. The rest of us are works in progress; destined to be like her, perfected in grace, but not there yet. For us, growing as a disciple means examining ourselves, seeing where our weaknesses lie, and looking for the times, places, or events in our lives that trigger them. Even more importantly, we must remember that we don’t do this alone. Christ wants us to come to him; he has all the grace we will ever need. But we also must remember that when those who needed to be healed came to him, he still made them ask.

    So then, let us pray for the humility to do what the servant would do, but the king would not: Ask. And not only ask, but accept every invitation to announce the Lord by the witness of our lives. Only in this way, as today’s opening prayer said, can we, “who confess our Redeemer to be God and man… merit to become partakers even in his divine nature” (cf 2 Peter 1:4).

  • The Two Wells

    The Two Wells

    The 3rd Sunday of Lent, Cycle A

    Exodus 17:3-7; Romans 5:1-2, 5-8; John 4:5-42

    Not long ago, I came across a very interesting survey. What got my attention was how brief and unusual it was, given its audience. The author asked hundreds of business men and women a single question, and wanted a single-word answer: “If you could say in one word what you want more of in life, what would that be?”

    As we think about our own answer, let me just say that “money” did not come in first (not that any of us was thinking that). No, first place went to “happiness.” Some of the other top answers were freedom, peace, joy, and fulfillment. All these from business people, many of whom are no doubt wealthy or at least holding their own financially.

    This got me to wondering about the Samaritan woman in today’s gospel, and what she would have said. We don’t know a lot about her, but from the little we do know, I would guess that she, like the people in the survey, wasn’t too happy, didn’t feel very free, was not at peace, and probably felt unfulfilled. For that matter, what about us? My guess is that we, like many people across the ages, have felt pretty much the same.

    So, how do we get that way? To borrow a concept from the gospel, by looking for the right water in the wrong well. What’s the right water? The things we most want, deep down: Happiness, peace, freedom, fulfillment. What’s the wrong well? Anything that can never supply them. We think, “If I have this food, those clothes, that home, I’ll be happy!” But after we get them, what happens? We tire of them and thirst all over again. “OK, maybe THIS food, THOSE clothes, THAT home…” It’s a cycle; the more we drink the wrong water, the thirstier we become, and the more we drink. The irony is that we will risk losing sight of everything, even God, in our relentless pursuit of what it turns out that only God can give! This is why, centuries earlier, the Lord said through the prophet Jeremiah, Two evils my people have done: they have forsaken me, the source of living waters; They have dug themselves cisterns, broken cisterns that cannot hold water (Jeremiah 2:13).

    Jacob’s well was no broken cistern but the Samaritan woman certainly was, and Jesus really wanted to see her. We know that because John says, Jesus had to pass through Samaria (John 4:4). There were well-known routes around that country, to the east and west. No, he went to see her, just like he comes to see us. Why? What does he offer people drinking from the wrong well? A way out. Remember his words to her at the start: If you knew the gift of God and who is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him and he would have given you living water. (John 4:10). He’s challenging her, challenging all of us: Know me, and ask for the life that only I can give.

    At first, she resisted; made light of it, stayed with the water she understood. We all do that, for at least a couple of reasons. First, habits are hard to break, even harder when they’re habits we like. Second, it’s a lot easier to run from problems than it is to face them. But there is no running from Christ. He knows exactly how to get our attention; he hits very close to home. For the woman, it was when he said, Go call your husband and come back (John 4:16). Imagine the shock, not only of how he could know the truth, but having to look the truth straight in the eye. This is the encounter with Christ, who is the Truth; he not only shows us who he is, he shows us who we are. As the scholar William Barclay once said, “We never really see ourselves until we see ourselves in the presence of Christ; and then we are appalled at the sight.”

    Christ is the truth, but he is the way and the life as well. Although he does show us who we are, he also shows us who we are made to be. We saw this in the readings for the first two weeks of Lent; yes, sin entered the world, and through sin our thirst for dead water, but Christ also entered the world, and by his passion, death, and resurrection has opened the way to eternal life. Now, in the 3rd week of Lent, our Lord teaches us that the choice is ours: Are we going to keep taking water from the wrong well, or are going to turn to Christ, and take the living water of his infinite grace?

    That was the question before the Samaritan woman. We know what she did, John tells us: She left her water jar and went into the town and said to the people, ‘Come see a man who told me everything I have done. Could he possibly be the Christ’ (John 4:28-29)? She became an evangelizer. For the first time in a long time, maybe the first time ever, this woman knew happiness, peace, and fulfillment like she had never known.

    That leaves us. The choice is ours: There, the same old well, the same dead water; here, Christ, the Living Water. He comes to this well today, and every day, in the Blessed Sacrament, just to see us. All he asks is that we do what the Samaritan woman did: Have the courage to face ourselves as we are, the honesty to call the truth the truth, and the humility to put the old water jar down and seek the infinite grace of forgiveness that he is so eager to give. After that, the only question is, how much of the Living Water do you want?

  • Who is the Prodigal?

    Who is the Prodigal?

    Saturday of the 2nd Week of Lent

    Micah 7:14-15, 18-20; Luke 15:1-3, 11-32

    I think one of the reasons why today’s parable is such a masterpiece is that we see reflections of ourselves in its characters. Perhaps in our youth, we too have been reckless or impulsive, like the prodigal son; certainly all of us try to be faithful and hard-working like the older son. And perhaps many of us, like the father, know what it’s like to wait for someone we love to return to the path they have wandered away from.

    While the crowd listening that day was surely no different, the gospel tells us that our Lord aimed the parable at one group in particular – the scribes and Pharisees, who had just complained that Jesus welcomed sinners and ate with them. If these men were to see themselves as anyone in the parable, surely it was the older brother, for these were men zealous for the Law, dedicating themselves to it, urging everyone to imitate the piety and traditions of the priests and Levites.

    To some degree, their zeal was understandable. The Pharisee party rose up in reaction to the brutal occupations Israel had suffered, most recently the Romans. They believed that these were God’s punishment for their infidelity; the idea was that, if they could show God that they were zealously and piously following his Law, He would deliver them from this oppression.

    Unfortunately, when we let our passions rule, ideas can become obsessions and lead us into sin. We see this in the younger son in the parable: the deadly sins of greed, lust, and gluttony. But what about the older son? As we consider him, we also find three deadly sins: Anger, envy, and pride. There is anger in every word he says, envy of the rings, the robes, the fatted calf, and behind it all, the first sin, pride: he had earned these things, proven himself. It wasn’t about divine justice or his father’s feelings, it was about him and him alone.

    In the end, the righteousness of the older brother was no more than self-righteousness. And what did it get him? Nothing but the chance to lose everything. As the theologian Hugh of St. Victor once said1, “Pride takes God away from a person; envy takes his neighbor from him; anger takes himself from him.” Blinded by pride, he lost his way to God; consumed by envy, he broke with his brother; overcome by anger, he lost sight of what should have been most important at that moment – mercy. Perhaps it should be called the parable of the unloving brothers, for as the prodigal son had come to measure love by having, he had come to measure it by earning.

    This goes right to the heart of the lesson our Lord is teaching. True love isn’t about earning or having, it’s about being. Remember what the father said to his older son: Everything I have is yours (Luke 15:31). All those years of faithfulness, obedience, and good work were never going to earn his father’s love because it was never about that; it was about being his son. The same for the younger brother; it was never about having whatever and whoever he wanted, it was about being his father’s son.

    Today, and every day, is a day to rejoice, for we too are children of our Heavenly Father, who, as the prophet Micah said, removes guilt and pardons sin (Micah 7:18). And he doesn’t discriminate; his love is beyond all our sinfulness, whether it’s the greed, gluttony, and lust of the one, or the anger, envy, and pride of the other. Perhaps, then, it should be called the parable of the Prodigal Father! Truly, God is prodigal, to love us with such overflowing, reckless abandon.

    1On the Five Sevens. Available at https://scholarlyediting.org/2016/editions/de-quinque-septenis-trans.dunning.html.type=diplomatic.html

  • Looking into the Eyes of Love

    Looking into the Eyes of Love

    Memorial of Our Lady of Lourdes

    Isaiah 66:10-14c; John 2:1-11

    In the first reading Isaiah called to mind the tender image of a mother comforting a baby carried in her arms… fondled in her lap (Isaiah 66:12-13). At such times, mothers might speak, but they know that words are unnecessary. They prefer the other senses: Touch, smell, and especially, sight. Many of us know this from experience; while we like to hold babies and smell them (there’s nothing like that “new baby” smell), we especially love to look into their eyes.

    In fact, scientists have recently discovered that when infants and parents lock eyes, their brain waves synchronize; that is, the child’s brain activity mirrors their parent’s. That’s not all; this phenomenon seems to continue throughout life. No wonder my mother was so good at reading my mind every time she asked me to look her in the eyes!

    I believe the same is true of the Blessed Mother and Jesus, and I think today’s gospel story is a good case in point. After Mary tells Jesus that the wine has run short, he’s not disrespectful but he does make it clear that he’s not particularly interested. Nevertheless, just a moment later, he miraculously creates about 120 gallons of fine wine. What could possibly have so moved him?

    I think only one thing could do that: Looking his Mother in the eyes.

    She had gazed into those eyes from the time she first carried him in her arms, and many times since over those thirty hidden years in Nazareth. In a very real way and beyond anything either science or St. Paul could have imagined, Mary had the mind of Christ. So, whatever was behind her eyes at that moment in Cana, he knew that it could only be motivated by the purest love of him, her Son, her Savior, and her Lord.

    And, in ways known only to Christ, Mary’s eyes were much more than a window to her immaculate soul. Hers were the eyes that beheld the angelic revelation in Nazareth; that searched for a place to give him birth; that watched and guarded him as he grew; that wept as he walked out the door for the last time. Hers were the eyes that constantly looked for ways to be the disciple she had been called from all eternity to be; the eyes now gazing at him, pleading in their own quiet way for him to save the honor of this bride and bridegroom; to show them and the world the merciful and loving Savior she had gazed upon for ten thousand wondrous days in Nazareth.

    I came across a book by Fr. Raneiro Cantalamessa, Preacher to the Papal Household, entitled, Mary, Mirror of the Church. I look forward to reading it! By that title he surely must be thinking of the Blessed Mother as we now know her and as she once described herself to Bernadette Soubirous at Lourdes: “I am the Immaculate Conception.” The titles work wonderfully together, for as St. Paul once wrote, Christ has sanctified the Church that he might present to himself the church in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish (Ephesians 5:27). It may have been the love of a young man for his mom that first moved Jesus to change water into wine at Cana, but it was the infinite love of the Son of Man for his holy and immaculate bride, the Church, that moved him to change bread and wine into his own Body and Blood at the Last Supper.

    Today we remember the one he called Woman, who we call Mary Immaculate, Mother and mirror of the Church. Let us take a moment today to thank God for giving us so loving a mother. May she continue to look tenderly upon all of us, her spiritual children, and plead that we too be made into the finest wine. She, who has for so long looked into the eyes of Infinite Love and perfectly conformed her mind to His.

    Mary Immaculate, pray for us.

  • The Lesson of the Right Tree

    The Lesson of the Right Tree

    Wednesday of the 5th Week in Ordinary Time

    Genesis 2:4b-9, 15-17; Mark 7:14-23

    Throughout the bible, certain phrases appear in pairs, one at the beginning and the other at the end of a section. Think of these phrases as bookends, and what appears in-between as an explanation of their meaning. Sometimes, the bookends appear close together, for example in the same biblical story, other times further apart, like the beginning and end of a book.

    Today we hear the first of two bookends that are separated by virtually the entire bible. We heard it when the author of the second Creation story spoke of the tree of life in the middle of the garden. The other bookend will not appear until the very last book of the bible, Revelation, whose author says, To the victor I will give the right to eat from the tree of life that is in the garden of God (Revelation 2:7).

    Seeing these two instances as bookends allows us to see the story of the bible in terms of the tree of life. It’s ironic that the other tree in the middle of the garden, the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, gets so much attention; then again, we humans often focus on where we’ve gone wrong, and how we got where we are. While there’s good reason for that, today is a day to focus on what has gone right, and how to get where we’re going.

    The reason for that positive outlook lies in today’s saint. She was a very positive person; her joy was infectious, and her perspective inspires people like me to this day. I’d like to call her by name, but we don’t know it. As a child in Sudan, she once did, but that was before slavery, which was so physically traumatic that she forgot her own name. In time, one of her masters nicknamed her “Bakhita,” Arabic for lucky.

    Bakhita was not raised a Christian, but the Spirit was quietly active in her life. While still a young woman and serving as nanny to a little girl, she was sent to a convent with the child. There, the sisters introduced her to Christ, and she fell so completely in love with him that she vowed never to love another. Once freed from slavery, she kept that vow; she became a Catholic, took the name Josephine, and served our Lord faithfully and joyfully as a Canossian sister until her death 42 years later.

    What should draw us to St. Josephine Bakhita isn’t the sympathy she so deserves; it is her unshakable, unwavering refusal to take her eyes off Jesus Christ, whom she rightly recognized as the Tree of Life. The superabundant graces he poured upon her were more transforming than any of the harsh treatment she endured; so powerful were they that she went to her grave thanking those who treated her so badly. As she said, she never would have met the true love of her life had she not trod the road, and endured the cross, that she did.

    The truth of Scripture from the perspective of this great saint is inescapable. All the evils Christ spoke of: theft, greed, malice, deceit, licentiousness, arrogance, folly – the ones suffered by Bakhita – spring not only from the hearts of slave traders and masters, but from our own hearts as well. And, although the bible wisely spends a lot of time on the lessons we can learn from our fascination with the wrong tree, the most powerful truth of all is found in the lesson of the right tree – the bookend from Revelation: To the victor I will give the right to eat from the tree of life that is in the garden of God. Who is the victor? We are; all of those who, like St. Josephine Bakhita, understand that Jesus Christ, the Tree of Life from whom we are invited to eat, is not only the center of the bible, but the center of our lives as well.

    St. Josephine Bakhita, pray for us.

  • Upside Down

    Upside Down

    Tuesday of the 5th Week in Ordinary Time

    Genesis 1:20 – 2:4a; Psalm 8:6-7; Mark 7:1-13

    You probably noticed that three times Jesus used the word, “tradition.” What is he talking about? Is it the Tradition we refer to and rely on in the Church to this day?

    No.

    In the first century, the Pharisees believed that occupation by Rome was a sign that God was angry with Israel for her unholiness. They got the idea that, if all Jews would follow the purity rituals of the priests, God would free Israel from Roman oppression. These cleansing rituals are what Mark called the tradition of the elders, and Jesus referred to as human, or your tradition. Essentially, it was superstition; the belief that, if they correctly performed some rituals, God would answer their prayers the way they wanted.

    Sadly, temptations to superstitious thinking are still with us. Not long ago, I was in line at a local hardware store and happened to see bags labelled “Home-Selling Kits” on a rack. I picked one up. Inside was a plastic statue of St. Joseph, with instructions to bury him upside down outside the house you were selling. I didn’t think of the faithful and well-formed people who do such things with great piety, but of those who buy such kits without knowing, as the Catechism teaches, that our prayers are answered based on our interior disposition (Catechism, 2111), not because we performed a particular ritual.

    By calling the scribes and Pharisees out, our Lord reminded them and us of two things related to piety, the virtue by which we give God the worship and service he deserves. First, true piety is based on love, not fear; specifically, love returned for love given. Think of the Creation story we just heard, how we are made in the image of God; or the psalm, how we are made little less than the angels, crowned with glory and honor, and given rule over the works of his hands. This is the pure, eternal, selfless love of God’s providence; if for no other reason than sheer gratitude, how could we return anything less than love for such a priceless gift?

    Second, piety should motivate us not just to love and respect God, but also to obey his commandments, for they are expressions of his infinite love for us. Remember his first words to us in Genesis: Be fruitful and multiply, fill the earth, and subdue it. Be fruitful: Thank God for the gift of family, especially today, your own. Multiply: Ask God to help you continue to find ways for your good works to prosper, now and in the future. Fill the earth: Everywhere you go, everyone you encounter, be like Christ; let no one be the same after they have been with you. Subdue it: Let us ask God to help us first master ourselves, that we may be better disciples; then find ways to make our own corner of the world a more just and Godly place. And let us pray always for an increase in our own piety, that every act of worship or reverence shown to Almighty God is never seen as a task or a burden, but as an act of joyful love.

    Even when that means burying St. Joseph. Upside down.