Mark 10:45

Category: Homily

  • The Pursuit of Happiness: St. Norbert, Bishop

    Matthew 5:1-12

    The deacon is ordained in persona Christi Servi, in the person of Christ the Servant, and the priest in persona Christi Capitis, in the person of Christ the Head. Those who aspire to these orders are first called to deep reflection and discernment, to determine whether they are called to live as Christ lived, in service and self-denial.

    Reflection, discernment, service, self-denial; these are not words that one would have used to describe the man who would become Saint Norbert. Born in Germany in the year 1080 into a wealthy and influential family, Norbert was an intelligent and sophisticated young man, but was also worldly, shallow, and spoiled. He had studied for ordination, but found that he liked less responsibility and more fun, so he was content to remain a subdeacon. Ordination was for other people; Norbert enjoyed being served far too much to even consider the thought of serving.

    One summer day this 30 year-old bon vivant started out for a nearby town in his usual pursuit of pleasure, along with one his servants. Caught in a sudden, violent storm, his horse startled at a nearby thunderbolt. Norbert was thrown and knocked unconscious. Coming to, he sensed the presence of God and called out, “Lord, what would you have me do?” A verse from Psalm 34 began running through his head, “Turn away from evil and do good: seek after peace, and pursue it.”

    For the first time in a long time, Norbert began seriously reflecting on his life.

    We read in Matthew’s gospel that once Jesus was seated on the mountain, his disciples came to him. After his own divine encounter in that rainstorm, Norbert also came to Christ. Perhaps he even recalled him saying, Blessed are the poor in spirit, because when he returned home, Norbert signed away his wealth and spent the next two years preparing for ordination to the diaconate and priesthood.

    The grace of Holy Orders worked wonders within him. This newly humbled man was a great preacher. What’s more, his own conversion kindled in him a desire to reform other clerics who were now living the same high life that he once enjoyed. He would have good reason to remember Christ’s words, Blessed are you when they insult you, for many of these men had known Norbert for a long time and strongly resented his deep and newfound piety. These bitter and resistant clerics heaped insults upon him; one of them even spat right in his face.

    Yet, Norbert knew that Jesus also said, Blessed are the meek. He bore every insult without resentment and offered it all up in reparation for his own sinfulness. His reward would be to inherit the land twice over. First, Norbert’s work bore so much fruit that he was asked to spread reform across both France and Germany. Second, he was given land at Premontre in France to build his first monastery. On Christmas Day 1121, he established with his growing band of followers the order known as the Premonstratensians, also called the Norbertines.

    Norbert had turned from evil to do good; next he would seek after peace. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. This may have been his greatest work. He combined his intellect and social skill with the grace of his office and became famous for finding ways to broker peace where many thought it impossible. His reputation as a peacemaker was unparalleled in his time.

    arabs-1367173_640Norbert did not become a saint because he fell off a horse and heard a Scripture verse; he became a saint because he took a hard look at himself and realized that he had no idea what happiness is. Happiness is beatitude, or eternal union with Christ. As a young man he once aspired to imitate Christ through Holy Orders, but when that life looked difficult and a worldly one much easier, he allowed himself to settle for less. We aren’t so different. In our own spiritual lives, we sometimes try to draw closer to Christ by setting some new and ambitious goal, only to find how hard it is to do in practice. Like Norbert, we end up settling for less and allowing other more worldly things to come between us and a closer union with God.

    The beatitudes teach us that Jesus did not suffer and die so that we might settle for less. God desires only our happiness, and that means union with him. The example of Saint Norbert shows us that true union with God means becoming what we were meant to be and what Christ already is: poor in spirit; mourning our sins; meek; hungry and thirsty for righteousness; merciful; clean of heart; a peacemaker; willing to be insulted and persecuted out of love for his Father and for us. Jesus settled for no less than the cross because he wanted no less than our resurrection. May we desire no less than to be like him, that we may be with him, our one true happiness.

    Saint Norbert, pray for us.

  • True Charisma – The Feast of the Visitation

    Romans 12:9-16; Luke 1:39-56

    They call it stage presence in the theatre; in movies, star quality. We may know it as charisma, or perhaps in French as je ne sais quoi. By whatever name, it is that “certain something” that some people seem to be born with and others long to acquire, that ability to command attention from the moment they step into the scene. Today, as we meditate on the scene in Sacred Scripture we call the Visitation, we see that even from the womb our Blessed Lord has the ability to make his presence felt.

    Of course, the first to feel the presence of Christ is Mary, his mother. Paul reminded us in the first reading that we are to let love be sincere… to love one another with mutual affection; anticipate one another in showing honor (Romans 12:9-10). Soon after learning that she is pregnant with the Son of God, Mary goes “in haste” to visit Elizabeth, pregnant with His forerunner. The most sincere love, the deepest honor Mary could show, was to bring her the very presence of Christ. This is what mission in the Church has always been: the desire to bring Christ to people and allow Him to move them in His own inscrutable ways.

    John is the first to be moved, and that literally. Research shows that infants of his age in the womb hear and react to all kinds of sounds around them. For John, already gifted with great sensitivity to the divine presence, the mere sound of Mary’s voice was enough to animate him and send him into ecstasy. From the moment he was filled with the Holy Spirit, John became the epitome of St. Paul’s words, Do not grow slack in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord (Romans 12:11). John would serve Christ to the death.

    Mary’s greeting also moved Elizabeth. When St. Paul said, Rejoice in hope, endure in affliction, persevere in prayer (Romans 12:12), it almost seems as if he was thinking of her. For many years Elizabeth endured the affliction of barrenness; nevertheless, as a righteous daughter of Aaron she also persevered in prayer (Luke 1:5-7). Now, she reaped the reward of rejoicing in the presence of Christ who is Hope and filled with the Holy Spirit was privileged to be the first to call Mary the Mother of our Lord (Luke 1:43).

    virgin-mary-2234532_640The first reading closes with this exhortation from St. Paul: Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Have the same regard for one another; do not be haughty but associate with the lowly; do not be wise in your own estimation (Romans 12:15-16). What better or more fitting words are there to describe her whose very soul rejoices in God, her Savior? In the fullness of the grace bestowed on her as a singular gift of God and there visiting Elizabeth and pregnant with the Christ-child, Mary is the very answer to the question Nathanael would ask, “Can anything good come from Nazareth (John 1:46)?” Anything good, indeed! Only she, who by her fiat consented to bring the world Goodness itself; she, not wise in the world’s estimation yet wise enough to leave us with the best advice a mother could tell her children, Do whatever he tells you (John 2:5).

  • A Love Song To Christ For the World: Wednesday of the 6th Week of Easter

    Acts 17:15, 22 – 18:1; John 16:12-15

    Music has been an important part of my life for many decades. I grew up with the sounds of music in the house; Mom loved the Irish songs of her childhood and Dad the classical and big band music of his. As I grew up and learned how to play the guitar I began to compose and sing my own music, which reflected my own passions and influences. I devoted more and more time to learning how to compose and gradually became daring enough to share my songs with others.

    When I was 20, I met a young woman about my age who wanted to hear my music. I invited her over and, with my heart beating almost into my throat, sang a couple of my songs. When I finished she asked, “Have you written anything without God in it?” I hadn’t. Clearly uninterested but very polite, she excused herself and that was the last I ever saw of her.

    Over the ensuing years I sent my music to every Catholic music publisher I could find. Every one of them replied with similar notes: “Thank you for sending us your songs. They are very pretty but do not fit in with our plans.” Once, one of my songs made it into a “second review” process, having passed the first level of reviewers, but eventually it too was rejected; although very lovely, it “didn’t fit in with their plans.” I gave up on publishers and instead played my songs for music directors at their parishes. As you might guess by now, more polite rejection. It became clear to me that no matter how inspired I thought my music was, no matter how badly I wanted it to move people or give them a deeper love for Christ, I was in the vast minority.

    Paul was in the minority when he came to Athens. Though a shadow of its former self, Athens was still the center of learning and the place to go for the pursuit of philosophical truth. Philosophers are lovers of wisdom, that’s what the word means, but Paul had something more to give them for Christ is no mere lover of wisdom; Christ is Wisdom. So Paul went into Athens and, in the face of a pagan public, preached the truth he had received directly from the Truth Himself.

    As we heard, Paul was rejected, rebuffed; told no matter how politely that his message “didn’t fit in with their plans.” We could focus on the pain or discouragement that we might feel for being rejected – and I have done that many times – but if we do, we miss the larger lesson. Those who are called to proclaim the gospel are to do so in the pattern of Christ: To call, to invite, even to challenge, but never to force people. This is exactly what Paul did; whether in Athens or elsewhere, everyone who heard him was free to accept or reject the gospel.

    Paul certainly felt the pain of rejection; his letters speak of it at times. Yet those same letters have been read for literally thousands of years; untold billions of people have found their hearts moved to the point of conversion by words he wrote with no such purpose in mind. The purpose was not his, it was Christ’s. That much Paul did understand. He knew that the message belonged to Christ who called him to bring the gospel to the world and who had a plan that far exceeded anything he or any of the Apostles could have ever imagined. It was this understanding that drove all of them onward, not the blessings of security and success.

    Little has changed since then. On the one hand, the modern world is at heart no different from ancient Athens; it still tends to go its own way, to call “truth” whatever is convenient to it and reject however politely whatever doesn’t fit into its plans, including the reality of Christ’s passion, death, and resurrection. On the other hand, God is also no different and His is the only plan that matters: the plan of the Father, the Eternal Word Jesus Christ, and the power and working of the Holy Spirit. And even though the fear of rejection by the world also remains the same, so does the fact that every one of us who call ourselves His followers have by virtue of our baptism and confirmation received the infinite power of grace to overcome all fear.

    boy-984293_640Leaving Mass, the priest or deacon will say, “Go and announce the gospel of the Lord,” or “Go in peace, glorifying the Lord by your life.” This is our mandate, our call. We have each been given our own unique gifts, not meant only for ourselves. However we do it, our lives are to be a love song to Christ for the world. That our song may be rejected isn’t important. What matters to God is that we sang it for everyone to hear.

  • I Stand at the Door and Knock: Monday the 6th Week of Easter

    Acts 16:11-15; John 15:26-16:4a

    There is a very popular painting called The Light of the World by the artist William Holman Hunt. You’ve probably seen it, you may even have a copy. It is an image of Christ holding a lantern and knocking on the door of a house.

    In the gospel reading, Jesus told the Apostles that the synagogue doors would soon be closed to them. This did much more than just cut off their means of worship. For Jews, the synagogue was the center not only of religious life but social life as well. The Apostles, their families, friends, neighbors, and co-workers spent their entire lives within the confines of Judaism and the synagogue. Expulsion meant a total separation from the only way of life they had ever known.

    Yet God never closes one door without opening another; if the doors of Jewish society were closing, the doors of Europe were about to open. In Chapter 16 of Acts, we read that (d)uring the night Paul had a vision. A Macedonian stood before him and implored him with these words, “Come over to Macedonia and help us” (Acts 16:9). So it was that Paul and his companions arrived at Philippi. They would find very few Jews; Philippi’s residents were mostly descended from Roman soldiers settled there in retirement by Augustus Caesar about 80 years earlier. That is why Paul went to a local river; lacking a synagogue, the Jews and God-fearers would gather for prayer there because they needed water for ritual washing.

    As Paul spoke on the river bank in Philippi, a Gentile woman named Lydia listened, and the Lord opened her heart to pay attention to what Paul was saying (Acts 16:14). After she and her household welcomed Christ into their hearts through the waters of baptism, they welcomed Paul and the others into their house. We take church buildings for granted, but in those early days Christians had nowhere to meet for worship, instruction, and fellowship. Thanks to Lydia and her family’s generosity, the Christians at Philippi now had a house of worship.

    Earlier, I referred to the painting of Christ knocking on the door of a house. Some people miss the fact that the door in the painting has no handle on the outside. The door to the human heart opens only from the inside. God could deliver Paul and his companions to Philippi, he could put the words in their mouths, even put them in her ears, but Lydia’s heart could only be opened by an act of her own free will in cooperation with grace.

    glass-door-861007_1280Love is also an act of the will, and to love like Christ requires cooperation with divine grace. This is the love that we are all called to; the love constantly reaches out even to those who push it away; that speaks of healing even to those content only to wound; that speaks of light even to those who love the darkness; that echoes to our neighbor the same words that inspired the artist to paint that famous image of the true Light of the World knocking on the door of our heart: Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, then I will enter his house and dine with him, and he with me (Rev 3:20).

  • Letting Go, That We May Hold On: Memorial Day

    1 Peter 1:3-9; Mark 10:17-27

    General Dwight D. Eisenhower was a great leader for many reasons, not least of which was the way he treated those under his command. During the Second World War he made it a habit to be around his soldiers, to walk and talk with them, get to know them, and to honestly answer their questions. He knew he owed them no less, for he was ordering them into a battle that would cost many their life.

    He also knew that just like him they lived according to certain principles, one being that there are things are worth dying for. Ask any soldier what those are and they will say the same things: Love of country; of family; of freedom; of God. We should remember that military oaths of office in our country have historically ended with the words, “So help me God.”

    In His infinite mercy, God does help; most of all by sending His only Son, our Lord, Jesus Christ who also made it a habit to be around people, to walk and talk with them, and to honestly answer their questions. Of course, the man in today’s gospel wasn’t a soldier but he did take part in that holy war we all fight – the inner battle between what we want and what is good. He too lived by certain principles. Jesus named several: He honored his parents, took no lives, told the truth, lived chastely, and respected others’ property. Many people would call that a good, honest life.

    But Christ isn’t many people and He judges by His own standards. That is why when He looked at the man He asked him to let his wealth go. We know what happened next. This was a bridge too far; the soldier sounded retreat and went away sad. Only Jesus was sadder, he knew that for the sake of escaping a battle that man risked losing the war.

    That man isn’t alone; this is our fight too and we could ask the same question of Christ. So then let us ask ourselves, “What does Christ want me to let go of? What do I most value?” It might be wealth but it might be a number of other things: Our time; our talent; our social standing; our pride; our privilege.

    General-turned-President Eisenhower said at his inauguration: “A people that values its privileges above its principles soon loses both.” As we look at civil societies like ancient Greece or Rome, we find that at least some of the decay that led to their implosion started within; a weakening of the moral fiber that bound them one to another and enabled them to forget the principles that made them great to begin with.

    As for Christian society, the “City of God”, what made it great and the only thing that can keep it great is the faith handed down to it. This is why St. Peter calls the faith more precious than gold (1 Peter 1:7). He is speaking about faith in Christ and the power of His resurrection, which is the ultimate principle of life. Through faith we love Him although we have not seen Him; by faith we walk toward Him as our ultimate goal; in faith we hope one day to be united with Him in heavenly glory.

    remembrance-day-2910469_640The men and women who we remember today may or may not have had faith in Christ, but in the end what matters is that somehow He spoke to them. In some way known only to Him, Jesus answered their life questions by asking them to be willing to configure themselves to Him; if need be to let go of everything, including their lives, that others may live. Of course, God is never outdone in generosity; we know by the same faith handed on from Peter that each of these fallen soldiers has gone to meet Him face to face and, if so willing, have come to understand the value of the great truth that has confounded mankind throughout the centuries: That only by dying to ourselves do we most truly live; only by letting go of what we want the most do we hold onto what is most truly important: Eternal union with God who is Love itself.

  • Roots and Wings: Friday of the 5th Week of Easter

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

    bird-3371912_640I remember once talking to my mother as my kids were growing older and leaving home. I questioned where the time had gone and was worried about how they would get along in life. I don’t remember everything that Mom said in reply but I do recall that she quoted the old saying, “There are only two things a parent can give their children; one is roots and the other, wings.”

    Today’s readings show us that our Heavenly Father has given his Church roots and wings: Her roots are the love of Christ, her wings the inspiration of Holy Spirit.

    In today’s gospel Jesus told his Apostles, You are my friends if you do what I command you; I no longer call you slaves. This is a great honor; few people were ever called friends of God. Even Moses, Joshua, and David were known as “slaves” or “servants of God.” Abraham was called God’s friend (Isaiah 41:8; James 2:23). This is not to exalt one over the others, for God loves all with an everlasting love; it is simply to acknowledge that God relates to people in ways of his own choosing.

    Related to this, Christ told his Apostles that it was not you who chose me, but I who chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit that will remain. He knew that they would encounter situations they weren’t entirely prepared for; that is why he told them that he would send the Holy Spirit to guide them into all truth.

    It is in today’s reading from Acts that we witness the Apostles’ first flight on the wings of the Spirit. With false teaching threatening to divide the early Church, the Apostles gathered in Jerusalem for the first Council ever held. Since the earliest times the Church has gathered when facing a crisis. This is a hopeful sign. Where the love of God is active the many will gather, for true love seeks unity and diversity assumes many voices in times of trouble. So it was that after debate and discussion, the united voice of the Council was best expressed in a letter whose key sentence begins, ‘It is the decision of the Holy Spirit and of us not to place on you any burden beyond these necessities…’

    The phrase – the decision of the Holy Spirit and of us – is as important for what it does not say as for what it says. We commonly hear the question, “What would Jesus do?” Yet this chapter of Acts says nothing at all about what Jesus would do; he is never mentioned. Does that mean that Jesus had no influence on them or had been forgotten? Of course not; it means that the Apostles had listened to Jesus, had learned from him, and were now listening to the internal promptings of the same Holy Spirit whom he had promised to send.

    grapes-2180685_640

    As it was in the beginning is now and ever shall be. We in the Church today have the same roots and the same wings. Christ is the vine and we the branches; our roots bind us to him beyond any undoing. His is the infinite love that sustains and gives us life; ours the obedience to love one another as he commands. The same Holy Spirit who united the Apostles still inspires us to proclaim with one voice that Jesus is Lord and keeps us together despite the dissensions that threaten to tear us apart.

    Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in them the fire of your love. Send forth your Spirit and they shall be created. And You shall renew the face of the earth.

    O, God, who by the light of the Holy Spirit, did instruct the hearts of the faithful, grant that by the same Holy Spirit we may be truly wise and ever enjoy His consolations, Through Christ Our Lord, Amen.

  • True Peace: Tuesday of the 5th Week of Easter

     Acts 14:19-28; John 14:27-31a

    On the evening of July 3rd of the year 13 BC, Augustus Caesar quietly returned home after a 3-year stay in Spain and France where he had been, in his own words, “successfully settling the affairs” of those provinces. The next day, the senate voted to erect a monument to him along the same road that led him back to Rome. Finished four years later, the Altar of Peace was formally dedicated to Augustus Caesar who was proclaimed high priest and the “bringer of peace.” Of this the ancient Roman poet Horace wrote: Caesar guards us from the rage that is the fire in which the swords of war are forged.

    The poet may have said more than he intended. At the edges of the Empire, rage against economic and military oppression smoldered beneath the surface of the Roman peace. Augustus and his successors found themselves regularly enforcing the peace at the point of a sword or the wood of a cross.

    Peace is a fragile thing when various groups define it on their own terms and for their own benefit. The Caesars defined peace as the tranquility of Roman order, but they had enough trouble keeping the peace in their own time, let alone for all time. As the Catechism teaches, a more lasting perspective recognizes that peace is not merely the absence of war or a balance of powers between adversaries. Peace cannot be attained on earth without safeguarding the goods of persons, free communication among men, respect for the dignity of persons and peoples, and the assiduous practice of fraternity (CCC §2304).

    Paul understood the workings of true peace. After enduring violent persecution at Lystra, Paul left for a time and ministered elsewhere. He left; he didn’t run away. True peace is an act of virtue, not cowardice. The cowardly enforce their will at the end of a weapon, whether sword or tongue. The courageous and prudential resist the urge to rage and find better ways to use their time and talent in service of God and neighbor. Further, when Paul returned to Lystra, he didn’t waste his time antagonizing his foes. He built up the Church; counseling the disciples, appointing priests, and commending all to the Lord in prayer. Paul chose the divine peace that empowers people rather than the worldly peace that overpowers them. Now matter how seemingly justified, Paul knew that rage is a fire that brings heat but no light.

    Paul followed the light; indeed, he had once been blinded by it. This was the true Light who said Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid (John 14:27).

    The peace that the world gives is the peace of the Empire; the imposition of earthly power that inspires fear. The peace that Christ gives is the peace of the Kingdom; the divine indwelling that dispels every fear.

    christian-1431642_640The peace of Augustus won him an altar, the peace of Christ, a cross. Yet look at the result. How many people kneel before an image of Caesar’s Altar of Peace and how many before an image of the cross? The Roman Empire handed Jesus its darkest, most fearful symbol of fragile, earthly peace and he transformed it into the brightest and most courageous symbol of lasting, heavenly peace. If Christ can do this to a piece of wood, think what he can do if we ask him to transform our hearts.

  • The Bonfire of the Vanities: Memorial of St. Bernardine of Siena, Priest

    Acts 4:8-12; Luke 9:57-62

    What is it that people will run into a burning building to save, apart from their loved ones? Scrapbooks, photographs, keepsakes, and family heirlooms. Over time these personal items acquire an almost sacred aspect; losing them is like losing a part of ourselves.

    Today’s saint, Bernardine of Siena, looked out on the landscape of 15th century Italy and saw something much worse than buildings on fire. He looked into the smoldering ashes of the peoples’ spiritual lives and saw the deadly smoke of fires that rage in the human heart: avarice, selfishness, and sloth. The people burned with desire for worldly possessions, were inflamed with hatred for each other, and had all but abandoned any semblance of religious piety. Even many in the clergy had become lax and neglectful in their practice of the faith.

    These were the parts of themselves that Father Bernardine wanted to see lost in the flames of desire for Christ. Burning with love for them and for his Savior, he traveled across the Italian peninsula laying spiritual siege to every town he could. Father would stay as many days as he thought necessary, said Mass every morning in the town square, and preached tirelessly about the vices he detected in that place. Even though Father was known to have a weak, hoarse voice, when preaching a change came over him; filled with the Holy Spirit, his voice was sonorous, clear, and powerful. In a short time, he became famous his eloquence, forcefulness, wittiness, and piety.

    fire-227291_640What’s more, Father’s homilies worked like a match to dry kindling – almost literally. Their consciences convicted, the people built bonfires and threw into the blaze any vain or worldly things they owned that kept them away from God. These fires become known as the “bonfires of the vanities” in every town that welcomed the humble yet fiery preacher, Father Bernardine of Siena.

    Vanity was not unknown in the time of Jesus any more than it was in 15th century Italy or is now, for that matter. In the gospel we hear people tell Jesus why they can’t follow him; something is holding them back. This reluctance is redolent of the sinfulness in our own lives. Like the people of Christ’s time, there are earthly ties that bind; we may feel ourselves willing but unable to let go of that keepsake, the sin we just cannot seem to break. Nevertheless, Christ has made it clear; following him requires that we allow the reigns of this world to loosen and fall from around us. Let us ask the intercession of St. Bernardine of Siena, who inspired the people of Italy to throw what bound them into the fire, that the Holy Spirit may embolden us to do likewise; to cast every sinful part of ourselves in that eternal bonfire of the vanities: the flames of His infinite, merciful love.

  • Apostle by Destiny: Feast of St. Matthias

    Acts 1:15-17, 20-26; John 15:9-17

    The list of the Apostles given in Matthew, Mark, and Luke do not agree in every detail; one or two of the less familiar names differ by evangelist and, just to complicate matters, Matthew’s list differs depending on which ancient manuscript of Matthew you’re looking at. Naturally these differences have led to confusion and disagreement about exactly who was who. Regardless, everyone agrees about one thing – the name Matthias does not appear in any gospel list of the Twelve.

    However, Peter makes two things clear in today’s reading from Acts. First, he recognizes that Christ chose twelve as a structural number; that is, it was the office that mattered, not the name of the man who filled it. This is why he says in reference to Judas, May another take his office (Psalm 109:8). Second, Peter understands that while men may not have foreseen the need for apostolic succession to that office, God did. By Peter’s reckoning two men, Justus and Matthias, were prepared; as he said, they had accompanied the Apostles the whole time the Lord Jesus came and went among us, beginning from the baptism of John until the day on which he was taken up (Acts 1:21-22).

    Therefore, although only one man was needed to fill the vacancy left by Judas, preparation for the call to apostleship for both men had begun long ago. The same is true for everyone called to any vocation that builds up the Kingdom of God. No man suddenly becomes a deacon, priest, or bishop on the day of ordination; no man or woman is instantly transformed into a spouse, whether of another person or of Christ, merely by speaking vows. Graces are given at those moments and at ordination a man’s state is changed and all the privileges of the office accorded; however, the call to follow that vocation and the discipline needed to prepare for it come well before the administration of any Sacrament (or Consecration prayer).

    What’s more, the whole process is initiated by Christ. We may be tempted to think that we choose a particular vocation and to a degree that is true for we have free will. However, remember the words of the prophet Isaiah: Before birth the LORD called me, from my mother’s womb he gave me my name (Isaiah 49:1) as well as those of Jesus in the gospel: It was not you who chose me, but I who chose you (John 15:16a). If we have truly committed ourselves to follow Christ then, although the steps toward our destiny are our own, the path is lighted by Christ, discerned in union with the Holy Spirit, and freely offered out of love for and in union with the will of the Father.

    fishing-164977_640With this in mind, we can say that Matthias freely chose to follow Christ who first chose him, called him from his mother’s womb, and gave him the name, “Apostle.” That Matthias was chosen for that office by lot was nothing more or less than confirmation that the journey begun from shore had now moved out into the deeper water that he had already been called to and prepared for.

    That we never hear about Matthias in Scripture again is neither surprising nor important. It is the same with most of the other Apostles. Remember why Christ chose Apostles to begin with: to go and bear fruit that will remain (John 15:16b). Somewhere, a line of bishops remains to this day that traces its origin to St. Matthias and continues to bear fruit for love of him who first called them to that glorious destiny – our Lord Jesus Christ.

    St. Matthias, pray for us.

  • Against the World: St. Athanasius, Bishop and Doctor of the Church

    John 15:26-16:4a

    In the gospel reading, Jesus said to his disciples, They will expel you from the synagogues; in fact, the hour is coming when everyone who kills you will think he is offering worship to God. They will do this because they have not known either the Father or me (John 16:1-3). While everything that Jesus said is appropriate for all times and seasons, these words have particular resonance for St. Athanasius, whose feast we now remember and celebrate.

    By all accounts, Athanasius was a man of many gifts. Brilliant in both academics and his understanding of people, at ease as pastor of a large patriarchate yet equally comfortable amid the solitary contemplatives in the desert, a gentle man not prone to anger but at the same time a tenacious defender of the faith.

    Athanasius was born around the year 298 into a Christian world on the throes of tearing itself to pieces over a heresy known as Arianism. Named after its progenitor, a priest named Arius, it sent a shock wave through the world by preaching about Christ that “there was a time when he was not.” The Arians believed that only the Father was truly God; as great as he was, Jesus was a creature, not God. The idea spread like wildfire, and by the time Constantine legalized Christianity, the faith was a house divided threatening to collapse upon itself.

    A good general but no theologian, Constantine convened a worldwide Council in 325 to bring the sides together and solve the problem. Athanasius, then deacon and secretary to the Patriarch of Alexandria, quickly saw that biblical arguments were futile; each side interpreted Scripture to suit its own beliefs. He and a small group of defenders outmaneuvered the Arians by moving from exegesis to philosophy. They argued that Jesus must fully share the eternal, divine nature of the Father; to relegate him to the status of a creature, no matter how godly, would be to say that he was subject to error and to change, including from good to evil. Hearing this horrified even many Arians. Their position was overwhelmingly rejected. To this day, we still recite every week the words first written at that Council, perhaps by Athanasius himself: God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God; begotten not made; consubstantial with the Father…

    sword-790815_640Recall Christ’s words: The hour is coming when everyone who kills you will think he is offering worship to God. It is a sad fact that we in the Church are often our own worst enemy. The Arian leadership resolved that what they could not win in Council, they would take by subterfuge. Athanasius, newly elected Patriarch of Alexandria and much loved by his people, was a primary target. The Arians boldly went after him, seeking nothing less than his disgrace and death. They fabricated scandals, perjured themselves and, aided by Arian-leaning or pagan emperors, forced Athanasius into five exiles spanning seventeen years.

    Yet, recall that Jesus also said, And you also testify, because you have been with me from the beginning (John 15:27). If Athanasius did anything, he certainly testified. Instead of spending his years of exile in angst or despair, he took refuge where he could, not least among the desert fathers, and wrote extensively. He taught and encouraged his flock, gave outstanding defenses of the faith, and shaped the Western world’s understanding of monasticism by writing on the life of his friend St. Anthony of the Desert. These works together with treatises on Arianism and theological topics such as the Incarnation earned Athanasius the title Doctor of the Church.

    Some of the histories refer to him as Athanasius contra mundum (Athanasius against the world). He spent his ministry in a world that was increasingly Arian, hostile to the orthodox, and many wanted him silenced. Yet, the bishop kept in mind the words of Jesus: they have not known either the Father or me (John 16:3), and loved the world too much to let it go its own way. Athanasius knew that heresy could only triumph where people were ignorant, where they didn’t know the Father or the Son. God had provided him the office, the education, and the opportunities; it was then up to him to use these gifts to bring the truth to whoever would accept it and leave the consequences to God.

    In a way, little has changed over the centuries. We find ourselves in a world increasingly hostile to Christianity; many would like us silenced as well. This we cannot do. Like Athanasius, we must look with love upon the world, consider the gifts that we have been given, and seize the opportunities that Christ has laid before us.

    St. Athanasius, pray for us.