Mark 10:45

Category: Spirituality

  • The Only Lasting Joy

    The Only Lasting Joy

    Saturday of the 3rd Week of Advent

    Zephaniah 3:14-18a; Luke 1:39-45

    This is the time of year when the whole world seems to focus on joy. Everything from songs to decorations to napkins urges us to be joyful. We hear it in the readings today: Shout for joy, O daughter Zion! Sing joyfully, O Israel (Zephaniah 3:14), and … the infant in my womb leaped for joy (Luke 1:44). But, if you’re anything like me, you might find that, while you do feel joy sometimes, other times you don’t. Call it the stresses and strains of life, the rush of so many places to go and people to see during the season, or just being under the weather – whatever it is, we don’t always feel joyful.

    Should we? We might be tempted to think so, but if we pause and reflect a little more deeply on the readings, a fuller picture emerges.

    First, we heard Zephaniah speak of joy to daughter Zion. At that time, “daughter” was used to refer to the suburbs of a city, the area just outside its walls or gates. In this case, that was the Israelites who had returned to Jerusalem from exile and now faced the daunting task of rebuilding the Temple and their whole way of life. While there was some short-term happiness in the return, the long term was full of fear and uncertainty. Thus, when the prophet spoke of joy, he wasn’t asking the people to feel joyful, but to rejoice in the assurance that God had not only not abandoned them, but would actually be in their midst as their Savior! This was a joy that nothing and no one could take away.

    Then in the gospel, we heard that John leapt in the womb of his mother. Although he was certainly joyful in that moment, we cannot help but think forward to his ministry years later: Regardless the outcome – acceptance or rejection, challenge or even threat to his life – his vibrant and unshakable proclamation of the coming of Christ reflected a joy that also could not be taken away.

    From these two examples, we see that what matters isn’t whether we feel joyful, but whether we are joyful. Feelings, even joyful ones, come and go like any emotion. On the other hand, spiritual gifts such as joy are meant to last, because they come from God. This gift, as Holy Father Francis says, is “the fullness of consolation, the fullness of the presence of the Lord… The great strength that we have to transform, to preach the Gospel, to go forward as witnesses of life is the joy of the Lord, which is a fruit of the Holy Spirit, and today we ask him to grant us this fruit.”1

    So, if we want lasting joy, the Holy Father has told us what we need to do: Go forward as witnesses of life, resting in the assurance that, as with the daughter of Zion, God will always be our consolation, and as with the Baptist, will give us the continual joy of His presence. No matter what we do, be it mourning or laughing, if we are His witnesses as we do it, the fruit of that love will always be joy.

    What better time to ask the Holy Spirit for this Christmas gift? That we, like the Blessed Mother, Elizabeth, John the Baptist, and all the Saints, be the best witnesses of life; that we may know and be able to share with everyone the deep and lasting joy that comes only from loving God and daring to go wherever that love takes us.

    1https://www.catholicnewsagency.com/news/44217/joy-is-more-than-emotion-it-is-a-gift-of-the-holy-spirit-pope-francis-says

  • Let It Out

    Let It Out

    Saturday of the 7th Week of Easter

    Acts 28:16-20; 30-31; John 21:20-25

    In 1955, Bishop Kung, the Bishop of Shanghai, was arrested while publicly praying the rosary. Months later, he was taken to a stadium in Shanghai, where thousands were forcibly gathered to hear him confess his crimes. In prison garb, his hands tied behind his back, and pushed to the microphone, the bishop said, ‘Long live Christ the King. Long live the Pope.’ The crowd roared back, ‘Long live Christ the King! Long live Bishop Kung!’ Quickly taken away, the bishop was sentenced to life imprisonment in 1960, and spent 30 more years in mostly solitary confinement.1 At the age of 87, he was released, came to the United States, and lived here until he died at age 98. When Pope John Paul II, who secretly made Kung a cardinal years before, made it official, he said, “I felt that the whole Church could not but honor a man who has given witness by word and deed, through long suffering and trials, to what constitutes the essence of life in the Church: participation in the divine life through the apostolic faith and evangelical love.”

    As with St. Paul at the end of Acts, the story of Cardinal Kung shows that, no matter the time, place, or what is done to the Church or her ministers, the word of God cannot be chained. It is the truth, and, as St. Augustine once said, the truth is like a lion; let it out, and it will defend itself.

    But that can be precisely the problem – letting it out. Like St. Peter in the gospel, we get distracted. Sometimes, it comes in the form of doubts or anxieties; we fear failure, doubt our ability, or worry what others will think. Other times, we get caught up in the comforts of life and put more of our time and energy into those. Either way, the result is the same: we take our eyes off of Christ.

    Let us rather resolve to continue doing what St. Paul, St. Peter, and Cardinal Kung ultimately did with their lives: Witness Christ by word and deed. We may fail, make mistakes, or lose some friends. We might even lose out on some of the comforts the world has to offer. But, to re-iterate what Holy Father St. John Paul II said, this is the essence of life in the Church, and despite whatever we risk losing now, the reward in Heaven is infinitely greater.

    1http://www.cardinalkungfoundation.org/ck/CKlife.php

    —

  • That Crucial Difference

    That Crucial Difference

    Memorial of St. Charles Borromeo, Bishop

    Romans 12:3-13; John 10:11-16

    Today, we heard St. Paul begin the second section of his letter to the Romans. In the first section, he explained the gospel; here, he explains how it should be lived. Hearing the word “should” brings to my mind that crucial difference between what we should do and what we actually do. We should live the gospel, but… do we?

    St. Paul first urges us to think “soberly” about ourselves; to take a good, hard look. What an exercise in humility! Just on the surface, we might think about how the doctor says we should look, and how we actually do look. That’s a crucial difference when it comes to our physical health. Thinking of our spiritual health, St. Paul then lists a series of gifts that we should be using, praying for, and doing enthusiastically out of love for Christ. But are we? These are crucial differences, too, for they speak to what St. Paul most wants to see: Authenticity, that we are living the way we should be: like Christ, with the love of shepherds who are willing to lay down their lives for their sheep.

    If anyone embodies such humility, authenticity, and love, it’s St. Charles Borromeo. His gifts were so many, lived so authentically, and their effect so great, that there isn’t time to go into it all. He was born into the kind of wealth and influence few families enjoy, but also, through the mercy of God, a piety even more rare. His was a family from whom nuns, priests, and Popes sprang. Made a cardinal at age 21 by his uncle, Pope Pius IV, Charles enjoyed an easy life at first, but was quickly redirected by the Pope, who made him his right-hand man. Pius acted not out of favoritism, but because he saw in Charles the gifts the Church so badly needed: He was intelligent, tactful, an able administrator, politically astute, fiercely loyal to the Church, a great communicator, a faithful priest and bishop, and a zealous reformer.

    Reform was perhaps the most monumental task given to Charles when the Council of Trent finally ended. This was the Council convoked to respond to the Protestant revolt. Implementing its reforms put his gifts to the test, for he met a lot of resistance, some of it so hostile that one person tried to kill him – a priest, no less! Most, however, simply couldn’t understand what the Church was doing, or why. In reply, Charles proposed that a catechism be created from the Council’s notes. He oversaw its writing and publication, and, to this day, we still have and use the Roman Catechism of St. Charles Borromeo.

    What can we learn from the life of this great saint? I can think of at least three things:

    1. Authenticity. St. Charles used his many gifts, not to get attention or because he should, but because he loved Christ. To him, all people, whether poor, ignorant, or hostile, were the face of Christ. Serving them was serving him. What about us? Do we use the gifts God has given us to serve our own needs, or do we see the face of Christ in others and serve them purely out of love for him?
    2. Reliance on the Holy Spirit. St. Charles traveled extensively and worked all hours; basically, poured his life into reform of the Church. He must have gotten weary, perhaps in darker moments even tempted to quit. But he didn’t; instead, he relied on the Holy Spirit to supply the fortitude and perseverance he needed, as St. Paul advised (Romans 12:11). Again, what about us? Do we ever get weary and tempted to quit? We should be asking the Spirit to supply what we need. Are we?
    3. Daily inner renewal. While fortitude and perseverance are vital, St. Paul also urges us to pray for zeal, which is the intensity of love. Imagine loving with the intensity of Christ! No trial or tribulation is too great; nothing can discourage us. This is the eagerness St. Charles spoke of when he said: “If we wish to make any progress in the service of God, we must begin every day of our life with new eagerness. We must keep ourselves in the presence of God as much as possible, and have no other view or end in all our actions but the divine honor.” Note, he tells us what we must do, not what we should do. That is the crucial difference whereby sinners become saints.

    St. Charles Borromeo, pray for us.

  • Whom Fortune Favors

    Whom Fortune Favors

    Saturday of the 21st Week in Ordinary Time

    1 Thessalonians 4:9-11; Matthew 25:14-30

    The parable of the talents is one we’re all very familiar with. Ironically, such familiarity actually works against us, for parables are at their best when they surprise us, present us with a riddle or twist that teases us into deeper contemplation about its meaning and its relevance to our lives.

    One aspect of the parable that might still be surprising concerns the talents themselves, specifically their value. In our Lord’s time, a talent was worth about 6000 silver pieces, or 20 years of wages. By using such vast sums of money (the parable goes up to 100 years’ worth), it certainly seems like Jesus wanted us to wonder what all that wealth could possibly represent.

    The fact is, we really don’t know. Some scholars see them as our abilities, the God-given gifts we are born with; we still use the word “talents” for those to this day. Maybe, but Jesus tells us in the parable that each servant got a different amount of talents according to his ability (25:15); so, there are talents and there are abilities. I tend to agree with those who see the talents as riches of a different kind; specifically, the thousands of opportunities we are given by God over the course of our lives to show people what it means to be a disciple of Christ; to be his hands at work in the world.

    What opportunities am I talking about? I think some of the best examples are right in front of us, in our own homes, with the people who are most familiar to us. Research on the family shows that while family members are actually spending more time together than before, they are also alone more often. It’s called “being alone together,” and you may have seen it: A family at dinner, perhaps at a restaurant, sits together and eats together, but spends most of that time interacting by themselves with their hand-held device. Imagine being the one in the family who asks them to put those things away and spend that time with each other. We also know that, as people age, they spend more and more time alone. Imagine being the neighbor who invites them over, or regularly visits them. And, as we all sadly know, many of our young people rarely if ever go to church, and know nothing at all about God. Imagine being the relative who invites them to the church youth group to meet new kids, eat, have fun, and see where those interactions lead. Is such a person always popular for having spoken up or done what they did? No. But is it the charity spoken of by St. Paul in the first reading, or the new commandment Jesus spoke of in John’s gospel? You already know the answer.

    Of course, these are just three examples, but they and thousands more show that what Christ is looking for isn’t skill or experience, but boldness and humility. Consider the first two servants; they knew they weren’t skilled bankers or investors, yet they doubled their master’s money. How? By doing what good servants do: they watched their master, learned from him, then imitated him as Jesus said: Immediately. They didn’t know when he would return; all they knew was that he gave them this opportunity and empowered them to act in his name. Unlike the third servant, they didn’t waste time worrying, overthinking, or second-guessing themselves or their master. Rather, they did what St. Paul advised: minded their own affairs and worked with their own hands. That’s what the master would do, so it’s what they did.

    There’s an old saying that fortune favors the bold. Here and throughout the gospels, Jesus makes it clear that he favors the bold in faith with a fortune only he can give: a share in the Master’s joy. Who doesn’t want that kind of talent?

  • The Award We All Want

    The Award We All Want

    Memorial of the Dedication of the Basilica of St. Mary Major

    Revelation 21:1-5a; Luke 11:27-28

    Years ago, one of the kids came home from school with an award from a competition. I was happy, but I was the only one. My daughter’s expression told me that, whatever this was, it wasn’t what she expected or wanted. Then I saw it: A “participation award.” I admit, if I was her, I wouldn’t have liked it either. Everybody gets one, no matter how they do? Big deal!

    I thought of that when I read today’s gospel passage. A woman, clearly impressed by Christ’s teaching, complimented him on his mother. However, like some of his other responses when family was involved, this one struck me as, if not insulting, a little underwhelming. First, he corrected the woman by overruling her blessing (Rather…), then substituted one that included anyone who heard the word of God and did it. In other words, it seemed like Jesus was giving his mom the first-century equivalent of a participation award.

    Part of the problem is what gets lost in translation. Where in English the word ‘rather’ often implies ‘this and not that,’ the same word in Greek can just as easily imply, ‘this and that.’ So, Luke’s intention seems to have been that Jesus not only agreed with the woman’s blessing but added one of his own. His mother was doubly blessed!

    Still, facts are facts; correction or not, Jesus did add a blessing that included many others along with Mary, in a very real sense equating them with her. Why? Because, as he said in Revelation (1:5), he was making all things new. It is true that, in his humanity, Jesus could have only one biological family, but it is also true that his divinity has no such limit. That is why he said that when he was lifted up from the earth, he would draw all people to himself (John 12:32). Therefore, what bonds us one to the other is not defined
    in terms of blood relationships; what bonds us to each other, and to God, is the precious
    blood of Christ. This we can all share, for this we have in common with all people.

    Here we come to the heart of the honor we accord Mary. The infinitely powerful God made himself dependent on a lowly little girl from Nazareth for the blood that would give life to His Son, who would in turn pour out that blood for the life of the world. This in turn goes to the heart of our Feast today, for the Dedication of the Basilica of St. Mary Major celebrates the declaration by the Council of Ephesus made centuries ago, that Mary is the mother of the only Son of God; her blood flowed through his veins. Truly, this is a woman who heard the word of God and put her body and soul into doing it!

    Given that, let us meditate for a moment on what our Lord’s blessing today means for us. Like Jesus, there is a limit to the number of people who can be in our biological family. But think of all the people who can be in our spiritual family, to whom we can be a spiritual mother, father, sister, or brother. From our Lord’s point of view – which is the only one that matters – that is everyone we meet. Let us ask ourselves: What would the world be like if I tried just a little bit harder to treat them like the family Christ told us they already are? OK, but how? By doing what he praised his mother for: Hearing the word of God and doing it. Again, how? Well, we all know there isn’t one way; ours will depend on the gifts God gave us, the challenges that make it hard to use them, and the determination we show working to overcome those challenges.

    Sounds a lot like a competition, doesn’t it? It is. We know our opponents: The world, the flesh, and the devil, and we know the stakes: Eternity. What we must remember is that we go to our eternal home not with a participation award, but with whatever awared Christ sees fit to give us. And that is a very big deal.

    Mary, most blessed mother of God, pray for us.

    And now a word from our sponsor…

  • The Center of Attention

    The Center of Attention

    Memorial of Sts. Martha, Mary, and Lazarus (July 29)

    1 John 4:7-16; Luke 10:38-42

    In this section of the gospel according to Luke, Jesus teaches two important lessons. The first came in the form of the parable we know as “the Good Samaritan,” in which he showed us how God wants us to serve other people. Today we hear the second, where Jesus tells us how God wants us to serve Him.

    The setting of course is not a parable, but the home of Martha and Mary. Put yourself in their place: Jesus is coming to your home. How do you prepare for that? I’m sure there are many things you would do, all with the best intention: To make your house the warmest and most welcoming place you can. And as for yourself, what will you do when he is your guest? Without doubt, you intend to serve him as well as possible.

    How the two sisters prepared we cannot know, but we do know they served in very different ways. As for Mary, she chose to sit beside the Lord at his feet listening to him speak (Luke 10:39). Of all the disciples, only Mary is consistently found at the feet of Jesus: listening to him, weeping for him (John 11:32), and anointing him (John 12:3). This is why for centuries the Church has pointed to Mary of Bethany as a model of the contemplative life. It certainly nourished her faith; to this day, she is known as an evangelizer. John tells us that many people came to Mary after Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead (John 11:45).

    Martha took a more active role, but her faith was certainly no less. To the contrary; John puts on her lips alone the greatest affirmation of faith found in his gospel: I have come to believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world (John 11:27). Nevertheless, here in Luke, Martha is distracted, burdened with much serving (Luke 10:40). Should she have chosen not to serve? That’s not what our Lord implied in the parable of the Good Samaritan; there, he commended people who actively serve their neighbor for their faithfulness. Then why did Jesus rebuke her, who was serving him? Not for her actions, but for her state of mind; Martha allowed her focus to shift away from him and onto her sister.

    It happens that, as people engage in some activity, they grow accustomed to it, and their minds begin to wander. Think about your prayer life; particularly, the prayers you say most often. Have you ever suddenly realized that your mind is a million miles away from the words your mouth is saying, even at Mass? As I said, it’s only natural, but that doesn’t mean unavoidable; it’s also natural to be vigilant. You know very well that when something is of vital importance to you, you’ll shake off any distraction to stay focused. What made Mary so noteworthy wasn’t where she sat herself, but where she put her mind: Fully on Christ, and everything he had to say. Had her thoughts been drifting somewhere else, she too would have been gently brought back to reality by Christ.

    It also happens sometimes that we serve others with mixed motives. Ask yourself if, while working in a parish ministry, you ever found yourself a little too concerned about whether people noticed or praised you, or got a little jealous when someone else was recognized and you weren’t. Again, it’s natural to want to be the center of attention now and then, to be recognized by others for what we’ve done. But, again, the issue is focus; the center of attention is God, not ourselves, and the standard of comparison is not other people, it is Jesus Christ. Who was ever more servant than he, yet when did he ever seek the limelight or care what anyone else thought? The gospels are clear that he had one goal: Doing his Father’s will. The same for Martha, the same for us; regardless what other people think or do, our goal first, last, and always, is to see and serve Christ, and thus show our love for God and our determination to do his will.

    So, today, let us take these lessons to heart. In a few moments, the Lord will be our guest in Holy Communion. The whole point of our time here is to prepare ourselves for that, to make our souls His most welcome home. We can only do that to the degree that we keep our eyes fixed on Christ, so to do what John urged us in the first reading when he said: Whoever acknowledges that Jesus is the Son of God, God remains in him and he in God (1 John 4:15).

    Sts. Lazarus, Martha, and Mary, pray for us.

  • To Fear and Fear Not

    To Fear and Fear Not

    Saturday of the 14th Week in Ordinary Time

    Matthew 10:24-33

    One thing we do as adults is teach children that there are things in life they should fear, and things they should not. For example, when kids are very young, we want them to be afraid of fire or crossing the street, but not afraid to talk to us about problems they have or things that bother them. Then, as they grow older, these fears mature; they learn that they don’t need to fear stoves or cars, but do need to learn how to use them responsibly. Similarly, they learn that we love them and can help, so they don’t need to be afraid to talk to us.

    In the gospel today, our Lord teaches us very much the same way. There are things we should fear, and things we should not.

    First and foremost, we should fear the Lord, for only He has power over both our body and our soul. But what does it mean to “fear” the Lord? As a child would understand it, fear of the Lord is coming to see who God is and who we are in comparison. But, like other fears, fear of the Lord is meant to mature into a deeper understanding, one of respect born of the deepest possible love. For example, picture the person you love the most and imagine that, in a moment of weakness, you said something hurtful about them to someone else. Then, imagine turning around, seeing them, and realizing they heard every word you just said. Who wouldn’t fear that moment? That is mature fear of the Lord: the fear of saying or doing anything that might offend God, who you love and respect above all else.

    If we could evangelize like that – fearing only God and offending Him – then of course we wouldn’t fear anyone or anything else. The question is how we do that.

    For one thing, we cannot truly love God unless we admit to Him and ourselves that we will always have some level of fear for ourselves and our safety. It’s a natural human reaction, and disciples of Christ certainly have good reason to feel it. In some countries, we are jailed, exiled, or executed, and while our country is better, hundreds of churches are vandalized or burned to the ground every year. The real question isn’t whether we fear for ourselves, but whether we allow that fear to affect what we say and do as disciples of Christ. That is why Christ said, It is enough… for the slave that he become like his master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more those of his household (Matthew 10:25)! He is teaching us that, if we truly love God, then we shouldn’t fear being insulted or even persecuted for it; to the contrary, we should see it is a badge of honor. If it was good enough for Christ, it’s good enough for us.

    For another, if we love God and are willing to respond to his call, then we have to listen to what He said in this section of Matthew and put it into practice. To be an evangelist is to be shrewd and simple; it means watching people as Christ did, learning how they think and how they see life, so we can meet them where they are, and it means asking for the inspiration of the Holy Spirit so He can work through us to bring them where He wants them to be.

    Above all, remember this: The love of Christ teaches us that no matter how hard it is to live the Christian life, no matter how lost or alone we feel while trying to do it, true love of God leaves us nothing to fear. For as much as we love Him, God, who knows the fall of every sparrow, loves us infinitely more; every hair of our head has been counted. And we can count on this: He who brought us this far will not abandon us now. He will make a way, He will show us the way, for He is the way.

  • Ripple Effects

    Ripple Effects

    Friday of the 9th Week in Ordinary Time
    Memorial of St. Ephrem the Syrian, Deacon and Doctor of the Church

    Tobit 11:5-17; Mark 12:35-37

    In 1970, a teacher noticed that, if he asked one student to stop an annoying or distracting behavior, other students also stopped it; conversely, if he failed to reprimand a student for that behavior, other students began doing it. He called this the ‘ripple effect,’ a term we still use to describe how the behavior of one person affect others, who then affect others, and so on, like the ever-widening waves produced by a stone dropped in a pond.

    We see examples of this in the readings. Tobiah’s return is one example. His mother, tense for most of the story because his return is so overdue, had turned that tension on her husband; three times so far, she has been very short with him. But upon Tobiah’s return, she rejoices; as a result, she takes a softer tone with Tobit. Then there is how Tobiah’s return affected Tobit. Tobiah has brought healing; once healed, Tobit first joyfully blesses God, then bonds even more closely with his son. Finally, Tobiah’s new wife, Sarah, appears; this causes Tobit and Anna to rejoice, then their joy spreads to all the Jews of Nineveh. In the gospel, our Lord’s preaching is another example. He quotes Psalm 110:1, which first delights his hearers, then went on to delight the early Church. In fact, it delighted her so much that the authors of the New Testament cited that verse more than any other in the Old Testament in support of Jesus as the only begotten Son of God. That’s a ripple effect so large it’s almost beyond measure!

    We also see ripple effects in the life of St. Ephrem, who we remember today. One troublesome stone in the pond was his temper; ultimately, it so adversely affected those around him that he ended up in prison. Once there, though, Ephrem cast a much more productive stone in the pond: contemplation. Taking the time prison gave him to reflect on how his behavior affected himself and others, Ephrem promised God that, if he was released, he would make each day count. The ripples from that stone were impressive; once out of prison, he composed hundreds of hymns, was ordained a deacon, became one of the first to incorporate music into the sacred liturgy, to use women singers in the choir, and was foundational to the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception of Mary.

    Of course, this should prompt us to take a moment to consider the ripple effects in our own lives, both the good and the bad. First, think about how the good we have done has allowed others to do good, which has in turn allowed still others. Imagine the positive impact we have made on all those people! What better reason is there to praise God, as the psalmist sings today? Yet, at the same time, what better reason to ask God’s mercy, for if the good we have done has rippled through the world in a positive way, what have our sins done? While this is a sobering thought, it is key to any good examination of conscience. In the end, only God knows, and may well reveal at our judgment, how the good we have done and the sins we have committed have affected the destinies of other people.

    The book of Tobit makes clear that there is a supernatural element to all of this. Therein lies a warning; we know the torment the demon inflicted on Sarah in the story, and we know the accuser is still among us, whispering in our ear. But on the other hand, therein also lies the best news of all: That, in his infinite love and mercy, God will come to us as Tobiah and Raphael came to Tobit and his family, heal our brokenness, and bring us joy that radiates outward and touches all we come in contact with. All we have to do is ask, for the prayer of a contrite heart yields the greatest ripple effect of all time: the merits of the cross and resurrection of our Lord, Jesus Christ. As St. Ephrem once said,

    “Glory be to Thee, Who laid Thy cross as a bridge over death, that souls might pass over upon it from the dwelling of the dead to the dwelling of life!”

    St. Ephrem, pray for us.

  • Becoming Who We Are

    Becoming Who We Are

    Memorial of St. Philip Neri, Priest (May 26th)

    Philippians 4:4-9; John 17:20-26

    The readings today speak of two of the greatest gifts we can receive from our heavenly Father – peace and unity. St. Paul reminds us that it is the pursuit of excellence that leads us to God and the peace only he can give. In the gospel, Jesus teaches that perfection is nothing less than unity with the Father; again, a gift that only God can give.

    When I think of excellence and perfection in life, I can’t help but think of the saints, for these are the men and women who went out of their way to achieve both. I’m especially glad that we remember St. Philip Neri today, for his life provides a view of sanctity that is too often missing from the popular imagination.

    I say that because it seems to me that most people in our time see the saints as stained glass stereotypes; living in a perpetual state of sadness and gloom, cloistered from the world and everything in it. It’s as if they really believe the old pop song lyrics, “I’d rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints. The sinners are much more fun.”

    That’s why I like St. Philip Neri; he is exactly the opposite. Far from sadness and gloom, St. Philip was noted for his cheerfulness, going so far as to say that “Cheerfulness strengthens the heart and helps us to persevere. A servant of God should always to be in good spirits.” And far from running away from the world, Philip was born to engage it; charismatic, charming, and quick to smile, he was one of those people who lifted the spirits of a room just by walking into it. It says a lot about him that his favorite books were the Bible and his joke book. He was silly enough to walk around Rome with half his beard shaven off, and solemn enough to bring a congregation to tears. He was the scholar who taught the simple, the joker who consoled the sorrowful, the friend who welcomed every stranger, and the priest who reached out to every sinner. We call him the patron saint of laughter not simply because he excelled at making people laugh, but because he did it for the reasons St. Paul spoke of: That they might calm their anxiety, approach the Lord in prayer, and come to know the peace of Christ that surpasses all understanding (Philippians 4:4-7). This was grace at work in him for their sanctification and his own.

    St. Thomas Aquinas taught that grace perfects nature, and like all the saints, this is what St. Philip Neri shows us. The gifts God gave him – a jovial personality, the ability to relate to people, a brilliant mind, everything that made him who he was – were not meant to be replaced or suppressed; on the contrary, they were given to be made more excellent by the working of grace. What’s more, God graces each saint with their own unique gifts. Sanctity is not a matter of becoming more like someone else; it is becoming who we are. God doesn’t want another Philip Neri, He wants us, and he wants us to use the gifts He has given us, that through us people might know the peace of God and draw closer to Him and each other.

    This is the unity Christ had in mind when he said, that they may be brought to perfection as one, that the world may know that you sent me, and that you loved them even as you loved me (John 17:23). No wonder St. Paul said to rejoice! If knowing the infinite love of God is what it means to be saint, then I’m with St. Philip Neri; I’d rather laugh with the saints than cry with the sinners. The saints are much more fun.

  • Reconsidering Success

    Reconsidering Success

    Thursday of the 6th Week of Easter

    Acts 18:1-8; Psalm 98:2; John 16:16-20

    Perhaps more than any other New Testament author, Luke loves success stories. The first part of the Acts of the Apostles is full of them; chapter after chapter, the Apostles heal, defy the Sanhedrin, preach, baptize thousands, and ordain deacons.

    At the same time, he doesn’t shy away from problems; in fact, in the middle of the book, he runs through a list of them: First, Mark deserts Paul (or so he thinks); then, after an argument, he and Barnabas go their separate ways. Next, Paul is imprisoned in Phillipi, gets chased out of two other towns, and is pretty much ignored in Athens. Meanwhile, in Rome, the Christians have fared so badly that the emperor threw them out, as Aquila and Priscilla know firsthand. In today’s reading, the three of them are in Corinth, but nothing has improved; in fact, Paul is so disgusted by yet more rejection in a synagogue that he says he is abandoning his mission to the Jews entirely.

    Loving success as Luke does, why talk about failure? I think it’s because he’s trying to tell us something. Consider: Because Paul went to Corinth, he founded the Church there; because he did that, and poured himself into it for a year and a half, we have two of his greatest letters, which we read, study, and pray to this day. Because Aquila and Priscilla were kicked out of Rome and went to Corinth, they met Paul and became not only co-workers but friends; they housed him, helped him, even risked their lives for him (Romans 16:3). Finally, because Paul preached Christ to the Jews despite his frustration, the synagogue official became a Christian, which seems to have triggered a series of conversions to Christ. God only knows how many lives were changed for the good in spite of those seemingly bad events. Given that, what is success and what’s failure?

    That is Luke’s first point. We know, because Christ has told us, that our job is to bring him to the world. What we do not know is the plan – how that will be done. When we act as if we do know, we fall into the trap of defining success and failure on our own terms. Paul knew this, which is why he later wrote to this same church in Corinth, I planted, Apollos watered, but God caused the growth (1 Corinthians 3:5-7). In other words, we each have an important part to play, but God has the plan.

    This brings up the second point, which is that even the work that is ours to do cannot be done without others. Paul couldn’t do everything alone. We already know about Aquila and Priscilla, but remember Silas and Timothy; Luke told us that it was their coming to Corinth that allowed Paul to occupy himself totally with preaching the word (Acts 18:5). And, even in the broken or problematic relationships, the Apostles and others were still on the same side. If the man Luke calls “Mark” is the evangelist, then we know what he did! Also, although Paul and Barnabas separated, both continued in ministry (1 Corinthians 9:6). Paul would be the first to admit that if he succeeded, he didn’t do it alone.

    What held true in Luke’s time still holds true for us. While we too we know the joy of seeing people come to faith and the heartbreak of seeing others walk away, we must keep a few things in mind. First, success and failure are not ours to assign; that job belongs to Christ. Our job is to keep bringing him to others by what we say and do, no matter how hard that is. Second, we have no idea what seeds of success lie in each apparent failure; that, too, is for God alone to know. Third, we can’t do it without each other. God has given each of us gifts and intends us to use them together. Like Mark, Paul, and Barnabas, we may not always see eye to eye, but we are on the same side, bound by the love of Christ and pledged to serve him in and with each other. Finally, and above everything else, let us praise God for whatever success we achieve; for, although we speak the words, only God moves the heart; although we teach the truth, only God reveals himself; and although we reach out to others, only God draws them near.