Mark 10:45

Category: Reflections

Homilies and Reflections

  • Being There

    Being There

    The 5th Sunday of Lent – Cycle B

    Jeremiah 31:31-34; Hebrews 5:7-9; John 12:20-33


    A couple of weeks ago, after I vested and came into the church for Mass, a little boy about three years old passed by. I bent down, looked at him, and said, “Hi!” He stopped, looked back at me with a big smile, and said, “Hi, Jesus!” I didn’t have the heart to break the bad news to him, but I did say, “Oh, I wish!” That came to mind when I read about the Greeks approaching Philip and saying they would like to see Jesus. I thought, “I would, too! Come to think of it, I’d like to see a lot more of him in myself!”

    In today’s gospel, Jesus tells us how to do that. First, he says that whoever serves him will follow him. So, he wants us to go where he goes – to “be there.” Where? He tells us: When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw everyone to myself. This is the third time in John’s gospel that Jesus has used those words, “lifted up,” and it’s pretty clear what he means; he’s talking about the cross.

    At first, you wouldn’t know it because he speaks of glory, but when he talks about wheat falling to the ground and dying, of losing our lives by loving them too much, and saving our lives by leaving things behind, Jesus means a lot more than just our being there as he suffers and dies; he means us being there, too, suffering with him, dying with him.

    It’s easy to understand why our first instinct might be to resist that. It’s like the comedian Woody Allen once said, “I’m not afraid to die. I just don’t want to be there when it happens.” We want the rewards that Christ’s resurrection has in store, but we don’t want to go through the suffering it takes to get there. Why should we have to “be there” for all that suffering, anyway?

    I think the best answer to that is by way of an example. God could have designed parenthood a whole different way. He could have just delivered to your door a 25 year-old; fully employed, living on their own, college-educated, perfect teeth, well-adjusted, and faithful to the Church. Think of it! No sleepless nights with sick kids, no long hours at little league practices, dance or singing lessons, no braces, no problems at school, no refereeing sibling rivalries, no frustrations, no disappointments, no failures. What could possibly be wrong with that? Well, go back to those years from pregnancy to adulthood; think of all the sacrifices you made to “be there” for them, what raising those kids ended up meaning to you and to them. You and they have hundreds if not thousands of precious, irreplaceable memories locked up in those years; in raising them day after day, year after year, good times and bad, you learned about life, about love, about people, about yourself, and about God. You have poured your life into those kids, and there is no sacrifice too great for that kind of love. Being there for them is just what you do.

    How could it be any different for God, who is love? No sacrifice is too great for His children, not even the life of His Only Son. What is the cross? It is the visible sign of the greatest invisible reality: a love worth dying for; a love His children can live for; a love that draws them all to Himself, the source of eternal salvation for them.

    This is why we are here: For the sake of that love. At every Mass, we bring all the sacrifices of our lives, every joy, every sorrow; we join them to the bread and wine brought up at the Offertory; we raise them to the Father along with the sacrifice of Christ, that the Father will take them, transubstantiate them, and then feed us with the bread of angels – the glorified body of His Only Son, who wants no more than to dwell within our hearts, that we may know him. Remember in the first reading, the heart is where the prophet told us that God would place His law, and the heart of the law is love.

    So, when we wonder how we can see Christ more clearly in ourselves, take a moment to reflect on what it means to “be there” with Christ. He always invites us to follow him, but it’s going to cost us something. We have to leave behind some things we want, take up others we don’t want, and persist despite failure. Thanks to the hope and infinite mercy of the New and eternal Covenant born of the blood of Christ, every day is a chance for a new beginning, an opportunity to start again, to keep going, or to turn around if we’re going the wrong way. The important thing is that, like him who fell three times on his way to Calvary, what matters is not that we fall, but that we get back up and keep going, all for the sake of being there with Christ – the Love that Never Dies.

    —

  • The Inner da Vinci

    The Inner da Vinci

    Saturday of the 1st Week of Lent

    Deuteronomy 26:16-19; Matthew 5:43-48

    Unlike many masters, Leonardo da Vinci finished very few paintings. You may not know it, but he was a notorious perfectionist and procrastinator. Despite working for many years on the Mona Lisa, he actually never finished it. His contemporaries said he would stare for an hour or more at one of his works in progress, add a brushstroke to it, then get distracted and forget about it. The result? A series of unfinished works, many of which could have been masterpieces, but none of which are.

    I thought about that when I heard Jesus urge his disciples to “be perfect.” It sounds like an impossible standard, especially when dealing with enemies, or people we find hard to get along with. My own attempts at trying to be perfect too often end in procrastination and perfectionism; I put it off, praying for the “perfect” time to reconcile, or until for the “perfect” words come to me. I think you can guess the rest; there never is a perfect time, I never find the perfect words, and, when the answer I’m waiting for never comes, I get distracted by other things and forget it. The result? A series of broken relationships, many of which could have been fixed, but none of which will be.

    If that doesn’t sound like what Jesus wants, that’s because it isn’t. The fact is that, when we look at the original language of the gospel, our Lord doesn’t say “be perfect,” as in right now; rather, he speaks in the future tense: “You are to be perfect,” or, “You will be perfect.” In other words, reaching perfection is a process, something we have to work toward. God knows there is no “perfect” time to begin that process, but He also knows – and uses the present tense to tell us – that there is an “acceptable” time: Now (2 Corinthians 6:2).

    It’s easy to come up with reasons why “acceptable” doesn’t seem good enough, and “now” is too soon to begin healing difficult and broken relationships, but remember, that’s our inner perfectionist and procrastinator talking. It’s true that we may not say exactly the right things, do all that we should do to heal the wounds we’ve suffered or caused, or carry our anger or resentment a little too long. But God isn’t looking for instant perfection in love, He’s looking for us to keep trying, to make the effort to grow in love, which is growth in holiness; to take another step on the road to sanctity.

    It’s like St. Josemaria Escriva once said: A saint is a sinner who keeps trying. So here, today, right now, God is asking us to seize the moment He gives us, and to keep working with the mindset Moses spoke of in the first reading – our entire heart and soul. If we do that, He has promised to be with us and give us the grace to make progress, no matter how small. That’s a lot more than our inner da Vinci has ever accomplished.

    —

  • Us Vs. Them

    Us Vs. Them

    Saturday of the 5th Week in Ordinary Time

    1 Kings 12:26-32; 13:33-34; Mark 8:1-10

    A team of social scientists enlisted some preteen boys to help them with an experiment. With their parents’ permission, the kids spent several days at a summer camp. Each boy was assigned to one of two groups. For awhile, the groups stayed separate so the boys could get to know each other. When the groups finally met, an “us vs. them” mentality quickly emerged and eventually led to hostility. Because the scientists’ real purpose was to see how such groups might be brought together, they tried some joint activities like movie nights. These failed; if anything, the groups grew even further apart. Finally, the scientists faked what looked to the boys like a real emergency: the camp’s water supply had “somehow” been cut off. As the team predicted, when the groups got together and worked to fix the problem, hostility greatly decreased; they became much friendlier to each other.

    Of course, the “us vs. them” mentality is nothing new. We see it in the first reading. One group, the 10 tribes under Jeroboam, want things one way; the other group, the tribes of Benjamin and Judah, another. Both want to worship God, but sadly, hostility breaks out over how and where to do that. In Jeroboam’s case, this spells disaster; his house was cut off and destroyed from the earth (1 Kings 13:34). The tribes under him fare little better; they are conquered and absorbed into the surrounding Gentile peoples.

    It is in Gentile territory that Mark now tells of a “great crowd” that has come to hear Jesus. Descendants of the struggle for power over the centuries, they are of two groups: some Jews, but mostly Gentiles. In the area of the Decapolis, where Jesus now is, these two groups live and work near each other, but remain pretty much separate, and, at times, hostile. Nevertheless, here they are, shoulder to shoulder, listening to Jesus.

    And listening for three days! We don’t know what he said, but whatever it was, it held them fast. He sees how hungry they are, and that they can’t go on without food, so, as he did in Jewish territory, he now does in Gentile territory. Since this is the second time Jesus has fed a multitude with a few loaves and fish, we might ask why the disciples didn’t know what he was going to do, but I think the focus is better put on who he was doing it for: Gentiles. Two hostile groups – Jew and Gentile – two miraculous feedings. Perhaps Jesus is showing both groups, through his word and bread, that they have a common problem, far greater than any group allegiance – hunger – and that he and only he is the solution. Jesus has come not only to feed people of every group, but to unite them to himself, and, in so doing, to each other. One bread, one body.

    What was true then is true now. Like people of every age, we have ample opportunity to see ourselves as “us vs. them.” We in the Church are “us,” the rest of the world, “them.” Or, we could divide by finer lines: Catholic vs. Protestant; this kind of Catholic vs. another; this ministry vs. another; this clergy vs. another; this person vs. another. Where does that get us? Where it has always gotten us… little more than Jeroboam.

    Rather, let us remember the miraculous feedings done by Jesus. He and he alone is the food that satisfies the deepest hunger of every human being who has ever lived. The Blessed Sacrament we are preparing to receive is called the Sacrament of Unity for that reason. In Christ, there is no “them.” There is only “us.”

    ——-

  • Lessons our Mother Teaches

    Lessons our Mother Teaches

    Solemnity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Mother of God

    Numbers 6:22-27; Galatians 4:4-7; Luke 2:16-21

    January 1st is our annual rite of passages, time to look back on the old year, ahead to the new one, and make resolutions. This tradition probably started when Julius Caesar made January the first month; January is named after Janus, the god of passages who had two faces – one looking back at the past, the other forward to the future.

    As we see in the gospel today, Mary isn’t concerned with the past or future; she’s fully caught up in the present moment. We might look at her in this scene and see the face of a concerned, young mother who has little to offer her son – no place to call home, and nowhere to lay him but a manger. But we know better; hers is the face of a confident mother with total trust, perfect serenity, and ultimate fidelity to God; she knows that He blesses His people, lets His face shine on them, and is gracious to them (Numbers 6:24-26). He has brought her to this moment, and would never abandon her in it.

    Like any mother, Mary would know all the joys and sorrows of motherhood: The joy of teaching him to talk, to walk, to get along in the world, watching him grow into a young man, and the sorrow of picking him up when he fell, comforting him, and watching as he left home for the last time. But then there were the joys unique to being the Mother of God: the joy of watching his eyes light up as she told him the stories in the Scriptures he gave the world, and the terrible sorrow of watching his suffering, his death on the cross, and laying him in a tomb. Yet, having endured this and not lost faith would bring the greatest joy possible: Seeing her son raised from the dead, resplendent in his glorified body and ascending to his Father.

    The grace of God allowed Mary to experience all these things, not to understand them. She, too, must have her own journey of faith. As Luke is careful to point out, this included contemplation: she kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.

    Thus, Mary, the Mother of God, teaches us two important lessons. First, we must live in the present moment. Sometimes, we get stuck in the past, dwelling on our mistakes or trying to re-capture the glory of past accomplishments. Other times, we live in the future by worrying about what might or might not happen. Either way, we miss the present. Mary was full of grace, and grace is given to be used in the present moment. Second, the Blessed Mother teaches us that we don’t need to have all the answers, we just have to do our part. When she consented to be the mother of God, Mary wasn’t given details of the plan, she was given a baby. Her part was to be his mother; in her humility, she accepted that and put her heart and soul into it. Mary is the only one who was with Jesus at each crucial moment in his life, from his conception to his crucifixion to his ascension.

    In the divine plan, that kind of devotion never goes unrewarded. When her earthly life was complete, God exalted Mary by raising her to be with Him body and soul forever. This is the final lesson of Mary the Mother, but it is taught by Christ Jesus, her Son: Mary’s destiny is our destiny too. Everyone who follows her example of discipleship is destined to rise body and soul to that same heavenly glory. Mary was the first to enjoy it, but that was our Lord’s special gift to his Mother. The good news is that he loves us, too, so the same gift is waiting for us.

    If we have any resolution to make for this new year, let it be to do what Mother Mary has already so perfectly done: Hear the word of God and do it.

  • Being Prophet-able

    Being Prophet-able

    Saturday of the 2nd Week of Advent

    Matthew 17:9a, 10-13

    One of the best ways to read Scripture is to put yourself in it, to be one of the characters. In today’s gospel story, one role stands out like it was made for me: the scribes. These men loved God, devoted hours to studying His word, prided themselves on their knowledge (maybe a bit too much), and were absolutely brilliant at finding ways to be wrong. Today, they show Jesus how they can correctly interpret Scripture about the coming of Elijah while at the same time completely miss the fact that Elijah had already come.

    Rather than dwell on that mistake, I think it’s better to learn from it, especially since we who are baptized have already been anointed prophet in imitation of Christ. So, what is a prophet and how am I one?

    Holy Father John Paul II wrote about this in his exhortation Christifideles Laici. Though it’s hard (for me) to easily summarize him on just about anything, if I were to try, I’d say that a prophet is anyone who lives the gospel with love, courage, and patience, and does it so everyone see and benefit from it.

    So, how does a prophet live the gospel? I can think of at least two ways, based on what the Holy Father says:

    1. Focus on the gospel’s “newness.” How is the gospel new? Haven’t we heard its stories time in and time out? Yes, but its lessons are so timeless, so fundamental that they apply to every circumstance of life, however old or new. We live prophetically when we allow the Holy Spirit to help us make connections between the gospel and peoples’ life situation, and then find ways to share them.
    2. Live the gospel message of hope. The Holy Father also speaks of prophets as those who live out the virtue of hope. As we know all too well, the secular world has no use for such virtues, convinced as it is that there is no God and eternal life nothing but a wishful fantasy. The prophet has the courage and patience to be, like Christ, a public and living sign of contradiction.

    Given these, I suggest we take some time to reflect on all the prophets who have touched our lives, and thank God for the ways they helped turn us toward Him. They may not have known they were living prophetically, they just followed their spiritual instincts and allowed the Holy Spirit to work through them. Nevertheless, we are who and where we are thanks to God and His action in their lives.

    Let’s also turn the spotlight inward and ask ourselves how we are living as prophets. Are we taking time to meditate on the lessons of the gospel and find connections between those and our own lives? If and when we counsel other people, do we pray that the Holy Spirit will help us find ways to show them similar connections? They may not want to hear it, but when did a prophet ever let that stop them? Finally, how are we living out faith in Christ to an unbelieving world? It’s easy inside these walls, with our believing friends; what about outside them, where the world seems to want to ignore the gospel? Wherever we are on that front, let us continue to pray for the courage and the patience to do what Christ the priest, prophet, and king did and continues to do every day: Meet people where they are, but never leave them there.

  • God’s First Language

    God’s First Language

    Wednesday of the 2nd Week in Advent

    Isaiah 40:25-31; Matthew 11:28-30

    Every year, as November approaches, I look forward to Advent. I picture a peaceful time, a focus on prayer, and that wonderful, growing anticipation of the joy of Christmas. Then Advent comes, and the days start to fill with things that threaten to ruin my plans: illnesses, emergencies, the unpredictable demands of daily life. Most days, before I know it, it’s evening; I’m too tired to even try, and then I feel worse because all I really did was let another day go by. Suddenly, it’s mid-December; what I pictured as a peaceful, wonderful time has been anything but, and I’m starting to fear that Advent will end in disillusionment instead of joy.

    We can see the effect of that kind of angst in today’s readings. First, there are the Jews of the Babylonian exile. They’ve lost their homes, the Temple lies in ruins, and although they pray for deliverance, fear is deafening them to God’s answer; many have begun to worship the gods of Babylon, who they think are stronger, since God “lost” to them. In the gospel, the Jews of our Lord’s time are not so different. Conquered, occupied, and praying for deliverance, they are so used to the sound of their own fear and insecurity that they can’t hear the voice of God even when he’s standing there speaking to them.

    What is he speaking? Words of consolation. First, God reminds the Jews that the gods of Babylon are nothing. Only He is the Creator; only He keeps all things in existence. Yes, the Jews are in exile; yes, the Temple is gone. But that doesn’t mean there is no plan; rather, it means that God has the plan, and their suffering, though painful, is part of it. They wouldn’t understand that, and they would fear, but they didn’t need to. What they needed was trust. That’s why, earlier, God said to Isaiah: Say to the fearful of heart: Be strong, do not fear! Here is your God, he comes with vindication… he comes to save you (Isaiah 35:4). Jesus is that Savior, that vindication, that Temple not made by human hands, the one in whom people of every age and nation, however weary, burdened, or afraid, can find true rest. It’s no surprise that he, like his Father, says, fear is useless; what is needed is faith (Mark 5:36).

    When in the first reading, I heard God ask, Do you not know? Have you not heard (Isaiah 40:28), I’m tempted to say, “No, I haven’t,” but maybe that’s because, like ancient people, I’ve been listening more to the sound of my own expectations than to the voice of God. The theologian Fr. Thomas Keating once said: “God’s first language is silence; all else is a translation.”1 During Advent, I’ve listened for His voice in music, in vocal prayer, and in conversations; while He is certainly speaking to me through those, He is speaking even more clearly in silence.

    I might make the excuse that I have little room in my noisy life for silence, but that’s untrue in at least two ways. First, I haven’t tried; second, no one said I have to start with large blocks of time. If I start small, there are plenty of opportunities: I can afford a few minutes early in the morning, just after I wake up, or late at night, just before sleep. When driving, I can turn off the music; I can leave for Mass five minutes earlier and spend that time in silence in the Chapel; for that matter, I could visit Christ in silent Adoration more often. These are just to name a few. If I tried, I can find more.

    With this in mind, there’s every reason to keep looking forward to Advent. All I have to do is remember that, while God is found in the sights and sounds of every time and season, He is best heard in His first language: Silence. Start listening.

    1Keating, Fr. Thomas. Invitation to Love: The Way of Christian Contemplation.

  • “Even If…”

    “Even If…”

    Saturday of the 34th Week in Ordinary Time

    Daniel 7:15-27; Luke 21:34-36

    The book of Daniel is a complex work. To put the book in a little context, we must try to see the world as the Hebrews of that time did. Think of the great kingdoms and empires they knew of – Egypt, Persia, and Greece – and the seven wonders they created: the Great Pyramid at Giza, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, the statue of Zeus in Olympia, the temple of Artemis in Ephesus, the Mausoleum of Halicarnassus, the Colossus of Rhodes, and the Lighthouse of Alexandria. In comparison, what did Israel have? The Temple, but that was a rebuild; a shadow of its former glory. In the eyes of the world, it was no wonder that Israel was a conquered people; in comparison to the real powers, they were nothing and had nothing.

    Or did they? Part of the reason for Daniel, and the entire Old Testament, was to show that, in fact, Israel and Israel alone had the greatest wonder of all: the one, true God. He could have revealed Himself to any of the great powers, but He chose them, spoke to them, and promised them a kingdom which would last forever. All they needed was faith.

    Of course, the Old Testament also shows that faith isn’t always easy. Among the biggest obstacles are fear and anxiety. As we just heard, Daniel himself was anguished and terrified, and he wasn’t alone. Remember Moses, encountering God in the burning bush (Exodus 4), or David, running for his life (Psalm 55). They were very afraid. The truth is that no one is exempt from the all-too-human tendency to think about everything that can go wrong, given what has already gone wrong, and the cost to ourselves and those we love. Worried minds are a breeding ground for fear and anxiety.

    That is why Jesus urges us not to be afraid, but to have faith (Luke 8:50). We might miss the connection between the first reading and today’s gospel passage in this regard, but that’s a minor translation issue. Where we hear Jesus saying, Beware that your hearts do not become drowsy (Luke 21:34), think of drowsy as being weighed down or overcome. Fear and anxiety paralyze us, keep us from acting, and Jesus wants just the opposite; he wants us to dare. Throughout the gospel, he delights in those who do exactly that. There was the leper who approached him (Luke 5:12-16), the hemorrhaging woman who touched him (Luke 8:43-48), and the blind man who kept calling Jesus (Luke 18:35-43). Each defied the conventions of Israelite society, and each was richly rewarded by Jesus.

    Defying what others think or going against the spirit of the age can inspire both fear and anxiety, but we can’t let that stop us. In fact, we mustn’t; it’s the job of the Church to transform society, not to be transformed by it. I recently heard a talk in which the priest gave a good piece of advice. He said that, if we are afraid to step out in faith and do something, and keep asking ourselves, “What if I stumble?” or “What if I fail?”, we should substitute the words “What if” with “Even if,” and turn it into a prayer: “Even if I stumble, even if I fail, Lord, I still have faith. You are there.”

    The tradition of making resolutions on the last day of the year is as ancient as any of the empires I’ve mentioned, dating back about 40 centuries. Given that, I propose that on this, the last day of the Church year, we resolve from now on to substitute “Even if” for “What if” in the prayers of our anxious moments. After all, in God’s eyes, the greatest earthly empires are kingdoms of sand. Where are they now? All gone. Where are we? Exactly where he has promised all those who dare to approach him in humility would be: Saved. Go. Your faith has saved you (Luke 7:50; 8:48; 18:42).

  • Winning the Game of Life

    Winning the Game of Life

    The 32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle A

    Wisdom 6:12-16; 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18; Matthew 25:1-13

    In a timed experiment, men and women competed to see who followed instructions better. Picture the scene: A man and his girlfriend enter a partitioned room, he on one side, she on the other. A bell starts the contest. Each runs to a small table and are handed an instruction sheet. The first task: “Put on lipstick.” The man does it, the woman reads. The next task, “Put on this dress.” He does it, she continues to read. Next, he does jumping jacks while shouting her name; still, she still reads. Finally, after sucking on a lemon, spinning in a circle on the floor, wearing a chicken mask and clucking, and a few more tasks, the bell ends the contest. He runs around the curtain, still wearing the dress and with lipstick on his face, only to see her, who did none of this yet won the contest, holding the instructions. Laughing, she shows him the last line on the page: “Now, ignore instructions one thru ten and sign this paper – you’ve completed the challenge!”

    You may be wondering a couple of things. First, how you would have done. Sorry, guys; most of us ended up with the dress on and lipstick on our face. Ladies, you carried the day; most of you ended up showing us where it said that we didn’t have to do any of that. Second, you may be curious what any of this has to do with today’s readings.

    The readings are all about knowing what success is, and doing what it takes to reach it. For example, we might look at success in life as if it’s a matter of following instructions: Get an education, earn a good living, find a spouse, raise a family, have a nice home, honor God. Now, these are all wonderful things; the person who values them is certainly wise and successful as the world sees it. But what about as God sees it? The first reading tells us that the wisdom given by God is the perfection of prudence (Wisdom 6:15). So, we are prudent in God’s eyes when we discern the right way to go to reach our goal, and wise when we know what the goal is before we set out.

    How are the prudent successful in life? The other readings help us answer that. First, our Lord’s parable. Like all parables, it contains a twist, something that would surprise its audience. It was a custom in the ancient world for the groom to meet the bride’s father, to make various arrangements. This could go quickly or take a long time; no one knew. Thus, the surprise wasn’t the long wait, or that the girls fell asleep, but that so few had enough oil with them. If the oil is our faith in Christ, who told us that we are the light of the world, and our actions must show that light (Matthew 5:14-16), then we need a good, steady supply of it, because, as we all know, sometimes our faith is sorely tested.

    The second reading is a good example. Some of the Christians in Thessalonika were getting anxious; they expected Jesus to return in their lifetime to judge the living and the dead. They had been waiting a long time; now, people in their community were dying, and they didn’t understand why he hadn’t returned. What was wrong? Perhaps their critics and detractors were right; maybe this Jesus was never coming back, and the whole thing was a deception! It’s not hard to understand this. Many in the modern world fall away or never believe because things don’t happen in a way we can all easily understand and relate to our faith. Good people die, the innocent suffer, things can be so unfair. The longer this goes on, the more we are tempted to ask what the Thessalonians asked – have we, too, been deceived? Where is God in all this?

    This is why St. Paul urges the Thessalonians to find their hope and consolation in Christ. He knew that Jesus hadn’t come to take away suffering and death. To the contrary; he, too, suffered and died. Rather, Jesus came to show us that death isn’t the final word – He is. What gives our faith its meaning is his resurrection, and the promise that we, too, will be raised to new and eternal life with him. When St. Paul said, we shall always be with the Lord (1 Thessalonians 4:17), he was reminding them that not only did Christ give them hope for new life, he was with them still, and would be forever. We don’t just have St. Paul’s word for that; Jesus himself closes St. Matthew’s gospel the way it began, by reminding us that he is Emmanuel, God-With-Us, when he said: behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age (Matthew 1:23; 28:20). What consolation! Christ is with us every moment of our lives; every joy, every sorrow, from the beginning until eternity.

    This brings us full circle to the experiment I began with. That game had a beginning, and it had an end. So, too, the game of life. The way to win is also the same: Follow the instructions, but first, know what the instructions are. Before he left, Jesus gave them to us: in Scripture, in Sacred Tradition such as the Creed we are about to recite, and in the teaching of the Church. But the final line is about how we show our faith, for without faith, our actions get us nowhere. So, picture this: Christ stands on the other side of the curtain, the instructions in his hand. He is reading the last line, in the words of Venerable Fulton Sheen: “Show me your hands. Do they have scars from giving? Show me your feet. Are they wounded in service? Show me your heart. Have you left a place for divine love?”

  • 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.

  • Promises, Promises

    Promises, Promises

    Saturday of the 28th Week in Ordinary Time

    Romans 4:13, 16-18; Luke 12:8-12

    Luke’s gospel appears to have been written to a gentile, Greek-speaking audience. Such people would quickly notice the difference between the Greek and Roman gods and the one true God. The gods were irrational, unfair, and inconsistent; God is the epitome of reason, justice, and consistency. The gods were fickle; God keeps His promises.

    That doesn’t mean His promises follow our timeline; they don’t. As Scripture makes clear, the promises made to Abraham – namely, that he would be the father of a nation, his name would be great, and all the nations of the world would find blessing in him – are kept, but in God’s time, not ours. It was up to Abraham to use the gift of faith he was given, which he did, and up to God to keep His promises, which He did.

    St. Paul also mentions an important side benefit to the gift of faith: hope. He describes Abraham as hoping against hope that he would become the father of many nations (Romans 4:18). He later brings in the Spirit, saying, May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit (Romans 15:13). We know hope as the God-given virtue by which we “desire the kingdom of heaven and eternal life as our happiness, placing our trust in Christ’s promises and relying not on our own strength, but on the help of the grace of the Holy Spirit” (CCC §1817). Thus, we aren’t so different from Abraham; it’s up to us to use the gifts of faith and hope, and up to God to send the Holy Spirit to help us.

    That brings us to today’s gospel, where Christ makes three promises, all related to the Holy Spirit.

    First, he promises that those who live the faith by acknowledging him publicly will themselves be acknowledged in heaven. Of course, we can’t do that without the help of the Holy Spirit. Most importantly, it is only in the Spirit that we can say Jesus is Lord (1 Corinthians 12:3). Also, we need his gifts: the courage to step outside our comfort zone, the patience to practice the virtues we find hard to live, and the authenticity to live the faith because it’s who we are, not just what we teach.

    Second, he promises forgiveness in the context of accepting the role of the Holy Spirit. How consoling it must have been to St. Peter after the Passion to recall our Lord saying that those who speak a word against him will be forgiven! And we, so like St. Peter; how we love to hear those words in Confession, “God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son, has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins.” It’s like a sixteen-ton weight has been lifted from our shoulders!

    Finally, he promises the Holy Spirit will be with us in times of trouble. Unlike some to whom Christ was speaking, we won’t be haled before synagogues, rulers, or authorities on account of Christ; nevertheless, we will be challenged for our faith. Dealing with this requires the Spirit’s gift of prudence. Too often, especially over the coming holidays, people who should be closer together are driven further apart by strong and differing points of view. In all such situations, we must ask the Spirit to help us find the words and actions that make our point without wounding those who disagree with us.

    Everything Jesus promised today – the reward of eternal life for all who live the faith, the forgiveness of sins for all who accept it, and the counsel of the Holy Spirit – are given out of his infinite, merciful love. So, let us resolve to hear his word and keep it, for those who do so are those who love him, and, as he said, whoever loves me will be loved by my Father, and I will love him and reveal myself to him (John 14:21).

    That is a promise. And God always keeps His promises.