Mark 10:45

  • A Fragrant Aroma: Monday of Holy Week

    John 12:1-8

    Awhile after my father died, my mother asked if I would help her sort out his things. As I took some clothes out of his dresser it struck me; they still smelled like him. It was as if my father was right there. It took me several minutes to regain my composure.

    Scientists have known for years that the sense of smell is intimately tied to memory and emotion. In fact, smell is the only sense that works directly with the area of the brain that controls emotions. We’ve all experienced it; no matter how far away or far removed we are from a certain time, the aroma of something – perhaps a certain food, a perfume – can bring it all back again. It is if we are there.

    In the gospel we see how one of the sisters of Lazarus gave to their home a sense memory of our Lord: Mary took a liter of costly perfumed oil made from genuine aromatic nard and anointed the feet of Jesus and dried them with her hair; the house was filled with the fragrance of the oil (John 12:3).

    This is significant on many levels. First, it is the perfect counterbalance to the family’s recent experience at the tomb of Lazarus; the foul air of death is literally blown away by the fragrance of new life found in Christ. But second, this perfume is costly; the price of victory is high. As if she senses that his enemies are as near as Judas and plotting his demise, Mary anoints not the head of Christ the King but the feet of Christ the Servant which shall soon be pierced with nails and placed in a tomb. Finally, it may seem odd that Mary wipes away some of the perfume with her hair but I see in it a sign of her devotion; a way to identify herself with Christ and his sacrifice, personifying St. Paul’s meaning in 2 Corinthians when he said, we are a fragrance of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing (2 Corinthians 2:15).

    glass-4108085_640There is an ancient rabbinic saying that “the fragrance of a good perfume spreads from the bedroom to the dining room; so does a good name spread from one end of the world to the other.”1 As Mary filled her house and her hair with the fragrance of Christ, so may we fill the world and ourselves with his holy and glorious Name. And may be as untiring and devoted as she, willing to sacrifice whatever is costly to ourselves to do it. There is no greater identification with Christ than this, as St. Paul knew when he prayed that we may be imitators of God, as beloved children; and walk in love, just as Christ also loved you and gave Himself up for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God as a fragrant aroma (Ephesians 5:1-2).

    1Based on Ecclesiastes 7:1 and cited in Brown, R.E. (1966) The Anchor Bible: The Gospel According to John I-XII. New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., p. 453.

  • Mother and Baby: The Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord

    Isaiah 7:10-14; 8:10; Psalm 40:7-11; Hebrews 10:4-10; Luke 1:26-38

    Everyone knows the bond between a mother and her baby is special and that there is nothing in the world quite like it. But recently I came across some research that taught me things about it I didn’t know and that gave me new perspectives on the Blessed Mother.

    First, there is a physical basis to the phenomenon scientists call the “maternal instinct,” or others know as “Mommy brain.” Others like my older son who as a young child once inspected the back of his mother’s head, searching for the eyes hidden there. He wasn’t far wrong. During pregnancy a woman’s brain actually changes; areas related to the protection and nurturing of her baby develop as never before. This is nature’s way of attuning a mother to the needs and well-being of her children.

    It was no different for the Blessed Mother. From the moment the Holy Spirit came upon her and the power of the Most High overshadowed her (Luke 1:35), Mary began to develop the maternal instinct toward God himself. She alone among all women was to know the singular joy and tremendous responsibility of nurturing the Son of God; of protecting him from and preparing him for the world he came to save; of feeding him who thirsted for souls; and of providing a home for him who sought nowhere to lay his head except upon her breast, first as a helpless babe and then as a lifeless son taken down from the cross.

    It was from the cross that Christ raised Mary’s maternal instinct from the natural to the spiritual. With his words, Woman, behold your son (John 19:26) he gave her motherhood of his disciples, of all those like her who hear the word of God and do it (Luke 11:28). He made the bond complete when he told the Beloved Disciple, Behold, your mother (John 19:27), for in imitation of her Son we too have nowhere else to lay our heads. As her spiritual children we trust her, as he did, to see to our well-being and protection.

    The second thing I learned about the bond between mothers and babies is that children learn to recognize their mother’s voice in the womb and even prefer the language she speaks to any other they hear. By the time he was born, Mary’s voice was already very familiar to Jesus. And of course he prefers her language, for she speaks the language of total and selfless love. This is why we ask the Blessed Mother to speak to Jesus on our behalf; hers is the voice he heard from the time he was old enough to hear anything at all, the voice he could not refuse at Cana. Once again in imitation of him, Mary’s is the voice we too must not refuse, that says to us what it said to the servers at the wedding feast at Cana: Do whatever he tells you (John 2:5).

    Finally, I learned that perhaps the most important aspect of the bond between mother and baby is responsiveness. From the womb, mothers instinctively respond to the needs of their babies, giving from their own bodies whatever they have to give. This continues into childhood. Studies have shown that children thrive when their mothers respond to them in ways that foster growth and security; these especially include support and encouragement in difficult or stressful times. As Scripture makes clear, our Lord was no stranger to difficulty or stress, from his birth in a stable and flight into Egypt to his suffering and death on the cross. But Scripture also makes clear that Mary was with him at each of those times; in fact, she is the only one in all of Scripture to be present from his conception to his ascension. As such, Mary is the epitome of the supporting and encouraging mother.

    mother and baby

    One phrase in the readings perfectly summarizes the bond between Mary and her Son: I come to do your will (Psalm 40:8-9; Hebrews 10:7). For Mary this meant motherhood born of a love for God so deep that she, as Augustine once said, would conceive Christ in her heart before her womb. For Jesus it meant the Incarnation; a love so deep that he would take his own creation’s flesh and offer it back to his Father for the redemption of all who would accept him. Their obedience sets the pattern for us for we too are called to the same kind of obedience; to conceive Christ in our hearts; to offer to the Father the gift of ourselves in total dedication to Him; to love as Jesus and Mary loved. Without grace this is not possible, but this is the great hope of the Solemnity of the Annunciation, when the angel reminds us as he told the Fullness of Grace: nothing will be impossible for God (Luke 1:37).

  • Passing By the Dragon

    Every week I scour the internet and various hard- and soft-bound sources for quotes that I think might make a difference to somebody, somewhere. I know I’m not always successful but I also know for sure that at least once in a while a quote touches someone for the better.

    Well, today’s quote touched me. Some might find it off-putting or unmoving but for whatever reason it’s been running through my head like a mantra. It comes from today’s saint, Cyril of Jerusalem, who knew a little something about the topic and who I think would approve of my selection for the times we now find ourselves in.

    You know what I mean. These are times where people, feeling driven to desperation out of what I can only describe as panic, are depriving each other and themselves of their God-given dignity, fighting over or hoarding such things as bottled water, rolls of toilet paper, canned food, and hand sanitizers.

    St. Cyril once said:

    The dragon sits by the side of the road, watching those who pass. Beware lest he devour you. We go to the Father of Souls, but it is necessary to pass by the dragon.

    The road is life and at every turn the dragon lurks – always hungry, always on the prowl, always ready to devour the unwitting, the arrogant, the unbelieving, the slothful. In one way or another, at one time or another, we are all of these; sometimes of our own free will, sometimes under the compulsion of habit, sometimes the result of forces we cannot name and do not understand, but cannot seem to resist.

    the dragonWhen we think of the dragon we think of the Devil and it is right to do so, for Scripture does refer to him that way (Revelation 12, for example). There is no doubt that the dragon is the Enemy but there is also no doubt that too often the dragon looks back from our own mirror. Worse yet, the victim does too; we allow sinfulness such a hold over us that in effect we devour ourselves, relent to the darker angels of our nature.

    Most recently we have begun to treat the virus as though it were the dragon. That’s easy to understand; insidious, potentially lethal, virtually invisible, it waits not only by the side of the road but perhaps in the air we breathe or the people we touch. That inspires fear, and it should.

    However, it also reminds me of St Teresa of Avila’s words, “I do not fear Satan half so much as I fear those who fear him.” While we are right to fear the virus, we should more rightly fear our own fear of it; fear is the true dragon lurking behind the unloving, self-centered actions we have heard and read about recently.

    How to combat that kind of servile fear? With holy fear. Remember the next part of St. Cyril’s quote. We go to the Father of Souls. It is God whom we most love, God whom we most fear offending. What pleases God is not fear but faith; that we take advantage of the opportunities He has given us to draw closer to Him and each other.

    Where do such opportunities lie in the trial we face today? Right in front of us. First, let us resolve to do the best we can with what we have been given. If the virus prevents us from going out, then we stay in and bring ourselves back to the kind of simpler time that many of us knew as children: Simple, modest home-cooked meals; conversation around the dinner table; recreation time; work time; quiet time. Nothing works to calm those around us like quiet assurance. Second, let us take advantage of the opportunities this sequestered time gives us to get back to the basics of our faith. If the churches are closed to holy Mass they are wide open for Confession. What better time to go than when we feel the dragon near? And what better time to fall on our knees and pray for those who have fallen ill or died and to thank Him that we and so many others have been spared? Finally, we can make this a time to worry less about our own needs and more on those most vulnerable – the elderly, those with small children, those with few resources.

    Fear is not the time to turn away from God but toward Him, for God alone has the power to save. I quoted Cyril of Jerusalem and Teresa of Avila; let me close by quoting our Lord.

    Do not fear: I am with you; do not be anxious: I am your God. I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my victorious right hand. (Isaiah 41:10)

    The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom should I fear? The LORD is my life’s refuge; of whom should I be afraid? (Psalm 27:1)

    It is necessary to pass by the dragon, but no dragon is fearsome in the face of such strength.

  • The True Cornerstone: Memorial of St. Patrick, Bishop

    August 15th, the Feast of the Assumption, fell on a Sunday in the year 1858; that afternoon, a 22 year-old Irish immigrant named Cormack McCall1 may well have watched as a stone that he had cut with his own hands was blessed as the cornerstone of the new St. Patrick’s Cathedral by New York City’s Archbishop John Hughes. Around Hughes stood seven bishops, 130 priests, and 100 choirboys. The crowd was estimated at 100,000 people or more; New York’s entire fleet of streetcars had been diverted to the area just to accommodate them.

    It is an oddity in keeping with St. Patrick that to this day no one knows exactly where the cathedral’s cornerstone is or when it went missing.2 It has sunk into obscurity like the details of the life of the great saint himself. Nevertheless, St. Patrick’s impact on the faith is every bit as real and foundational as the cathedral’s mysterious cornerstone.

    Patrick was similar in a few ways to Israel’s son Joseph, whose life story closes the book of Genesis. Both became slaves in their youth, both were bright and resourceful men of dreams, and both used their gifts not just to endure their captivity but to be victorious over it.

    Of course, there were differences. Unlike Joseph, Patrick was not raised by parents with a strong and vibrant faith; nevertheless, during his captivity he found that his faith was strengthened. Moreover, although both were men of dreams, Patrick focused on one particular vision from his youth and was determined to see it come to fruition. While a slave he had a vision of Irish children reaching out for him and resolved that should he escape he would return and convert the pagan Irish to Christianity. In fact, he did escape and reunite with his family in Britain for awhile; however, Patrick never lost sight of that vision from his youth. Around the year 431, after being ordained in France, Patrick was sent to Ireland as its bishop by Pope Celestine I.

    At first, Bishop Patrick began by supporting the small band of Christians already on the island but was soon evangelizing far and wide, preaching, writing and baptizing countless people. It is ironic that Patrick was so self-conscious of his lack of formal education for as an evangelizer he was brilliant. He understood that the truth of Christ transcends culture, that certain symbols or practices of the pagan people could be imbued with Christian meaning. For example, an ancient pagan image of two crossed lines and a circle was reinterpreted by Patrick as the Cross of Christ with the circle symbolizing the eternity of God. We know it as the Celtic Cross to this day.

    Over the course his years a missionary bishop to Ireland, Patrick truly was a cornerstone of the Irish Church. He installed and supported church officials, created councils, founded monasteries and organized Ireland into dioceses. He died around the year 461 and was buried in the land that he first came to as a slave and to which he returned, faithful to his promise to the end.

    ireland-2184916_640The psalmist must have had Joseph in mind as he sang, they had weighed him down with fetters, and he was bound with chains till his prediction came to pass and the word of the LORD proved him true (Psalm 105:18-19) but it applies to St. Patrick as well. In a larger sense it applies to all of us, for to one degree or another we are all weighed down with the fetters of sin. Many are bound with the additional chains of addiction or illness, either our own or someone we love. Perhaps we have not been given visions or dreams like Joseph or Patrick, but we have been given the vision of Christ, the Eternal Word who proved himself true to the greatest promise ever given mankind: That every fetter would be lifted, every chain broken, every tear wiped away for all those who cling to him as their salvation. As much as they did, as faithful as they were, both Joseph and Patrick humbly bend their knee and fade into the background like an old cathedral cornerstone before the Stone rejected by the builders, the one true Cornerstone who is Christ.

    St. Patrick, pray for us.

  • The Choice to Forgive: The 7th Sunday in Ordinary Time

    Leviticus 19:1-2, 17-18; 1 Corinthians 3:16-23; Matthew 5:38-48

    As a young married woman, Edith Eger emigrated to the United States just after World War II and settled in Texas with her husband and first child. If she didn’t carry much material baggage, she carried a lot inside. A Jew, she and her family had been taken by rail along with hundreds of others to Auschwitz. Her parents were immediately put to death. A gymnast and dancer, she got the attention of a camp physician and was forced to dance for him; this was the notorious war criminal Jozef Mengele. Months later she was forced to march to another death camp and was one of the very few who survived. Her way of dealing with the trauma was to dedicate her life to helping others so in the 1970’s, her children grown, she went to college and became a psychologist. Now Dr. Eger, she began treating soldiers suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome.

    One day Dr. Eger met with two patients, both Viet Nam veterans. They suffered identical injuries; the war left them paraplegics. The first man was angry, bitter, and resentful; all he saw was the world’s evil and his own limitations. His attitude was, “Why me?” The second man was just the opposite. Grateful to have survived, he was determined to focus on the good things in life and on its possibilities. His attitude was, “What next?”

    Both patients deeply affected her. Through the first man she realized two things. First, her wartime experiences had left her like him: Angry, bitter, and resentful inside. More importantly she realized those feelings not only remained unresolved but had taken over, made things worse. Like that patient, she too was defined more by hatred than by love. But the second man showed her that she had a choice. She could choose life over death, to be a victor and not a victim, to celebrate the good and stop mourning the evil; to ask “What next?” and not “Why me?” That is the path she chose and, to coin a phrase, it has made all the difference.

    In her book “The Choice,” Dr. Eger writes, “Maybe to heal isn’t to erase the scar… to heal is to cherish the wound.” May be; we know from the book of Leviticus that we are to cherish no grudge (Leviticus 19:18), for that is the opposite of healing. No wonder the same verse advises us to take no revenge. Although it may seem satisfying for a time, especially when someone has really hurt us, Dr. Eger also said that revenge keeps us revolving, not evolving. Our goal is to get past the pain, not pay it forward, to make a positive change in our lives.

    But when someone has hurt you badly, how do you get past that kind of anger? By acknowledging it and giving it to God. Hiding it or pretending it doesn’t exist aren’t realistic solutions. You must be honest and admit that the anger you feel is the normal response to being badly hurt, but you must also resolve that anger will not win, will not define you, is not who you are. St. Paul told you who you are; you are the temple of God (1 Corinthians 3:16); don’t let anger defile that temple. Then give it to God in prayer. Be completely honest; tell God that the hurt and anger are too big for you, that you cannot do it alone. Ask him to help you forgive those who hurt you.

    Finally, have a realistic understanding of love in the context of forgiveness. When our Lord says love your enemies he isn’t asking us to forget what happened and be friends; rather he is challenging us to see other people, including our enemies, as God sees them. Therefore, forgiveness doesn’t mean complete reconciliation of all differences with all people; it means freeing ourselves to love as God loves. Edith Eger didn’t reconcile with the Nazis but she did forgive them because she came to see them as they were: People who, although created good by God, learned as children to fear and hate what they could not understand. We come to forgiveness the same way; not by total reconciliation of our differences but by accepting first and foremost that all people, even those who have hurt us, are created and loved by God just as we are and in need of the same salvation we need.

    prodigal-son-3388599_640It’s tempting to dismiss all this as foolishness but remember what St. Paul says: If any one among you considers himself wise in this age, let him become a fool so as to become wise (1 Corinthians 3:18). It may be wisdom in the eyes of the world to hate those who have hurt us and foolishness to forgive them but in Christ’s world it’s just the opposite; his is the world where hatred keeps us bound and love frees us, where judgment takes a back seat to mercy, and where God alone sees the heart, knows the pain, calms the fear, heals the wounds, and breaks the chains.

    As Lent approaches I invite you to find that one person in your life most in need of your forgiveness. Make forgiving that person your Lenten project. It may not take you all of Lent or you may not have succeeded come Christmas; regardless, keep working at it. Pray for them; your prayers are the greatest gift you can give and are truly sacrificial. Forgiving others from the heart may be the one thing we do that God loves the most, for it shows how much we want to be like him. After all, God has forgiven us.

  • The Outsiders: Tuesday of the Sixth Week in Ordinary Time

    James 1:12-18; Mark 8:14-21

    We may as well answer the question Jesus asked the disciples at the end of the gospel passage: Do you still not understand (Mark 8:21)? No, they do not understand at all. The question is, why? So far in Mark’s gospel they have heard him teach, seen him heal, witness him expelling demons, raising a girl from the dead, and feeding thousands with a few loaves. Who or what kept them from seeing him as the Christ? And more to the point, who or what does the same thing to us?

    It certainly isn’t God. As the first reading reminds us, God tempts no one (James 1:15). Here, James echoes the ancient truth revealed through the prophet Habakkuk that God cannot even look upon evil (Habakkuk 1:13). Rather, the reading goes on to say, evil comes from within each person who is lured and enticed by his desire (James 1:14). Let us briefly consider three different kinds of enticement.

    First, we entice ourselves to sin by failing to guard against temptation. Just as a person struggling with alcoholism would be foolish to hang around liquor stores so anyone who struggles with a certain sin is foolish to put themselves in situations where they are tempted to it. This is called the near occasion of evil and is what we promise to avoid every time we say the Act of Contrition.

    Second, we entice others to sin by becoming an occasion of evil ourselves. Some do this by dressing immodestly, others by gossiping. We rationalize such behavior in true Adam-and-Eve fashion by blaming the victims – “They shouldn’t look at me that way,” or “I only told the truth” – but deep down we know that we are far from innocent.

    Finally, we are enticed to sin by the dark angels whose master goes by many names: the father of lies (John 8:44), the tempter (Matthew 4:3), the devil (Matthew 4:1). By whatever name he sows confusion, preys on our weakness, encourages selfishness. The wise listen to Christ who urges us to fear the demons for they can destroy us body and soul (Matthew 10:28); the prudent avoid them, and the persevering cling to God with the assurance of St. Paul that no one and nothing can ever separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus (Romans 8:38-39).

    Earlier in Mark, Jesus defined two kinds of people. The “insiders,” or those to whom the mysteries of the Kingdom had been revealed; and the “outsiders,” who did not. Of the outsiders he said, they may look and see but not perceive, and hear and listen but not understand, in order that they may not be converted and be forgiven (Mark 4:12). The irony is that the disciples, who should be the definitive insiders, act more like outsiders than the real outsiders! For example in today’s gospel the disciples, who just witnessed Jesus feeding four thousand people now have the chance to share a quiet boat ride with him. What a shame that this perfect opportunity to unpack all they have seen is wasted on worrying about how little bread they brought along!

    fishing boat and feetStill, Mark’s purpose is not to make us wonder at their behavior but to evaluate our own. Are we insiders or outsiders? Some of us witness Christ feeding a multitude every day, and every day share time with him in the Church, the barque of Peter. Are we focused on our own loaf of bread – be it the next place we have to go, the people we have to see, or things we have to do – or on the Living Bread that is Christ? We see the many wonderful people he gives us – our families, friends, each other; do perceive Christ living within them? We hear his word in the Scriptures; do we understand his voice speaking through all those crying for help? At the Mass he gives us himself Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity in the Holy Eucharist; are our hearts hardened or are they being converted through the forgiveness of sins in Confession, that we may partake most fully in the infinite grace he offers?

    We conclude where we began, in the letter of James. Consider how the passage begins: Blessed is he who perseveres in temptation, for when he has been proven he will receive the crown of life that he promised to those who love him (James 1:12). Let us pray for perseverance, that gift of the Holy Spirit that empowers us to remain in the state of grace until the end of our lives; may we like the Saints see and perceive, hear and understand, that our hearts be converted, our many sins forgiven, and our focus on the things above.

  • The Holy Spirit and Us: Memorial of Sts. Cyril and Methodius, bishops

    Acts 13:46-49; Luke 10:1-9

    As a young musician and singer I had many opportunities to play and sing for wedding and funeral Masses. At first this was no problem, but eventually it became one. Parishes had begun to hire their own musicians who weren’t thrilled to see outsiders like me coming in. I remember at one wedding the local musician came up and told me that he was on the parish staff, this was his parish, and he would be playing. I don’t recall my reply but I know it infuriated him. He stormed off saying “I’m going to the pastor right now. One of us is leaving and it won’t be me!” Well, it was him. I stayed and did the wedding Mass, smugly condemning him for his attitude, never considering my own.

    There’s an old saying that when the Church isn’t being persecuted from the outside she persecutes herself. Many of us have seen it; the place we expect to find the most unity too often seems the model of disunity. We want the Church to grow, we want to bring Christ to people, but when they challenge us with new ideas, expectations, or ways of doing things we find ourselves at odds with them.

    This phenomenon is as old as the Church. In the first reading Paul and Barnabas turn their attention to the Gentiles, frustrated with their stalling mission to the Jews. And we hear how the Gentiles were delighted and the Church grew. What we have not heard (yet) is that with this growth came conflict. On one side the Gentiles resisted adopting Judaic ritual and dietary practices. What do circumcision and kosher law have to do with salvation? On the other side the Jewish Christians resisted the idea of abandoning them. After all, Jesus and his Apostles were Jews! Two groups, each with its own interests: More disputes, more hard feelings, more disunity.

    Sts. Cyril and Methodius might well sympathize. In their time (the 9th century) the Church was struggling to grow in Eastern Europe. The two brothers were the perfect choice for missionaries; they were well-educated, devout, and had grown up speaking Slavic as a second language. Best of all they possessed keen pastoral sensibility; they knew that Christ is the Word who transcends language, whether Greek, Latin, or Slavic. Therefore, when they arrived in the missions they not only preached in Slavic but also translated and conducted liturgical services in it as well. The people responded and the Church grew.

    As in the gospel they went out like lambs among wolves, only this time the wolves wore clericals. The missionaries of the region resented Cyril and Methodius. For one thing, they made the old guard look bad. Under them the Church withered; with the brothers here she blossomed. Second, they took issue with the way the Church grew. As they saw it, no one had the right to translate the liturgy into the native language and teach it to the people. Surely these upstart missionaries must be reprimanded.

    Not surprisingly the embittered clerics appealed to Rome about the liturgical changes, demanding action. When summoned, Cyril and Methodius went to Rome and gave a spirited, eloquent defense. After listening carefully in person, Pope Adrian II blessed their mission and gave them permission to continue celebrating the liturgy in Slavic.

    Cyril stayed in Rome and died not long afterward; Methodius returned to the missions. Sadly but not surprisingly, the pope’s decision settled nothing in many minds. For the rest of his life Methodius was hounded and frustrated by clerics who disagreed with him. Although he stayed the course and remained successful, the stress took its toll; he died April 6, 885.

    cropped-dove-3951312_1920.jpgThe pattern of disagreement, debate, and decision is how things get most productively settled in the Church provided it is done in the right spirit; that is, the Holy Spirit. Since the Council of Jerusalem was called to settle the dispute between the Gentile and Jewish Christians this has been the model, its justification found in the letter issued from that Council, specifically the sentence that begins, It seems good to the Holy Spirit and to us (Acts 15:28). The Holy Spirit promised by Christ continually works within us, finding ways to maintain unity despite our differences. In all our human affairs but especially between the members of the Church what matters is not that we disagree but that we dialog, not the heat of our words but the light of the Holy Spirit, not the distance we keep but the fellowship we extend, and not the hostility throughout the debate but the peace of Christ we give in the resolution. As with Cyril and Methodius, some will not accept us or the decisions reached but we cannot help that. All we can do is what Methodius did: Continue to act in union with Christ and his Church, remembering always that it is not about us but about the Holy Spirit and us.

    Sts. Cyril and Methodius, pray for us.

  • Holy and Immaculate: Memorial of Our Lady of Lourdes

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

    Between 1830 and 1858 the Blessed Mother made three separate visits to France. First in Paris to Sr. Catherine Laboure, whence came the Miraculous Medal and the prayer, “Mary, conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee.” Next she appeared to two shepherd children near La Salette in the French Alps, where she pleaded for a return to prayer and the Sacraments. Finally and most famously she appeared 18 times to the young teenager Marie-Bernarde Soubirous, also known as Bernadette, near Lourdes in the foothills of the Pyrenees.

    In all these we see that Mary appeared not to the powerful or influential but to the lowly – mostly, to children. Simple, honest, and unsophisticated, they were not interested in either notoriety or personal gain. Indeed Bernadette in her typical, straightforward fashion said, “When I’m dead they’ll come and touch holy pictures and rosaries to me, and all the while I’ll be getting boiled on a grill in purgatory.” Hardly the words of someone looking to sell the book and movie rights.

    Not that she couldn’t have used the money. Those such as Bernadette were not only innocents but familiar with suffering, people who understood poverty of spirit and body. In fact, she first met Our Lady while gathering sticks so that her family, mostly children who would not survive to adulthood, could have some heat in what they called home but everyone else called a musty, abandoned prison block.

    But as Mary knows, home is where the heart is and the heart of the Soubirous family was faith in Christ. Although the prosperity and wealth of nations spoken of in the first reading (Isaiah 66:12) eluded them, spiritual wealth was theirs in abundance. On hearing of the mystical vision in the grotto, Bernadette’s father said to his family, “Let us pray.” He knew that, whether a heavenly vision or one from the lower depths, their only recourse was to fall to their knees. Perhaps this is why Bernadette was chosen; she like Mary was raised from birth to understand that true wealth, true prosperity, comes only from the hand of God.

    This was the same God who said, As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you (Isaiah 66:13), who gave Bernadette visions of his mother, and who defined comfort in her words, “I do not promise to make you happy in this world but in the next.” It is true that Bernadette, who suffered terrible pain in her body in the later years of her short life, never sought the healing waters that Christ gave the world in that little grotto. She knew that Mary had given her the only promise of happiness that means anything: Eternal union with God. This is why Mary constantly urges meditation on the gospel of Christ through the rosary, why she begs the conversion of sinners, and especially why she asks that chapels be built, for there her Son dwells in the complete sacramental fullness of his Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity.

    virgin-1615390_1920At every apparition Mary is highly honored and rightly so for she is as she said, the Immaculate Conception. But the honor we give her goes far beyond her identity to the two-fold reality behind it. First, Mary points us to Christ. Through the grace bestowed on her by the will of God and her total abandonment to it, Mary has perfectly heeded her own advice: Do whatever he tells you (John 2:5). In this, she is the first and best example of a Christian. Second, Mary points to our own destiny. Like her, we are asked to abandon our will to his, be perfect as the Father is perfect (Matthew 5:28), and so be presented to him holy and immaculate (Colossians 1:22). For this we need neither the water of Lourdes nor the water turned to wine, but that which wells up to eternal life (John 4:14), our Lord Jesus Christ, by whose love wine becomes the blood poured out for the forgiveness of sins (Matthew 26:28).

  • The Law of the Harvest: Memorial of St. Angela Merici

    Hebrews 10:32-39; Mark 4:26-34

    Jonathan Swift once said that vision is the art of seeing what is invisible to others. Saint Angela Merici exemplified that art.

    As a child, Angela might well have foreseen a bright future. Born into a middle class family during the Italian Renaissance, Angela and her sister were raised by devoutly Catholic parents who made sure their daughters were well-educated in the faith.

    Listening to their father as he read them stories from the lives of the saints, the girls learned that the road to sanctity was no different for them than it was for anyone else, even the earliest Christians who first heard those consoling words in the letter to the Hebrews. The lesson transcends time and space: Those who choose to love Christ and follow Him wherever He leads learn that the road to sanctity always includes the cross.

    Angela learned this lesson very well. By the time she was 10, both of her parents had died; by 15, her sister was also gone. Some people might have despaired over these great losses, seeing the absence of God, but Angela did not. The seeds of the faith planted by her parents in those early years and watered by the grace of God had taken root within her as surely as the mustard seed which our Lord spoke of in the gospel. Rather than turn away from Christ or the cross, Angela consecrated herself to him as a Third Order Franciscan.

    Just 20 years old, Angela did not wait to find a way to serve. Looking at the society around her, she saw the disorder in it and traced it to disorder in the family. One thing was especially problematic. In Italian society of the time, only the wealthiest girls received any kind of education; the vast majority received little or none. Angela wondered how these girls, the wives and mothers of the future, could ever grow up to be the first teachers of their children in the ways of the faith if the seeds of their own faith withered and died.

    Inspired to action, Angela immediately converted her family home into a school and devoted herself to providing religious education to the young girls of the area. She was gentle, focused on the dignity of each girl as a unique person, and used persuasion over force. This was so effective that she was invited to the larger nearby town of Brescia so that she might more broadly and formally institute the same program throughout the area. Ultimately, Angela would go on to found the Ursulines, an order of consecrated virgins devoted to St. Ursula, whose mission it became to bring religious education to young girls. Her order was so successful that the Pope himself asked Angela to relocate to Rome. She declined, saying that she was devoted to the children of the rural country she called home and wished to remain there. This she did until her death in 1540.

    wheat-field-640960_640Angela Merici was a visionary; she saw what was invisible to everyone else. Where others saw the Italian countryside she saw the Kingdom of God; where they saw poor and middle class girls, Angela saw fertile ground waiting for seed. Christ asked her to sow and she obeyed. He asks no less of us. The Kingdom of God is here and now; the ground is fertile and plentiful. All our actions, for good and bad, fall like seeds into that ground. May we always remember what Saint Angela already knew, as given by the spiritual writer James Allen: “The law of the harvest is to reap more than you sow. Sow an act, and you reap a habit. Sow a habit and you reap a character. Sow a character and you reap a destiny.”

    Saint Angela Merici, pray for us.

  • Heart Speaks to Heart: Sts. Basil the Great and Gregory Nazianzen

    1 John 2:22-28; John 1:19-28

    The first reading begins, Beloved: Who is the liar? Whoever denies that Jesus is the Christ. John seems to be thinking of someone in particular who had strayed from the truth about Christ. This was not uncommon; the early Church was plagued with heretics whose theories about Jesus ran the gamut, from the Ebionites who believed that Jesus was not divine at all, to the Docetists who believed that Jesus was only divine and merely pretended to be human for our sake.

    In the 4th century, one particular heresy took center stage. It was popularized by a priest named Arius, who used Scripture to teach that Jesus, although as close to divine as a human being could be, wasn’t actually divine; he was a creature and therefore less than God. The heresy was appealing; it made sense to people who couldn’t understand how God could die on a cross. Throughout the Christian world, Arianism spread like wildfire.

    At the same time, God was raising up a river to put that fire out. It came in the form of the two men we remember today, Basil and Gregory. Basil was born in what is now central Turkey in the year 330 AD; Gregory was born in the same area nine years later. Both left their native land to go to Athens where, as Gregory would later write,

    We had come, like streams of a river, from the same source in our native land… and were now united… as if by plan, for God so arranged it.

    Indeed, God arranged not just friendship; Basil and Gregory became soulmates. Blessed John Henry Newman used the phrase, cor ad cor loquitur – heart speaks to heart – and that describes these two men. Gregory further wrote

    When, in the course of time, we acknowledged our friendship and recognized that our ambition was a life of true wisdom, we became everything to each other: we shared the same lodging, the same table, the same desires, the same goal. Our love for each other grew daily warmer and deeper… We seemed to be two bodies with a single spirit.

    What united them was their common love of Christ. In the gospel the priests, Levites, and Pharisees also had ambitions; ironically, although Wisdom Himself had dawned upon the world and was so near them, they lived in the darkness of self-absorption and wished only to see that He satisfied their requirements. Unlike them, Basil and Gregory took to heart John’s words when he said, let what you heard from the beginning remain in you. From childhood they were taught the truth about Christ and sought to ensure that they satisfied His requirements. They asked questions of the faith only to see where their own understanding was darkened and prayed that Christ would shed His light upon them.

    United in this purpose, both men poured themselves into their studies and infused their knowledge with the grace of ordination. Gifted by God as powerful writers, orators, theologians, and shepherds, they fearlessly and eloquently defended the Church against Arius and all who opposed the truth that Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are a perfect Unity. As Patriarch of Constantinople, Gregory presided over the Council of Constantinople in 381, which completed the Nicene creed that we recite every Sunday. Not only that, both men wrote masterpieces of theology that are studied and used to this day.

    statue-2171097_640Saints Basil and Gregory can teach us many things, but today we focus on two. First, they teach us that faith in God requires true humility. Heresies are born from the pride that sees ourselves as the measure of all things; that interprets our failure to understand the truths of the faith to mean that the truths are wrong. True humility is as John admonished us, to remain in him; to see that God is the measure of all things and that our inability to understand means that we still have work to do. Second, in these days when the word “love” is so easily limited to physical expressions of self-gratification, the love of Basil and Gregory is a shining example of the most uplifting, life-giving love possible between people. This is the love that is modeled on God; that seeks only the good of the other; that finds its union with others in the heart and soul because that is where God dwells, and God is love. This is the love where heart speaks to heart and says, “I want for you what God wants for you.” My prayer is that all of us come to have that love for one another. What a world this would be.

    Saints Basil and Gregory, pray for us.