Mark 10:45

  • Living Stones: The Feast of the Holy Family

    Sirach 3:2-6, 12-14; Colossians 3:12-17; Matthew 2:13-15,19-23

    Recently on Catholic radio I heard of a church called the basilica of the Holy Family. It stands in downtown Barcelona and, from the images I’ve seen, is as breathtaking as it is hard to describe. I urge you to look up the pictures and videos online and see this majestic, cavernous, awe-inspiring structure for yourself.

    There isn’t time to talk about the brilliant architects, artists, and builders who have contributed their time and energy to the project but a couple of events deserve mention. In 2010, Pope Benedict XVI consecrated the basilica and in 2015 it was proclaimed nearly complete. What makes these events noteworthy? Three things: First, the planned completion date is 2026; second, the permit to begin construction wasn’t granted until 2019; and third, the building permit was applied for in 1885.

    That’s right, 1885. Actually, ground was broken on the feast of St. Joseph, March 19 1882 and construction has continued – off and on – since then. No one planned for Holy Family to take that long. Various things have gotten in the way – like the Spanish Civil War. Needless to say, the basilica is a work in progress.

    This is important to remember because it says a few things that touch on the idea of family and its holiness.

    First, good things can be a long time in the making. Holy Family basilica has taken over 130 years already and its scheduled completion date may come and go. Clearly, hitting the date is not the priority; the priority is that things are done well. The same is true for the holiness of the family. Parents are charged with the responsibility of seeing that their children grow in holiness; to do that well they must be holy themselves. Pope St. John Paul II called his childhood home his first seminary. His father was not afraid to pray in front of his children or to live a life in service of God and his neighbor; he did so every day. Obviously this is a long, slow process, but like Holy Family basilica a holy family is built bit by bit, stone by stone, day after day.

    Second, things don’t always go according to plan. As the history of Holy Family basilica shows, we make plans but life happens. Few knew this better than St. Joseph. He had plans: Wed Mary of Nazareth, have a family, and work to provide for them. As he came to learn, God had another plan: Be father of the Holy Family. Think of the tremendous responsibility this laid on his shoulders: The very life of the Savior, the Son of the Most High, was in his hands. God was depending on him to keep that child safe from people like Herod. Although fathers and mothers of our own holy families do not have exactly this same responsibility, theirs is still an awesome task. God lays on their shoulders the task of properly raising their children, of keeping them safe from whatever life throws at them and teaching them as Joseph and Mary taught our Lord in his human nature how to get along in the world, what is important and what isn’t, what it means to be married, what happiness is and how and where it is found. As every parent knows, this makes building a basilica seem easy by comparison! But the blueprint for such holiness exists; St. Paul gives it when he urges us to put on heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving one another (Colossians 3:12-13).

    gaudi-2419961_640Finally, the basilica of the Holy Family teaches us that joy is not necessarily the destination but the journey. Every year, millions of people take the time to tour the basilica of the Holy Family in Barcelona. Whether they are watching as the builders add to its structure, marveling as artisans craft the artwork that adorns it, or attending the Masses offered there, the faithful are uplifted and sanctified even though the basilica is a work in progress. The same is true for our families, for they too are works in progress. Every day brings the happiness and sorrow, the cataclysms and quiet moments through which families progress either closer to God or further away from him. Let us pray that our families take every moment of life and find the joy in it; for each moment, whatever it holds, is an opportunity given to us by Almighty God to build up our own domestic Church in virtue, crafting ourselves more and more into what we are called to be – living stones built upon the cornerstone that is Christ.

  • The Song of the Dove: Feast of Saint Stephen

    Acts 6:8-10; 7:54-59; Matthew 10:17-22

    Of all the customs that have ever arisen during the celebration of the Twelve Days of Christmas, perhaps the strangest occurred in the 18th and 19th centuries. Beginning on the Feast of Stephen, young boys in Southern France, Great Britain, and Ireland would hunt and kill a bird; specifically a wren, then display it and parade it around town asking for money.

    It’s hard to understand how this bizarre ritual started or why it was done, let alone how it could continue for two hundred years, but a good dose of superstition was probably involved. In certain places the wren was considered symbolic of priesthood or prophecy. An old Irish word for wren meant “bird of prophecy,” and some Irishmen associated it with a type of pagan priest who foretold the future. Although we have no idea what the poor little bird was supposedly prophesying, one thing is known: The wrens’ song is very loud; allegedly ten times louder than other birds their size. Who knows; perhaps the boys thought they were doing their town a favor.

    In the reading from Acts, the members of the local synagogue may have thought that they were doing their town a favor when they silenced Stephen. But his was the song of the Dove, not the wren. Luke says that Stephen was filled with the Holy Spirit; as Jesus made clear in the gospel, His wisdom cannot be overcome. Like Jesus, the only way to try and silence Stephen was to kill him; it is no coincidence that Luke patterns Stephen’s passion and death after that of Christ. For example, in Luke Jesus tells the Sanhedrin before he dies that from this time on the Son of Man will be seated at the right hand of the power of God (Luke 2:69); here, Luke has Stephen say Behold, I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God (Acts 7:56).

    snow wrenLike the mysterious sacrifice of the wren, this may leave us curious. Why does the Church take the first day after Christmas to remember the first martyr? The answer lies precisely in the similarity of Stephen’s passion and death to Christ’s. Christmas is the celebration of the birth of Jesus; the same Jesus who came not to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many (Mark 10:45). It was in the giving of his life that Christ most profoundly served, for only by the perfect sacrifice of himself could his disciples have hope of being born into eternal life. Thus with Stephen; he could most greatly honor his Savior by imitating him in life even if that meant dying, that he might be born into eternal life with Christ.

    It might seem odd for the Church to see death as the way to honor life; after all, if Church members die, how can the Church survive? That brings up another fact about the wren. Although winter can devastate its population, the bird is extremely hardy; it always finds a way to survive. What is true for the wren is doubly true of the Dove; those who have been graced to speak with the power of the Holy Spirit have been hunted, killed, and displayed for over two thousand years; still, the Church continues to find ways not only to survive but to thrive. In fact, it is the irony of man and the glory of the Holy Spirit that the martyrdom of Stephen gave rise to the greatest come back in Church history. Notice near the end of the first reading, Luke tells us that the witnesses laid down their cloaks at the feet of a young man named Saul (Acts 7:58). Saul, the same man who stood silently by at the death of the first martyr, in time became Paul, the loudest and hardiest wren of all.

    St. Stephen, pray for us.

  • The Three Consolations: Thursday of the 3rd Week of Advent

    Judges 13:2-7, 24-25a; Luke 1:5-25

    I remember once years ago sitting with my mother, watching TV. The shows were full of young people and I jokingly remarked, “I guess no one over 40 can be on TV.” Mom saw no humor in it; she replied, “Our society has no use for us older people, especially women. In their eyes, once we’re past childbearing age we’ve outlived our usefulness.”

    That got me thinking about the Hebrew world of today’s readings. Elizabeth and the mother of Sampson could probably identify with my mother’s feelings. They lived in a culture where barrenness was seen by many as a punishment from God (Genesis 16:2, 20:18). For such women the future was bleak; nothing but loneliness and insecurity to look forward to. No wonder some of them were prompted to despair (Genesis 30:1).

    Especially during seasons such as Advent and Christmas when we exalt the virtue of hope, people still fall prey to the loneliness, depression, and anxiety that lead to despair. Rather than consolation they are in desolation, the sense that God sees our hopelessness yet has abandoned us, left us in the dark, and is never coming back. We cannot see that it is only an inner sense and not the outward reality; the voice of the Prince of Lies telling us we are worthless, that God doesn’t love us and is far, far away. The truth is that God is as near as our next breath and loves us so much that we are worth dying for.

    It is the wait that fools us. If God loves us so much, why do we seem to wait forever for him to answer? The women in the readings must have wondered the same thing. Day after day, week after week, year after year they waited; still no answer. It would have been easy to give up. Yet what does Scripture say? Elizabeth, like her husband, was “righteous in the eyes of God, observing all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord blamelessly” (Luke 1:6).

    In other words Elizabeth persevered, and it was this that kept her from falling into despair. This is a lesson for us. We too must not only endure times of desolation but use them to strengthen our spiritual gifts. We cannot learn prudence when the way is always clear, justice when all is fair, fortitude when times are easy, or temperance when we get everything in just the right amount. We cannot strengthen our faith when all is seen, or charity when all is given. In the same way, the virtue of hope grows stronger as we persevere in waiting and through that perseverance appreciate ever more deeply the coming of that which we most long for: Unity with God, the object of our hope. Desolation is not the time to turn away from God but toward him; to reinvigorate our hope in the everlasting joy of heaven. The time is now, for Advent is the definitive season of waiting, when hope longs to be rekindled.

    stained-glass-4522405_640The great gift of fertility given to Samson’s mother and to Elizabeth are confirmation that perseverance is rewarded. God sees all of us who endure desolation and, in his own time and manner, provides from the storehouse of his infinite mercy the life-giving consolation of his Spirit. When we find ourselves in times of desolation remember to ask the intercession of St. Elizabeth; she understands very well not only the pain of endless waiting but also the indescribable joy of the Holy Spirit’s three priceless consolations: The new life of St. John within her womb; the love and help of Mary, the Mother of Hope; and most of all the fulfillment of Hope itself: Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

    St. Elizabeth, pray for us.

  • Our Mother, Clothed With the Sun: Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe

    Revelation 11:19a; 12:1-6a, 10ab; Luke 1:39-47

    The book of Revelation is apocalyptic literature. This was a genre used in and around the time of Christ. It is overloaded with rich and mystical symbolism; a single image may represent multiple things. Further, the imagery can be violent and warlike, even though its ultimate message is one of hope and peace.

    In the passage of Revelation chosen for today’s feast lurks a huge red dragon. The Hebrew word translated as dragon can also mean “serpent” or “sea monster” and is thought to represent the devil and the forces of evil, ready to make war against the Christ and his Church.

    In late 15th century Mexico, the Spanish conquistador Cortez saw echoes of that dragon in the violent, warlike Aztec religion. Every year, thousands of people were sacrificed to appease its bloodthirsty gods. In 1487, the dedication of a new pagan temple saw 80,000 people sacrificed in just a few days. As if that weren’t bad enough, the dragon’s shadow also appeared in some of the immigrants to the new world, who spoke of peace but practiced avarice, treating the Mexicans and their land as things to be exploited for personal gain. Even some within the Church hindered the spread of the gospel by refusing vocations from the local community; Catholic Mexicans were not allowed to minister to their own people. It’s not hard to understand why many resisted converting to Catholicism.

    If a reflection of the dragon could be found in the new world, so could a reflection of the woman. In 1531, a mystical apparition identified herself as “the ever Virgin, Holy Mary, the Mother of God” to a middle-aged Mexican man named Juan Diego. In Revelation, the woman was clothed with the sun, the moon under her feet, and wore a crown of stars. The apparition at Tepeyac is also rich in symbolism, but it is all Aztec. The woman stands in front of the sun, eclipsing the Aztec sun god; her foot rests on the moon, dominating their chief god, Quetzalcoatl; her mantle holds the stars, which they worshiped. Yet, the woman is not divine; her hands are in a posture of prayer and she looks down, which Aztec gods never do. She is a queen, for she wears the Aztec royal color of turquoise; a Christian, for there is a cross on her brooch, is pregnant, for she wears an Aztec maternity belt; yet she is a divine mother, for over her womb appears a four-petal flower, the Aztec symbol of a deity.

    As important as her image was, her words were far more so; for what she said, how she said it, and who she said it to. She spoke in the language of the Aztecs, not in Spanish; she spoke to a simple peasant, and through him to all people; her message was one of comfort and hope: She was there; she was their mother; she held them in her arms, heard their weeping, and knew of their hardships and sorrows. Above all, she wanted them to rest assured that through her intercession they would be healed.

    our-lady-of-guadalupe-4542831_1920She became known as Our Lady of Guadalupe, and as word of the miraculous appearance and image spread, she became the most effective tool of evangelization that Mexico or the world had ever known. In the gospel, Mary carried the Eternal Word into the Judean countryside where the babe within Elizabeth’s womb leaped for joy; 15 centuries later, Mary’s maternal word went out into the Mexican countryside where millions leaped for joy. Conversions increased so dramatically that for a couple of years the missionaries could almost not keep up with them. More than that, the peoples’ faith was strong; to this day, the faith of the Mexican people remains vibrant, with deep devotion to Our Lady of Guadalupe.

    In our own time the dragon still lurks. We do not have thousands dying in pagan temples, but we do have millions dying in abortion mills here and throughout the world. Still, the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe reminds us that the woman of Revelation is still present, still giving birth to the Church, still giving her ever victorious Son to the world. As she comforted the Mexican people, so she consoles us. She is our mother; she holds us in her arms; knows of our hardships and sorrows, and assures us that through her intercession, we too will be healed by Christ, her son.

    Our Lady of Guadalupe, pray for us.

  • How Not to Lean: Thursday of the First Week of Advent

    Isaiah 26:1-6; 55:6; Matthew 7:21, 24-27

    In the 12th century the people of Pisa, Italy could say like Judah in the first reading, A strong city have we (Isaiah 26:1). A military, political, and economic force, they had recently triumphed over Palermo in Sicily and returned home with the fortunes of war – millions in booty and a shipload of soil from Golgotha in the Holy Land. Eager to show off their wealth, the people set aside a large plot of land called the Field of Miracles and in it filled a new cemetery with the sacred soil, built a majestic cathedral and baptistery, and set to work on what was to be the largest bell tower in the world – 200 feet high.

    Unfortunately, Pisa could also say that the Lord humbles those in high places (Isaiah 26:5). Before it had risen 3 floors it was obvious the tower was leaning. Perhaps they forgot that the word Pisa is Greek for marshy land, its ground too soft to support such a structure. Construction stopped and started for centuries as different architects tried different things, all with the same result: Fixed on one side, the tower would lean the other. By 1990 it leaned so badly that it had to be closed to the public. Finally, after millions in repairs it reopened, still leaning. As one expert said, “Sandy and soggy ground is definitely not ideal for tall, heavy towers unless they have rock solid foundations.”

    As we begin a new Church year in these early days of Advent let us consider our own spiritual foundation. Like ancient Pisa we have been given so much. We are a strong city – the City of God. Strong walls and ramparts protect us – the four walls of the one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church. We have neither the marshland of Pisa nor the dirt of Golgotha but something infinitely better: The Father, the eternal Rock (Isaiah 26:4), his Only Son who died on Golgotha giving birth to the Church, and the Holy Spirit sent by them to guide her into all truth. And we have every tool needed to build our faith: Sacred Scripture, Tradition, and the teaching authority vested by Christ in his Church.

    But all of that goes for nothing if we build our faith on the sand of ourselves and not on the rock foundation of God. How do we do that? By reading Scripture with our own mind rather than the mind of the Church; failing to give the assent of faith to Church teachings we find difficult; following whatever preaching tickles our ear; taking for granted or ignoring the Sacraments as the means of receiving sanctifying grace; and failing to see all people, especially those we don’t like, as made in the image and likeness of God and loved infinitely by him as we are.

    italy-3577677_1280These and many more are like the soft, marshy soil below the tower of Pisa. Like that tower, a faith built on human weakness will lean and no amount of stopping and starting, tinkering and refining will fix it. It must be torn to the ground and rebuilt on the foundation of Christ and his Church, for we must take the faith as it is, not as we would like it to be.

    This is painful but growth often is; to be fertile and capable of bearing fruit, soil must be dug into, plowed, upturned and weeded. It’s no different in the spiritual life; we must go deep into our minds and hearts, tear them open if need be, do all that we can to prepare them for the foundation of Christ. This will require that we come to him by repenting, admitting our weaknesses and failings, and resolving to amend our lives; trusting in God and all that he has revealed, whether we fully understand it or not.

    These first two weeks of Advent are a time set aside by the Church for exactly this. Now is the time! As the gospel acclamation says, call to him while he is still near (Isaiah 55:6). In the end each of us will stand before him from one of two places: A tower of faith built solidly on the rock of Christ or one built on sand. The Master Builder has already given us his advice; we find it in Proverbs: Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding (Proverbs 3:5).

    In other words, remember the tower of Pisa: When we lean on our own understanding, we simply lean.

  • An Attitude of Gratitude: Thanksgiving Day

    Sirach 50:22-24; 1 Corinthians 1:3-9; Luke 17:11-19

    I recently came across an article written by a psychologist who believes that developing an “attitude of gratitude” is important for our mental health. In her words, “Being able to appreciate what is important to us is a truly valuable way of stepping back from the stresses we are experiencing and re-framing our thoughts and attention, our feelings and behavior.”1

    With all due respect, she should have checked Scripture first. If she had gone even as far as today’s readings she would have found much more insight.

    The author of Sirach goes right to the heart of the matter when he reminds us to be grateful for the gift of life itself from conception onward. The grim realities of abortion and euthanasia are evidence of a culture where people do not understand the value of their own life let alone anyone else’s. The kind of social sickness that breeds such an attitude will be hard to heal but we have on call the Divine Physician who knows how to treat it. As we continue to pray for his intervention let us not forget our part; that is, showing thankfulness to God for the gift of all human life by doing whatever we can to support it, whether that means women in crisis pregnancies, people suffering from abuse or neglect, or those who are encouraged to end their lives. The world must come to see through Christ and his Church that every human life is infinitely valuable because it is made in God’s image and fashioned according to his will (Sirach 50:22).

    God’s will, that we have life and have it abundantly now and in eternity, comes to the fore as St. Paul reminds us of the grace bestowed on us in Christ Jesus (1 Corinthians 1:4). While human life is certainly enough to be thankful for in and of itself, God has given us the opportunity to share in so much more: Eternal life through the gift of his only Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom we have fellowship and of whom we partake at every Eucharist just for this purpose.

    eucharist-1591663_640Still, a common problem is that we tend to take this fellowship for granted and forget gratitude. We fall into a routine of receiving Communion with little or no thought as to what – or rather Who – we are receiving. Like the nine lepers in today’s gospel passage, we are given what we ask for but then go back on our way with little regard either for the gift or what it cost the Giver. St. Paul goes on to warn about the grave danger of such ingratitude: That is why many among you are ill and infirm, and a considerable number are dying (1 Corinthians 11:30). The healthier, more grateful response is to first discern whether we are in the state of grace to receive Christ and, if not, to make ourselves a more worthy vessel. Like the leper who, once cleansed, remembered to be thankful, we thank God for what he has given us through the Church – the gifts of faith and the Sacraments through which he touches, heals, and sanctifies us.

    Today is Thanksgiving Day here in the United States, a day set aside to show our gratitude. Wherever you are, I urge you to stop and think about all that God has given you. No matter who you are or how many problems you struggle with, there is reason to be grateful. First and foremost, be grateful for life; each breath is a gift from God given that we may live life to the full. Secondly let us be grateful for each other; each person is a gift from God, sent to make us holy. Finally, let us thank God for the gift of the Church, through which Christ comes to us in Word and Sacrament to be one with us and above all to make us one with him, now and in Eternity.

    A very blessed and happy Thanksgiving.

  • Viva, Cristo Rey: Blessed Miguel Pro

    Daniel 1:1-6, 8-20; Luke 21:1-4

    In biblical studies, as in life, things aren’t always what they seem. For example, some books of the bible seem like history; they mention real historical people and places and the situations they describe seem real enough. However, clues such as language and historical inaccuracies show that the author had another purpose in mind; he is speaking symbolically.

    Thus it is with the book of Daniel. Scholars tell us that the symbolism running through its stories points to two particularly strong themes: The ability of the Jews to thrive in a Gentile world and the importance of remaining true to the traditions of the faith.

    Both themes appear in Daniel and the gospel according to Luke. By successfully bargaining with the Gentile authorities about their diet, four young Hebrew men were able to remain true to their religious identity. Not only that, when the king discovered that their wisdom and understanding far surpassed that of his own people, these men, who it seemed were the conquered, were in fact conquerors.

    These themes also run through the ministry of Blessed Miguel Pro. Born in Mexico, Pro was sent abroad as a seminarian and ordained a Jesuit priest in Belgium in 1925. Finding that he could not thrive abroad due to stomach ailments that nearly killed him, Father was returned to Mexico, despite the great persecution of Catholics currently underway.

    This might seem like the worst thing for an ailing priest, but things aren’t always what they seem. In fact, his ministry to the people of Mexico restored Father’s health. Like Christ and the saints, his food was to do the will of the One who sent him, and he greatly delighted in doing God’s will right under the authorities’ noses. A master of disguise, Father was never what he seemed. He ministered in prisons posing as a policeman; in posh neighborhoods dressed as a rich man; in slums dressed as a beggar. Hiding in plain sight, he taught, gave Communion, said Mass, absolved sins, confirmed the faithful, and prayed over the dead. Father Miguel Pro, like the widow in the gospel, seemed to have almost nothing, but in reality had everything, and freely gave it. He who seemed to be conquered was the conqueror.

    miguel proEventually, Father was caught, imprisoned on a false charge and on the morning of November 23rd 1927 faced a firing squad. Even here, he was a conqueror. Before the cameras and all assembled, he forgave and blessed his persecutors, held out his arms in the shape of the cross and shouted “Viva, Cristo Rey (Long live Christ, the King)!” With that, Father Miguel Pro died.

    The government published a photograph of his execution, believing that it would frighten Catholics into submission. Once again, things were not what they seemed. Father Pro, arms outstretched like a cross, displayed such Christ-like strength, such fearlessness in the face of unjust persecution, that the photograph and Father’s last words became the symbols around which Catholics rallied to resist the repression even more strongly. This was not a photograph of the conquered but of the conqueror. Ironically, the government quickly banned their own photograph.

    Like the young men in the first chapter of Daniel, Blessed Miguel Pro thrived in a hostile environment because he remained faithful to his calling and his religious heritage. While our culture and our authorities are not as openly hostile as was Mexico in the early 20th century, there is constant and perhaps growing pressure to minimize the voice of Christ and his Church in the public arena. While the times may seem bleak, remember: Things are not always what they seem. Let us imitate Blessed Miguel Pro by being in the culture but not of it; by ministering in whatever way we can to preserve and build on the good that has come before. Finally, let us remember that, in the end, we bow to only one authority – that of the Triune God.

    Viva Cristo Rey. Long live Christ the King.

    Blessed Miguel Pro, pray for us.

  • Mother and Disciple: The Feast of the Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary

    Zechariah 2:14-17; Matthew 12:46-50

    We may hear today’s gospel and wonder how any son could treat his mother like that, let alone the Son of God. Hearing that his mother is outside he doesn’t stop speaking and invite her in; rather, he uses her appearance to make the point that everyone who does the will of God is his mother. Shouldn’t Mary be insulted?

    No. She is doubly honored.

    First, remember that this is not just any son; this is Jesus, the only-begotten Son of God. Engaged in the mission for which he was sent, the salvation of souls, he was speaking about radical fidelity to the will of God. Faith binds us to Christ and to each other with a love born not in the blood of kinship but in his own precious blood. If his teaching shocked people, so be it. His point was not about Mary’s faithfulness, it was about ours.

    Indeed, faithfulness is her first honor. As St. Augustine said, Mary conceived her Son in faith before she conceived him in her womb. We think of her as his mother and rightly so for it was by her fiat that he came into the world, but we must also remember that she was his first and best disciple. Mary is the only person to appear in the gospels from before his conception until the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost.

    It may seem ironic that from the faithful dwelling of her motherhood Mary invited him in yet he, her Son, refused to return the favor. But again Mary loved him as both mother and disciple. As mother she might feel the sting of his words as he broadened “family” from the ties of blood to those of faith, but as disciple she knew and lived their truth. Despite whatever personal pain the truth may cause it is always the source of joy, for joy is happiness in pursuit of the good and Mary lived her life in hope of attaining the greatest good: Eternal union in heaven with God who is love.

    Love is the second honor of Mary. Only through love do we live life to the full and this necessarily includes all the joys and sorrows that go with it. We might think that in his mercy Christ would spare his own mother the pain of suffering but actually the opposite is true: He loved her too much to deprive her of it. What kind of love knows no sorrow, feels no pain, and never suffers? Rightly is Mary the Mother of Sorrows for in her great love she suffered many times over, from the mystical sword that pierced her heart to her Son’s burial in the tomb. Yet as Scripture reminds us, love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things (1 Corinthians 13:7) and is as deep as death (Song of Songs 8:6); Mary’s love for Jesus could not be broken by any boundary of space or time, but did reach perfection in his love for her: her own glorious Assumption.

    stained-glass-4506616_640The two themes of fidelity and love are interwoven in the feast of the Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary. The presentation of oneself to God is an act of great faith and deep love. Whether Mary demonstrated her faith and love in a formal consecration to God in the Temple as described in the ancient non-biblical documents is irrelevant. Every day of Mary’s life was a presentation, a self-offering, an abandonment to the divine will made possible by the movement of grace within her. Long before he dwelled within her womb, indeed from the moment of her immaculate conception, our Lord dwelled within her soul and bestowed upon it the fullness of grace, his very life. By her response to that grace, Mary most truly defines what it means to be a Temple of the Holy Spirit.

    What does all this mean for us? It means that as Mary has done so we are invited to do. St. Paul said, “Do you not know that you are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwells in you? … Therefore, glorify God in your body” (1 Corinthians 3:16, 6:20). May we never forget that every time we receive Holy Communion we present ourselves to God in an act of faith and love like Mary his handmaid, that we too may glorify God in our bodies.

    Blessed Mother intercede for us, that like you we may be among those to whom Christ says, “whoever does the will of my heavenly Father is my brother, and sister, and mother” (Matthew 12:50).

  • The Miracle of the Nuns: Saturday of the 32nd Week in Ordinary Time

    Wisdom 18:14-16; 19:6-9; Luke 18:1-8

    In November 1950, three nuns found themselves in the Arctic Circle, in a Russian gulag (or prison camp) named Vorkuta. Found guilty of proclaiming the gospel of Christ, they were assigned to work in a plant there that made bricks.

    The first verses of today’s reading from the book of Wisdom come from Chapter 18, which recalls another prison camp, where Hebrew slaves made bricks for their Egyptian masters. Yet, as the reading says, the Lord, a fierce warrior, bore into the doomed land the sharp sword of his inexorable decree, filling every place with death.

    No one saw Vorkuta as doomed, and death already filled it; more prisoners died there than in Auschwitz. Further, no one had mistaken the nuns for fierce warriors, but perhaps they knew a different art of war. All the camp’s commandant knew was that these nuns were troublesome. They refused to work, claiming that anything they did to support Communism was tantamount to working for the anti-Christ.

    Dead nuns make good martyrs but poor slaves, so the commandant did not want them killed; he wanted them to change their minds. After various ghastly tortures failed, he had an idea; if he couldn’t change their minds, then perhaps the Arctic winter would. He commanded that the nuns be brought outside every day for 8 hours and forced to watch the other women work.

    The first day, the guards led them to the top of the windy hill below which the women worked. In the bitter cold, the nuns knelt and prayed. The next day, their gloves and hats were taken away; again, the nuns knelt and prayed. The third day, their scarves were removed; just as before, the guards returned after 8 hours to find them once again kneeling in prayer. Not only were the nuns very much alive, they had no trace of frostbite at all. Word spread throughout the entire camp about the miracle of the nuns. The next day, the guards refused to take them out again and the commandant ordered them to be left alone; these nuns had some sort of power over which he had no control. They never worked a day of their sentence. Awhile later, in 1953, the entire camp followed suit. Their refusal to work led to the gulag of Vorkuta being declared a failure. The myth of Soviet invincibility suffered a blow from which it would never recover.

    No one reported that a cloud had overshadowed the gulag; then again, perhaps no one asked the nuns. Like the Hebrew slaves long before them, the nuns were preserved unharmed, sheltered by the hand of the One to whom they prayed. Like the Egyptians before them, the Soviets could only stand by helplessly and behold the stupendous wonders of God.

    In the gospel, Jesus exhorts us to pray always without becoming weary. Even as unjust a judge as the commandant of Vorkuta was powerless when confronted with the faith of the three little nuns who understood the power of persistent prayer.

    winter-1565442_640.jpgPersistence in prayer does not test God’s patience or change his mind; rather, it tests our faith and changes our attitude. Through his life and the Scriptures he has given the world, Jesus has told us that God loves each of us with a love beyond our understanding and knows our needs before we ask. That being so, God wants our prayer to consistently express the trust we have in him and his providence; that is the faith that Christ wants to find upon his return.

    We will have reached perfection in prayer when it expresses the same total abandonment to God as that of Jesus when he prayed: “Father, not my will, but Thy will be done.”

  • True Wisdom: Thursday of the 32nd Week in Ordinary Time

    Wisdom 7:22b-8:1; Luke 17:20-25

    In college one of my classmates was a man who it seemed was always a step ahead of me. While I was still learning one computer technology he was onto whatever was replacing it. I couldn’t keep up with him.

    One semester we took the same class and it became clear to me that he wasn’t far ahead at all; he was actually much further behind. The problem was that he didn’t stick with anything long enough to finish it. He’d start a book, paper, or project but move on when something else caught his attention. When it came time for our final class presentations he was totally unprepared; he had nothing to say. He ended up dropping out of school. I felt very sorry for him.

    Had I been wiser I would have stopped and contemplated the many ways I am that man. For one thing, my shelves are lined with books that got my attention for awhile but which I put down as soon as I found something else. For another, I catch myself tuning out a Scripture passage because I’ve heard it before and think I understand it. As if that isn’t bad enough, I sometimes pay the least attention to the people closest to me, assuming that they know I care so I don’t need to say it or act much like it.

    Maybe this describes all of us to some degree. We begin a spiritual article on the internet and abandon it as soon as a flashy image catches our eye; scroll past bible verses and quotes from saints without contemplating them; spend hours searching for God online but miss finding him in our own families.

    These are the modern-day equivalent of the behavior discussed by Jesus in today’s gospel. Expectations about the flash and bombast of the Messiah and his Kingdom, scant attention paid to the meaning of our Lord’s words, and eagerness to scan the spiritual horizon for something new combined to give the Pharisees and even some of our Lord’s disciples a kind of spiritual farsightedness; they looked at but couldn’t see either the King or his Kingdom there among them.

    They did these things for the same reason we do: To gain the wisdom that will bring us closer to God and other people. The irony is that instead of bringing us closer they overwhelm us and keep us away. Discouraged by lack of results, some of us even abandon the attempt, drop out, or fall away.

    directory-229117_640No wonder. Internet scans, scrolls, and searches cannot bring the wisdom we need. As the first reading tells us, Wisdom is a spirit… Firm, secure, tranquil, all-powerful, all-seeing… the spotless mirror of the power of God, the image of his goodness (Wisdom 7:22, 23, 26). Wisdom is Christ, and his gift to us is wisdom as the fruit of the Spirit. A fruit born of the love of God, wisdom desires not only to be one with God but to see things as God sees them. Like any fruit, wisdom takes time to mature; its development a function of our life experience as seen through the lens of long-suffering that strengthens us to finish what we start, docility to listen as God speaks, and humility to remember that we are servants of God and each other.

    Spurred on by these, spiritual wisdom helps us find the proper balance between searching for the Kingdom yet to come and living in the Kingdom here and now. We must do both, for the Christ who tells us today that the Kingdom of God is among us is the same Christ who teaches us to pray “Thy Kingdom come.” The balance can only be found through prudence, the virtuous midpoint between the extreme of finding too many paths to take and the other extreme of looking for none at all.

    So let us pray for prudence, and that whatever path to God we find ourselves on we do what prudence dictates: Prepare for the coming of the Kingdom by tending to the Kingdom among us, and anticipate the glorious return of Christ the King by seeing and serving him in everyone we meet.