Mark 10:45

Tag: Bible

  • The Pharisee Within: Thursday of the 30th Week in Ordinary Time

    Romans 8:31b-39; Luke 13:31-35

    In the gospel we heard the Pharisees warn Jesus to leave town because Herod wanted to kill him. That was very nice of them! It leads us to believe that, even though they didn’t think Jesus was the Christ, he was still a fellow Jew; it was only right to see that he came to no harm. It was the brotherly thing to do.

    Unless of course it wasn’t true.

    Call me cynical but I think the Pharisees were fibbing. Why? I have three reasons. First, Luke has nothing good to say about them anywhere else; to them, Jesus was a nuisance to be disposed of. Second, Jesus had just publicly scolded them (Luke 11:37-54); they were very unlikely to be feeling all warm and brotherly toward him. Third, while it’s true that Luke doesn’t have anything good to say about Herod either, he does say that Herod wanted to meet Jesus for a long time, for he had heard about him and had been hoping to see him perform some sign (Luke 23:8).

    But then why would the Pharisees deceive Jesus? Perhaps it was to test his resolve or try and break it. Knowing from their previous interactions that they were no match for him (Luke 6:1-11; 11:37-54), using Herod’s name was a way to threaten Jesus, to frighten him into going away and possibly even abandoning his mission.

    We would naturally condemn the Pharisees for that but before we do, we should look inside ourselves. Ask yourself: Have I ever wanted to do something I knew Jesus would condemn yet made the deliberate choice to do it anyway? Have I ever promised him that I would never do it again only to repeatedly break my word? Do I pray “Thy will be done” but try my best to see that my will is done?

    The truth is, we all have a Pharisee within. At one time or another, in one way or another, we are less than fully honest with our Lord. We say things we don’t mean, make promises we can’t keep, and twist the truth about ourselves, all in a vain attempt to hide what he already knows we are: sinners in dire need of his mercy and healing grace.

    The true wonder is that our Lord knows all this and loves us anyway, even unto death. After all, the gospel concludes with Jesus naming his executioners and it wasn’t Herod, it wasn’t Pilate, it wasn’t any one person. It was Jerusalem. Specifically, it was people who prayed for him, waited for his coming, followed his ministry, and greeted him at the city gates with shouts of Hosanna. These were the same people who shouted, “Crucify him!” Not just people like us. It was us. We have all crucified our Lord with our sins.

    So we are not only the Pharisee; we are Jerusalem.

    prodigal-son-3388599_640The psalmist today sings Save me O Lord in your mercy (Psalm 109:26). The readings are God’s answer to that prayer. In his infinite love and mercy he assures us that no matter how hypocritical we are, how much a Pharisee, or how much we deserve it, we are never alone. God is always true to his word and today his word is that there is nothing – neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor present things, nor future things, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature – that can separate us from the love of Jesus Christ our Lord (Romans 8:38-39).

    Praise be to God!

  • Stained Glass Images of God: Friday of the 29th Week of Ordinary Time

    Romans 7:18-25a; Luke 12:54-59

    As a young man I spent several years attending a church that I thought had the most beautiful stained glass windows. I used to love sitting there early in the morning or late in the afternoon, watching how the sunlight made those images so warmly luminescent. I never liked going there at night when most of the lights were out. In the darkness the images appeared so lifeless, dull, and indistinct.

    Those memories came to mind as I thought about today’s readings. Every person conceived in original sin knows firsthand that struggle between light and darkness within ourselves. We have been given both knowledge of the light – what St. Paul calls “the law of God” – and the darkness of concupiscence, or the tendency to do evil – what he calls the “law of sin.” The saints are no different. Stained glass images may depict them as solemn, haloed people in pious postures, but they were flesh and blood just like we are. They felt all the same joys and sorrows and they knew the frustration of feeling trapped in a seemingly endless cycle of knowing the right yet so consistently doing the wrong. It was one of the greatest saints known to us, St. Paul himself, who wrote of this frustration, Miserable one that I am! (Romans 7:24)

    In today’s gospel, Jesus points out why we’re miserable. It is our failure to read the signs of the times and to settle with our opponent. The opponent may be the devil, and it is convenient to blame him, but many times we don’t need his help; we are our own worst enemy. And our enemy knows us very well. When we’re caught up in the darkness of sin and feel its misery, he fools us into thinking that all we need to feel better is more of what made us sick to begin with. This was portrayed perfectly by C.S Lewis in his novel The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Remember how Edmund craved the Turkish Delight? He couldn’t eat enough of it yet the more he ate the worse he felt, the more addicted he became, and the easier he was for the witch to manipulate. Our Turkish Delight may be money, power, or control. We think, “If only I can get more, I will be satisfied,” only to find upon getting it that the emptiness we longed to fill is still there, maybe worse than before. Like those stained glass windows in the dead of night we become lifeless, dull, indistinct images of God. Who couldn’t sympathize with St. Paul as he asks, Who will deliver me from this mortal body? (Romans 7:24)

    Of course, he knew the answer for he says, Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord (Romans 7:25). St. Paul knew that even the darkest night gives way to dawn. What makes a saint a saint is not that they rid themselves of their concupiscence but that they did as Christ taught; they settled the matter on the way. Their repentance set the example for us in three ways. First, they made a firm resolution to turn from the darkness of sin and live in the light of Christ. This happens in Confession when we pray an Act of Contrition, telling God that we are sorry for what we have done not only because we fear his judgment but because our sins have offended him, who is all good and deserving of all our love. Second, the saints amended their lives, which again is obeying the voice of Christ who through St. John the Baptist urged us to show fruits of our repentance (Matthew 3:8). Third, because they knew that they would never in this life be free of concupiscence, the saints spent the rest of their lives cultivating the virtue of hope. They have come to realize once and for all that the redeeming light of Christ is the only sure hope against the ever-looming darkness of sin.

    king-1841529_640That is the image I think of now when I think of saints. Not images set in glass that glow with the sunlight, but people who now and forever glow with the radiance of the one true Light – Christ, the Morning Star who never sets.

    Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord.

  • Know Jesus, Know Peace: Thursday of the 29th Week in Ordinary Time

    Romans 6:19-23; Luke 12:49-53

    Shopping at a nearby grocery store recently I couldn’t help but notice all the Christmas merchandise on display. When I spotted an ornament that said Peace on Earth I was reminded of Jesus in the readings we will soon hear – the prophet Isaiah speaking of the coming Prince of Peace; angels singing of peace on Earth; Luke telling of the whole world being at peace.

    What a stark contrast to today’s gospel, where Jesus says that he has come not to establish peace but division. We might wonder what happened; isn’t this the same Jesus who blessed peacemakers (Matthew 5:9) and so lovingly bid his disciples peace (John 16:33; John 20:19, 21)?

    Yes, but a bit more depth is called for. It is true that Isaiah called the Messiah the Prince of Peace but he also called him a stumbling block (Isaiah 8:14). At his birth the angels did sing of peace but just days later Simeon called him a sign that would be contradicted (Luke 2:33-34). Jesus did bless the peacemakers but he also said that he came to give sight to the blind and to remove it from those who see (John 9:39). Paul said that Jesus is peace (Ephesians 2:14), but Jesus said he is the peace the world cannot give (John 14:27).

    The world cannot do so because the peace of Christ is not merely the lack of war, it is a fruit of the Spirit; the union of wills binding us to each other and to God. Like all fruit, peace takes time to develop and requires trust, patience, and humility. Still, the reward is worth the wait for this is the peace that brings life in abundance and is why Christ came; to reconcile us to the Father by putting the enmity between us to death on the cross, restoring us to right relationship with the Father.

    Our Lord’s words in the gospel must be understood in this context. When he speaks of fire we should think of his love. As from a single flame come light and heat, so from the heart of Christ come mercy and justice. On all who dwell in the darkness of sin and the shadow of death fall the two sides of true peace: the light of his mercy that shines like the dawn and the healing rays of his justice that purify us like silver in a refiner’s fire. And when he speaks of division we should think of pride, for this is what keeps us separated from God and each other. Pride breeds the shame that keeps us in darkness and away from the penetrating light of Christ, as well as the fear of admitting our faults that keeps us away from the healing grace of Confession.

    In calling out these things Christ identifies the battle that rages within each of us: Remain free of God and enslaved to sin, or be free of sin and enslaved to God. The first leads to discord, the second to peace. The choice of peace seems so obvious but as Paul implies in the first reading it is notoriously difficult. Of the many obstacles, the primary one is ourselves. We are our own worst enemy and daily die the death of a thousand cuts; little things that edge us into the darkness. For example, in our free time when we could say a prayer we choose to surf the internet. When we could pick up the phone and reconcile with a long lost brother, sister, parent, or child, we wait for them to call first. When we could volunteer at the food pantry, homeless shelter, or nursing home, we sit back and watch TV.

    knight-2565957_640To win this combat and know the peace of Christ we need the armor of the virtues; prudence, to discern where our good lies; temperance, to know when we should move on; justice, to understand that the love we give our neighbor and God is the love we owe them; and fortitude, to constantly yield our will to that of Christ, for only his is the love that casts out all fear, not only restoring us to right relationship with the Father, but reconciling us with each other.

    In the end, the choice to fight the battle is ours. Peace on Earth can remain a Christmas slogan or be a lived reality. The first costs nothing, requires nothing, and yields nothing; the second costs all we have, requires all we are, and yields eternal life.

    It comes down to this: No Jesus, no peace; know Jesus, know peace.

  • Rich in What Matters to God: St. Isaac Jogues and Companions, Martyrs

    Luke 12:13-21

    In the 17th century, Fr. Isaac Jogues and his companions were among the French Jesuit missionaries who ministered to the Huron, Iroquois, and Mohawk tribes in Canada and New York. To the natives they were “the Black Robes” and were seen at first as curiosities and perhaps nuisances; however, over time their gentle, loving, and helpful demeanor won over many Hurons.

    The Hurons’ enemies, the Iroquois and Mohawks, were not as open-minded. Eventually, Fr. Jogues was taken captive by the Mohawks in upstate New York. Despite mutilating and breaking his body, his captors could not break his spirit. He was the prisoner who acted as though he was free; so implacably kind, so resolutely loving in the face of abuse that he became known as “the Indomitable One.” Slowly, he began to win them over. An elderly Mohawk even adopted him as her nephew.

    When afforded an opportunity to escape, Father regained his freedom but did not enjoy it. In France he seemed to have achieved celebrity status, which he found distasteful. He quickly requested and received permission to return to Canada and New York, where he was soon assigned as ambassador to the Mohawks.

    Although Father was anxious about this assignment, he left his fate in Christ’s hands. For a time the Mohawks were cordial and Father ministered to them. Sadly though, when the crops failed and illnesses set in among the tribe, he was blamed and again made a prisoner. While most of the Mohawks wanted him treated humanely, a small and hostile minority did not. Fr. Jogues suffered martyrdom at their hands at the age of 39 on October 18, 1646.

    antique-233285_640In Luke’s gospel, Jesus said this night your life will be demanded of you; and the things you have prepared, to whom will they belong? Thus will it be for the one who stores up treasure for himself but is not rich in what matters to God.

    Father’s life of missionary service stands as a great testament to these words. In terms of possessions, he died with nothing; in what matters to God, he was the richest of men. Slowly, kindly, patiently, and lovingly he had amassed a fortune by preparing the hearts of these native people, for he knew that they all belonged to God, even the one who would demand and take his life.

    Of this last point we have proof. Sometime after his death, a captured Mohawk warrior was identified by witnesses as Father’s killer. There was not enough hard evidence to convict him, so the missionaries had to set him free. However, the man told them that he had heard Father Jogues preach around the campfire and now wanted to be baptized. When asked what his Christian name would be, he said that he wanted to take the name of the “Indomitable One.” The warrior died not long after being baptized “Isaac Jogues.”

    We will have the mind of St. Isaac Jogues, so totally patterned after the mind of Christ, when we can picture the two men named Isaac Jogues meeting in heaven, and can imagine the joy.

    St. Isaac Jogues, pray for us.

  • The Power of One: Feast of St. Luke, Evangelist

    The next time you are tempted to think that one person cannot make much of a difference, consider:

    One man singlehandedly wrote a quarter of the New Testament. His is a two-volume work; the first a detailed gospel and the second the only account we have of how the Church developed in her earliest years.

    His gospel is packed with rich, unique characters: Zechariah and Elizabeth, parents of John the Baptist, Simeon and Anna in the Temple, the penitent woman who washes the feet of Jesus with her hair, the widow of Nain, the ten lepers, the good thief, and the travelers on the road to Emmaus. Women are accorded an unheard-of place of honor. First and foremost is his mother; told by the angel that she is to be mother of the Son of God, Mary is the only person to appear at his birth, his death, and the coming of the Spirit at Pentecost. Other prominent women featured include Mary Magdalene, Martha and Mary, and those who supported his ministry out of their own resources.

    He also uniquely portrays our Lord. Son of God and son of Adam, Jesus has a special compassion for the poor, the outcast, and the sick, and an equally special dislike of Herod. His Jesus is also kinder and more compassionate to his family and the Apostles than either Mark or Matthew; the family are those who hear the word of God and do it and the Apostles have his prayers, even at the Last Supper for Peter, who he knows will deny him. In his passion Jesus agonizes to the point of blood yet still has the presence of mind to heal a servant’s ear. Most movingly, on the cross he forgives his persecutors and promises the good thief Paradise. Finally, after his resurrection he appears on the road to Emmaus and stuns back to life the faithfulness of those two downhearted disciples who failed to recognize him until the breaking of the bread.

    Apart from these unique characters and perspective, the evangelist has a wonderful sense of story. He made sure to include some of our Lord’s most memorable parables: The lowly guest, the great banquet of the king, the lost sheep, the lost coin, the unjust steward, Lazarus and the rich man, the Good Samaritan, and of course the Prodigal Son. More than that, he crafted in beautiful prose the vignettes that form many mysteries of the holy Rosary (including much of the Hail Mary prayer itself): the Annunciation, the Visitation, the Presentation, the finding of Jesus in the Temple, and the descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. His mastery of Greek, unparalleled in the Scriptures, is on full display in such prayers as the Benedictus of Zechariah, the Magnificat of Mary, and the Nunc Dimittis of Simeon. Every day around the world, millions of people recite these – probably from memory – as part of the Divine Office of the Church.

    As if all this weren’t enough, this same man then goes on to give us yet more of what no one else has: the story of the early Church. From Pentecost on he tells the amazing story of the spread of the gospel throughout Judea, Samaria, and to the ends of the earth – including Rome. In sometimes intimate detail he gives us both the beginning of St. Peter’s ministry and virtually all of St. Paul’s, writing the story at times as a fellow traveler, from Paul’s mystical encounter with Christ on the road to Damascus, through his victories and failures in ministry, all the way to his ultimate destination, the seat of the Empire – Rome.

    Overall, the span of his work is breathtaking; it is a complete narrative that stretches from before Christ’s birth, through his ministry, passion, death, resurrection, and ascension all the way into the development and growth of the early Church.

    italy-2472027_1920There is much more we could say on this, the day we remember him, but it would only belabor the point, which is that none of his work would have been possible unless this man had given himself completely over to the will of the Father, in devotion to our Lord Jesus Christ, through the power and inspiration of the Holy Spirit. But he did, and this masterpiece was the result.

    Remember the power of one; not one person alone but one who has conformed himself to being in union with the will of God. There is a plan and we all have a part to play in it. So let us each take the time to meditate on how God is calling us, then submit to his will and do it. This is what changes the world.

    St. Luke, pray for us.

  • What Faith Demands: Memorial of St. Ignatius of Antioch, Bishop and Martyr

    Romans 3:21-30; Luke 11:47-54

    Although the Hebrew bible and Christian Old Testament are very similar with regard to the books they contain, they are structured quite differently. In the Old Testament the prophets come at the end, just before the New Testament. Placing them there emphasizes the prophets’ role as looking forward to the coming of Christ. In the Hebrew bible, however, the prophetic books come much closer to the Torah, or the first 5 books of the bible. This placement emphasizes the prophets’ role of looking back, reflecting on the Law and urging people to live it out in their daily lives.

    This role of reflection and exhortation made the prophets very much the conscience of Jewish society. The voice of the voiceless, the champion of the downtrodden, they spoke the word of God in words of men. While this made the prophets popular to some, the feeling was not universal; others, like the powerful and influential who were threatened by the cries for justice, found them irritating and troublesome. This is why in the gospel today Jesus refers to the blood of the prophets (Luke 11:50); at least a few tyrants thought the best way to deaden the social conscience was to kill those speaking it.

    But God is not so easily dismissed; for every voice silenced, another made itself heard. This was most perfectly the case for Christ, whose voice not only echoed through the prophets but rang through the hills and valleys of Israel in his earthly ministry and continues to ring in the words of the Scriptures he gave the world.

    In the first reading, St. Paul reflects on the foundation of equality preached by the prophets, as regards both sin and righteousness. As he reminds us, sin is no one’s private property; it is the shared condition of all humanity. But the remedy for it also equally applies; slave and king alike share in the righteousness bestowed as the gift of the Father, given through the blood of his Son, in the love that is the Holy Spirit. This is the love Christ most wants us to have for it is the life of God himself (1 John 4:16), given that we may have life in abundance (John 10:10).

    Of course, the abundant life requires listening to the prophetic voice within that urges a selfless life of God first, others next, and ourselves as servants of all. Like the scribes and Pharisees in today’s gospel it is tempting to want to silence that voice in favor of the comfort and complacence of the status quo. But in his merciful love Jesus assumed the role of prophet to forcefully remind them – and us – that every time we fail to be the voice of the voiceless, champion of the downtrodden, or justice for the oppressed, every time we hear his law of love in our hearts but refuse to live it out in our lives, we keep ourselves from God and worse, keep others away as well.

    colosseum-1234144_640St. Ignatius of Antioch understood this. The depths of divine love moved him to be one of those of whom Christ said, I will send to them prophets and apostles… (Luke 11:49a). Sent to oversee the Christian faithful as bishop of Antioch, Ignatius tirelessly preached the truth of the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist as well as the necessity of accepting the faith as it was handed down by the Apostles. Ignatius had such deep faith in Christ that he chose to remain with him despite the conclusion of that same verse: … some of them they will kill and persecute (Luke 11:49b). Preferring to die rather than betray Christ, Ignatius was brought to Rome and martyred around the year 115.

    We as disciples must be ready for the acceptance and rejection that our role as prophet brings. This is what faith demands, for it is not faith in ourselves or our ability to move hearts but in the One who has justified, commissioned, and sent us, and in whose name we do all that we do. Let us pray that like St. Ignatius of Antioch we never lose heart in the face of persecution or rejection, but rather redouble our efforts at living out the gospel, that through us many are called to the repentance and salvation that only Christ can offer.

    St. Ignatius of Antioch, pray for us.

  • Sent: Monday of the 28th Week in Ordinary Time

    Romans 1:1-7; Luke 11:29-32

    One day at a high school for wealthy children in India, a teacher happened to wander outside the school’s gates. In the poverty and misery that surrounded her, this young nun saw and heard something greater than the wisdom of Solomon. Saint Teresa of Calcutta spent the rest of her life serving the poorest of the poor in the gutters and slums of India and the world.

    In another part of the world, a young Frenchman rejected the faith of his family and indulged in a carefree life of luxury. After squandering a huge inheritance he entered the military, who threw him out. His second attempt at military service drew him into contact with the people of the Sahara; in their poverty and solitude, this man saw something greater than the Temple. He went home, rediscovered his faith, became a priest, and returned to Africa. Blessed Charles de Foucauld spent the rest of his life ministering to the Muslims of the desert.

    It would be hard to find two people more different at the outset, yet how similar they became. One a hedonistic playboy looking out only for himself; the other a consecrated religious doing what she thought God wanted her to do. Both were called by Christ to a life they would have never imagined and in the end would never relinquish. Their responses transformed them and transformed the world.

    Their destiny points to the choice that Jesus lays before us. Either we can be part of the “evil generation” that demands the certainty of miraculous signs and rejects the certitude of faith, or we can use our God-given faith given to discern the only sign that matters. Jesus called it the sign of Jonah, but in reality it is his own true presence, for he is the Temple not made with hands; he is Wisdom itself.

    passion-3807312_640This is what the saints and the blessed have discovered. The greatest good in life is to see and serve Christ; that is what gives our life its ultimate meaning. However, we will never be able to do that until we see Christ in each other and become Christ for each other. St. Paul knew this; that is how he could write that the grace of apostleship is found in the obedience of faith. By faith we believe that God loves everyone and that we are to love as God loves, but it also teaches that the people who we think are least deserving of our love are the ones most worthy of it. Thus, obedience to the faith means that as apostles we are sent to be Christ and to find Christ in everyone, even those we find hardest to serve. Only grace can provide the humility and openness to vulnerability that can empower us to do the work for which we have been sent.

    That brings us to the final point. Where have we been sent and who are we to serve? Consider this thought from Blessed Charles de Foucauld:

    It is not necessary to teach others, to cure them or to improve them; it is only necessary to live among them, sharing the human condition and being present to them in love.

    Put that in the context of this thought from Saint Teresa:

    It is easy to love the people far away. It is not always easy to love those close to us. It is easier to give a cup of rice to relieve hunger than to relieve the loneliness and pain of someone unloved in our home. Bring love into your home for this is where our love for each other must start.

    So, you are the apostle to your home, to your parish, and to your community. See Christ in them; love Christ in them; serve Christ in them.

  • The Hope of Happiness: Saturday of the 27th Week in Ordinary Time

    Joel 4:12-21; Luke 11:27-28

    In the reading from the prophet Joel, God vanquishes the enemies of Judah and the land produces in overflowing abundance. As the earlier chapters of this book make clear, a famine brought on by a plague of locusts had ravaged the land, both city and countryside. The images offered by Joel of a conquering, provident God were a hope-filled reflection of this suffering people’s desire to know that God was dwelling among them; in other words, this is how they wanted their prayers answered, in security and abundance.

    We are not so different from them. In our own prayers we ask God to do things like conquer our foes, provide abundant harvests, heal us or those we love. We speak of our prayers being answered and we give thanks to God when the enemy is gone, the harvest is good, and we or someone for whom we have prayed does in fact recover.

    On one level, there is nothing wrong with that. God does keep us secure; does provide for us; does heal. For this, we can and must give thanks.

    There is a deeper level though, and Jesus points us toward it in today’s gospel. When a woman blessed the womb that bore him and the breasts that nursed him, Jesus replied that Mary was blessed because, as his first disciple, she heard the word of God and did it. As St. Augustine said, Mary conceived in her heart before she conceived in her womb.

    This is the deeper level on which Jesus focuses our attention. Although we can pray that things go the way we want them to, the most fruitful prayer is that our will be aligned to the will of God. This was Mary’s prayer when she said, May it be done to me according to your word (Luke 1:38); it was Christ’s prayer when he said not my will but yours be done (Luke 22:42b). This doesn’t mean that we are happy if and when catastrophe strikes, but it does mean that we hear the word of God and do it, keeping in mind that he has also said, I know well the plans I have in mind for you … plans for your welfare and not for woe, so as to give you a future of hope (Jeremiah 29:11).

    maria-100112_1280As the Catechism teaches, hope is “the theological 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” (CCC 1817). Joel pointed toward Christ our hope when he spoke of the spring that will rise from the house of the LORD (Joel 4:18b). This is the hope of life that springs eternal; the happiness to which Mary was united at the end of her earthly life; the hope of happiness that we desire. May we unite our wills to the will of God as she did, and may it be done to us according to his Word.

  • The True Beauty of a Pearl: St. Pelagia the Penitent

    John 8:1-11

    Near Antioch in the year 341, a group of bishops met to discuss matters lingering from the Council of Nicaea 16 years earlier. As they spoke, a beautiful woman who was also a known harlot passed by them riding a donkey and wearing little more than jewelry and precious stones. Groaning and sighing, the bishops looked away in disgust in the face of such grave sin. All but one, that is; only bishop Nonnus watched intently as she passed by, and kept watching until she disappeared into the distance. Turning, he then asked his brother bishops if they weren’t delighted with her beauty.

    In the gospel passage we read that the scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery and made her stand in the middle (John 8:3). Although the woman in Antioch had passed them by, Nonnus centered her image in the minds of his brother bishops. Like the scribes and Pharisees, they saw nothing more than a woman caught up in worldliness and sin. They remained silent, for they already passed sentence.

    Jesus also remained silent, but he did have something to say. The evangelist tells us that he bent down and began to write on the ground with his finger (John 8:6). We don’t know what he wrote, but we are reminded of Jeremiah’s prophecy that those who turn away from God shall be written in the earth, for they have forsaken the LORD, the fountain of living water (Jeremiah 17:13, Revised Standard Version). Only after beginning to write did Jesus speak; not to the woman but to her accusers. If they were concerned about worldliness and sin then their proper focus was themselves, for they were the objects of judgment, not the arbiters of it.

    Bishop Nonnus remembered this, for in his brothers’ accusing silence he said, “(W)e have vast promises…stored up with our hidden Lord who cannot be seen. It is he we should please, but we fail to do so; it is for him that we should adorn our bodies and souls, but we totally fail to do so. We should take pains over ourselves in order to scrub away the dirt of sins, to become clean from evil stains; but we have paid no attention to our souls in the attempt to adorn them with good habits so that Christ may desire to dwell in us… (W)e have not taken pains to make ourselves pleasing to God nearly as much as this prostitute… has taken pains to please men – in order to captivate them…” 1

    Mercy begins when we look upon someone else and see our own sinfulness. Compassion is born in the eyes of those who see that as others have fallen, so we have fallen. Their pain is our pain; their healing, our healing; their God, our God.

    shell-3480818In the marvelous healing providence of God, it so happened that this same woman heard bishop Nonnus preach the homily the next day at Mass. Whatever he said moved her to repentance. She asked him to make her a Christian. Not long afterward, the same bishops who once looked away in disgust now watched in wonder as this woman threw herself upon the floor of the church, washed the bishop’s feet with her tears, and dried them with her hair. Once baptized, she traded her jewels for a robe and devoted the rest of her life to penance in the strict regimen of a cloistered monastery. The beautiful, bejeweled harlot once known in Antioch as Margarita (meaning “Pearl”) transformed herself into a beautiful model of penitence known to this day by her birth name, Pelagia.

    We and bishop Nonnus both know that through the grace of Orders, it was Jesus who preached, Jesus who baptized, and Jesus who transformed Pelagia, just as he does to all who ask him with a contrite and humble heart. Like the woman caught in adultery, the only gaze she knew from him was that of merciful love and the only words those of him who said, Neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on do not sin any more (John 8:11).

    St Pelagia, pray for us.

  • Increase Our Faith: 27th Sunday in Ordinary Time

    Habakkuk 1:2-3; 2:2-4; 2 Timothy 1:6-8, 13-14; Luke 17:5-10

    People sometimes speak as though there are saints and then there is everybody else. I know; I’ve done it. Somebody says, “You know, you’re a good person,” and I reply, “Well, thanks, but I’m no saint.” We might begin to think that saints are people of superhuman faith who go around rebuilding the Church, baptizing thousands, levitating, going into ecstasy, healing the sick, and finally converting thousands through their own martyrdom.

    And although many people have done exactly those things, the readings today remind us that saints are ordinary people who know what it means to have their faith tested; to get frustrated, to need encouragement, and even to ask God for an increase in faith. We just heard the prophet Habakkuk cry out to God, clearly frustrated and bewildered because God had not put an end to the violence and misery all around. We should be able to sympathize with him; we pray week after week, year after year for an end to violence in the world, yet it continues. Why doesn’t God stop it? Next, the Apostle Paul tells Timothy to stir into flame the grace of his ordination, for he’s going to face his share of hardship. Don’t we too know how it feels to face hardship yet still be asked to keep on giving? Then in the gospel the apostles ask our Lord to increase their faith and little wonder, for Jesus had just told them that if your brother wrongs you seven times in one day and returns to you seven times saying, ‘I am sorry,’ you should forgive him (Luke 17:4). I don’t know about you but on a bad day forgiving the same offense even twice can be a struggle; seven times is going to take some real moral fiber.

    But the readings don’t stop there; they also show God’s responses. Habakkuk is told that fulfillment will come and it won’t disappoint; have faith and wait. In other words, be patient and don’t lose hope. As hardship looms, Paul says to Timothy: Take as your norm the sound words that you heard from me, in the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus (2 Timothy 1:13). That is, hold on to what you’ve been taught; Christ gave us the plan and he is our strength. Finally, Jesus talks about strength in two ways. First, he speaks of faith as powerful enough to uproot a mulberry tree. As the Apostles knew, that’s a lot of power. Mulberry trees are hard to pull; their roots are thick, wide and dense. Second, he talks about a servant who labors outside all day but still must serve when he comes inside. He’s talking about the power of fidelity to our call. Jesus reminds us that servants don’t stop being servants depending on where they are or what time it is. When I was ordained, Christ didn’t tell me that I’m a servant only when I’m wearing my vestments; I am called to serve God’s people, period. Similarly for you; all of us who are baptized in Christ receive a new garment; we put on Christ and we can’t just take him off. We are servants of God and each other; our attitudes and our behavior are to reflect that every hour of the day, every day of the week.

    This story of the servant is only found in the gospel of Luke and I think there is a good reason for that. Luke sees Jesus as that servant. Consider: The servant worked in the field, plowing or tending sheep. Jesus did both; he spent his entire ministry planting the seed of the gospel until the harvest was abundant (Luke 10:2) and called himself the Good Shepherd (John 10:11). Then when Jesus “went in” for dinner for the last time with his disciples, he remained a servant, washing the apostles’ feet (John 13:5). As the servant provided the dinner for his master, so at the Last Supper Jesus instituted the Eucharist, feeding his apostles the bread of life (Luke 22:19). Finally, as the servant said that he had done what he was obliged to do, so the Good Thief looked at the dying Jesus and said, this man has done nothing wrong (Luke 23:41, RSV). Then after his resurrection he walked with two disciples, opening the Scriptures until they felt their hearts burn within them. Finally, the flame of the Spirit was poured upon the apostles (Acts 2:3), strengthening them to proclaim the gospel in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth (Acts 1:8).

    cropped-awake-o-sleeper-graphicThis is the strength that has inspired the saints throughout the centuries. Every saint knows what it means to wonder as Habakkuk wondered how and when God will fulfill his promises, but they also know what it means to offer themselves as the instruments through which that promise is fulfilled. Every saint knows what it means to face hardship or to be with others as they face them, but like Timothy and Paul they also know what it means to possess the grace to endure and to support others who need to endure. Finally, every saint knows what it means to feel as if their own faith is inadequate to uproot their mulberry tree full of weaknesses. But they also know what it means to surrender themselves totally to the power of the One who nailed those weaknesses to his own tree and cast them once and for all into the ocean of his infinite mercy.

    This is the consolation that speaks in the silence of God’s replies to every prayer. What makes a saint is not that they understand the mind or the providence of God but that they never allow their incomprehension, frustration, or anger overwhelm the great promise of the cross; that faith overcomes and will always triumph over fear. Thus could Augustine rightly say that every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future.