Mark 10:45

Tag: Bible

  • The Pharisee, the Tax Collector, and Me

    The Pharisee, the Tax Collector, and Me

    Saturday of the 3rd Week in Lent

    Hosea 6:1-6; Luke 18:9-14

    As a young man, I went through a period in my spiritual life I can only describe as “restless.” Dissatisfied with Mass at my local parish, I began trying others. One parish had a Mass with really good music, another with homilies I liked, a third with a priest I found very prayerful. While that was all fine at first, over time I saw that these parishes had problems, too. Frustrated, I thought I’d better rethink the whole thing, so I asked myself why I went to Mass at all. “To receive Christ,” I said. “Well,” I replied, “if that’s true, then why are you focusing on the music, the homily, the priest, or the problems, when you should be focused on Christ?”

    I was reminded of my “parish shopping” experience as I read today’s Scriptures. My attitude was far too much like the Pharisee in our Lord’s parable. For him, the issues were about how much he fasted, rather than why he fasted to begin with; about what he gave from his purse rather than what came from his heart. For me, the issues were also the externals: music, homilies, the attitude of the presider. Beneath it all, we both missed what is most essential – the humility with which we approach Almighty God, and the gratitude we show for the infinite mercy He offers us.

    This attitude of humility can only come from the heart, which is what God tells us through the prophet Hosea He wants most. The outward religious practices have tremendous meaning and we are right to pay attention to them, but when they become an end in themselves, we rob them of their piety. Like the Israelites of Hosea’s time, we end up going through the motions of worship, while our behavior betrays hearts that are far from God. True worship isn’t about the external things as ends in themselves, but about allowing them to come from the heart; to reflect the joy of encountering and surrendering to our Lord, Jesus Christ.

    So, as we prepare to approach Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, let us take a moment and allow the readings to challenge us. How are we, like the Pharisee, letting distractions come between us and a genuine encounter with Christ? Do we share in any way the Pharisee’s sense of pride and self-sufficiency? And let us pray for the grace to be more and more like the tax collector, who by recognizing his own need for mercy, allowed humility to take him where true worship is designed to bring all of us – ever closer to Almighty God.

    —

  • Better to be Better

    Saturday of the 1st Week in Lent

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

    A man once told me about something that happened to him at church. I know it may sound strange to some of you, but in his parish the people tend to sit in the same pew week after week. In his case, an older couple always sat in the pew right behind him and his family. He didn’t know their names, but they greeted each other at the sign of peace, and said goodbye when Mass was over. This went on for years; decades, even.

    One Sunday after Mass, the elderly woman lingered in her pew, weeping. When he asked if there was anything he could do, she said, “No. It’s just very near the anniversary of my husband’s death.” That struck the man deeply; he hadn’t even realized she’d been coming to Mass alone. After consoling her for awhile, he left, and resolved to never let that happen again. He kept his word; from then on, he and his family made it a point to talk with her, and became friends with her and other people near them at Mass.

    This is a great example of a principle our Lord alludes to in today’s gospel: the choice in life isn’t always between doing good and doing evil; sometimes, it’s between doing good and doing better. Loving those who love us is good; so is greeting our friends and family. But it’s better to love without regard to whether we’re loved in return, and to greet those who do not greet us.

    We talk a lot in the Church, especially during Lent, about living virtuously, and we do it in many ways: coming to church, volunteering in outreach to the poor, teaching children, beautifying the parish, etc. While these are all good and we must do them, Christ challenges us to think about what else we can do to better ourselves.

    In the spirit of the story I began with, one area might be recognizing the needs of those all around us. That isn’t always easy. We get stuck in such ruts – even with good things like going to Mass – that it can take a crisis, such as seeing someone in pain – to get us to see what’s better: looking beyond ourselves, even to the next pew.

    Of course, recognizing the need is good, but responding to it is better. It was good that the man consoled the widow behind him, and resolved to change his behavior. But the better thing was actually doing it, which he and his family did. For us, too, response can be the harder part; people may well need our help in ways we do not expect and that might cost us something. But that’s exactly the point; today and every day, Jesus challenges us to go beyond the good and seek the better. In so doing, we accomplish what he wants the most: The transformation not only of our parish and our community, but ourselves – one Christlike act of compassion at a time.

    —

  • Like Rocks in a Pond

    Like Rocks in a Pond

    Monday of the 1st Week of Lent

    Leviticus 19:1-2, 11-18; Psalm 19:8, 9, 10, 15; 2 Corinthians 6:2b; Matthew 25:31-46

    Some time ago, a man heard this gospel and came to me, confused. He said, “Why are there two judgments?” What do you mean, I asked. “Well,” he went on, “St. Paul said after we die, we’re judged. But in the gospel, Jesus says he’s returning to judge everyone. Why two judgments?” It’s a good question, one answered by Fr. Joseph Ratzinger, long before he became Pope Benedict XVI. His answer is just as relevant for us today as we consider this same gospel passage. Let me give you an example.

    Imagine that every act we perform is a rock thrown into a pond. As you know, the ripples move out in circles from the impact; the larger the rock, the bigger the waves. Think of the many good things we can do that Jesus spoke of in the gospel as rocks that create waves affecting others for the better. We’ve probably all heard the inspiring stories of people whose lives were forever changed by one small act of kindness done to them, an act the giver may have thought of little import. But to the person it was life-changing, and because of that one kind act, that person went on to do things that affected many other lives for the good.

    On the other hand, Jesus also spoke of the evil that we do, or the good we fail to do. Those, too, create waves that affect others, and not for the better. Imagine how one small lie told about someone can affect others, biasing their judgment of the victim. Now imagine they pass that on to others, and just like that a person’s reputation is ruined, all from one small act that, at the time, may have seemed of little consequence.

    If we see our actions in this light, the answer to the question of two judgments becomes simple. At the moment of our death, our good and evil actions are still creating ripples in the pond. Only God knows their full effect, and judges us on it. But only when Christ comes again at the end of time can we (and everyone else) see the full effect of everything we’ve done or failed to do, bad or good.

    With this as background, consider the wisdom of the readings. Leviticus tells us that we become holy as God is holy only when we treat others justly, honestly, and fairly – especially the vulnerable. The Psalm reminds us that living God’s law in this way not only benefits others, it leads us to wisdom and joy. And there is an urgency to it; as the Gospel acclamation says, now is a very acceptable time. Living a holy life is not something to postpone; we never know when we’re going to “cast our last rock into the pond.” And of course, in the gospel our Lord makes clear the eternal importance of making every action a good one. To the degree that we show mercy, mercy shall be shown to us.

    The Church gives us these readings early in Lent so we can take the best possible advantage of the time given us. For good reason! Why wait? Now is the time to seek the forgiveness of God and others for the evil we’ve done and the good we’ve failed to do, and to find whatever ways we can to live as Christ has asked us. And now is a good time to thank him, who by his passion, death, and resurrection is the Rock whose waves have crashed open for us the gates of Heaven itself.

    —

  • The Love Behind It

    The Love Behind It

    Saturday of the 7th Week in Ordinary Time

    Sirach 17:1-15; Mark 10:13-16

    As parents, we try our best to give our children everything they need in life to prosper; a good, stable home, a solid education, including faith – the best upbringing we can provide. We don’t expect thanks, but it’s in the nature of children to give anyway. Even the very young make special, little gifts for their parents, who are very happy with them – their real happiness, of course, being that they see the kids are learning the value of giving. Parent or child, it’s not the gift that matters, but the love behind it.

    Our relationship with God is much the same. As Sirach reminds us, God has given us so much! First, He made us in His image and likeness; the only creatures of Earth to receive that wonderful gift. Second, He’s given us the Earth and dominion over it. On top of that, He gives us the gifts of the Holy Spirit. They appear throughout the passage: We are endowed with a strength of His own (fortitude), with counsel, the discipline of understanding, fills our hearts with wisdom, puts the fear of Himself in our hearts, sets before us knowledge, and does all that so we might glory in the wonder of his deeds and praise His holy name (piety). As if all this isn’t enough, He’s given us His only Son, our Lord, Jesus Christ, who in the Gospel shows once again how God is never outdone in generosity: When parents bring their children for a blessing, Jesus goes further – he takes them in his arms and embraces them. But again, as parents with children, God doesn’t do this because He has to. He’s teaching us that what matters isn’t the gift, but the love behind it.

    So, what are we as God’s children to give Him in return? Jesus made that clear when he said that if we love God, we will obey Him (John 14:23). He gives us two ways in today’s readings to do that. First, as He says in Sirach, “Avoid all evil.” This is the natural law, the law written in our hearts: Seek the good (God) and avoid anything that takes us away from Him. The second we heard in the gospel. When the disciples rebuked people bringing children to Jesus, he said, Let the children come to me; do not prevent them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these (Mark 10:14). In other words, we are to bring people to Christ and be Christ to others, treating them as we would treat him – even, and perhaps especially, those who (like children) cannot repay us. We do this expecting nothing in return, because once again, what matters isn’t the gift, but the love behind it.

    Today, we are reminded of the great blessing of living and loving with the innocence of children. For we love most like children of God when we give freely from our hearts without reservation. And we live most like children of God when we do good, forgive readily, and uphold the dignity of all people, remembering that they, like us, are made in His image and likeness. Above all, let us do everything with the tenderness of Christ, who invites us to give our hearts completely to him with the trust of little children, expecting nothing in return, but offering everything out of love. For that is what he, the only Son of God, did to his last breath – gave himself that we may live. Finally, like children, let us receive and rejoice in the Holy Eucharist, not only because it is the greatest gift of all, but because through it we are brought ever more deeply into the infinite Love behind it.

    —

  • Savoring Scripture: Engaging with the Word of God

    Savoring Scripture: Engaging with the Word of God

    St. Jerome once said that if we believe that Christ is contained in both the Eucharist and the Bible, we should give them equal reverence. When a consecrated host falls on the floor, we carefully pick it up and thoroughly clean the area so nothing is lost. But if we don’t listen to the Word of God, it’s like allowing Christ to remain on the floor; that encounter is lost forever. With that in mind, on the Feast of St. Jerome in 2019, Pope Francis declared the 3rd Sunday in Ordinary Time as Word of God Sunday. His goal was to enable the Church to “experience anew how the risen Lord opens up for us the treasury of his word and… proclaim its unfathomable riches before the world.”1

    Two basic problems challenge our experience reading the Bible. First, over-familiarity; we know a passage so well that we “tune it out,” assuming we know everything we need to. Second, ignorance; a passage is difficult (think, “St. Paul”) so we let it go, intending to, but never getting back to it. Instead, our goal should be to experience the Word of God the way some people experience fine wine – or, if you’re like me, fine Belgian chocolate – by savoring it. For example, rather than taking on all of today’s first reading, let’s “savor” just two verses: Ezra read plainly from the book of the law of God, interpreting it so that all could understand… ‘Today is holy to the LORD your God. Do not be sad, and do not weep’— for all the people were weeping as they heard the words of the law (Nehemiah 8:8-9).

    Step 1: Understanding. Nehemiah may be unfamiliar, but look it up and you’ll see that this book and its twin, Ezra, were written to tell us what happened when the Jews exiled in Babylon were allowed to return to Jerusalem, rebuild the Temple, and recover their way of life. To set the scene, we’re at the point when everyone is at the Temple celebrating the Feast of Booths (also known as Tabernacles). This may be the first time doing so for some of them in over 70 years.

    Step 2: Put yourself in the story. Imagine you were very young, maybe 6 or 7 at the time of the exile, and for decades, all you had were memories of home. Now, here you are, standing where you and your family stood years ago, doing what they did. Or, imagine you’re one of the Jews not sent into exile; you were left behind with a ruined Temple and no priests. Now, the Temple and city walls have been rebuilt, the priests and people have returned, and the Law is heard again. Maybe God is finally making His people whole! Each person will have their own story, but for so many of them, young and old, this is a profound and emotional moment. And this is just one way to look at these verses; there are many more.

    Step 3: Relevance. So, what does all this have to do with us? A lot! For one thing, it’s a moment to stop and reflect on all those who passed on the faith to us: Parents, teachers, friends – without them, we wouldn’t be here. They are God’s gift to us. For another thing, it prompts us to ask, to whom are we God’s gift? How do we pass on the faith? Can we do more? Also, this is a reminder that every verse of Scripture has a depth, beauty, and power that are just waiting to be revealed.

    Step 4: Prayer. We end our time with the Word of God in prayer, like: “Lord God, thank you for the gift of faith; for all the people you put in my life who passed it on at whatever cost to themselves. Give me the grace to pass on the faith and to proclaim it by the example of my life, that Your Name may be more greatly known, honored, and loved, in my own life and in the lives of all those I meet.”

    There are over 31,000 verses in the Bible. It’s overwhelming to imagine savoring each of them this way. But we don’t have to. What matters isn’t that we do everything, but that we do something. So, try this: Regularly, or every day if you can, choose a verse or two that jump out at you in the day’s Bible readings (at https://bible.usccb.org/), or from your Bible, and go through the steps above. The Word of God, Jesus Christ, is waiting for you there. Savor every encounter.

    1https://www.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/motu_proprio/documents/papa-francesco-motu-proprio-20190930_aperuit-illis.html

  • The Only Lasting Joy

    The Only Lasting Joy

    Saturday of the 3rd Week of Advent

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • Can You Hear?

    Can You Hear?

    Memorial of St. Ambrose, Bishop and Doctor of the Church (Dec 7)

    Isaiah 30:19-21, 23-26; Matthew 9:35–10:1, 5a, 6-8

    In the first reading, Isaiah reminded us of two things: First, our Teacher will no longer hide himself; second, his voice shall sound in our ears. In both of these, I find echoes of the great St. Ambrose, who we remember today.

    Christ hardly hid himself from Ambrose; quite the contrary. Born just after Christianity became the religion of the Empire, raised in a wealthy Catholic family, Ambrose was highly intelligent, politically astute, and virtuous. As a young man, he became governor of a large part of northern Italy that included Milan. At that time, Christianity was embroiled in a battle between Arians, who believed that Jesus was not God, and Catholics, who did. When the Archbishop of Milan died, an argument broke out about whether an Arian or Catholic bishop should succeed him. Summoned to the cathedral to help settle the issue, he addressed the crowd. While he was speaking, a small voice cried, “Ambrose, bishop!” When the whole assembly took up the cry, Ambrose fled and hid in the house of a friend.

    Why would he do that? A couple of reasons. For one thing, Ambrose had never been baptized! Second, he was governor; his focus was on himself and his career. When he walked into that cathedral, he saw a crowd with an issue to settle, not troubled sheep without a shepherd, who needed him. But Christ did, and when that voice said, “Ambrose, bishop,” it was Christ sounding in his ears what we heard in the gospel: The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few… Without cost you have received; without cost you are to give (Matthew 9:37; 10:8).

    On one level, he was a good choice. Both the Arians and the Catholics liked and respected him; they knew him as a good man, a man with natural virtue. But that’s not enough; Christ needs good Christians, and that requires the supernatural virtues infused at baptism – faith, hope, and love – and the grace of the other sacraments, especially the Blessed Sacrament. After the emperor refused his request to find someone else, Ambrose submitted himself, undergoing one of the fastest and most complete conversions in history: From pagan to bishop in about 10 days!

    From then on, armed with those graces, bishop Ambrose lived a life of heroic virtue. For 23 years, he worked tirelessly to educate himself, his priests, and his people. A compassionate shepherd, his door was open to everyone, from pauper to emperor. A rigorous defender of the faith, he wiped out Arianism in Milan, facing down emperors to do it, and he excommunicated the Catholic emperor Theodosius, famously announcing that emperors are in the Church, not over it. A gifted speaker and writer, his teaching impressed and won over Augustine, who went on to become a great bishop and doctor of the Church himself. All this because Ambrose heard the voice of Christ calling him to a richer, deeper life, and responded to it, however reluctantly at first.

    It’s good to remember this lesson from the life of St. Ambrose, especially during Advent. In a world that advertises Christmas before Halloween is over, Christ is almost hidden by his own holiday and his voice drowned out by the noise, hustle and bustle of the season. Still, we are called to live in this world, and not just live in it, but bring Christ to it. That takes all the virtues, natural and supernatural, and the grace of the sacraments, especially Holy Communion. So, as we approach to receive our Lord at holy Mass this Advent, let us take time to savor and rejoice in Isaiah’s words, with your own eyes you shall see your Teacher, and listen carefully for Christ the Teacher sounding in our ears, ‘This is the way; walk in it’ (Isaiah 30:20, 21).

    —

  • All in the Family

    All in the Family

    Wednesday of the 27th Week in Ordinary Time

    Galatians 2:1-2,7-14; Luke 11:1-4

    In today’s gospel, when Jesus says, Father, hallowed be your name, we shouldn’t underestimate how surprising that was to his audience. The Jews had names for God, such as Adonai or El Shaddai, but only rarely referred to Him as Father. Nevertheless, Jesus taught them in their prayers to regularly call God exactly that.

    That’s why even today we begin our liturgical reading of New Testament letters with the phrase, Brothers and sisters. Now as then, calling God Father makes us family. And then, as now, there were tensions in the family. We hear about it in the first reading. St. Paul is furious; someone went to the Galatians after him and contradicted his teaching. We can almost feel his anger and resentment as he tells of having to go to the reputed pillars – Peter, James, and John – just as we can almost feel his triumphalism at calling Peter out publicly for his segregating with Jews when in company with Gentiles.

    No doubt some of this is Paul’s pride at work. He said at the beginning of the letter that his Gospel came from Christ, and not even an angel preaching a different one would make him change (Galatians 1:8), and he’s been preaching it for a long time to a lot of people. Still, he knows there is structure to the family; Peter, James, and John have the power to frustrate him, to stop his missionary work. He may not like it, but he submits, goes to Jersusalem, sees the three Apostles, and presents his gospel to them. In the end, unity is preserved; they exchange the “right hand of fellowship.”

    The question for us is, when is our own pride driving a wedge in the family? Do we ever lord our status (whatever that is) over others, or act as if our understanding is perfect and all that matters? Do we resent it or get angry when others exercise legitimate authority over us? Do we look for ways to get even, or find ways to hurt or humiliate them?

    The fruit of pride is disunity, the exact opposite of Christ’s prayer that we may all be one, just as he is one with the Father (John 19:21). Rather, let us pray for humility, for its fruit is unity. The readings today are a reminder that, although we in the Church are wounded and broken, we are one: One in calling God our Father; one in receiving the daily bread of Christ, His Son; and one in asking forgiveness of Him and each other in the Holy Spirit, the infinite and perfect bond of unifying, self-sacrificing Love.

    —

  • Being Sent Out

    Thursday of the 26th Week in Ordinary Time

    Luke 10:1-12

    I’m sure there are a few reasons why St. Luke tells us about Jesus sending out the seventy-two disciples. We can’t know for certain, but my guess is that one reason has to do with how we see ourselves in the gospel. When we think back to the Apostles being sent out, we might have trouble putting ourselves in their place; they may come across to us more like clergy. Not so with these disciples; they seem much more like the average, everyday follower of Jesus. Given that, I also think Luke wants us to remember some important things about what it means to be “sent out.” Here are a few of them.

    • We go “ahead,” not “instead.” First, Luke tells us that Jesus sent the disciples ahead of him… to every town and place he intended to visit (10:1). Note: Ahead of him, not instead of him. Jesus was still going to these places; the disciples were to prepare the way. It’s the same for us. In his infinite love, Jesus comes in his own way to every person. Some he may come to on his own; others, he wants us to lead the way. That’s evangelization, or, as Cardinal Francis George once said, introducing people to Jesus and letting him take over from there. But the point is, one way or another, he takes over for us.
    • Ask God, but be prepared for the answer. Next, Jesus says, Ask the master of the harvest to send out laborers for his harvest, and follows that immediately with, Go on your way (10:2-3). Did he just tell them to pray for laborers, then send them as laborers? Yes! That may seem strange, but it’s happened to me. I see a need, talk to the pastor or vicar about it, and next thing I know, I’ve been appointed to fill it. The lesson? Sometimes, we are the answer to our own prayers.
    • Can’t this be easy? Then comes the warning: Behold, I am sending you out like lambs among wolves (10:3). Jesus knew that not everyone was going to be open to him. They still aren’t. The modern world is full of people not only disinterested in Christ, but even hostile toward him. Trying to live his values in such a climate, we can get discouraged by the rejection or lack of results. Take heart, and keep trying. Remember that our task is to sow the seeds of faith; God controls their growth (Mark 4:26-29).
    • I feel alone. Jesus sent the disciples out in pairs; they didn’t “go it alone.” Neither do we. You may not see anyone next to you, but Jesus told us he is always with us (Matthew 28:20), as are the Father and the Holy Spirit (John 14:16-30). So, even if we seem to fail, even if we suffer because we try to live the gospel, God is there through it all. And remember what else he said: Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you and utter every kind of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in heaven (Matthew 5:11-12). Whatever we do, if we do it in his name, our effort is never unrewarded.

    A final note: We might think being sent out is only for some people. Wrong. All of us are sent. Luke’s gospel, and all the gospels, are full of examples of Jesus showing us how to live among people, what to do and not do, and how to love as he loves. He also tells us that we are going to be judged on how we did it. Does that mean we have to go knock on doors, walk the streets wearing “I love Jesus” shirts, and pressure people to believe what we do? Of course not. But it does mean that we are sent to help people see that Jesus is knocking on the door of their heart, to speak such that every word tells the world we love him, to do little things with great love, and above all, to be unafraid to live as he lived, so that when we die, we can hear Jesus say, ‘Well done, my good and faithful servant… Come, share your master’s joy’ (Matthew 25:23).

    —

  • Winning the Game of Life

    Winning the Game of Life

    The 32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle A

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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