Mark 10:45

Tag: Discipleship

  • Who’s Writing the Script?

    Who’s Writing the Script?

    Monday of the 4th Week of Easter

    Acts 11:1–18, Psalm 42/43; John 10:1–10.

    If you’ve ever seen the late Robin Williams in an interview or movie, you know how good he was at taking a simple “Yes” or “No” and exploding it into a five-minute burst of voices, stories, and laughter. For him, it was as if there was no script; he followed the spark, and suddenly there was life and possibilities that no one had seen before.

    This is especially true in his role as the Genie in Aladdin. The writers didn’t bother to give Williams a script. Instead, they gave him the framework and allowed him to improvise. The result? Where about an hour of dialog might’ve been expected, he gave them sixteen! Overjoyed and inspired, the writers and animators built the movie around it. What might have seemed like chaos was pure creativity, full of life.

    That’s exactly what today’s readings reveal about God.

    In Acts, Peter has seemingly failed to “stick with the script” by going to Gentiles. But, in his role as shepherd, Peter allows God to write the script, and God is making it clear that the Holy Spirit will come down on Gentiles just like He did the Apostles. Wisely, Peter then speaks the line we all need to hear: “Who was I to hinder God?”

    Behind Peter’s challenge is the voice of Christ in the Gospel, who refers to himself as “the gate.” That is all the framework we need; He is not a wall, checkpoint, or entrance for a select few. He is the way in for all, and all who enter through him receive not just life, but abundant life.

    Thus, the readings remind us that God isn’t bound by our scripts. Rather, he is completely free; He pours mercy where we don’t expect it and calls people we might never choose. Like the wind that blows where it wills (John 3:8), the Holy Spirit moves in ways we don’t always understand, but always with purpose. And, just like with Robin Williams in Aladdin, when God starts moving, our best response is to listen and try our hardest to do His will. No matter how difficult, no matter how unexpected.

    Of course, that’s challenging. Think of the three martyrs we remember today. The first two, Achilleus and Nereus, understood their role as soldiers very well. However, when they encountered Christ, it became clear to them that although Caesar had cast them in one role, God had chosen another. They listened, laid down their swords, and eventually, their lives. The third was just a boy, 14 years old. Called before the Roman authorities, young Pancras was pressured to deny Christ. At an age when most people expect the script to be a happy, full life, Pancras allowed God to give him his lines, even if that meant death, which it did. He was martyred alongside Nereus and Achilleus.

    Together, these and all the saints remind us of two things. First, God calls whom He wills. Age doesn’t matter. Status doesn’t matter. What matters is willingness. Second, they allowed God to re-write the story of their lives, even if it cost everything.

    So, what about us? Today, let’s ask ourselves: Do I try to keep God inside my comfort zone? Do I write the part I want Him to play? Or am I ready to be surprised by mercy, and willing to do whatever He asks?

    Peter’s question is our question. Who are we to hinder God? Let’s let Him speak, even if we think it’s off-script. Because His script is written to bring us exactly what Christ said in the gospel: Life – life to the full.

    —

  • Three Roads, One Pattern

    Three Roads, One Pattern

    Thursday of the 3rd Week of Easter

    Acts 8:26-40; Psalm 66:16; John 6:44-51

    Today’s reading from Acts may seem like a beautiful but isolated story – Philip and the Ethiopian riding through the desert – but it is, in fact, just one of three “road encounters” given to us by St. Luke, each a powerful snapshot of how God works through the sacraments. All three stories follow the same pattern:

    1. God initiates an encounter with someone;
    2. He brings the Church in to help; and
    3. The person being helped receives grace that changes them forever.

    The first time Luke gave us this pattern was in his story of the disciples on the road to Emmaus. Remember? Christ approaches two discouraged disciples who fail to recognize him. He opens the Scriptures for them, then breaks bread (gives them the Eucharist), and vanishes. Eyes opened and hearts on fire, the pair joyfully rush back to the Apostles as witnesses. Today, God sends Philip, who breaks open the Word for the Ethiopian, baptizes him, and vanishes. Afterward, the man goes on his way, rejoicing. Finally, on the road to Damascus, Saul has a mystical encounter with Christ, who cannot be seen. Later, Ananias anoints him and his eyes are opened. Saul takes his Roman name, Paul, and as we all know goes on to spend his life changing the landscape of Christianity forever.

    This is how Luke shows us the power of the Sacraments: God initiates, the Church mediates, and the person is changed forever. In all seven the pattern is the same: First, God calls us. We may think it’s our idea to be baptized, anointed, forgiven, or given the Eucharist, but it is God who calls us. He always initiates; for, as Jesus says in today’s gospel, No one can come to me unless the Father draws him. Next, we gather; Scriptures are read, and our eyes are opened to better understand its meaning and application to our lives. Then, the sacrament is received. The best example is right here, at the Eucharist, where we receive Christ himself; as he says, the bread that I will give you is my Flesh for the life of the world. Finally, we hear – Go forth. That is, we are sent out, as the two disciples at Emmaus, the Ethiopian, and St. Paul, to witness, rejoice, and change the world – each in our own way. For, as the psalmist sang, “He has given life to our souls… Hear now, all you who fear God, while I declare what he has done for me.”

    That is the voice of someone who has been changed, and cannot help but witness. And that is the effect of the Sacraments given us by Christ, who continues to meet us on the roads of our lives. He has drawn us here, feeds our minds and hearts with his Word, our souls with his Body, and sends us from here to change the world. Every time we receive a Sacrament, let us keep in mind: this is no mere routine – this is an encounter. Christ meets us here; Christ touches us here. And we will never be the same.

    —

  • I Once Was Lost

    I Once Was Lost

    Sunday of the 5th Week in Lent, Cycle C

    Isaiah 43:16-21; Philippians 3:8-14; John 8:1-11

    The 20th century playwright George Bernard Shaw once said, “My way of joking is to tell the truth. It’s the funniest joke in the world.” In his hands, truth could be funny. But in God’s hands, truth becomes something far more powerful: it transforms us.

    Today, Jesus presents us with two truths: God wants us to let go of the past, and to let Him begin something new. It sounds simple. But it’s not easy, as one man’s incredible story shows.

    John Newton was a man who seemed beyond redemption. Growing up in England in the 1730’s, he was attracted to life on the sea. Naturally rebellious and not what anyone would call moral, he enjoyed the life of a sailor to the fullest. He indulged in whatever vices he could, mocked God, eventually found himself a slave trader, and even became the captain of slave-running ships.

    In the first reading, God said, Remember not the events of the past… see, I am doing something new … do you not perceive it (Isaiah 43:18-19)? Like the Israelites, who God had just called deaf and blind, Newton’s sins blinded and deafened him to God. No, he didn’t perceive it. But what about us? Do we see God as creating us and then leaving us alone, or do we perceive that He is actively working in our lives and has a plan for us?

    That plan can take very surprising turns, as Newton found out. While commanding a slave ship, he encountered a violent storm. Terrified and realizing he could die, he begged God for mercy. He survived, and never forgot that God answered a sinner like him.

    This marked the beginning of a slow, painful process. Like all of us, Newton found that the old, bad habits die hard, especially the ones you enjoy, and most especially ones that earn you a living. What’s more, he had been raised in a world where slavery was simply the way the world worked. He struggled to break those habits and to understand what the acceptance of slavery said about the equality and dignity of all people.

    Again, that puts the spotlight on us. In the second reading, St. Paul said, “I have accepted the loss of all things and I consider them so much rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him.” Do I hold on to things that keep me from fully surrendering to Christ? Do I define myself by my past? Do I look at issues like abortion, euthanasia, and human-trafficking as just the way the world works? If we are to make any real progress this Lent, we must be willing to leave our old lives and the sinfulness of our old selves completely behind and see ourselves and all people as infinitely precious – exactly as God sees them.

    It took awhile, but John Newton was able to do this. Once he did, he realized how easily he, like the woman in today’s Gospel, could have been condemned. Yet, he wasn’t. Why? Grace. By the movement of grace, misery again met mercy: “Neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on, do not sin anymore.” Newton obeyed that command for the rest of his days. He left the slave trade, became a minister, and spent years fighting to abolish slavery – which did happen. To this day, we know him as the author of the words to the classic hymn “Amazing Grace,” which contains those beautiful words, “Amazing grace! How sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me! I once was lost, but now am found; was blind, but now I see.”

    That is the woman’s story in the gospel, it is John Newton’s story, and it’s our story, too. We all have sins we think define us. We all have pasts we regret. But the Scripture readings teach us that Jesus does not define us by our past, He calls us to a new future.

    As we approach Holy Week, let us remember that the cross isn’t just about removing sin; it is about renewing us. As John Newton wrote near the end of his life: “Though my memory’s fading, I remember two things very clearly: I am a great sinner, and Christ is a great Savior.” May we, too, remember these two things. Yes, we are sinners. But we are saved sinners.

    Christ is calling. Do you perceive it? “Neither do I condemn you. Go, and sin no more.”

    —

  • 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.

    —

  • On The Other Side

    On The Other Side

    Ash Wednesday

    Joel 2:2-17; 2 Corinthians 5:20 – 6:2; Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18

    An elderly monk and a young monk, walking down a road near a stream, came upon a beautiful woman standing by the water. She asked if they would help her cross to the other side. You see, she said, the stream is deep and I might drown. Looking down, the young monk muttered, “Sorry, we can’t.” The older monk sighed, picked her up, carried her across, waded back, then continued on his way. For a long time, his companion said nothing, but was clearly troubled. Finally, the older man asked, “Is something bothering you?” The other replied, “Why did you carry her across like that? What a terrible temptation!” Smiling, the elderly monk said, “Brother, I left her on the other side. You’re still carrying her. She’s getting heavy, isn’t she?”

    We’ve now entered that time of year the Church sets aside to ask what we need to leave “on the other side.” In other words, what burdens are we carrying? It could be many things: Maybe guilt, regret, anger, or frustration; maybe the burdens of stress due to illness or addiction. No matter what load weighs on our shoulders, even the strongest of us will eventually tire trying to carry it.

    The good news is that we don’t have to carry it at all. Like the elderly monk in the story, God will meet us in our struggle and help us lay our burden down. How? The readings break it down into three steps:

    First, we repent, or, as the prophet Joel says, return to God with our “whole heart.” Wholehearted repentance means not just telling God we’re sorry, or acting like we’re sorry, but really being sorry; that is, making an honest effort to change our behavior and our attitudes. In Confession, we call that having a firm purpose of amendment.

    Second, we reconcile. With whom? Anyone we’ve sinned against, which includes both God and other people. In fact, St. Paul urges us to be “ambassadors of reconciliation.” Even though we carry the burden of our sins and are tempted to hold onto them, God calls us to forsake our old ways, accept His gift of mercy, and be strengthened by His grace, that we may be more closely united to Him and to each other.

    Third, we renew ourselves in the practice of our faith by genuinely seeking God presence, not other peoples’ attention, by humbling ourselves before God rather than focusing on what we’re giving up, and by giving to others out of love, not for what can get out of it.

    May this Lent be for all of us the time we allow God to help us lay our burdens down. Through repentance, reconciliation, and a renewed commitment to living quietly and authentically before God, let’s leave our old selves on the other side and continue on our way with the lighter heart and open spirit He has in mind.

    —

  • 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.

    —

  • Winning the Game of Life

    Winning the Game of Life

    The 32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle A

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • That Crucial Difference

    That Crucial Difference

    Memorial of St. Charles Borromeo, Bishop

    Romans 12:3-13; John 10:11-16

    Today, we heard St. Paul begin the second section of his letter to the Romans. In the first section, he explained the gospel; here, he explains how it should be lived. Hearing the word “should” brings to my mind that crucial difference between what we should do and what we actually do. We should live the gospel, but… do we?

    St. Paul first urges us to think “soberly” about ourselves; to take a good, hard look. What an exercise in humility! Just on the surface, we might think about how the doctor says we should look, and how we actually do look. That’s a crucial difference when it comes to our physical health. Thinking of our spiritual health, St. Paul then lists a series of gifts that we should be using, praying for, and doing enthusiastically out of love for Christ. But are we? These are crucial differences, too, for they speak to what St. Paul most wants to see: Authenticity, that we are living the way we should be: like Christ, with the love of shepherds who are willing to lay down their lives for their sheep.

    If anyone embodies such humility, authenticity, and love, it’s St. Charles Borromeo. His gifts were so many, lived so authentically, and their effect so great, that there isn’t time to go into it all. He was born into the kind of wealth and influence few families enjoy, but also, through the mercy of God, a piety even more rare. His was a family from whom nuns, priests, and Popes sprang. Made a cardinal at age 21 by his uncle, Pope Pius IV, Charles enjoyed an easy life at first, but was quickly redirected by the Pope, who made him his right-hand man. Pius acted not out of favoritism, but because he saw in Charles the gifts the Church so badly needed: He was intelligent, tactful, an able administrator, politically astute, fiercely loyal to the Church, a great communicator, a faithful priest and bishop, and a zealous reformer.

    Reform was perhaps the most monumental task given to Charles when the Council of Trent finally ended. This was the Council convoked to respond to the Protestant revolt. Implementing its reforms put his gifts to the test, for he met a lot of resistance, some of it so hostile that one person tried to kill him – a priest, no less! Most, however, simply couldn’t understand what the Church was doing, or why. In reply, Charles proposed that a catechism be created from the Council’s notes. He oversaw its writing and publication, and, to this day, we still have and use the Roman Catechism of St. Charles Borromeo.

    What can we learn from the life of this great saint? I can think of at least three things:

    1. Authenticity. St. Charles used his many gifts, not to get attention or because he should, but because he loved Christ. To him, all people, whether poor, ignorant, or hostile, were the face of Christ. Serving them was serving him. What about us? Do we use the gifts God has given us to serve our own needs, or do we see the face of Christ in others and serve them purely out of love for him?
    2. Reliance on the Holy Spirit. St. Charles traveled extensively and worked all hours; basically, poured his life into reform of the Church. He must have gotten weary, perhaps in darker moments even tempted to quit. But he didn’t; instead, he relied on the Holy Spirit to supply the fortitude and perseverance he needed, as St. Paul advised (Romans 12:11). Again, what about us? Do we ever get weary and tempted to quit? We should be asking the Spirit to supply what we need. Are we?
    3. Daily inner renewal. While fortitude and perseverance are vital, St. Paul also urges us to pray for zeal, which is the intensity of love. Imagine loving with the intensity of Christ! No trial or tribulation is too great; nothing can discourage us. This is the eagerness St. Charles spoke of when he said: “If we wish to make any progress in the service of God, we must begin every day of our life with new eagerness. We must keep ourselves in the presence of God as much as possible, and have no other view or end in all our actions but the divine honor.” Note, he tells us what we must do, not what we should do. That is the crucial difference whereby sinners become saints.

    St. Charles Borromeo, pray for us.

  • Promises, Promises

    Promises, Promises

    Saturday of the 28th Week in Ordinary Time

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • Beyond Words

    Beyond Words

    Memorial of Our Lady of the Rosary

    Acts 1:12-14; Luke 1:26-38

    There are moments in our lives, times of such emotional power, that, as we reflect on them, go beyond our ability to describe. They are the best times – weddings, births, special occasions with family and friends, spiritual consolations – and the worst – deaths, periods of emotional or physical suffering, of desolation. However good or bad, we can picture them, vividly remember them, but, no matter how hard we try, we cannot describe our feelings about them. They go beyond words.

    But they aren’t beyond God. It is an article of our faith that God is perfectly above all things and, at the same time, perfectly within them. That includes us; every moment of our lives, from the most precious to the most mundane, and all the feelings wrapped up in them, are perfectly known to God. Even if full understanding of the events of our lives eludes us, we can do what the Blessed Mother did: reflect on them in our hearts, that in our contemplation, God may more deeply reveal Himself to us, and help us see how He works through the mysteries of life.

    One way our faith gives us to do that is through repetitive prayer. There is something about its rhythm and regularity that, like breathing, comes naturally to us. Repetition is a prayer form as ancient as Judaism; the Lord Jesus himself repeated the Shema (Deuteronomy 6:4) every day, morning and evening. We see it in his Church, too. We may know them as “aspirations” – short prayers that have developed over the centuries. Some spring from inspiration, such as, “Let go and let God,” or “Lord Jesus, I trust in You,” others from Scripture, such as, My Lord and my God (John 20:28), or Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief (Mark 9:24). One of our most popular repetitive prayers, the Hail Mary, combines these. The first half is Scriptural, quoting the angelic salutation from Luke that we heard today, as well as part of Elizabeth’s greeting, while the second is an intercessory prayer, asking Mary, as Mother of God, to pray for us now and at the hour of our death.

    While it would take too long to trace its development, suffice it to say that, in the words of Pope St. John Paul II, the rosary is centered on Christ but distinctly Marian in character. We see this throughout its mysteries; there are the more familiar, such as The Annunciation and Visitation, but also the more obscure, such as The Appearance of Christ to Mary after the Resurrection and Mary Meets Jesus Carrying the Cross, both of which are prayed by some Franciscans to this day.1

    Regardless the mystery, the rosary does two things the Blessed Mother wants most. First, it points us to her Son. Every decade of every mystery, whether joyful, sorrowful, glorious, or luminous, is an invitation to contemplate more deeply the mystery of Christ; not only how he works in these events, but how he works in our own lives. Second, as a sacramental (a visible sign instituted by the Church to give grace), the rosary leads us, if we are ready to receive it, to sanctifying grace. In both ways, the rosary is the road that, with each passing bead, helps us to love Christ as his Mother has always loved him: Far, far beyond words.

    Our Lady of the Rosary, pray for us.

    1https://franciscanmissionaries.com/7-decade-rosary/