Mark 10:45

Tag: Gospel

  • Being Mrs. McMahon

    Being Mrs. McMahon

    The 28th Sunday in Ordinary Time

    Isaiah 25:6-10a; Philippians 4:12-14, 19-20; Matthew 22:1-14

    When my brother asked me to be his daughter’s Godfather, I was delighted. I flew to New York planning to spend the weekend at his home, enjoy the baptism, the baby, the party, and catching up with relatives I hadn’t seen in years. Unfortunately, we flew through a lot of turbulence; by the time we landed, I felt terrible. I got to his house, found a bed, and laid down for a while to recover.

    When I woke up, no one was home except a woman working on the front lawn – my sister-in-law’s mother, Mrs. McMahon. She looked up, smiled, and asked, “Feeling better?” I said I was. “Good,” she replied, “Pick up that sack of dirt and follow me.” Next thing I knew, we were both working on the front lawn. When we finished, I hoped that was it, but she said, “Now, on to the back yard.” Ugh. An hour later, she said, “Let’s go in now.” I was so relieved – until I got in. I should’ve known; there were folding tables to put up, tablecloths to lay, places to set, dishes to do, a dinner to start, and floors to vacuum. When my brother came home, he said, “You didn’t have to do all this!” I said, “Yes, I did! Have you ever met your mother-in-law? Is she always like this?”

    I admit that at the time I was feeling very put upon. I went there expecting to sit around, take it easy, and enjoy myself. Instead, I felt like I was the host and my brother and his family were the guests. However, the next day, when I saw them relaxed and enjoying themselves, I had a change of heart; I felt bad that it hadn’t occurred to me to do what Mrs. McMahon did: Look around, see how I might be able to help, and get busy.

    That reminded me about the first of the two surprises in today’s parable. As you know, parables are designed to make us think by adding plot twists we don’t expect. The first twist was the reaction of the guests who were re-invited to a banquet they had already refused. We expect them to be annoyed, but to kill the servants? What’s that all about?

    Well, it’s a parable, so the killing symbolizes something; in this case, how we sometimes kill the urge to be selfless. As Bishop Sheen once reminded us, God tempts us far more often than Satan does. Think of all the times in a day we are “tempted” to put other people first, think about them, do something nice for them. These are moments of actual grace; invitations from God to unite our will to His by seeking the good of others. Now, consider what putting our own will first does, like I did: it smothers those impulses.

    Most of us try to do both, to look out for others and for ourselves. That’s not a problem. The problem comes when we get comfortable and refuse to be challenged. Maybe we’ve been invited to help at the parish, go to a pro-life chain, work at a food pantry, or any of a number of things. Sometimes we really can’t do it; other times we can, but it’s very tempting to turn that invitation down in favor of what we want. We like doing our own will, and it may content us for a while, but in the end we’re not happy. Happiness only comes when we take advantage of the actual graces God makes available – like when He gave me the example of Mrs. McMahon to show me, against my will, that happiness involves a lot more than just “showing up.”

    And that reminds me of the second twist in the parable: The wedding garment. Why is the man without one punished so severely when he had no idea he was going to need it? Scholars tell us that, in those days, if a man showed up without a proper garment, the host would offer him one from his own stock. That’s not unheard of today. Some high-end restaurants require a tie and suit coat; they offer them to men who come in without them, and will escort them out if they refuse. So in the parable: A garment was available, the man refused to wear it, and as a result was “escorted out” in no uncertain terms.

    But again, the question is, what does the garment symbolize? As I see it, it is a sign that we have “put on Christ,” in the words of St. Paul (Romans 13:14), or, in modern terms, that we are “walking the talk.” I went to New York to be a Godparent – someone who had put on Christ, was living the faith. But was I? Not so much. I went to Mass every week, sang in the choir, even donated money, but in my heart, I knew that I was living every other hour of the week as if I’d never heard of Christ. On the other hand, there was Mrs. McMahon; she, too, had traveled a long way, and was twice my age. Yet she almost never sat down, either the day before or the day of the baptism; instead, she served, saw to other peoples’ needs. And she was happy doing it. Her daughter told me that her mom was just that way; wherever she went, she saw the need and tried to fill it. Of the two of us, she was the one who had put on Christ, who lived her faith for the world to see.

    So, what does this mean for us? That we’re all supposed to be another Mrs. McMahon? Yes and no. Yes, in the sense that we, too, are called to show Christ to the world. How? As St. Paul said, by knowing how to live in humble circumstances or abundance, well-fed or hungry, in plenty or in need, because the source of our happiness is none of those things, it is Christ alone. From him comes the strength we need not only to endure, but to prosper. And no, in the sense that God already has one Mrs. McMahon; he doesn’t need any more. What he needs is us, with the gifts he has given us. Every day, he invites us in countless ways to become the people he created us to be. Is it hard? Yes. Do we sometimes want to turn the invitation down, go in and relax? Sure. But again, take heart, and remember: We have the strength of Christ on our side. In him, we can do all things.

    I can almost hear him saying, “Feeling better? Good. Pick up that cross and follow me.”

  • 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/

  • Whom Fortune Favors

    Whom Fortune Favors

    Saturday of the 21st Week in Ordinary Time

    1 Thessalonians 4:9-11; Matthew 25:14-30

    The parable of the talents is one we’re all very familiar with. Ironically, such familiarity actually works against us, for parables are at their best when they surprise us, present us with a riddle or twist that teases us into deeper contemplation about its meaning and its relevance to our lives.

    One aspect of the parable that might still be surprising concerns the talents themselves, specifically their value. In our Lord’s time, a talent was worth about 6000 silver pieces, or 20 years of wages. By using such vast sums of money (the parable goes up to 100 years’ worth), it certainly seems like Jesus wanted us to wonder what all that wealth could possibly represent.

    The fact is, we really don’t know. Some scholars see them as our abilities, the God-given gifts we are born with; we still use the word “talents” for those to this day. Maybe, but Jesus tells us in the parable that each servant got a different amount of talents according to his ability (25:15); so, there are talents and there are abilities. I tend to agree with those who see the talents as riches of a different kind; specifically, the thousands of opportunities we are given by God over the course of our lives to show people what it means to be a disciple of Christ; to be his hands at work in the world.

    What opportunities am I talking about? I think some of the best examples are right in front of us, in our own homes, with the people who are most familiar to us. Research on the family shows that while family members are actually spending more time together than before, they are also alone more often. It’s called “being alone together,” and you may have seen it: A family at dinner, perhaps at a restaurant, sits together and eats together, but spends most of that time interacting by themselves with their hand-held device. Imagine being the one in the family who asks them to put those things away and spend that time with each other. We also know that, as people age, they spend more and more time alone. Imagine being the neighbor who invites them over, or regularly visits them. And, as we all sadly know, many of our young people rarely if ever go to church, and know nothing at all about God. Imagine being the relative who invites them to the church youth group to meet new kids, eat, have fun, and see where those interactions lead. Is such a person always popular for having spoken up or done what they did? No. But is it the charity spoken of by St. Paul in the first reading, or the new commandment Jesus spoke of in John’s gospel? You already know the answer.

    Of course, these are just three examples, but they and thousands more show that what Christ is looking for isn’t skill or experience, but boldness and humility. Consider the first two servants; they knew they weren’t skilled bankers or investors, yet they doubled their master’s money. How? By doing what good servants do: they watched their master, learned from him, then imitated him as Jesus said: Immediately. They didn’t know when he would return; all they knew was that he gave them this opportunity and empowered them to act in his name. Unlike the third servant, they didn’t waste time worrying, overthinking, or second-guessing themselves or their master. Rather, they did what St. Paul advised: minded their own affairs and worked with their own hands. That’s what the master would do, so it’s what they did.

    There’s an old saying that fortune favors the bold. Here and throughout the gospels, Jesus makes it clear that he favors the bold in faith with a fortune only he can give: a share in the Master’s joy. Who doesn’t want that kind of talent?

  • Commitment, Meet Consequences

    Commitment, Meet Consequences

    Saturday of the 19th Week in Ordinary Time

    Joshua 24:14-29; Psalm 16:1,8,11; Matthew 19:13-15

    Two sisters, fed up with the way the world was going, decided that they, along with one sister’s 14 year-old son, would leave civilization behind, go into the Rocky Mountains, and live alone in the wild. Having no idea how to do it, they watched a few videos, then said good-bye to some relatives, who tried hard to talk them out of it. Eleven months later, a hiker discovered their remains. The medical examiner determined that they died of starvation just a few months after leaving.

    What a tragic way to learn that serious commitments can have serious consequences. Joshua knew that, which explains why he responded as he did when the people chose to serve God alone. Saying, You may not be able to serve the Lord (Joshua 24:19) might not have been what they wanted to hear, but they needed to hear it. History plainly showed that, time in and time out, Israel tended to obey God and serve Him when times were good, but disobeyed and turned to idols when they were not. What’s more, God had made the consequences of disobedience abundantly clear: If you forsake the LORD and serve strange gods, he will then do evil to you and destroy you (Joshua 24:20). Knowing this, Joshua was duty-bound as leader of Israel to test their commitment.

    We do something similar today when people tell us they want to follow Jesus. We could just say yes, sign them up, and let them figure it out by themselves, but that’s like giving people a couple of nature videos and expecting them to survive in the wild alone; we’re setting them up for failure. Knowing that the commitment to follow God has life-or-death consequences, we take the time to teach them everything that has been handed on to us. That takes months or even years, but when we’re done, people have a much better idea what it means to follow Christ as he wants to be followed: Totally.

    I said, “when we’re done,” but the truth is that we’re never really done getting to know the faith and committing ourselves to it. Joshua’s challenge is just as relevant to those like us, who have been practicing the faith for a while. Are we able to serve the Lord? Like Israel, we might quickly, almost unthinkingly, reply “Yes,” but, because we know how serious the consequences are, we do better to pause, look back, and see if we too have a history of less-than-total commitment to God. Maybe at one time or another we too have chosen against Him; we got angry, someone in Church hurt us, or we were tempted by something the world had to offer. Whatever the reason, we allowed ourselves to drift away. Or, maybe sometimes our commitment has been halfhearted; we serve God when and how it is convenient, but not when it takes us out of our comfort zone. Again, the result is the same. Distancing ourselves from God or taking our commitment to Him too lightly is like trying to survive on our own in the wild: All we do is starve ourselves of the One who satisfies our deepest needs, for only God can do that.

    This is why the psalmist urges us to take refuge in the LORD, to set Him ever before us; He shows us the path to life and the fullness of joy forever (Psalm 16:1,8,11). To make this point, our Lord’s example in the gospel works perfectly, for a child’s world is built on love and trust. They love with the innocence and purity of heart that simply assumes we are always there for them. Out of this love, they trust completely that we will feed them, guide them, provide for them, and keep them safe. If the Kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these, then how could we do any less?

  • The Award We All Want

    The Award We All Want

    Memorial of the Dedication of the Basilica of St. Mary Major

    Revelation 21:1-5a; Luke 11:27-28

    Years ago, one of the kids came home from school with an award from a competition. I was happy, but I was the only one. My daughter’s expression told me that, whatever this was, it wasn’t what she expected or wanted. Then I saw it: A “participation award.” I admit, if I was her, I wouldn’t have liked it either. Everybody gets one, no matter how they do? Big deal!

    I thought of that when I read today’s gospel passage. A woman, clearly impressed by Christ’s teaching, complimented him on his mother. However, like some of his other responses when family was involved, this one struck me as, if not insulting, a little underwhelming. First, he corrected the woman by overruling her blessing (Rather…), then substituted one that included anyone who heard the word of God and did it. In other words, it seemed like Jesus was giving his mom the first-century equivalent of a participation award.

    Part of the problem is what gets lost in translation. Where in English the word ‘rather’ often implies ‘this and not that,’ the same word in Greek can just as easily imply, ‘this and that.’ So, Luke’s intention seems to have been that Jesus not only agreed with the woman’s blessing but added one of his own. His mother was doubly blessed!

    Still, facts are facts; correction or not, Jesus did add a blessing that included many others along with Mary, in a very real sense equating them with her. Why? Because, as he said in Revelation (1:5), he was making all things new. It is true that, in his humanity, Jesus could have only one biological family, but it is also true that his divinity has no such limit. That is why he said that when he was lifted up from the earth, he would draw all people to himself (John 12:32). Therefore, what bonds us one to the other is not defined
    in terms of blood relationships; what bonds us to each other, and to God, is the precious
    blood of Christ. This we can all share, for this we have in common with all people.

    Here we come to the heart of the honor we accord Mary. The infinitely powerful God made himself dependent on a lowly little girl from Nazareth for the blood that would give life to His Son, who would in turn pour out that blood for the life of the world. This in turn goes to the heart of our Feast today, for the Dedication of the Basilica of St. Mary Major celebrates the declaration by the Council of Ephesus made centuries ago, that Mary is the mother of the only Son of God; her blood flowed through his veins. Truly, this is a woman who heard the word of God and put her body and soul into doing it!

    Given that, let us meditate for a moment on what our Lord’s blessing today means for us. Like Jesus, there is a limit to the number of people who can be in our biological family. But think of all the people who can be in our spiritual family, to whom we can be a spiritual mother, father, sister, or brother. From our Lord’s point of view – which is the only one that matters – that is everyone we meet. Let us ask ourselves: What would the world be like if I tried just a little bit harder to treat them like the family Christ told us they already are? OK, but how? By doing what he praised his mother for: Hearing the word of God and doing it. Again, how? Well, we all know there isn’t one way; ours will depend on the gifts God gave us, the challenges that make it hard to use them, and the determination we show working to overcome those challenges.

    Sounds a lot like a competition, doesn’t it? It is. We know our opponents: The world, the flesh, and the devil, and we know the stakes: Eternity. What we must remember is that we go to our eternal home not with a participation award, but with whatever awared Christ sees fit to give us. And that is a very big deal.

    Mary, most blessed mother of God, pray for us.

    And now a word from our sponsor…

  • Ripple Effects

    Ripple Effects

    Friday of the 9th Week in Ordinary Time
    Memorial of St. Ephrem the Syrian, Deacon and Doctor of the Church

    Tobit 11:5-17; Mark 12:35-37

    In 1970, a teacher noticed that, if he asked one student to stop an annoying or distracting behavior, other students also stopped it; conversely, if he failed to reprimand a student for that behavior, other students began doing it. He called this the ‘ripple effect,’ a term we still use to describe how the behavior of one person affect others, who then affect others, and so on, like the ever-widening waves produced by a stone dropped in a pond.

    We see examples of this in the readings. Tobiah’s return is one example. His mother, tense for most of the story because his return is so overdue, had turned that tension on her husband; three times so far, she has been very short with him. But upon Tobiah’s return, she rejoices; as a result, she takes a softer tone with Tobit. Then there is how Tobiah’s return affected Tobit. Tobiah has brought healing; once healed, Tobit first joyfully blesses God, then bonds even more closely with his son. Finally, Tobiah’s new wife, Sarah, appears; this causes Tobit and Anna to rejoice, then their joy spreads to all the Jews of Nineveh. In the gospel, our Lord’s preaching is another example. He quotes Psalm 110:1, which first delights his hearers, then went on to delight the early Church. In fact, it delighted her so much that the authors of the New Testament cited that verse more than any other in the Old Testament in support of Jesus as the only begotten Son of God. That’s a ripple effect so large it’s almost beyond measure!

    We also see ripple effects in the life of St. Ephrem, who we remember today. One troublesome stone in the pond was his temper; ultimately, it so adversely affected those around him that he ended up in prison. Once there, though, Ephrem cast a much more productive stone in the pond: contemplation. Taking the time prison gave him to reflect on how his behavior affected himself and others, Ephrem promised God that, if he was released, he would make each day count. The ripples from that stone were impressive; once out of prison, he composed hundreds of hymns, was ordained a deacon, became one of the first to incorporate music into the sacred liturgy, to use women singers in the choir, and was foundational to the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception of Mary.

    Of course, this should prompt us to take a moment to consider the ripple effects in our own lives, both the good and the bad. First, think about how the good we have done has allowed others to do good, which has in turn allowed still others. Imagine the positive impact we have made on all those people! What better reason is there to praise God, as the psalmist sings today? Yet, at the same time, what better reason to ask God’s mercy, for if the good we have done has rippled through the world in a positive way, what have our sins done? While this is a sobering thought, it is key to any good examination of conscience. In the end, only God knows, and may well reveal at our judgment, how the good we have done and the sins we have committed have affected the destinies of other people.

    The book of Tobit makes clear that there is a supernatural element to all of this. Therein lies a warning; we know the torment the demon inflicted on Sarah in the story, and we know the accuser is still among us, whispering in our ear. But on the other hand, therein also lies the best news of all: That, in his infinite love and mercy, God will come to us as Tobiah and Raphael came to Tobit and his family, heal our brokenness, and bring us joy that radiates outward and touches all we come in contact with. All we have to do is ask, for the prayer of a contrite heart yields the greatest ripple effect of all time: the merits of the cross and resurrection of our Lord, Jesus Christ. As St. Ephrem once said,

    “Glory be to Thee, Who laid Thy cross as a bridge over death, that souls might pass over upon it from the dwelling of the dead to the dwelling of life!”

    St. Ephrem, pray for us.

  • True Wisdom

    True Wisdom

    Feast of St. Charles Lwanga and Companions (June 3rd)

    Sirach 51:12cd-20; Mark 11:27-53

    If we were there in 1886, at the place Charles Lwanga and his companions were being martyred for the faith, we probably would have called the outlook bleak. The young king, a pedophile furious because the young Christian men in his court refused his advances, saw to it that they were rounded up, marched out of the capital city, and killed. In all this, Charles was exemplary; he was baptized, instructed the others, had them baptized, and, when he spoke, it was to pray, encourage the others, or even urge his executioners to accept Christ. When he and the others died, all that remained was a tiny group of Christians, their king against them, very little outside support, and Muslims and pagans all around. To all the world, it must have looked like the Church in Uganda was finished.

    Yet, look what happened: Today, and for many June Thirds past, Mass has taken place on that very spot, in a great basilica, with a shrine, and grounds dedicated to those men. The place the king chose to wipe out the Church has instead become the place where hundreds of thousands gather every year to celebrate and ask the intercession of twenty-two martyrs whose faith bore so great a harvest. Indeed, from that small band they inspired, Christianity in Africa has grown to include 400 million people.

    These and all the martyrs are perfect examples of what the world has had such a hard time understanding: When it comes to the Church and how things between her and the world will unfold, human beings are simply not in control; God is. For centuries, civil authorities have gone out of their way to change, curtail, or outright destroy the Catholic Church. Nevertheless, every time, she has not only survived but flourished, while they have all come and gone.

    It would be nice if we could confine that problem to the outside world, but, as the gospel shows, religious people also tend to forget who is in control. We can single out the chief priests, scribes, and elders in today’s gospel for assuming that God would never work through John or Jesus, but what about us? We should stop for a moment and ask if we ever set ourselves up as authorities over God. Do we expect God to act at certain times or certain ways, give us certain answers, or work through certain people? I’m sure that if we reflect long enough, all of us can think of times when God has surprised us – worked in places, people, and ways we never expected. And the results, while they may not have been what we wanted, were exactly what God intended, for that is his Providence.

    The author of the first reading urges us to take a much more prudent course: Rather than assume wisdom is something we already have, assume it’s something we must be given. He counsels us to pray for it openly, seek it persistently, and learn from our experiences. This is what St. Charles Lwanga and all the martyrs did, and, since martyr means witness, it is what we must do as well. Let us resolve, then, to see God in all people and places, accept what he is pleased to give us, and see his hand at work in the events and experiences of our lives. Only by so doing can we become more and more like Christ, who is Wisdom and King of martyrs.

    St. Charles Lwanga and Companions, pray for us.

  • Becoming Who We Are

    Becoming Who We Are

    Memorial of St. Philip Neri, Priest (May 26th)

    Philippians 4:4-9; John 17:20-26

    The readings today speak of two of the greatest gifts we can receive from our heavenly Father – peace and unity. St. Paul reminds us that it is the pursuit of excellence that leads us to God and the peace only he can give. In the gospel, Jesus teaches that perfection is nothing less than unity with the Father; again, a gift that only God can give.

    When I think of excellence and perfection in life, I can’t help but think of the saints, for these are the men and women who went out of their way to achieve both. I’m especially glad that we remember St. Philip Neri today, for his life provides a view of sanctity that is too often missing from the popular imagination.

    I say that because it seems to me that most people in our time see the saints as stained glass stereotypes; living in a perpetual state of sadness and gloom, cloistered from the world and everything in it. It’s as if they really believe the old pop song lyrics, “I’d rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints. The sinners are much more fun.”

    That’s why I like St. Philip Neri; he is exactly the opposite. Far from sadness and gloom, St. Philip was noted for his cheerfulness, going so far as to say that “Cheerfulness strengthens the heart and helps us to persevere. A servant of God should always to be in good spirits.” And far from running away from the world, Philip was born to engage it; charismatic, charming, and quick to smile, he was one of those people who lifted the spirits of a room just by walking into it. It says a lot about him that his favorite books were the Bible and his joke book. He was silly enough to walk around Rome with half his beard shaven off, and solemn enough to bring a congregation to tears. He was the scholar who taught the simple, the joker who consoled the sorrowful, the friend who welcomed every stranger, and the priest who reached out to every sinner. We call him the patron saint of laughter not simply because he excelled at making people laugh, but because he did it for the reasons St. Paul spoke of: That they might calm their anxiety, approach the Lord in prayer, and come to know the peace of Christ that surpasses all understanding (Philippians 4:4-7). This was grace at work in him for their sanctification and his own.

    St. Thomas Aquinas taught that grace perfects nature, and like all the saints, this is what St. Philip Neri shows us. The gifts God gave him – a jovial personality, the ability to relate to people, a brilliant mind, everything that made him who he was – were not meant to be replaced or suppressed; on the contrary, they were given to be made more excellent by the working of grace. What’s more, God graces each saint with their own unique gifts. Sanctity is not a matter of becoming more like someone else; it is becoming who we are. God doesn’t want another Philip Neri, He wants us, and he wants us to use the gifts He has given us, that through us people might know the peace of God and draw closer to Him and each other.

    This is the unity Christ had in mind when he said, that they may be brought to perfection as one, that the world may know that you sent me, and that you loved them even as you loved me (John 17:23). No wonder St. Paul said to rejoice! If knowing the infinite love of God is what it means to be saint, then I’m with St. Philip Neri; I’d rather laugh with the saints than cry with the sinners. The saints are much more fun.

  • The Master

    The Master

    6th Saturday of Easter

    Memorial of St. Bernardine of Siena

    Acts 18:23-28; John 16:23b-28

    I once attended a concert by a master guitarist. I don’t remember any particular piece he played, but I do remember two things. First, he was somehow able to communicate the truth and beauty of the music. When the tune was happy, the guitar laughed; when it was solemn, it contemplated; when it was sad, it wept. Second was his joy. This guitarist really enjoyed what he did, and his joy was infectious; he inspired me to want to make music, too. Of course, when I got home and tried, it didn’t sound anything like his.

    I think this is what masters in any art or science are able to do: communicate the beauty of the truth they’ve worked so hard to find, and inspire others with the joy of that truth, which motivates them to go deeper and learn more for themselves.

    Today we celebrate two masters of the faith. The reading from Acts gives us the first, Apollos. We hear of his eloquence, authority, boldness, and passion, and I don’t think it’s going too far to say that the truth and beauty of his words brought many to Christ or that his joy inspired many more.

    The calendar of the Church gives us the second, for today is the feast day of the tireless preacher, St. Bernardine of Siena. He was one of those people who always seems to be on the go. While he may not have known what to do with all that energy, God did: The hospital in his home town of Siena, where every day dozens of people were dying from the plague. Months later, getting word that his aunt was ill, Bernardine went and cared for her. Then, after praying for God’s guidance, he joined the Franciscans, where, after some years, his gift for preaching emerged. He was ordered to travel Italy and preach, which he did with every ounce of energy he had, until his death around 40 years later.

    We can learn a lot about mastery by considering the life of St. Bernardine. Obviously, he didn’t begin life as a master; he got there the way everyone else does: prayer and work. First, he prayed. As Jesus said in the gospel, whatever you ask the Father in my name he will give you (16:23). We don’t know if the answer Bernardine received was what he wanted or expected, but it was given, as Christ said, that his joy may be complete (16:24). The same goes for us. If we don’t know what our gifts are, or how to use them, then we need to ask. But then, get busy. Bernardine didn’t just sit around and wait for the answer; he got to work and looked for it. He tried the Franciscans, found it good, and kept going deeper. That’s the other part; he never did anything halfway. Whether it was theology, teaching, devotion to the Holy Name of Jesus (he created the symbol ‘IHS’ which is used to this day), or traveling and preaching to thousands, he gave himself totally – where he was and with whom he was – and did that until the day he died. Again, the same is true for us. If we don’t know where to go or what to do, be like St. Bernardine: Look around, see what the needs are. Then, choose something, put yourself totally into it, and get busy.

    I said earlier that masters of any discipline are able to do two things: Communicate the beauty of the truth they’ve worked so hard to find, and inspire others with the joy of that truth, that they might learn more themselves. While mastery in the faith is no different, we must never make the mistake of thinking that it is reserved to preachers like Apollos or St. Bernardine, or theologians or even just energetic and holy people like St. Bernardine. When it comes to communicating the truth and beauty of Christ, what speaks more eloquently than works of mercy, like feeding the hungry, visiting the home-bound, and comforting those who mourn? What training in theology do we need other than to pray as Christ taught us in the Lord’s Prayer? And what more energy do we need than to obey the words of the Blessed Mother when she said to do whatever he tells you? This is the obedience of Christ; the obedience that brings joy and inspires others, not to be like us, but to be like him.

  • Reconsidering Success

    Reconsidering Success

    Thursday of the 6th Week of Easter

    Acts 18:1-8; Psalm 98:2; John 16:16-20

    Perhaps more than any other New Testament author, Luke loves success stories. The first part of the Acts of the Apostles is full of them; chapter after chapter, the Apostles heal, defy the Sanhedrin, preach, baptize thousands, and ordain deacons.

    At the same time, he doesn’t shy away from problems; in fact, in the middle of the book, he runs through a list of them: First, Mark deserts Paul (or so he thinks); then, after an argument, he and Barnabas go their separate ways. Next, Paul is imprisoned in Phillipi, gets chased out of two other towns, and is pretty much ignored in Athens. Meanwhile, in Rome, the Christians have fared so badly that the emperor threw them out, as Aquila and Priscilla know firsthand. In today’s reading, the three of them are in Corinth, but nothing has improved; in fact, Paul is so disgusted by yet more rejection in a synagogue that he says he is abandoning his mission to the Jews entirely.

    Loving success as Luke does, why talk about failure? I think it’s because he’s trying to tell us something. Consider: Because Paul went to Corinth, he founded the Church there; because he did that, and poured himself into it for a year and a half, we have two of his greatest letters, which we read, study, and pray to this day. Because Aquila and Priscilla were kicked out of Rome and went to Corinth, they met Paul and became not only co-workers but friends; they housed him, helped him, even risked their lives for him (Romans 16:3). Finally, because Paul preached Christ to the Jews despite his frustration, the synagogue official became a Christian, which seems to have triggered a series of conversions to Christ. God only knows how many lives were changed for the good in spite of those seemingly bad events. Given that, what is success and what’s failure?

    That is Luke’s first point. We know, because Christ has told us, that our job is to bring him to the world. What we do not know is the plan – how that will be done. When we act as if we do know, we fall into the trap of defining success and failure on our own terms. Paul knew this, which is why he later wrote to this same church in Corinth, I planted, Apollos watered, but God caused the growth (1 Corinthians 3:5-7). In other words, we each have an important part to play, but God has the plan.

    This brings up the second point, which is that even the work that is ours to do cannot be done without others. Paul couldn’t do everything alone. We already know about Aquila and Priscilla, but remember Silas and Timothy; Luke told us that it was their coming to Corinth that allowed Paul to occupy himself totally with preaching the word (Acts 18:5). And, even in the broken or problematic relationships, the Apostles and others were still on the same side. If the man Luke calls “Mark” is the evangelist, then we know what he did! Also, although Paul and Barnabas separated, both continued in ministry (1 Corinthians 9:6). Paul would be the first to admit that if he succeeded, he didn’t do it alone.

    What held true in Luke’s time still holds true for us. While we too we know the joy of seeing people come to faith and the heartbreak of seeing others walk away, we must keep a few things in mind. First, success and failure are not ours to assign; that job belongs to Christ. Our job is to keep bringing him to others by what we say and do, no matter how hard that is. Second, we have no idea what seeds of success lie in each apparent failure; that, too, is for God alone to know. Third, we can’t do it without each other. God has given each of us gifts and intends us to use them together. Like Mark, Paul, and Barnabas, we may not always see eye to eye, but we are on the same side, bound by the love of Christ and pledged to serve him in and with each other. Finally, and above everything else, let us praise God for whatever success we achieve; for, although we speak the words, only God moves the heart; although we teach the truth, only God reveals himself; and although we reach out to others, only God draws them near.