Mark 10:45

Tag: Jesus

  • 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.

    —

  • 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

  • Glorious Grains

    Glorious Grains

    Tuesday of the 30th Week in Ordinary Time

    Ephesians 5:21-33; Luke 13:18-21

    When we visit a cathedral or basilica, we naturally focus on the art and architecture. I doubt that anyone stops at the outside of the building first and says, “Wow, those bricks are impressive. And the mortar between each one… glorious!” No, we take these for granted.

    It’s ordinary to look past the ordinary.

    Yet, where would that glorious cathedral be without the bricks? And how would the bricks stay together without the mortar? And where would the mortar be without the tiny, insignificant, almost invisible grains of sand?

    Maybe the insignificant isn’t so insignificant after all. Certainly in the case of the cathedral, we can’t get to the larger without beginning with the smaller.

    That is the fundamental point of our Lord’s parables today. The large mustard bush can’t grow unless the little mustard seed is planted first; the dough can’t rise unless the tiny yeast become active and so leaven the bread. So the Church, with all her glorious accomplishments, can’t rise without us, the tiny grains of sand, working together, dying to ourselves as it were.

    That’s the kind of dying that makes a marriage, or any lasting relationship, too. We don’t define a good marriage by how nice the wedding was, or how wonderful the vacations were. Rather, it’s the day-to-day living; the submitting to each other, dying to self. That of course includes the moments of joy and sorrow, but it also (and mostly) includes the vast majority of ordinary moments in-between. In fact, it is what we do or fail to do in those ordinary moments that give the extraordinary moments their deepest meaning.

    As St. Paul reminds us, Christ himself is the perfect example of all this. Who submitted himself more than he, who was more selfless or humble than he who took our flesh and handed it over, that he might make us, his Bride, holy and immaculate before the Father? And he did this every day; not a moment from his conception onward has been wasted. Indeed, Christ sanctified time by entering into it. There were the hugely extraordinary moments, like his incarnation, death and resurrection, but there were also the “ordinary” moments, like today, when he taught or simply walked with among us. And the world has been forever changed by even the most ordinary of them.

    One of my sons once gave me an hourglass, and I find it an apt metaphor. Each moment we are given by God is a grain of sand; we have it only as it passes, then the moment is gone. Today and every day, Christ is calling us to remember that each moment is far, far from ordinary; for God is in each one, and each can be used to build Him what He wants most: the glorious cathedral of a life in which He will dwell forever, if we let him.

    —

  • 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?”

  • 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.

  • 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.”