Mark 10:45

Tag: Luke

  • The Call of Simon: Thursday of the 22nd Week in Ordinary Time

    Put out into deep water and lower your nets for a catch.

    Luke 5:4

    I remember once talking with a man about the diaconate. When I asked him if he would consider serving Christ as a deacon he shook his head and said, “No.” When I asked why not, he replied with an embarrassed laugh, “I’m not worthy of anything like that!”

    People tend to associate the call to service with their own sense of worthiness. Simon himself said to Jesus in today’s gospel, Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man (Luke 5:8). Even Moses could not approach the Most High without the proper purification (Exodus 40:35).

    Moreover, people also tend to avoid growing closer to Christ and his Church due to their own sense of unworthiness. Some come to Mass but refuse to go to Confession because they believe they are unworthy of forgiveness; others avoid the Church entirely because they feel unworthy to approach God at all.

    But worthiness is never the issue. When the man told me that he wasn’t worthy of a calling to the diaconate, I replied, “That’s right. You aren’t.” As I hoped, that got his attention so I continued, “No one is. I’m certainly not! The call to serve isn’t about worthiness; it’s about putting our reservations aside and casting out into deep water.”

    Simon had worked all night and caught nothing. He was probably tired, irritable, and not inclined to go anywhere but home. However, the man who asked him to cast out in deeper water was the same man who had just healed his mother-in-law (Luke 4:38-39). Simon didn’t know Jesus very well yet, but he knew there was something about him that demanded attention. Despite his reservations, he obeyed. We know the result; they caught a great number of fish and their nets were tearing (Luke 5:6).

    God gives so abundantly not because we are worthy of it but because he loves so abundantly. While his love demands nothing, it does request that one thing over which he gave us total control: Our own free will. When we place our will in God’s hands, especially in the face of doubt, fear, or reservations, our Lord will never be outdone in generosity.

    laos-1929858 (1)It was Simon’s willingness to put out into deep water and lower his nets despite his reservations that yielded him not only an abundant catch but more importantly the grace to see that the one who sent him was not to be called “Master,” but “Lord.” This is the same Lord before Whom we kneel as we say, “O Lord I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, Speak but the word and my soul shall be healed.”

  • The Best Action: Wednesday of the 22nd Week in Ordinary Time

    At daybreak, Jesus left and went to a deserted place.

    Luke 4:42

    Everything that our Lord did was instructive to us, so we owe it to ourselves to pay close attention to his every action. This brief passage toward the end of Chapter 4 of Luke could easily slip by, but let us pause and reflect on it for a moment.

    Jesus had just begun his ministry. He had been baptized, tempted in the desert, rejected in his hometown, traveled to Capernaum and gotten very busy curing those possessed by demons and healing the sick. If he wanted the people’s attention, he had certainly gotten it. Luke says that news of him spread everywhere in the surrounding region (Luke 4:37).

    He knew better than anyone how much there was to do. Every waking moment could have been spent among these people who so desperately needed his help.

    Yet, it wasn’t. When he could have gotten up and gotten busy, Jesus went off to a quiet place and ministered to himself.

    Why?

    By taking these moments, Jesus teaches that sometimes the best action is inaction; the best preaching, silence; the best attack, retreat. This is the virtue of temperance; to know that there must be a balance in life between the extremes of busyness and idleness. All of us called to be servants, even Christ the servant of all, must take time to renew and replenish ourselves if we are to find and use the inner strength it takes to prudently fulfill our calling in life.

    Scripture doesn’t tell us how long Jesus had to himself at this moment. Perhaps it was an hour, perhaps only a few minutes. Whatever it was, he took advantage of it.

    rain-1570854_640He counsels us to do the same. We may be very busy attending to all the needs of children, family, or work. Whatever dominates your time, resolve to find even a few moments during the day to retreat to your own “deserted place” and listen for that still, small voice which is God.

  • Christ the Teacher: Tuesday of the 22nd Week in Ordinary Time

    Luke 4:31-37

    Take a moment and try to recall the one teacher who you considered the best you ever had. What was it about him or her that was so remarkable? I’ve asked a few people, and the answers seem to fall into two main categories. First, the teacher loved what they taught and second, they loved who they taught.

    Albert Einstein once defined genius as the ability to take the complex and make it simple. Similarly, some teachers are able to take a subject, no matter how difficult, and explain it in such a way that anyone can understand it. Not only that, their love for their subject is contagious; students may find themselves loving a subject they never thought they would even like. One woman I spoke with told me that she actually began to look forward to doing her algebra homework.

    Christ the Teacher had this same genius; we see it in the gospel today and throughout his ministry. Luke says that people were astonished at his teaching because he spoke with authority (Luke 4:32). He was such a master that he could distill the entire law and the prophets into the challenging simplicity of the single command, Do to others whatever you would have them do to you (Matthew 7:12) and he so enlightened the disciples on the road to Emmaus that their hearts burned within them (Luke 24:32). Above all, even the greatest teacher can only bring subjects to life figuratively, but Christ brought his subjects to life literally; the physically dead, the spiritually dead, and as in today’s gospel, those who had their dignity taken from them even by demons.

    This brings us to the second gift of a master teacher: Love for their students. When I asked one woman what subject her favorite teacher taught, she replied, “It didn’t matter. It wasn’t her teaching, it was the way she treated us. We wanted to do well for her just because she cared so much about us.”

    Christ the Teacher was the perfect model of this love. Everything he did was for our benefit, to the very pouring out of his own life. This was his life lesson par excellence: That there is no greater love than to lay down your life for your friends (John 15:13); and he taught this not on a mountain, in a synagogue, or on a boat, but from the classroom of the Cross.

    The truly selfless teacher is not as interested in what they have to give as they are in what their students take away with them. The lessons are only as good as what the students learn. Benjamin Franklin once said, “Tell me and I will forget. Teach me and I will remember. Involve me, and I will learn.” Two of the great lessons that Christ the Master Teacher came to teach were the true meaning of love and the infinite dignity of the person and he involved humanity in three ways: First, by taking our flesh and living among us; second, by calling us to change our lives and follow him unreservedly; and third, by giving us the very life of God in perpetuity through the sacraments.

    jesus-304899_640Contemplate the humility, the patience, and the genius of this teacher. In our very flesh God himself becomes incarnate; in the Scriptures he consistently speaks to us; in the form of simple bread and wine, blessed and broken, he veils himself and enters into us, all done out of pure, gratuitous love that seeks only to raise us from wherever we are to a place closer to him for all eternity.

    The degree to which we show him that we have learned these lessons is the degree to which, as St. Paul said, we have the mind of Christ.

  • Remember the Babushkas: The 19th Sunday of Ordinary Time, Cycle C

    Wisdom 18:6-9; Hebrews 11:1-2, 8-19; Luke 12:32-48

    When the Communist Party under Vladimir Lenin seized power in Russia in 1917, a brutal anti-religious campaign began. Over 100,000 clergy were shot or imprisoned, seminaries closed, religious literature banned, and atheism exalted. By 1939 only 100 churches remained open; the rest – about 60,000 – were confiscated, desecrated, and turned into everything from museums and warehouses to public bathrooms.

    Yet by 2011, a survey of religious practice showed that Russia was the most God-fearing nation in Europe, with 82% of her people believing in God. How did religious belief survive despite over 70 years of oppressive persecution? The Russian people and the Church knew the answer: The babushkas1.

    So who were they? Well, “babushka” in Russian means “grandma.” The babushkas were the elderly women who kept the flame of faith alive during those terrible years. They are a testament to the kind of faith that is spoken of in today’s readings.

    What kind of faith is that? The kind that expresses itself in prayer and action; vigilant and resilient, it finds ways to survive even the toughest conditions, like those of the ancient Jews. It was a mean, difficult existence as a Jewish slave; life was hard and only got harder when they asked for freedom. Yet they never gave in; instead, they quietly passed on the faith to their children and prayed in secret. Similarly in Russia. Life for Christians was obviously very hard; still, the babushkas never gave in. Rather, they took action at home and in public. Because Soviet mothers were forced to work, babushka stayed home with the kids and used that time to quietly teach them the faith. In public, where they were dismissed as harmless and irrelevant, the babushkas crept into the deserted, desecrated churches, lit candles, and prayed for deliverance. It didn’t happen overnight, but for both the Jews and the babushkas, the strategy paid off.

    We can learn from them for we have challenges, too. We aren’t enslaved by any foreign power, but our society has virtually enslaved itself to the relentless pursuit of pleasure, if not decadence. We aren’t suppressed by an atheistic government but we, especially our young people, do seem to be infected by a kind of spiritual apathy best summarized by a twenty-something who said to me, “I don’t care if God exists or not.”

    So these are tough times too but we can rise to the challenge; we can show that resilient and vigilant faith that Christ is looking for. Perhaps you’re a grandma or grandpa; as our congregations age we have more and more of them. Fine. Be babushka. If your own kids aren’t teaching the faith to your grandkids, then you do it. Bring them to Mass if you can. If your kids forbid it, find an indirect way. Watch movies with the grandkids that touch on spiritual themes or read them the classic books that do the same. Challenge them; get them to think about the important issues facing them. However you can, teach them the self-giving love of Christ. When all is said and done, what is more important than that?

    Equally important, none of this is going anywhere without prayer. God has the power to deliver us but he wants us to pray, to ask him for help. The Hebrew slaves prayed, the babushkas prayed, Jesus himself prayed before all of the major events of his life. So we are called to pray, to lift up our hearts to the Lord and ask for his intervention.

    We know that, but we also know that prayer isn’t easy even in the best of times. We get distracted, feel like God is far away, put off praying, or get discouraged. These only get worse when we’re going through hard times.

    hands-4051469_640The answer to all of this is given by Jesus in the gospel and can be boiled down to one word – vigilance. If you sense that you are distracted in prayer, then let that become your prayer. Say, “Lord, see how weak I am. I can’t even focus on you now when I need you the most!” In your weakness Christ will be your strength. If you feel like God is far away, remember: God doesn’t move, we do. Weak faith causes us to drift. We strengthen it with exercise, so pray more, not less; attend Mass more often; see him in Adoration. If you find yourself putting off prayer, remember Christ’s words: At an hour you do not expect, the Son of Man will come (Luke 12:40). Also, remember his reaction to finding people not doing what he asked; it did not go well for them. Finally, when you’re discouraged remember Abraham and everything he went through. In faith he left his native land, wandered homeless, and nearly lost his only son. As if that wasn’t enough, he was never allowed to actually live in the land he was promised. Those are pretty good reasons to be discouraged! Still, no matter where he was, he always built an altar and sacrificed to God. He could lose his home, his son, and the land of his inheritance, but he never lost heart; he remained faithful, prayerful, and vigilant to the end. So can we.

    The gospel closes ominously: Much will be required of the person entrusted with much, and still more will be demanded of the person entrusted with more (Luke 12:48). The question is, what have we been entrusted with? The answer is faith. What is the demand? That we live it out and pass it on. It seems hard because it is, but when all seems lost remember the babushkas. On the one side, the government and force of the Soviet Union determined to wipe out the faith; on the other a group of elderly women working and praying to preserve it. The Soviets never had a chance.

  • A Tale of Two Mountains: The Transfiguration

    Daniel 7:9-10, 13-14; 2 Peter 1:16-19; Luke 9:28b-36

    The evangelists Matthew, Mark, and Luke all write of the Transfiguration of our Lord. While they share many aspects of the event, the version from Luke we heard today is distinct in some important ways. Let us begin by briefly considering what they have in common and then see how Luke’s unique perspective deepens that.

    All three men place the Transfiguration just after Peter’s confession of Jesus as the Messiah and the announcement by our Lord of his upcoming passion. Recognizing this, the Church set the feast of the Transfiguration on August 6, exactly 40 days before the feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross. Thus, the Transfiguration must be understood in light of the paschal mystery and the recognition that Jesus is the Christ.

    With this in mind, let us consider the events of the Transfiguration the authors have in common. First, Jesus, along with Peter, James, and John ascend the mountain. Next, Jesus appears in brilliant light, accompanied by Moses and Elijah. Peter begins to speak but the Father’s voice is heard from the cloud, “This is my beloved (chosen) Son. Listen to him.” Finally, Jesus is alone with the apostles again.

    These basic facts reveal several things. First, the Transfiguration is the Father’s own confirmation of Peter’s confession that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of Man as foretold in Daniel. Note that the voice from the cloud does not speak to Jesus but to the apostles. Second, it is at the same time a visible sign of future glory and a foretaste of the beatific vision. Moses and Elijah, alive in the spirit, stand in the presence of Christ, who shines with the bright light of God. Third, it is a consolation to the apostles, who have witnessed hostility, rejection, plots against Jesus, along with no little misunderstanding and confusion on their own part. Finally, it is a sign that the law and the prophets find their ultimate meaning in Christ and therefore in love – both love of God, since Christ went to his death in obedience to the Father’s will, and love of neighbor, since his life was poured out for the many.

    jesus-3149505_640What is unique to Luke in the Transfiguration is the dimension of prayer. Only he tells us that Jesus ascended the mountain to pray. Luke properly understands it as a tale of two mountains: On the one, the unnamed mount of Transfiguration, the prayer of Jesus results in a glorious vision, he dazzling white, his face shining, his Father speaking to the apostles awakened. On the other, the mount of Gethsemane, the prayer of Jesus will end in the passion, his face sweating blood, his Father silent, and these same apostles sleeping. Luke is clear: We cannot have the glory of the Transfiguration without the suffering of the cross. In Christ, the two are inextricably bound. What’s more, this is the cost of discipleship; later in Luke Jesus will say, Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple (Luke 14:27)

    Beyond this, the context of prayer adds depth to the experience of the apostles on the mountain and informs our own. Earlier, I mentioned that the vision given to the apostles was a consolation. We too can receive consolations in prayer. Perhaps you recall a time that you have attended Mass, knelt in Adoration, or sat in quiet contemplation and suddenly had a strong if not overwhelming sense of God’s presence. No wonder Peter asked about setting up tents! Our second reading showed how deeply the vision was ingrained in him; we can feel the imagery and power of it in his words years later.

    Of course no mountaintop experience lasts forever; sooner or later we have to come down. And we will have our share of desolations as well; times we pray as Jesus did: My God, my God, why have you forsaken me (Matthew 27:46)? But always, no matter how dark the valley, we also have those most consoling words of Luke after the vision was over: Jesus was found alone (Luke 9:36).

    Who could ask for more than the Light of the World?

  • The Depths of Discipleship: 13th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle C

    1 Kings 19:16b, 19-21; Galatians 5:1, 13-18; Luke 9:51-62

    St. Thomas More once said, perhaps in paraphrase of St. Augustine, that Scripture is shallow enough for a mouse to wade and deep enough for an elephant to drown. Today’s first reading is a perfect case in point, for it tells us of the call of the prophet Elisha in a story that anyone can understand yet at the same time touches depths of discipleship.

    First, there is an element of the unexpected to the call. In the ordinariness of a working day Elisha suddenly finds himself in the midst of the extraordinary. One moment he is plowing a field, the next he is being cloaked in the mantle of Elijah. To this day God touches people in the ordinary moments of life. He may speak through Scripture, a homily, a prayer, a song; the Spirit may inspire someone to approach you and directly ask you to consider a certain ministry or calling. All of these are examples of God reaching out to us in ways or at times that may surprise us.

    We shouldn’t be surprised. Elisha wasn’t; raised in the faith, he knew that God calls who He wills when He wills and for His own purposes. Elisha didn’t know how he was a part of the divine plan but he was open to being whatever was necessary. That is a lesson for us and is underscored by St. Paul when he urges us to be guided by the Spirit (Galatians 5:18). We don’t know God’s ultimate plan but we do know His infinite love and mercy. In that love He asks not for our understanding, only that we be open to doing His will. This takes the faithfulness and trust of a saint. We aren’t born saints but we become them by using the grace of God to conform our will to His as an act of faith, purely out of love for Him and our neighbor.

    This isn’t easy; life-changing transformations rarely are. Things tend to get in the way and Elisha had two: Wealth and power. Few people of his time had enough money to own land and twelve oxen, yet Elisha did. Because he was landed and had money he would also have been a man of some power and influence. Following Elijah meant giving all that up. Yet that is exactly what he did; he slaughtered his oxen, burned his farm equipment to roast them for the people, and left to become Elijah’s attendant. Money and influence can be hard to let go of but if they keep us from doing God’s will then they’re no more than chains. Breaking their hold is what St. Paul meant when he said that we are called for freedom (Galatians 5:13).

    toro-2047495_640This is the freedom that changes not only our own life but the lives of others as well. Consider how Elisha’s freedom to follow Elijah affected the lives of others. What would have become of all the people Elisha touched in his ministry had he refused the call and simply kept on plowing? In our own time, think about how the choices we make affect the lives of others. Where would the moral development of our children be if we chose to ignore what God has taught us? What would our relationships look like if we ignored St. Paul’s exhortation to serve one another through love (Galatians 5:13)? God’s call changes all of us no matter how we choose. If we accept it we grow closer to Him and bring others closer to Him as well; if we refuse or ignore it we distance ourselves and may well keep others from Him. The choice is ours.

    Finally, the commitment to follow our Lord is all-encompassing; a total gift of heart, mind, and soul. Elisha didn’t agree to a term of service or to give God part of his time; he gave himself totally and unreservedly. In the gospel Jesus added an urgency to that; when a man told Jesus that he would follow after burying his father – a very pious deed – we heard Jesus reply, Let the dead bury their dead. But you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God (Luke 9:60). Although we believe that he is referring to those who are spiritually dead – that is, dead in sin (Ephesians 2:1,5) – Jesus nevertheless reminds us that the call is from God and God’s will takes precedence over everything.

    Such total commitment demands not only great faith but also great love. We might look at our faith life and think “I love God but do I really have to do all that? OK, so I’m not always faithful; what’s the big deal?” If so, I invite you to try something. Imagine you’re at a wedding. When the groom is asked, Do you promise to be faithful to her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love her and to honor her all the days of your life? he replies, “I love her but do I really have to do all that? So I’m not always faithful; what’s the big deal?” I think most of us would agree that his answer is a non-starter. Marriage, Holy Orders: These sacraments aren’t service contracts, they’re covenants; total gifts of self and nothing less.

    This is not to say that total faithfulness will guarantee success. We are human, we fall. Even our best efforts may still get rejected. But like the town in Samaria that rejected Jesus, the proper response isn’t to call down fire from heaven but to keep moving, keep serving, keep in mind that Christ loved and forgave his persecutors even from the cross.

    This is the depth of discipleship: to have nowhere but Christ to lay our head, to call down on cold hearts only the fire of the Holy Spirit, to bury in ourselves any spiritual indifference, and to never look behind at what might have been, for Christ has called us to keep going, keep trying to bring ourselves and anyone who is willing, closer and closer to Him.

  • True Charisma – The Feast of the Visitation

    Romans 12:9-16; Luke 1:39-56

    They call it stage presence in the theatre; in movies, star quality. We may know it as charisma, or perhaps in French as je ne sais quoi. By whatever name, it is that “certain something” that some people seem to be born with and others long to acquire, that ability to command attention from the moment they step into the scene. Today, as we meditate on the scene in Sacred Scripture we call the Visitation, we see that even from the womb our Blessed Lord has the ability to make his presence felt.

    Of course, the first to feel the presence of Christ is Mary, his mother. Paul reminded us in the first reading that we are to let love be sincere… to love one another with mutual affection; anticipate one another in showing honor (Romans 12:9-10). Soon after learning that she is pregnant with the Son of God, Mary goes “in haste” to visit Elizabeth, pregnant with His forerunner. The most sincere love, the deepest honor Mary could show, was to bring her the very presence of Christ. This is what mission in the Church has always been: the desire to bring Christ to people and allow Him to move them in His own inscrutable ways.

    John is the first to be moved, and that literally. Research shows that infants of his age in the womb hear and react to all kinds of sounds around them. For John, already gifted with great sensitivity to the divine presence, the mere sound of Mary’s voice was enough to animate him and send him into ecstasy. From the moment he was filled with the Holy Spirit, John became the epitome of St. Paul’s words, Do not grow slack in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord (Romans 12:11). John would serve Christ to the death.

    Mary’s greeting also moved Elizabeth. When St. Paul said, Rejoice in hope, endure in affliction, persevere in prayer (Romans 12:12), it almost seems as if he was thinking of her. For many years Elizabeth endured the affliction of barrenness; nevertheless, as a righteous daughter of Aaron she also persevered in prayer (Luke 1:5-7). Now, she reaped the reward of rejoicing in the presence of Christ who is Hope and filled with the Holy Spirit was privileged to be the first to call Mary the Mother of our Lord (Luke 1:43).

    virgin-mary-2234532_640The first reading closes with this exhortation from St. Paul: Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Have the same regard for one another; do not be haughty but associate with the lowly; do not be wise in your own estimation (Romans 12:15-16). What better or more fitting words are there to describe her whose very soul rejoices in God, her Savior? In the fullness of the grace bestowed on her as a singular gift of God and there visiting Elizabeth and pregnant with the Christ-child, Mary is the very answer to the question Nathanael would ask, “Can anything good come from Nazareth (John 1:46)?” Anything good, indeed! Only she, who by her fiat consented to bring the world Goodness itself; she, not wise in the world’s estimation yet wise enough to leave us with the best advice a mother could tell her children, Do whatever he tells you (John 2:5).

  • The Bonfire of the Vanities: Memorial of St. Bernardine of Siena, Priest

    Acts 4:8-12; Luke 9:57-62

    What is it that people will run into a burning building to save, apart from their loved ones? Scrapbooks, photographs, keepsakes, and family heirlooms. Over time these personal items acquire an almost sacred aspect; losing them is like losing a part of ourselves.

    Today’s saint, Bernardine of Siena, looked out on the landscape of 15th century Italy and saw something much worse than buildings on fire. He looked into the smoldering ashes of the peoples’ spiritual lives and saw the deadly smoke of fires that rage in the human heart: avarice, selfishness, and sloth. The people burned with desire for worldly possessions, were inflamed with hatred for each other, and had all but abandoned any semblance of religious piety. Even many in the clergy had become lax and neglectful in their practice of the faith.

    These were the parts of themselves that Father Bernardine wanted to see lost in the flames of desire for Christ. Burning with love for them and for his Savior, he traveled across the Italian peninsula laying spiritual siege to every town he could. Father would stay as many days as he thought necessary, said Mass every morning in the town square, and preached tirelessly about the vices he detected in that place. Even though Father was known to have a weak, hoarse voice, when preaching a change came over him; filled with the Holy Spirit, his voice was sonorous, clear, and powerful. In a short time, he became famous his eloquence, forcefulness, wittiness, and piety.

    fire-227291_640What’s more, Father’s homilies worked like a match to dry kindling – almost literally. Their consciences convicted, the people built bonfires and threw into the blaze any vain or worldly things they owned that kept them away from God. These fires become known as the “bonfires of the vanities” in every town that welcomed the humble yet fiery preacher, Father Bernardine of Siena.

    Vanity was not unknown in the time of Jesus any more than it was in 15th century Italy or is now, for that matter. In the gospel we hear people tell Jesus why they can’t follow him; something is holding them back. This reluctance is redolent of the sinfulness in our own lives. Like the people of Christ’s time, there are earthly ties that bind; we may feel ourselves willing but unable to let go of that keepsake, the sin we just cannot seem to break. Nevertheless, Christ has made it clear; following him requires that we allow the reigns of this world to loosen and fall from around us. Let us ask the intercession of St. Bernardine of Siena, who inspired the people of Italy to throw what bound them into the fire, that the Holy Spirit may embolden us to do likewise; to cast every sinful part of ourselves in that eternal bonfire of the vanities: the flames of His infinite, merciful love.

  • Apostle by Destiny: Feast of St. Matthias

    Acts 1:15-17, 20-26; John 15:9-17

    The list of the Apostles given in Matthew, Mark, and Luke do not agree in every detail; one or two of the less familiar names differ by evangelist and, just to complicate matters, Matthew’s list differs depending on which ancient manuscript of Matthew you’re looking at. Naturally these differences have led to confusion and disagreement about exactly who was who. Regardless, everyone agrees about one thing – the name Matthias does not appear in any gospel list of the Twelve.

    However, Peter makes two things clear in today’s reading from Acts. First, he recognizes that Christ chose twelve as a structural number; that is, it was the office that mattered, not the name of the man who filled it. This is why he says in reference to Judas, May another take his office (Psalm 109:8). Second, Peter understands that while men may not have foreseen the need for apostolic succession to that office, God did. By Peter’s reckoning two men, Justus and Matthias, were prepared; as he said, they had accompanied the Apostles the whole time the Lord Jesus came and went among us, beginning from the baptism of John until the day on which he was taken up (Acts 1:21-22).

    Therefore, although only one man was needed to fill the vacancy left by Judas, preparation for the call to apostleship for both men had begun long ago. The same is true for everyone called to any vocation that builds up the Kingdom of God. No man suddenly becomes a deacon, priest, or bishop on the day of ordination; no man or woman is instantly transformed into a spouse, whether of another person or of Christ, merely by speaking vows. Graces are given at those moments and at ordination a man’s state is changed and all the privileges of the office accorded; however, the call to follow that vocation and the discipline needed to prepare for it come well before the administration of any Sacrament (or Consecration prayer).

    What’s more, the whole process is initiated by Christ. We may be tempted to think that we choose a particular vocation and to a degree that is true for we have free will. However, remember the words of the prophet Isaiah: Before birth the LORD called me, from my mother’s womb he gave me my name (Isaiah 49:1) as well as those of Jesus in the gospel: It was not you who chose me, but I who chose you (John 15:16a). If we have truly committed ourselves to follow Christ then, although the steps toward our destiny are our own, the path is lighted by Christ, discerned in union with the Holy Spirit, and freely offered out of love for and in union with the will of the Father.

    fishing-164977_640With this in mind, we can say that Matthias freely chose to follow Christ who first chose him, called him from his mother’s womb, and gave him the name, “Apostle.” That Matthias was chosen for that office by lot was nothing more or less than confirmation that the journey begun from shore had now moved out into the deeper water that he had already been called to and prepared for.

    That we never hear about Matthias in Scripture again is neither surprising nor important. It is the same with most of the other Apostles. Remember why Christ chose Apostles to begin with: to go and bear fruit that will remain (John 15:16b). Somewhere, a line of bishops remains to this day that traces its origin to St. Matthias and continues to bear fruit for love of him who first called them to that glorious destiny – our Lord Jesus Christ.

    St. Matthias, pray for us.

  • The Power of the Passion: Palm Sunday, Cycle C

    Reading: Luke 22:14-23:56

    Today we hear Luke’s version of the passion and death of our Lord Jesus Christ. Like all great dramas it is most effective when we place ourselves in it; see it through the eyes of those on the inside. As we do so we find such a rich array of characters that we cannot help but ask ourselves which ones we most resemble.

    There are those who fall: the Apostles, who argue at the Last Supper about which of them is the greatest; Judas, the follower turned betrayer; Peter, the follower who denies even knowing Jesus; Herod, anxious only to see Him perform a sign; Pilate, whose resolve over Our Lord’s innocence weakens under pressure; the crowd, who stand by and watch silently as others abuse Him; the thief who reviles and bullies Him.

    But there is also virtue: Simon the Cyrenian, who carries the cross on behalf of the struggling Christ; the women of Jerusalem who weep in mourning; the thief who recognizes that Jesus has done nothing wrong and begs to be with Him in eternity; the crowd who regret their actions; the centurion who proclaims His innocence; and Joseph of Arimathea, who provides for Him to the end and beyond.

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    What makes the Passion of Our Lord so powerful is not only that it is the story of our Redeemer, although it certainly is that; it is also the story of us, the redeemed. We don’t have to imagine ourselves as characters in the drama; we already are those people. As flesh and spirit, virtue and vice, it is we who in one breath swear to follow Christ, to bear the cross, to proclaim His innocence, and to beg Him for salvation, only in the next breath to deny even knowing Him, shout to crucify Him, and bully Him into doing things our way.

    We might think that the struggle between virtue and vice is what makes us human; yet throughout the Passion, Jesus shows us what being fully human really means. As Pope St. John Paul said in his encyclical Redemptor Hominis, Jesus Christ the Redeemer “fully reveals man to himself.” Consider His words to the arguing Apostles, let the greatest among you be as the youngest, and the leader as the servant (Luke 22:26); to Peter, once you have turned back, you must strengthen your brothers (Luke 22:32); to the jeering crowd, Father, forgive them, they know not what they do (Luke 23:34); and to the repentant thief, today you will be with me in Paradise (Luke 23:43). In Christ do we find our proper point of reflection. Being most fully human is not measured by how much we are like the people around Jesus, but how much we are like Jesus to the people around us.

    Today we leave the story unfinished, with Jesus buried in the tomb. This is fitting; it reminds us that if we are truly like Christ, we were indeed buried with him through baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live in newness of life (Romans 6:4).