Mark 10:45

Tag: Sacrifice

  • Sent: Monday of the 28th Week in Ordinary Time

    Romans 1:1-7; Luke 11:29-32

    One day at a high school for wealthy children in India, a teacher happened to wander outside the school’s gates. In the poverty and misery that surrounded her, this young nun saw and heard something greater than the wisdom of Solomon. Saint Teresa of Calcutta spent the rest of her life serving the poorest of the poor in the gutters and slums of India and the world.

    In another part of the world, a young Frenchman rejected the faith of his family and indulged in a carefree life of luxury. After squandering a huge inheritance he entered the military, who threw him out. His second attempt at military service drew him into contact with the people of the Sahara; in their poverty and solitude, this man saw something greater than the Temple. He went home, rediscovered his faith, became a priest, and returned to Africa. Blessed Charles de Foucauld spent the rest of his life ministering to the Muslims of the desert.

    It would be hard to find two people more different at the outset, yet how similar they became. One a hedonistic playboy looking out only for himself; the other a consecrated religious doing what she thought God wanted her to do. Both were called by Christ to a life they would have never imagined and in the end would never relinquish. Their responses transformed them and transformed the world.

    Their destiny points to the choice that Jesus lays before us. Either we can be part of the “evil generation” that demands the certainty of miraculous signs and rejects the certitude of faith, or we can use our God-given faith given to discern the only sign that matters. Jesus called it the sign of Jonah, but in reality it is his own true presence, for he is the Temple not made with hands; he is Wisdom itself.

    passion-3807312_640This is what the saints and the blessed have discovered. The greatest good in life is to see and serve Christ; that is what gives our life its ultimate meaning. However, we will never be able to do that until we see Christ in each other and become Christ for each other. St. Paul knew this; that is how he could write that the grace of apostleship is found in the obedience of faith. By faith we believe that God loves everyone and that we are to love as God loves, but it also teaches that the people who we think are least deserving of our love are the ones most worthy of it. Thus, obedience to the faith means that as apostles we are sent to be Christ and to find Christ in everyone, even those we find hardest to serve. Only grace can provide the humility and openness to vulnerability that can empower us to do the work for which we have been sent.

    That brings us to the final point. Where have we been sent and who are we to serve? Consider this thought from Blessed Charles de Foucauld:

    It is not necessary to teach others, to cure them or to improve them; it is only necessary to live among them, sharing the human condition and being present to them in love.

    Put that in the context of this thought from Saint Teresa:

    It is easy to love the people far away. It is not always easy to love those close to us. It is easier to give a cup of rice to relieve hunger than to relieve the loneliness and pain of someone unloved in our home. Bring love into your home for this is where our love for each other must start.

    So, you are the apostle to your home, to your parish, and to your community. See Christ in them; love Christ in them; serve Christ in them.

  • The Hope of Happiness: Saturday of the 27th Week in Ordinary Time

    Joel 4:12-21; Luke 11:27-28

    In the reading from the prophet Joel, God vanquishes the enemies of Judah and the land produces in overflowing abundance. As the earlier chapters of this book make clear, a famine brought on by a plague of locusts had ravaged the land, both city and countryside. The images offered by Joel of a conquering, provident God were a hope-filled reflection of this suffering people’s desire to know that God was dwelling among them; in other words, this is how they wanted their prayers answered, in security and abundance.

    We are not so different from them. In our own prayers we ask God to do things like conquer our foes, provide abundant harvests, heal us or those we love. We speak of our prayers being answered and we give thanks to God when the enemy is gone, the harvest is good, and we or someone for whom we have prayed does in fact recover.

    On one level, there is nothing wrong with that. God does keep us secure; does provide for us; does heal. For this, we can and must give thanks.

    There is a deeper level though, and Jesus points us toward it in today’s gospel. When a woman blessed the womb that bore him and the breasts that nursed him, Jesus replied that Mary was blessed because, as his first disciple, she heard the word of God and did it. As St. Augustine said, Mary conceived in her heart before she conceived in her womb.

    This is the deeper level on which Jesus focuses our attention. Although we can pray that things go the way we want them to, the most fruitful prayer is that our will be aligned to the will of God. This was Mary’s prayer when she said, May it be done to me according to your word (Luke 1:38); it was Christ’s prayer when he said not my will but yours be done (Luke 22:42b). This doesn’t mean that we are happy if and when catastrophe strikes, but it does mean that we hear the word of God and do it, keeping in mind that he has also said, I know well the plans I have in mind for you … plans for your welfare and not for woe, so as to give you a future of hope (Jeremiah 29:11).

    maria-100112_1280As the Catechism teaches, hope is “the theological 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” (CCC 1817). Joel pointed toward Christ our hope when he spoke of the spring that will rise from the house of the LORD (Joel 4:18b). This is the hope of life that springs eternal; the happiness to which Mary was united at the end of her earthly life; the hope of happiness that we desire. May we unite our wills to the will of God as she did, and may it be done to us according to his Word.

  • Increase Our Faith: 27th Sunday in Ordinary Time

    Habakkuk 1:2-3; 2:2-4; 2 Timothy 1:6-8, 13-14; Luke 17:5-10

    People sometimes speak as though there are saints and then there is everybody else. I know; I’ve done it. Somebody says, “You know, you’re a good person,” and I reply, “Well, thanks, but I’m no saint.” We might begin to think that saints are people of superhuman faith who go around rebuilding the Church, baptizing thousands, levitating, going into ecstasy, healing the sick, and finally converting thousands through their own martyrdom.

    And although many people have done exactly those things, the readings today remind us that saints are ordinary people who know what it means to have their faith tested; to get frustrated, to need encouragement, and even to ask God for an increase in faith. We just heard the prophet Habakkuk cry out to God, clearly frustrated and bewildered because God had not put an end to the violence and misery all around. We should be able to sympathize with him; we pray week after week, year after year for an end to violence in the world, yet it continues. Why doesn’t God stop it? Next, the Apostle Paul tells Timothy to stir into flame the grace of his ordination, for he’s going to face his share of hardship. Don’t we too know how it feels to face hardship yet still be asked to keep on giving? Then in the gospel the apostles ask our Lord to increase their faith and little wonder, for Jesus had just told them that if your brother wrongs you seven times in one day and returns to you seven times saying, ‘I am sorry,’ you should forgive him (Luke 17:4). I don’t know about you but on a bad day forgiving the same offense even twice can be a struggle; seven times is going to take some real moral fiber.

    But the readings don’t stop there; they also show God’s responses. Habakkuk is told that fulfillment will come and it won’t disappoint; have faith and wait. In other words, be patient and don’t lose hope. As hardship looms, Paul says to Timothy: Take as your norm the sound words that you heard from me, in the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus (2 Timothy 1:13). That is, hold on to what you’ve been taught; Christ gave us the plan and he is our strength. Finally, Jesus talks about strength in two ways. First, he speaks of faith as powerful enough to uproot a mulberry tree. As the Apostles knew, that’s a lot of power. Mulberry trees are hard to pull; their roots are thick, wide and dense. Second, he talks about a servant who labors outside all day but still must serve when he comes inside. He’s talking about the power of fidelity to our call. Jesus reminds us that servants don’t stop being servants depending on where they are or what time it is. When I was ordained, Christ didn’t tell me that I’m a servant only when I’m wearing my vestments; I am called to serve God’s people, period. Similarly for you; all of us who are baptized in Christ receive a new garment; we put on Christ and we can’t just take him off. We are servants of God and each other; our attitudes and our behavior are to reflect that every hour of the day, every day of the week.

    This story of the servant is only found in the gospel of Luke and I think there is a good reason for that. Luke sees Jesus as that servant. Consider: The servant worked in the field, plowing or tending sheep. Jesus did both; he spent his entire ministry planting the seed of the gospel until the harvest was abundant (Luke 10:2) and called himself the Good Shepherd (John 10:11). Then when Jesus “went in” for dinner for the last time with his disciples, he remained a servant, washing the apostles’ feet (John 13:5). As the servant provided the dinner for his master, so at the Last Supper Jesus instituted the Eucharist, feeding his apostles the bread of life (Luke 22:19). Finally, as the servant said that he had done what he was obliged to do, so the Good Thief looked at the dying Jesus and said, this man has done nothing wrong (Luke 23:41, RSV). Then after his resurrection he walked with two disciples, opening the Scriptures until they felt their hearts burn within them. Finally, the flame of the Spirit was poured upon the apostles (Acts 2:3), strengthening them to proclaim the gospel in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth (Acts 1:8).

    cropped-awake-o-sleeper-graphicThis is the strength that has inspired the saints throughout the centuries. Every saint knows what it means to wonder as Habakkuk wondered how and when God will fulfill his promises, but they also know what it means to offer themselves as the instruments through which that promise is fulfilled. Every saint knows what it means to face hardship or to be with others as they face them, but like Timothy and Paul they also know what it means to possess the grace to endure and to support others who need to endure. Finally, every saint knows what it means to feel as if their own faith is inadequate to uproot their mulberry tree full of weaknesses. But they also know what it means to surrender themselves totally to the power of the One who nailed those weaknesses to his own tree and cast them once and for all into the ocean of his infinite mercy.

    This is the consolation that speaks in the silence of God’s replies to every prayer. What makes a saint is not that they understand the mind or the providence of God but that they never allow their incomprehension, frustration, or anger overwhelm the great promise of the cross; that faith overcomes and will always triumph over fear. Thus could Augustine rightly say that every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future.

  • To the Land of the Rising Sun: St. Lorenzo Ruiz

    Zechariah 8:1-8; Luke 9:46-50

    The readings from Zechariah and Luke may not be a study in contrasts, but they certainly point in different directions. On the one hand, the reading from the prophet Zechariah paints an ideal picture. Jerusalem is restored and at peace; the elderly sit and watch as children play in her streets; God dwells among his people. The gospel, on the other hand, presents us with a different picture; it hints at pride and mistrust among the Apostles; first they dispute who is the greatest in the kingdom, then they attempt to stop the good work done by an outsider in the name of Christ.

    Light can be shed on these contrasting images as we contemplate the life and example of a saint whose memorial we celebrate today. San Lorenzo Ruiz was born around the year 1600 in the Philippines. Raised as a good, practicing Catholic, he married, fathered three children, and worked as a gifted calligrapher. His life was forever altered when, under mysterious and murky circumstances, he was falsely accused of murder. Forced to flee his native country, he learned of a Dominican mission to the Orient and volunteered to serve. During the voyage, Lorenzo learned that the destination was the country of Japan.

    Let us reflect for a moment on a verse from the prophet Zechariah: Lo, I will rescue my people from the land of the rising sun (Zechariah 8:7). Speaking through the prophet, God revealed his plan to rescue Israel from the kingdom of Persia, which was known as the land of the rising sun. A thousand years later in the time of San Lorenzo, the missionaries planned to continue evangelizing in the islands of Japan, known then (and now) as the land of the rising sun.

    They knew there would be trouble. To the Japanese authorities, the missionaries were unwelcome outsiders who were to be brutally put down. Soon after landing, they were captured, imprisoned, and tortured. It is said that when his captors asked if he would renounce his faith to save his life, San Lorenzo responded, “I am a Christian and I shall die for God, and for him I would give many thousands of lives if I had them.” He was martyred not long after this.

    Lo, I will rescue my people from the land of the rising sun. These consoling words spoken by God through Zechariah were also spoken by God through the lives of San Lorenzo Ruiz and his companions who brought the gospel to the land of the rising sun. While there were those who preferred the darkness enough to kill the light-bearers, they could not kill the light, for Christ is the light that the darkness cannot overcome.

    We should not speak of the darkness as if it were always outside ourselves; the Apostles’ behavior shows that darkness exists inside as well. Our own sinfulness works against our efforts to live and preach the gospel. Regardless, the example of San Lorenzo Ruiz demonstrates that when we resolve to put our faith in God’s ability to work in us, through us, and despite us, we will be successful.

    good-morning-695024_640As Christ commissioned San Lorenzo and his companions, so he commissions us. We are the light of the world; not the light of the rising sun but the light of the risen Son.

    San Lorenzo Ruiz, pray for us.

  • The Artist: Feast of St. Matthew

    Ephesians 4:1-7, 11-13; Matthew 9:9-13

    Perhaps the most popular way to contemplate a bible story such as the call of St. Matthew is to imagine ourselves actually in the ancient setting as one of the characters. We see Jesus in that time and place and playing a role in the drama, say Matthew, we contemplate our own reaction to the call to follow Him.

    But there is another way, and that was the one chosen by the 16th century Italian artist Caravaggio. Commissioned to paint an interpretation of the call of St. Matthew, the young artist chose not to portray the scene in its biblical setting. Rather, he set the scene in his own time, moving it from a customs post to a Roman pub. If you’ve never seen the painting, imagine: A giant canvas, mostly dark; to the left, five men in modern clothing clustered around a table in a dimly lit, sparsely furnished room. They could be gamblers; it’s hard to tell. To the right, our Lord and St. Peter in ancient garb have just entered. The only light emanates from behind Christ and illuminates the men in the room. Christ beckons toward them with a gesture reminiscent of the famous Sistine Chapel image of God creating Adam. It’s difficult to tell exactly who He beckons toward. The two men closest to Him appear either annoyed or indifferent. The man in the middle, who may be Matthew, appears shocked and points perhaps at himself, perhaps at the man next to him as if to say, “Me or him?” Finally, the two men furthest away pay no attention either to the light or to Christ; their eyes are fixed on the money.

    The painting, which hangs in a chapel of the church of San Luigi dei Francesi in Rome, shocked the people of its time who were used to sacred art that showed Jesus in the places and with the people of biblical times. By bringing Him to the modern day, Caravaggio reminded them that Jesus is with all of us; He is not confined to any particular time. Gospel verses such as Jesus passed by (Matthew 9:9) are reminders that Jesus is always passing by: He is the child wasting away in a 3rd world country, the immigrant family at the border, the Alzheimer’s patient in the nursing home; the person next to us in the pew; the one looking at us in the mirror.

    Further, Jesus isn’t calling only Matthew. Where Caravaggio was ambiguous let us be clear; Jesus is calling all of us. No matter who we are or how deeply invested in Him we think we already are, Jesus is always calling us into a deeper, more intimate relationship. We speak of a ‘call’ but in reality it’s a challenge; we must ask ourselves if and how we are like those men in the painting. We may be annoyed, thinking that we’ve done enough; we may be indifferent, we’ve stopped caring. Like the man in the middle, we may be astonished, perhaps hoping that Jesus is asking someone else. Or we may be paying no attention at all, too occupied with what we think is important.

    A detail in Caravaggio’s painting should be pointed out. Although Jesus is beckoning toward the table, His feet are facing the exit. Jesus asks us to follow Him but He doesn’t wait. He is on a mission; there are places to go, people to see. The choice is ours. We can get up and follow as Matthew did or we can put it off, wait for a better time. Keep in mind though, that Jesus Himself chose that moment. He has a purpose, a plan, and it includes us. He may demand much but his generosity is never outdone.

    art-2755500_1920St. Paul reminds us of this when he says that grace is given to each according to the measure of Christ’s gift (Ephesians 4:11). His measure to Matthew was enough to transform him from a mere money-counter into an artist; indeed the artist who gave us the first portrait of Jesus in our New Testament. His medium wasn’t oil on canvas but words on paper, his subject not simply the man named Jesus but the Son of God and Son of Mary, the prophesied Emmanuel, “God is with us.” His palette held the many colors of Christ: teacher, healer, wonder-worker, Shepherd, Savior. He boldly painted all these images against a dark background for Jesus had come not into a roomful of Roman gamblers but into a land whose people were overshadowed by the darkness of sin and death. Where Caravaggio showed the light coming from behind Christ, Matthew knew that for all times and places Christ is the light – not the light who shines but the light who has arisen (Matthew 4:16). The long night of waiting, hoping, and wondering was over; the bright promise of salvation had dawned in Jesus, the Morning Star who never sets. This is why the great artist put the final brushstroke to his masterpiece in the words of our risen, ascending Master: And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age (Matthew 28:20).

    St. Matthew, pray for us.

  • Mother, Sister, and Brother: Sts. Andrew Kim Tae-gŏn, Priest, and Paul Chŏng Ha-sang, and Companions, Martyrs

    Proverbs 21:1-6, 10-13; Luke 8:19-21

    The first in the series of proverbs we read today says, Like a stream is the king’s heart in the hand of the LORD; wherever it pleases him, he directs it. In 1777, the river of mercy that is the heart of Christ the King began trickling into Korea. While visiting China, a small group of aristocrats happened upon some Jesuit literature. They brought it home and as they studied it, God worked his way through their minds and into their hearts.

    The second proverb says, All the ways of a man may be right in his own eyes, but it is the LORD who proves hearts. The Lord took twelve years to prove the hearts of the Korean faithful. In 1789, a Chinese priest stole into Korea on a mission to introduce the people to the Gospel. Imagine his surprise when he discovered an underground Church of 4000 Catholics, none of whom had ever seen a priest.

    The third proverb says To do what is right and just is more acceptable to the LORD than sacrifice. These people, hungry and waiting for Christ, did what was right: They read Scripture and evangelized. When the missionary came and provided what they craved – a taste of the sweetness of the Lord in the Sacraments – they flourished. In just 7 years, 6000 more Koreans were baptized.

    The fourth proverb warns us that Haughty eyes and a proud heart – the tillage of the wicked is sin. If the Korean ruling class was anything, it was proud. The God of the Christians had the audacity to see everyone as equal. Their haughty eyes could not envision a world where elites, workers and slaves could be friends. By 1801 a vicious persecution began; it would last for the next 65 years.

    The fifth proverb says that The plans of the diligent are sure of profit, but all rash haste leads certainly to poverty. Diligent well describes the young Korean boy Kim Taegon who at age 15 embarked on his plan to become a priest. He traveled 1300 miles to attend a seminary in China and was ordained the first Korean-born priest. He returned home and set about the task of smuggling more clergy into Korea but was arrested while doing so. He was executed at the age of 26. Father Taegon was far from alone; in all, the persecution took the lives of 10,000 people; fully half of the Korean Church.

    The Church was diminished, but not impoverished; that would be the fate of the Korean dynasty. The sixth proverb teaches that Whoever makes a fortune by a lying tongue is chasing a bubble over deadly snares. The lying tongues of the despots who reaped profits off the backs of others finally saw their bubble burst; by 1900, the dynasty was eliminated. At long last, the cries of those who had shut their ears to the cries of the poor were, as the last proverb says, not heard themselves.

    Meanwhile, the Church grew. In 1950, the site of the executions of Father Kim Taegon and over a hundred of his colleagues was declared a shrine; in 1984, they were canonized by Pope St. John Paul II in the church built nearby.

    jesus-christ-2516515_640.jpgThe example of the Korean Church and her martyrs teaches us that every heart open to God and acting on his word becomes a mother, sister, and brother to Christ. Even though we may not have the power of Orders, we do have Christ in the Scriptures and the power of the Holy Spirit through our baptism. We too can evangelize. If you don’t know where to begin, consider: Religious education programs can always use help teaching children the faith; there is a bible study nearby that would teach you more about Christ; there are many ministries that reach out to the hungry, the poor, and the mourning. Be docile to the promptings of the Holy Spirit; He will show you ways to bring Christ to someone in need.

    We began with the proverb of the king. Let us close with the prayer that one day, the King of Kings will look at us and say, Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me (Matthew 25:40).

  • In This Sign, Victory: Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross

    Philippians 2:6-11

    In the early 4th century, the Roman world hovered on the brink of civil war. Constantine, fighting for control of the empire, looked into the ancient sky and to his amazement saw emblazoned the cross of Christ along with the words in hoc signo vinces, “In this sign, victory.” This became the insignia of Constantine’s army, who went on to secure the empire for him by crushing his rival Maxentius at the battle of the Milvian bridge.

    Contrast that to a time centuries later when, during the Second World War, a Nazi official attending a dinner party remarked that he much preferred the ancient pagan gods to the God of the Christians. To him, true godhood was found in the image of the commanding, conquering Zeus; not the suffering, crucified Christ.

    It seems that such disparate views remain to this day. On the one hand, the cross is arguably the most popular icon of Christianity; its silhouette dots our landscape, adorns our homes. We enshrine it in jewelry and even trace its outline our bodies. On the other hand the cross conjures up images of humiliation, rejection, suffering, and failure. We use it as a put-down, calling people or things a cross; we complain of the crosses we bear; we pray that they are taken away.

    It is a mistake to see these views as opposed; they are in fact two sides of the same coin. On this feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, let us contemplate more deeply what the cross signifies.

    First, the cross is a sign of obedience. As we read in Philippians, Jesus Christ was glorified, but only by emptying himself, taking the form of a slave, and humbly accepting even death on a cross. Thus, the cross is a sign of defeat, but it is the defeat of self-will through obedience to the will of God; it is the triumph of Christ-like selflessness.

    Second, the cross is a sign of love. In fact, the cross combines the greatest commandment – to love the Lord God with our whole heart, soul, and mind and our neighbor as ourselves – with the greatest love – to lay down our lives for one another. The suffering is obvious; a love so deep requires that we die to ourselves. Yet the triumph is equally obvious: this love is deeper than death and unites us with the Trinity, who is Love itself.

    jesus-3149505_640Finally, the cross is a sign of victory. It is the apparent irony seen throughout salvation history that God works for good by turning evil upon itself. It was Pharaoh who pronounced the curse by which his own people would most suffer: the death of every firstborn. In the desert it was the emblem of the serpent, reminiscent of the one whose envy brought death into the world, that would be lifted up on a tree as a sign of healing and life. It was Caiaphas, plotting to have Jesus executed, who unwittingly prophesied that it was better for one man to die than for the whole nation to perish. It was the Roman governor Pilate who first asked “What is truth?” and then went on to write the truth fixed to the top of the cross: Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews. Ultimately it was those in power, both nation and empire, who lifted Jesus up on the most humiliating instrument of death only to watch helplessly as he transformed it into the instrument through which death itself would die and by which the truly repentant would, like the Good Thief, receive the gift of eternal life with God.

    In hoc signo vinces; in this sign, victory. We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.

  • 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.”

  • 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.

  • We Have Met the Enemy: Monday of the 18th Week in Ordinary Time

    Numbers 11:4b-15; Matthew 14:13-21

    On September 10, 1813, after defeating the British on Lake Erie during the War of 1812, Commodore Oliver Perry famously said, “We have met the enemy and they are ours.” A century and a half later, the cartoonist Walt Kelly made a different point when he changed this to “We have met the enemy, and he is us.”

    We in the Church tend to be our own worst enemy. In fact, we have centuries of experience at it. Take for example the scene we just read from the book of Numbers. First the people reminisce about the “good old days” in Egypt when they had plenty to eat, somehow forgetting the fact that starving people make poor slaves. These same people then complain about being famished and at the same time complain about the manna they are freely being fed by the hand of God. The irony isn’t lost on Moses, who is so angered by the whining that he actually prays to die rather than lead these ingrates another step of the way. If that isn’t a house divided then nothing is.

    We see a second, more subtle example in the gospel reading from St. Matthew. Jesus hears of the death of John the Baptist and seeks time away from the crowds, perhaps to mourn the loss. Is he allowed to? Absolutely not; the people follow right behind wanting more healing, more miracles which, in his infinite mercy, Jesus does. However, the disciples don’t appear angry but do seem to have had enough; they try to talk Jesus into sending the crowd away. After all, the people got what they wanted; now it’s late and they need to go. Again, a house divided.

    It would be easy to dismiss this divisiveness as examples of what people only do under pressure, but that isn’t true. Time and again, history shows that when the world isn’t attacking the Church, the Church is attacking herself. We see it in every parish; we see it in ourselves. Perhaps these lines sound familiar: “What a boring homily”; “That musician is terrible”; “If I ever work on this committee with so-and-so again, I swear I’ll quit”; or “If they don’t like the way we do things around here, then maybe they should go somewhere else!”

    That isn’t the way of Christ and it isn’t the way of his Church. Our business isn’t to get people out, it’s to bring them in; not to tear them down, but to build them up; and not to get fed up with them, but to get them fed.

    The root of the problem is our passion and our pride. It was in his frustration that Moses cried, “I cannot carry all these people by myself, for they are too heavy for me.” God never demanded this. It was the enemy within telling him that he alone must carry the people; telling the crowd that they were starving in spite of the manna; telling the disciples that no one could feed a crowd so big.

    eucharist-1591663_640Jesus could; Jesus did. He “took” the loaves and fish, “looked” to heaven, “said” the blessing, “broke” the loaves, and “gave” them to the disciples. If that sounds a lot like the actions of Jesus instituting the Eucharist, that’s because it is. In feeding the multitudes, Jesus showed that only God could carry the world; only God could unite a house divided. The Eucharist foreshadowed by Christ in the gospel is the sacrament of unity; it is the antidote to the enemy within that seeks to divide.

    We have met the enemy, and it is us; let us go up and meet the victor, for it is Christ.