Mark 10:45

Tag: Scriptural Reflection

  • Truth Beyond the World: The Feast of St. George

    Revelation 21:5-7; Luke 9:23-26

    When I was a boy my favorite comic book was The Amazing Spiderman. Every month I haunted the drugstore waiting for the next issue. When it finally arrived I’d read it over and over again. It was great fun imagining myself as the quirky yet powerful superhero.

    Although comic books date back only to the 1930’s and 40’s, the kids of bygone eras had something every bit as exciting: The Golden Legend, a classic of the faith from the 13th century, which contained in great and often colorful detail the dashing exploits of the heroes of ancient Christianity.

    Among the most dashing was St. George. Like most saints of the early Church, little is known. He appears to have been a young soldier martyred in Palestine around the year 304. What we do know is that there must have been something especially appealing about him, for he quickly became legendary. The Golden Legend includes a few stories about him, the most familiar being the dragon. Passing through a foreign kingdom and coming upon a princess about to be devoured by a dragon, George slayed the dragon and converted the kingdom to Christ. There is also the amazing story of his martyrdom. Arrested during a persecution of Christians, George was handed over to the torturers. Despite their best attempts, which included beating him literally to pieces, crushing him beneath heavy spiked wheels, and submerging him in molten lead, George miraculously reassembled unharmed. Amazed and inspired by this, the governor’s own wife converted to the faith. Infuriated, he had her executed and George finally martyred by beheading.

    But that’s not the end of the story. If he was powerful in life, St. George was even more so in death. The Legend tells of victories won by soldiers carrying his relics into battle, of healings at his tomb by those placing their hand in it, and of healings of those who touched the chains he wore in prison. His tomb became a place of pilgrimage and churches bearing his name were built as far away as Italy. Little wonder that England, whose Crusaders brought home his story, chose him as its national patron, that a kingdom in the Caucasus mountains was named Georgia in his honor, or that to this day Palestinian Muslims, Jews, and Christians would all honor him and ask his intercession for those suffering from various illnesses. Clearly, St. George became a man of mythic proportions.

    Unfortunately many stumble on the word “myth.” As early as the 5th century, the stories of St. George were dismissed as fantasy. Like some ancient, amazing Spiderman, he was too large for life; his adventures unreal and unrealistic; the product of uneducated, unsophisticated people. A fairy tale.

    They completely miss the point, as Chesterton knew when he said, “Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed.” Or, to paraphrase the French philosopher Jean-Paul Ricœur, the purpose of myths is not to tell the truth about the world but the truth beyond it. The deeper truth about St. George is written between the lines of the stories, not within them. What matters is not that St. George slayed a dragon but that, in committing to follow Christ, he received the grace to slay the dragons in his own life. Similarly, it doesn’t matter whether he was actually beaten to pieces, crushed by wheels, submerged in molten lead, and miraculously reassembled; the truth is that St. George loved Christ and did what he asked in the gospel; he took up his cross daily and followed him (Luke 9:23), saving his life by quite literally losing it.

    statue-1394654_1920Of course these truths are not reserved to St. George, they are for all of us. In Revelation Christ says, Behold, I make all things new (Revelation 21:5); for that to mean anything, we must ask for the grace to find and slay our own dragons. We all have them; they are the sins we allow to linger, the attachments we find hardest to put aside, and the fear, self-doubt, and self-condemnation that keep us from drawing nearer to God. The fear is real because the pain is real; it is the pain of having our pride beaten to pieces, allowing our bodies to be crushed by illness or infirmity, and submerging ourselves in the depths of humility. Nevertheless, the truth is that if we allow the power of God to work within us, we will experience what even the legend of St. George could never imagine: The joy of being reassembled into the person that Christ has called us from all eternity to be.

    St. George, pray for us.

  • The Other Side of Suffering

    Hebrews 5:7-9

    From the time we first became Christians, we have learned that the standard for our behavior is not those around us but Christ. Given that, it might be easy to give up and say that we can never reach that standard of perfection.

    That’s true. Left to ourselves, we can’t.

    But as the author of the letter to the Hebrews reminds us, we aren’t left to ourselves. In his infinite mercy, Jesus sympathizes with our weakness. Even though he himself never fell to the many temptations that weighed on him like a cross and surrounded him like a crown of thorns, he knows what it’s like to carry them, to bear their weight and feel their pain, but also to endure and overcome them.

    Fully man, Christ knows what it means to feel the kind of pain that leaves us without words; able only to offer prayers and supplications with loud cries and tears to the one who was able to save him (Hebrews 5:7). Enduring that kind of torment, he must also have felt the natural reaction of the human body to fight against and relieve the pain – on this day, to come down from the cross – yet Son though he was, he learned obedience from what he suffered (Hebrews 5:8).

    good-friday-2264164_640But Jesus also taught us through his obedience unto death that glory waits on the other side of suffering; that being made perfect is not a matter of doing all things on our own, but the opposite: Letting go of control and uniting ourselves more and more to the will of the One who is our true strength.

    This is the ultimate lesson of Good Friday. Christ’s triumph over self-will and self-reliance did not enable him to merely sympathize with our suffering or feel our pain but to be perfectly in himself the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him (Hebrews 5:9).

    We adore you O Christ and we praise you, because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.

  • Holy Thursday: The Primacy of Service

    John 13:1-15

    Today we read from John’s account of the last evening that Jesus spent with his disciples before his Passion and death. The other evangelists take this opportunity to provide us with the Institution Narrative, or the words spoken by Christ that to this day are repeated by the priest during the Consecration at holy Mass.

    John does not do this; rather, he uses the occasion of the Last Supper to depict Jesus washing the feet of his disciples and commanding them to do likewise. We don’t know why, but it’s possible that by the time the evangelist composed this gospel account the Breaking of the Bread had become an occasion for people to segregate into groups and eat and drink their fill, rather than to unite and commemorate the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of our Lord as one body.

    passion-3807312_640By showing Jesus washing the feet of his disciples, the evangelist re-emphasizes the primacy of service. Those who would be greatest must become the least. This is the humility and love behind the gift of his life poured out for our sake, by which he becomes one with us and we become one with each other.

    As we approach the Eucharist this evening let us take his words and his actions to heart, for together they show that love leads naturally to service. Christ has shown us the greatest love through the gift of his Body and Blood broken and poured out for our sake and at the same time that this is the love that allows us to see others not as things to be used but as people to be served.

  • The Standard of Love: Tuesday of Holy Week

    So he dipped the morsel and took it and handed it to Judas (John 13:26).

    Judas was chosen by Christ; he accompanied Him throughout his ministry. Like every disciple, he was fed spiritually and physically. Empowered by our Lord, Judas healed, expelled demons, preached the coming of the kingdom, and shook the dust of unbelieving towns off of his feet. On top of that, he witnessed countless signs and miracles.

    Yet still Judas betrayed Jesus.

    Nevertheless, even to the end Jesus fed him; He never shook the dust of his betrayer off of his own feet. To the contrary, Jesus extended hospitality toward him; He put him first.

    last-supper-1921277_640Let us keep this in mind as we prepare to receive the Sacred Morsel of our Lord in the most Holy Eucharist. For we are all like Judas; we have all betrayed our Lord’s innocent blood with every sin, no matter how small. And as He did with Judas, so does our Lord do to us; He continues to feed us, to respect our dignity, to love us unconditionally.

    This is the standard of a love that is bigger than any sin; this is the love that we are called every day to imitate. This is the love of Christ.

  • A Fragrant Aroma: Monday of Holy Week

    John 12:1-8

    Awhile after my father died, my mother asked if I would help her sort out his things. As I took some clothes out of his dresser it struck me; they still smelled like him. It was as if my father was right there. It took me several minutes to regain my composure.

    Scientists have known for years that the sense of smell is intimately tied to memory and emotion. In fact, smell is the only sense that works directly with the area of the brain that controls emotions. We’ve all experienced it; no matter how far away or far removed we are from a certain time, the aroma of something – perhaps a certain food, a perfume – can bring it all back again. It is if we are there.

    In the gospel we see how one of the sisters of Lazarus gave to their home a sense memory of our Lord: Mary took a liter of costly perfumed oil made from genuine aromatic nard and anointed the feet of Jesus and dried them with her hair; the house was filled with the fragrance of the oil (John 12:3).

    This is significant on many levels. First, it is the perfect counterbalance to the family’s recent experience at the tomb of Lazarus; the foul air of death is literally blown away by the fragrance of new life found in Christ. But second, this perfume is costly; the price of victory is high. As if she senses that his enemies are as near as Judas and plotting his demise, Mary anoints not the head of Christ the King but the feet of Christ the Servant which shall soon be pierced with nails and placed in a tomb. Finally, it may seem odd that Mary wipes away some of the perfume with her hair but I see in it a sign of her devotion; a way to identify herself with Christ and his sacrifice, personifying St. Paul’s meaning in 2 Corinthians when he said, we are a fragrance of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing (2 Corinthians 2:15).

    glass-4108085_640There is an ancient rabbinic saying that “the fragrance of a good perfume spreads from the bedroom to the dining room; so does a good name spread from one end of the world to the other.”1 As Mary filled her house and her hair with the fragrance of Christ, so may we fill the world and ourselves with his holy and glorious Name. And may be as untiring and devoted as she, willing to sacrifice whatever is costly to ourselves to do it. There is no greater identification with Christ than this, as St. Paul knew when he prayed that we may be imitators of God, as beloved children; and walk in love, just as Christ also loved you and gave Himself up for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God as a fragrant aroma (Ephesians 5:1-2).

    1Based on Ecclesiastes 7:1 and cited in Brown, R.E. (1966) The Anchor Bible: The Gospel According to John I-XII. New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., p. 453.

  • Mother and Baby: The Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord

    Isaiah 7:10-14; 8:10; Psalm 40:7-11; Hebrews 10:4-10; Luke 1:26-38

    Everyone knows the bond between a mother and her baby is special and that there is nothing in the world quite like it. But recently I came across some research that taught me things about it I didn’t know and that gave me new perspectives on the Blessed Mother.

    First, there is a physical basis to the phenomenon scientists call the “maternal instinct,” or others know as “Mommy brain.” Others like my older son who as a young child once inspected the back of his mother’s head, searching for the eyes hidden there. He wasn’t far wrong. During pregnancy a woman’s brain actually changes; areas related to the protection and nurturing of her baby develop as never before. This is nature’s way of attuning a mother to the needs and well-being of her children.

    It was no different for the Blessed Mother. From the moment the Holy Spirit came upon her and the power of the Most High overshadowed her (Luke 1:35), Mary began to develop the maternal instinct toward God himself. She alone among all women was to know the singular joy and tremendous responsibility of nurturing the Son of God; of protecting him from and preparing him for the world he came to save; of feeding him who thirsted for souls; and of providing a home for him who sought nowhere to lay his head except upon her breast, first as a helpless babe and then as a lifeless son taken down from the cross.

    It was from the cross that Christ raised Mary’s maternal instinct from the natural to the spiritual. With his words, Woman, behold your son (John 19:26) he gave her motherhood of his disciples, of all those like her who hear the word of God and do it (Luke 11:28). He made the bond complete when he told the Beloved Disciple, Behold, your mother (John 19:27), for in imitation of her Son we too have nowhere else to lay our heads. As her spiritual children we trust her, as he did, to see to our well-being and protection.

    The second thing I learned about the bond between mothers and babies is that children learn to recognize their mother’s voice in the womb and even prefer the language she speaks to any other they hear. By the time he was born, Mary’s voice was already very familiar to Jesus. And of course he prefers her language, for she speaks the language of total and selfless love. This is why we ask the Blessed Mother to speak to Jesus on our behalf; hers is the voice he heard from the time he was old enough to hear anything at all, the voice he could not refuse at Cana. Once again in imitation of him, Mary’s is the voice we too must not refuse, that says to us what it said to the servers at the wedding feast at Cana: Do whatever he tells you (John 2:5).

    Finally, I learned that perhaps the most important aspect of the bond between mother and baby is responsiveness. From the womb, mothers instinctively respond to the needs of their babies, giving from their own bodies whatever they have to give. This continues into childhood. Studies have shown that children thrive when their mothers respond to them in ways that foster growth and security; these especially include support and encouragement in difficult or stressful times. As Scripture makes clear, our Lord was no stranger to difficulty or stress, from his birth in a stable and flight into Egypt to his suffering and death on the cross. But Scripture also makes clear that Mary was with him at each of those times; in fact, she is the only one in all of Scripture to be present from his conception to his ascension. As such, Mary is the epitome of the supporting and encouraging mother.

    mother and baby

    One phrase in the readings perfectly summarizes the bond between Mary and her Son: I come to do your will (Psalm 40:8-9; Hebrews 10:7). For Mary this meant motherhood born of a love for God so deep that she, as Augustine once said, would conceive Christ in her heart before her womb. For Jesus it meant the Incarnation; a love so deep that he would take his own creation’s flesh and offer it back to his Father for the redemption of all who would accept him. Their obedience sets the pattern for us for we too are called to the same kind of obedience; to conceive Christ in our hearts; to offer to the Father the gift of ourselves in total dedication to Him; to love as Jesus and Mary loved. Without grace this is not possible, but this is the great hope of the Solemnity of the Annunciation, when the angel reminds us as he told the Fullness of Grace: nothing will be impossible for God (Luke 1:37).

  • The True Cornerstone: Memorial of St. Patrick, Bishop

    August 15th, the Feast of the Assumption, fell on a Sunday in the year 1858; that afternoon, a 22 year-old Irish immigrant named Cormack McCall1 may well have watched as a stone that he had cut with his own hands was blessed as the cornerstone of the new St. Patrick’s Cathedral by New York City’s Archbishop John Hughes. Around Hughes stood seven bishops, 130 priests, and 100 choirboys. The crowd was estimated at 100,000 people or more; New York’s entire fleet of streetcars had been diverted to the area just to accommodate them.

    It is an oddity in keeping with St. Patrick that to this day no one knows exactly where the cathedral’s cornerstone is or when it went missing.2 It has sunk into obscurity like the details of the life of the great saint himself. Nevertheless, St. Patrick’s impact on the faith is every bit as real and foundational as the cathedral’s mysterious cornerstone.

    Patrick was similar in a few ways to Israel’s son Joseph, whose life story closes the book of Genesis. Both became slaves in their youth, both were bright and resourceful men of dreams, and both used their gifts not just to endure their captivity but to be victorious over it.

    Of course, there were differences. Unlike Joseph, Patrick was not raised by parents with a strong and vibrant faith; nevertheless, during his captivity he found that his faith was strengthened. Moreover, although both were men of dreams, Patrick focused on one particular vision from his youth and was determined to see it come to fruition. While a slave he had a vision of Irish children reaching out for him and resolved that should he escape he would return and convert the pagan Irish to Christianity. In fact, he did escape and reunite with his family in Britain for awhile; however, Patrick never lost sight of that vision from his youth. Around the year 431, after being ordained in France, Patrick was sent to Ireland as its bishop by Pope Celestine I.

    At first, Bishop Patrick began by supporting the small band of Christians already on the island but was soon evangelizing far and wide, preaching, writing and baptizing countless people. It is ironic that Patrick was so self-conscious of his lack of formal education for as an evangelizer he was brilliant. He understood that the truth of Christ transcends culture, that certain symbols or practices of the pagan people could be imbued with Christian meaning. For example, an ancient pagan image of two crossed lines and a circle was reinterpreted by Patrick as the Cross of Christ with the circle symbolizing the eternity of God. We know it as the Celtic Cross to this day.

    Over the course his years a missionary bishop to Ireland, Patrick truly was a cornerstone of the Irish Church. He installed and supported church officials, created councils, founded monasteries and organized Ireland into dioceses. He died around the year 461 and was buried in the land that he first came to as a slave and to which he returned, faithful to his promise to the end.

    ireland-2184916_640The psalmist must have had Joseph in mind as he sang, they had weighed him down with fetters, and he was bound with chains till his prediction came to pass and the word of the LORD proved him true (Psalm 105:18-19) but it applies to St. Patrick as well. In a larger sense it applies to all of us, for to one degree or another we are all weighed down with the fetters of sin. Many are bound with the additional chains of addiction or illness, either our own or someone we love. Perhaps we have not been given visions or dreams like Joseph or Patrick, but we have been given the vision of Christ, the Eternal Word who proved himself true to the greatest promise ever given mankind: That every fetter would be lifted, every chain broken, every tear wiped away for all those who cling to him as their salvation. As much as they did, as faithful as they were, both Joseph and Patrick humbly bend their knee and fade into the background like an old cathedral cornerstone before the Stone rejected by the builders, the one true Cornerstone who is Christ.

    St. Patrick, pray for us.

  • The Choice to Forgive: The 7th Sunday in Ordinary Time

    Leviticus 19:1-2, 17-18; 1 Corinthians 3:16-23; Matthew 5:38-48

    As a young married woman, Edith Eger emigrated to the United States just after World War II and settled in Texas with her husband and first child. If she didn’t carry much material baggage, she carried a lot inside. A Jew, she and her family had been taken by rail along with hundreds of others to Auschwitz. Her parents were immediately put to death. A gymnast and dancer, she got the attention of a camp physician and was forced to dance for him; this was the notorious war criminal Jozef Mengele. Months later she was forced to march to another death camp and was one of the very few who survived. Her way of dealing with the trauma was to dedicate her life to helping others so in the 1970’s, her children grown, she went to college and became a psychologist. Now Dr. Eger, she began treating soldiers suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome.

    One day Dr. Eger met with two patients, both Viet Nam veterans. They suffered identical injuries; the war left them paraplegics. The first man was angry, bitter, and resentful; all he saw was the world’s evil and his own limitations. His attitude was, “Why me?” The second man was just the opposite. Grateful to have survived, he was determined to focus on the good things in life and on its possibilities. His attitude was, “What next?”

    Both patients deeply affected her. Through the first man she realized two things. First, her wartime experiences had left her like him: Angry, bitter, and resentful inside. More importantly she realized those feelings not only remained unresolved but had taken over, made things worse. Like that patient, she too was defined more by hatred than by love. But the second man showed her that she had a choice. She could choose life over death, to be a victor and not a victim, to celebrate the good and stop mourning the evil; to ask “What next?” and not “Why me?” That is the path she chose and, to coin a phrase, it has made all the difference.

    In her book “The Choice,” Dr. Eger writes, “Maybe to heal isn’t to erase the scar… to heal is to cherish the wound.” May be; we know from the book of Leviticus that we are to cherish no grudge (Leviticus 19:18), for that is the opposite of healing. No wonder the same verse advises us to take no revenge. Although it may seem satisfying for a time, especially when someone has really hurt us, Dr. Eger also said that revenge keeps us revolving, not evolving. Our goal is to get past the pain, not pay it forward, to make a positive change in our lives.

    But when someone has hurt you badly, how do you get past that kind of anger? By acknowledging it and giving it to God. Hiding it or pretending it doesn’t exist aren’t realistic solutions. You must be honest and admit that the anger you feel is the normal response to being badly hurt, but you must also resolve that anger will not win, will not define you, is not who you are. St. Paul told you who you are; you are the temple of God (1 Corinthians 3:16); don’t let anger defile that temple. Then give it to God in prayer. Be completely honest; tell God that the hurt and anger are too big for you, that you cannot do it alone. Ask him to help you forgive those who hurt you.

    Finally, have a realistic understanding of love in the context of forgiveness. When our Lord says love your enemies he isn’t asking us to forget what happened and be friends; rather he is challenging us to see other people, including our enemies, as God sees them. Therefore, forgiveness doesn’t mean complete reconciliation of all differences with all people; it means freeing ourselves to love as God loves. Edith Eger didn’t reconcile with the Nazis but she did forgive them because she came to see them as they were: People who, although created good by God, learned as children to fear and hate what they could not understand. We come to forgiveness the same way; not by total reconciliation of our differences but by accepting first and foremost that all people, even those who have hurt us, are created and loved by God just as we are and in need of the same salvation we need.

    prodigal-son-3388599_640It’s tempting to dismiss all this as foolishness but remember what St. Paul says: If any one among you considers himself wise in this age, let him become a fool so as to become wise (1 Corinthians 3:18). It may be wisdom in the eyes of the world to hate those who have hurt us and foolishness to forgive them but in Christ’s world it’s just the opposite; his is the world where hatred keeps us bound and love frees us, where judgment takes a back seat to mercy, and where God alone sees the heart, knows the pain, calms the fear, heals the wounds, and breaks the chains.

    As Lent approaches I invite you to find that one person in your life most in need of your forgiveness. Make forgiving that person your Lenten project. It may not take you all of Lent or you may not have succeeded come Christmas; regardless, keep working at it. Pray for them; your prayers are the greatest gift you can give and are truly sacrificial. Forgiving others from the heart may be the one thing we do that God loves the most, for it shows how much we want to be like him. After all, God has forgiven us.

  • The Outsiders: Tuesday of the Sixth Week in Ordinary Time

    James 1:12-18; Mark 8:14-21

    We may as well answer the question Jesus asked the disciples at the end of the gospel passage: Do you still not understand (Mark 8:21)? No, they do not understand at all. The question is, why? So far in Mark’s gospel they have heard him teach, seen him heal, witness him expelling demons, raising a girl from the dead, and feeding thousands with a few loaves. Who or what kept them from seeing him as the Christ? And more to the point, who or what does the same thing to us?

    It certainly isn’t God. As the first reading reminds us, God tempts no one (James 1:15). Here, James echoes the ancient truth revealed through the prophet Habakkuk that God cannot even look upon evil (Habakkuk 1:13). Rather, the reading goes on to say, evil comes from within each person who is lured and enticed by his desire (James 1:14). Let us briefly consider three different kinds of enticement.

    First, we entice ourselves to sin by failing to guard against temptation. Just as a person struggling with alcoholism would be foolish to hang around liquor stores so anyone who struggles with a certain sin is foolish to put themselves in situations where they are tempted to it. This is called the near occasion of evil and is what we promise to avoid every time we say the Act of Contrition.

    Second, we entice others to sin by becoming an occasion of evil ourselves. Some do this by dressing immodestly, others by gossiping. We rationalize such behavior in true Adam-and-Eve fashion by blaming the victims – “They shouldn’t look at me that way,” or “I only told the truth” – but deep down we know that we are far from innocent.

    Finally, we are enticed to sin by the dark angels whose master goes by many names: the father of lies (John 8:44), the tempter (Matthew 4:3), the devil (Matthew 4:1). By whatever name he sows confusion, preys on our weakness, encourages selfishness. The wise listen to Christ who urges us to fear the demons for they can destroy us body and soul (Matthew 10:28); the prudent avoid them, and the persevering cling to God with the assurance of St. Paul that no one and nothing can ever separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus (Romans 8:38-39).

    Earlier in Mark, Jesus defined two kinds of people. The “insiders,” or those to whom the mysteries of the Kingdom had been revealed; and the “outsiders,” who did not. Of the outsiders he said, they may look and see but not perceive, and hear and listen but not understand, in order that they may not be converted and be forgiven (Mark 4:12). The irony is that the disciples, who should be the definitive insiders, act more like outsiders than the real outsiders! For example in today’s gospel the disciples, who just witnessed Jesus feeding four thousand people now have the chance to share a quiet boat ride with him. What a shame that this perfect opportunity to unpack all they have seen is wasted on worrying about how little bread they brought along!

    fishing boat and feetStill, Mark’s purpose is not to make us wonder at their behavior but to evaluate our own. Are we insiders or outsiders? Some of us witness Christ feeding a multitude every day, and every day share time with him in the Church, the barque of Peter. Are we focused on our own loaf of bread – be it the next place we have to go, the people we have to see, or things we have to do – or on the Living Bread that is Christ? We see the many wonderful people he gives us – our families, friends, each other; do perceive Christ living within them? We hear his word in the Scriptures; do we understand his voice speaking through all those crying for help? At the Mass he gives us himself Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity in the Holy Eucharist; are our hearts hardened or are they being converted through the forgiveness of sins in Confession, that we may partake most fully in the infinite grace he offers?

    We conclude where we began, in the letter of James. Consider how the passage begins: Blessed is he who perseveres in temptation, for when he has been proven he will receive the crown of life that he promised to those who love him (James 1:12). Let us pray for perseverance, that gift of the Holy Spirit that empowers us to remain in the state of grace until the end of our lives; may we like the Saints see and perceive, hear and understand, that our hearts be converted, our many sins forgiven, and our focus on the things above.

  • The Holy Spirit and Us: Memorial of Sts. Cyril and Methodius, bishops

    Acts 13:46-49; Luke 10:1-9

    As a young musician and singer I had many opportunities to play and sing for wedding and funeral Masses. At first this was no problem, but eventually it became one. Parishes had begun to hire their own musicians who weren’t thrilled to see outsiders like me coming in. I remember at one wedding the local musician came up and told me that he was on the parish staff, this was his parish, and he would be playing. I don’t recall my reply but I know it infuriated him. He stormed off saying “I’m going to the pastor right now. One of us is leaving and it won’t be me!” Well, it was him. I stayed and did the wedding Mass, smugly condemning him for his attitude, never considering my own.

    There’s an old saying that when the Church isn’t being persecuted from the outside she persecutes herself. Many of us have seen it; the place we expect to find the most unity too often seems the model of disunity. We want the Church to grow, we want to bring Christ to people, but when they challenge us with new ideas, expectations, or ways of doing things we find ourselves at odds with them.

    This phenomenon is as old as the Church. In the first reading Paul and Barnabas turn their attention to the Gentiles, frustrated with their stalling mission to the Jews. And we hear how the Gentiles were delighted and the Church grew. What we have not heard (yet) is that with this growth came conflict. On one side the Gentiles resisted adopting Judaic ritual and dietary practices. What do circumcision and kosher law have to do with salvation? On the other side the Jewish Christians resisted the idea of abandoning them. After all, Jesus and his Apostles were Jews! Two groups, each with its own interests: More disputes, more hard feelings, more disunity.

    Sts. Cyril and Methodius might well sympathize. In their time (the 9th century) the Church was struggling to grow in Eastern Europe. The two brothers were the perfect choice for missionaries; they were well-educated, devout, and had grown up speaking Slavic as a second language. Best of all they possessed keen pastoral sensibility; they knew that Christ is the Word who transcends language, whether Greek, Latin, or Slavic. Therefore, when they arrived in the missions they not only preached in Slavic but also translated and conducted liturgical services in it as well. The people responded and the Church grew.

    As in the gospel they went out like lambs among wolves, only this time the wolves wore clericals. The missionaries of the region resented Cyril and Methodius. For one thing, they made the old guard look bad. Under them the Church withered; with the brothers here she blossomed. Second, they took issue with the way the Church grew. As they saw it, no one had the right to translate the liturgy into the native language and teach it to the people. Surely these upstart missionaries must be reprimanded.

    Not surprisingly the embittered clerics appealed to Rome about the liturgical changes, demanding action. When summoned, Cyril and Methodius went to Rome and gave a spirited, eloquent defense. After listening carefully in person, Pope Adrian II blessed their mission and gave them permission to continue celebrating the liturgy in Slavic.

    Cyril stayed in Rome and died not long afterward; Methodius returned to the missions. Sadly but not surprisingly, the pope’s decision settled nothing in many minds. For the rest of his life Methodius was hounded and frustrated by clerics who disagreed with him. Although he stayed the course and remained successful, the stress took its toll; he died April 6, 885.

    cropped-dove-3951312_1920.jpgThe pattern of disagreement, debate, and decision is how things get most productively settled in the Church provided it is done in the right spirit; that is, the Holy Spirit. Since the Council of Jerusalem was called to settle the dispute between the Gentile and Jewish Christians this has been the model, its justification found in the letter issued from that Council, specifically the sentence that begins, It seems good to the Holy Spirit and to us (Acts 15:28). The Holy Spirit promised by Christ continually works within us, finding ways to maintain unity despite our differences. In all our human affairs but especially between the members of the Church what matters is not that we disagree but that we dialog, not the heat of our words but the light of the Holy Spirit, not the distance we keep but the fellowship we extend, and not the hostility throughout the debate but the peace of Christ we give in the resolution. As with Cyril and Methodius, some will not accept us or the decisions reached but we cannot help that. All we can do is what Methodius did: Continue to act in union with Christ and his Church, remembering always that it is not about us but about the Holy Spirit and us.

    Sts. Cyril and Methodius, pray for us.