Mark 10:45

Tag: Word of God

  • Roots and Wings: Friday of the 5th Week of Easter

    Acts 15:22-31; John 15:12-17

    bird-3371912_640I remember once talking to my mother as my kids were growing older and leaving home. I questioned where the time had gone and was worried about how they would get along in life. I don’t remember everything that Mom said in reply but I do recall that she quoted the old saying, “There are only two things a parent can give their children; one is roots and the other, wings.”

    Today’s readings show us that our Heavenly Father has given his Church roots and wings: Her roots are the love of Christ, her wings the inspiration of Holy Spirit.

    In today’s gospel Jesus told his Apostles, You are my friends if you do what I command you; I no longer call you slaves. This is a great honor; few people were ever called friends of God. Even Moses, Joshua, and David were known as “slaves” or “servants of God.” Abraham was called God’s friend (Isaiah 41:8; James 2:23). This is not to exalt one over the others, for God loves all with an everlasting love; it is simply to acknowledge that God relates to people in ways of his own choosing.

    Related to this, Christ told his Apostles that it was not you who chose me, but I who chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit that will remain. He knew that they would encounter situations they weren’t entirely prepared for; that is why he told them that he would send the Holy Spirit to guide them into all truth.

    It is in today’s reading from Acts that we witness the Apostles’ first flight on the wings of the Spirit. With false teaching threatening to divide the early Church, the Apostles gathered in Jerusalem for the first Council ever held. Since the earliest times the Church has gathered when facing a crisis. This is a hopeful sign. Where the love of God is active the many will gather, for true love seeks unity and diversity assumes many voices in times of trouble. So it was that after debate and discussion, the united voice of the Council was best expressed in a letter whose key sentence begins, ‘It is the decision of the Holy Spirit and of us not to place on you any burden beyond these necessities…’

    The phrase – the decision of the Holy Spirit and of us – is as important for what it does not say as for what it says. We commonly hear the question, “What would Jesus do?” Yet this chapter of Acts says nothing at all about what Jesus would do; he is never mentioned. Does that mean that Jesus had no influence on them or had been forgotten? Of course not; it means that the Apostles had listened to Jesus, had learned from him, and were now listening to the internal promptings of the same Holy Spirit whom he had promised to send.

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    As it was in the beginning is now and ever shall be. We in the Church today have the same roots and the same wings. Christ is the vine and we the branches; our roots bind us to him beyond any undoing. His is the infinite love that sustains and gives us life; ours the obedience to love one another as he commands. The same Holy Spirit who united the Apostles still inspires us to proclaim with one voice that Jesus is Lord and keeps us together despite the dissensions that threaten to tear us apart.

    Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in them the fire of your love. Send forth your Spirit and they shall be created. And You shall renew the face of the earth.

    O, God, who by the light of the Holy Spirit, did instruct the hearts of the faithful, grant that by the same Holy Spirit we may be truly wise and ever enjoy His consolations, Through Christ Our Lord, Amen.

  • True Peace: Tuesday of the 5th Week of Easter

     Acts 14:19-28; John 14:27-31a

    On the evening of July 3rd of the year 13 BC, Augustus Caesar quietly returned home after a 3-year stay in Spain and France where he had been, in his own words, “successfully settling the affairs” of those provinces. The next day, the senate voted to erect a monument to him along the same road that led him back to Rome. Finished four years later, the Altar of Peace was formally dedicated to Augustus Caesar who was proclaimed high priest and the “bringer of peace.” Of this the ancient Roman poet Horace wrote: Caesar guards us from the rage that is the fire in which the swords of war are forged.

    The poet may have said more than he intended. At the edges of the Empire, rage against economic and military oppression smoldered beneath the surface of the Roman peace. Augustus and his successors found themselves regularly enforcing the peace at the point of a sword or the wood of a cross.

    Peace is a fragile thing when various groups define it on their own terms and for their own benefit. The Caesars defined peace as the tranquility of Roman order, but they had enough trouble keeping the peace in their own time, let alone for all time. As the Catechism teaches, a more lasting perspective recognizes that peace is not merely the absence of war or a balance of powers between adversaries. Peace cannot be attained on earth without safeguarding the goods of persons, free communication among men, respect for the dignity of persons and peoples, and the assiduous practice of fraternity (CCC §2304).

    Paul understood the workings of true peace. After enduring violent persecution at Lystra, Paul left for a time and ministered elsewhere. He left; he didn’t run away. True peace is an act of virtue, not cowardice. The cowardly enforce their will at the end of a weapon, whether sword or tongue. The courageous and prudential resist the urge to rage and find better ways to use their time and talent in service of God and neighbor. Further, when Paul returned to Lystra, he didn’t waste his time antagonizing his foes. He built up the Church; counseling the disciples, appointing priests, and commending all to the Lord in prayer. Paul chose the divine peace that empowers people rather than the worldly peace that overpowers them. Now matter how seemingly justified, Paul knew that rage is a fire that brings heat but no light.

    Paul followed the light; indeed, he had once been blinded by it. This was the true Light who said Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid (John 14:27).

    The peace that the world gives is the peace of the Empire; the imposition of earthly power that inspires fear. The peace that Christ gives is the peace of the Kingdom; the divine indwelling that dispels every fear.

    christian-1431642_640The peace of Augustus won him an altar, the peace of Christ, a cross. Yet look at the result. How many people kneel before an image of Caesar’s Altar of Peace and how many before an image of the cross? The Roman Empire handed Jesus its darkest, most fearful symbol of fragile, earthly peace and he transformed it into the brightest and most courageous symbol of lasting, heavenly peace. If Christ can do this to a piece of wood, think what he can do if we ask him to transform our hearts.

  • 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.

  • Against the World: St. Athanasius, Bishop and Doctor of the Church

    John 15:26-16:4a

    In the gospel reading, Jesus said to his disciples, They will expel you from the synagogues; in fact, the hour is coming when everyone who kills you will think he is offering worship to God. They will do this because they have not known either the Father or me (John 16:1-3). While everything that Jesus said is appropriate for all times and seasons, these words have particular resonance for St. Athanasius, whose feast we now remember and celebrate.

    By all accounts, Athanasius was a man of many gifts. Brilliant in both academics and his understanding of people, at ease as pastor of a large patriarchate yet equally comfortable amid the solitary contemplatives in the desert, a gentle man not prone to anger but at the same time a tenacious defender of the faith.

    Athanasius was born around the year 298 into a Christian world on the throes of tearing itself to pieces over a heresy known as Arianism. Named after its progenitor, a priest named Arius, it sent a shock wave through the world by preaching about Christ that “there was a time when he was not.” The Arians believed that only the Father was truly God; as great as he was, Jesus was a creature, not God. The idea spread like wildfire, and by the time Constantine legalized Christianity, the faith was a house divided threatening to collapse upon itself.

    A good general but no theologian, Constantine convened a worldwide Council in 325 to bring the sides together and solve the problem. Athanasius, then deacon and secretary to the Patriarch of Alexandria, quickly saw that biblical arguments were futile; each side interpreted Scripture to suit its own beliefs. He and a small group of defenders outmaneuvered the Arians by moving from exegesis to philosophy. They argued that Jesus must fully share the eternal, divine nature of the Father; to relegate him to the status of a creature, no matter how godly, would be to say that he was subject to error and to change, including from good to evil. Hearing this horrified even many Arians. Their position was overwhelmingly rejected. To this day, we still recite every week the words first written at that Council, perhaps by Athanasius himself: God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God; begotten not made; consubstantial with the Father…

    sword-790815_640Recall Christ’s words: The hour is coming when everyone who kills you will think he is offering worship to God. It is a sad fact that we in the Church are often our own worst enemy. The Arian leadership resolved that what they could not win in Council, they would take by subterfuge. Athanasius, newly elected Patriarch of Alexandria and much loved by his people, was a primary target. The Arians boldly went after him, seeking nothing less than his disgrace and death. They fabricated scandals, perjured themselves and, aided by Arian-leaning or pagan emperors, forced Athanasius into five exiles spanning seventeen years.

    Yet, recall that Jesus also said, And you also testify, because you have been with me from the beginning (John 15:27). If Athanasius did anything, he certainly testified. Instead of spending his years of exile in angst or despair, he took refuge where he could, not least among the desert fathers, and wrote extensively. He taught and encouraged his flock, gave outstanding defenses of the faith, and shaped the Western world’s understanding of monasticism by writing on the life of his friend St. Anthony of the Desert. These works together with treatises on Arianism and theological topics such as the Incarnation earned Athanasius the title Doctor of the Church.

    Some of the histories refer to him as Athanasius contra mundum (Athanasius against the world). He spent his ministry in a world that was increasingly Arian, hostile to the orthodox, and many wanted him silenced. Yet, the bishop kept in mind the words of Jesus: they have not known either the Father or me (John 16:3), and loved the world too much to let it go its own way. Athanasius knew that heresy could only triumph where people were ignorant, where they didn’t know the Father or the Son. God had provided him the office, the education, and the opportunities; it was then up to him to use these gifts to bring the truth to whoever would accept it and leave the consequences to God.

    In a way, little has changed over the centuries. We find ourselves in a world increasingly hostile to Christianity; many would like us silenced as well. This we cannot do. Like Athanasius, we must look with love upon the world, consider the gifts that we have been given, and seize the opportunities that Christ has laid before us.

    St. Athanasius, pray for us.

  • We Adore You, O Christ and We Praise You: Good Friday

    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).

    But 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.

    good-friday-2264164_640This 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.

  • The Primacy of Service: Holy Thursday

    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.

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    By 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 Leap of Faith: Wednesday of Holy Week

    judasNotice in Matthew’s gospel how 11 disciples say, Surely it is not I, Lord? while only Judas says, Surely it is not I, Rabbi? The evangelist does not do this by accident; to Judas, Jesus may be many things – teacher, sage, a gifted healer, a moving speaker – but whatever he is, he is not Lord.

    Like Judas, many people cannot make the leap from teacher to Lord. Perhaps they are afraid of what it would mean. The words of Jesus could no longer be taken as opinion, his actions no longer regarded as merely well-intended, his death no longer understood as the death that comes to us all. The change of that one word, from teacher to Lord, changes everything.

    This is the leap of faith.

    Take a moment to thank God for that gift, to pray that others may cast aside their fear and make the faith their own, and that our own faith may be strengthened not only to see him as Lord but to do all he asked; to love as he loved, to the death.

    Only therein lies the resurrection to eternal glory that faith promises.

  • Small Kindnesses: Monday of Holy Week

    Reading: Isaiah 42:1-2

    The first reading begins: Here is my servant whom I uphold, my chosen one with whom I am pleased, Upon whom I have put my Spirit; he shall bring forth justice to the nations, Not crying out, not shouting, not making his voice heard in the street (Isaiah 42:1-2).

    hands-1797401_640Think for a moment how we as servants of God are so blessed (upheld). What mercy He pours upon us. He has chosen to give us the grace to do His will and is so pleased when we cooperate with Him. And what a gift: God gives His Spirit – His very life – so that we may try to give to Him what we owe Him.

    Of course, we can never repay God for all that He has given to us. Fortunately we are not asked to; rather, we are asked to learn from and imitate the one true Servant, our Lord Jesus Christ, who repaid our debt for us. So today, out of love for and in imitation of Him, consider giving from your own storehouse of the “little way;” the small kindnesses, the often unnoticed gifts that we make of ourselves to others. Not crying out, not shouting, not drawing attention to ourselves but emptying ourselves in imitation of Christ, who by His Cross and Resurrection has taught us what a powerful, life-giving gift the merciful love of God truly is, and what a blessing it is to the world when we love as God loves.

  • 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).