Genesis 12:1-4
Psalm 33:4-5, 18-20, 22
2 Timothy 1:8-10
Matthew 17:1-9
One week into Lent is a tough place to be. We have five weeks left until Easter. Around this time we begin to look longingly at the indulgences that make up our life the rest of the year. It seems as though we ought to be further along than just beginning the second week. At least, I hope this is how you feel. If not, if Lent is going along easily, if you forgot that it was Lent, then you probably are not doing enough for Lent. Lent is only easy if we are already perfect or if we are not doing it. The point of Lent is to die. On Easter, Jesus rose from the dead. If we want to rise with Jesus this Easter, we will need to be dead by then. Lent ought to be killing us: that is how you know it is working.
How glorious it is then that the Church gives us some refreshment today. Not the mistaken refreshment of those who think that Sundays are a day off from Lent, as if Jesus took a day off each week during the 40 days in the desert. No, man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of God. The readings today, the Word of God, provide our example, encouragement, and refreshment.
We begin with a good example in Abraham who, at the Word of God, left his home and traveled across the whole Middle East. Abraham believed that God would fulfill his promise. We can only begin to imagine the sacrifices he made. It was 25 more years before the promise began to be fulfilled with the birth of Isaac. God has made promises to us also. He promises us that if we leave our lives behind, he will give us far more than anything we ever gave up. We should believe this promise.
After the example we get encouragement and advice. St. Paul tells us, “Bear your share of hardship for the gospel with the strength that comes from God.” We are not supposed to use our own strength. There is a strength that comes from God and it is stronger than we are. We prayed in the psalm today: “Lord, let your mercy be on us, as we place our trust in you.” Lent is not a time where we learn to trust in ourselves. If the fasting of Lent or the additional work and prayer we do were done with our own strength, then Lent would make our pride and self-reliance grow. If, instead, we do everything with the strength that comes from God, then our reliance on God will grow, our love for God will grow.
Then we arrive at the refreshment. The Gospel today is the Transfiguration, as it always is on the Second Sunday of Lent. The Transfiguration is such a beautiful image, like an eyewitness account of heaven. All of salvation history is present on the mountain. Moses, who wrote down the Law, was there. Elijah, the greatest of all the prophets, was there. Jesus, son of David, King of Israel, was there. Peter, who was the first pope and wrote two letters of the New Testament, was there. John, who wrote a Gospel and another letter, was there. James, the first apostle to be a martyr was there. God is present: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The Father speaks; the Son, Jesus, shines forth like the sun; and the Holy Spirit is present as the bright cloud.
The Father said, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.” What a wonderful relationship between the Father and the Son. We were supposed to have perfect families like that too, but sin ruined it. Imagine, children, if your parents were perfect. Perhaps I am surprising you, when I warn you that they are not; perhaps you have already figured that out. But if they were perfect, it would be easier to always obey them. And parents, imagine if your children were perfect. How much easier it would be to be their parent! Our families are not perfect, because we are not perfect, but for now, let us just stay on this mountain, and imagine.
Peter was so happy to be on the mountain that he did not even know what to say; he only knew that he wanted to stay there. I wonder whether he interrupted Moses or Elijah, who were conversing with our Lord, with his offer to set up tents. Years later, Peter recalled this moment in a letter, reminding people that he was actually there on the mountain, that he had really heard the Father’s voice say, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.” Life was good, that day, on top of the mountain. It was as close to being in heaven as a person can experience on the earth. If we sit and contemplate that image, of Jesus shining like the sun, surrounded by saints, we can share in that taste of heaven.
We will probably have to wait until heaven to see heaven. When we see Jesus shining like the sun, surrounded by the saints, it will be on the other side of whatever death is out there waiting for us. But we do have a sort of mountain we can visit: right here at Mass. We will not see Moses or Elijah or Peter, James, and John, but we will read about them, and Jesus too. Jesus will be present, not in shining white garments, but hidden under the forms of bread and wine. The apostles spent time with Jesus every day, but his true identity, which was usually hidden, was revealed on the mountain. We can receive the Eucharist every day, and we believe that Jesus’ true identity is hidden in these symbols of bread and wine, which actually are the Body and Blood and Soul and Divinity of our Lord, the same Jesus Christ who was transfigured on the mountain. Indeed, the apostles saw Jesus on that mountain, but we, when we receive the Eucharist, are united to him in our bodies.
When we come here each week, it is like climbing the mountain. The world still exists out there, but we can forget about it for a little while. We should savor this time we spend with God. We cannot set up tents, though. We have to go back into the world. Jesus had to come down from the mountain and go die on the Cross. We have got five more weeks of Lent, and then the rest of life, before heaven.
Daily Homilies
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
October 11, 2012 - Thursday of the Twenty-seventh Week in Ordinary Time
Galatians 3:1-5
Luke 1:69-75
Luke 11:5-13
When a parent gives something to their child, they are showing their love. They provide for their children because they love their children. It is the tendency of fallen humans to be selfish, to hold onto what is good, but this tendency is broken when a parent looks at their child. Suddenly, the desire to be generous is overwhelming. Every parent wants to give their children the whole world. A man might be selfish and mean and ruthless, but still have big plans for all that he could provide for his son.
This is one of the great dangers of our current culture of birth control. Becoming a parent changes a person for the better. They suddenly have to think beyond themself. As people delay having children into their twenties, and into their thirties, and into their forties, they extend their own childhood, their own period of self-concern. Consider the parable of Jesus today. Who is the person who persistently asks for something until we get out of bed to get it? It is not our neighbor. It is a child who will not stop crying until they get what they need. No one knows persistence like the parents of a newborn. They learn generosity through suffering because no matter how much they hate getting out of bed, their love for their child will make them answer their cries.
That is how we are supposed to be with God. As a newborn calls out to its mother for food and comfort, so we should be in prayer. God has amazing gifts to give us, but he cannot give them to us until we ask. If we ask once, perhaps we do not even know what we are asking for. When we ask twice, we begin to feel the need. But only after we have asked again and again, persistently, will we begin to know what we are asking for, and only once we know that longing are we ready to receive the gift. God will not leave us emptyhanded. God has promised to provide for us, and he will do it. He is a father who keeps his promises. He promised to send a Savior into the world who was powerful enough to free us from our enemies, and he did. He promised to send his Holy Spirit on the Church, and he did.
Luke 1:69-75
Luke 11:5-13
When a parent gives something to their child, they are showing their love. They provide for their children because they love their children. It is the tendency of fallen humans to be selfish, to hold onto what is good, but this tendency is broken when a parent looks at their child. Suddenly, the desire to be generous is overwhelming. Every parent wants to give their children the whole world. A man might be selfish and mean and ruthless, but still have big plans for all that he could provide for his son.
This is one of the great dangers of our current culture of birth control. Becoming a parent changes a person for the better. They suddenly have to think beyond themself. As people delay having children into their twenties, and into their thirties, and into their forties, they extend their own childhood, their own period of self-concern. Consider the parable of Jesus today. Who is the person who persistently asks for something until we get out of bed to get it? It is not our neighbor. It is a child who will not stop crying until they get what they need. No one knows persistence like the parents of a newborn. They learn generosity through suffering because no matter how much they hate getting out of bed, their love for their child will make them answer their cries.
That is how we are supposed to be with God. As a newborn calls out to its mother for food and comfort, so we should be in prayer. God has amazing gifts to give us, but he cannot give them to us until we ask. If we ask once, perhaps we do not even know what we are asking for. When we ask twice, we begin to feel the need. But only after we have asked again and again, persistently, will we begin to know what we are asking for, and only once we know that longing are we ready to receive the gift. God will not leave us emptyhanded. God has promised to provide for us, and he will do it. He is a father who keeps his promises. He promised to send a Savior into the world who was powerful enough to free us from our enemies, and he did. He promised to send his Holy Spirit on the Church, and he did.
August 25, 2012 - Saturday of the Twentieth Week in Ordinary Time
Ezekiel 43:1-7
Psalm 85:9-14
Matthew 23:1-12
Who is the servant in a family? The parents are servants. They provide everything for their children, and do everything for their children. Why? Because they can. Their children are weak and they are strong, so the stronger does the work that the weaker is in need of. Parents do this because they love their children. When you love someone, you want to do any good for them that you can.
In the rest of the world, things are different. The greater person is served by the lesser. This is because the greater person has the capacity to force the lesser to serve them, whether by actual force or by withholding money until the work is done. People do this because they do not love each other. When you do not love someone, you look at them and wonder how you can use them.
Jesus is telling us that the world should be more like a family. The greatest person is the servant in the Kingdom of Heaven. Jesus did for us what we could not do for ourselves. In return, we can do nothing for him, because he needs nothing from us. Instead, he tells us to look to the weak of this world and serve them. Find someone whom you can help, who is unable to do something for themselves, and take care of them. In other words, pay it forward. That is what Jesus means when he says, “Love one another as I have loved you.”
Of course this is all just more logical. Why would the weak serve the strong? That is foolishness, but it is the way of the world. If the world is a pyramid, the strongest ought to be on the bottom holding up the weak. At the very top should be the weakest person in the whole world, the person who cannot do anything for themselves or for anyone else. The world says that we should kill that person. Jesus says that we should serve them.
This is why the angels serve us; they are stronger than us. Who is considered greater: the President of the United States or Blessed Theresa of Calcutta? We forget presidents. Who remembers Chester Arthur? We remember saints. The scribes and the Pharisees sought human approval by trying to put themselves above others, which only makes others mad and/or jealous. We have put ourselves below others, as their servants, if we really want approval.
Psalm 85:9-14
Matthew 23:1-12
Who is the servant in a family? The parents are servants. They provide everything for their children, and do everything for their children. Why? Because they can. Their children are weak and they are strong, so the stronger does the work that the weaker is in need of. Parents do this because they love their children. When you love someone, you want to do any good for them that you can.
In the rest of the world, things are different. The greater person is served by the lesser. This is because the greater person has the capacity to force the lesser to serve them, whether by actual force or by withholding money until the work is done. People do this because they do not love each other. When you do not love someone, you look at them and wonder how you can use them.
Jesus is telling us that the world should be more like a family. The greatest person is the servant in the Kingdom of Heaven. Jesus did for us what we could not do for ourselves. In return, we can do nothing for him, because he needs nothing from us. Instead, he tells us to look to the weak of this world and serve them. Find someone whom you can help, who is unable to do something for themselves, and take care of them. In other words, pay it forward. That is what Jesus means when he says, “Love one another as I have loved you.”
Of course this is all just more logical. Why would the weak serve the strong? That is foolishness, but it is the way of the world. If the world is a pyramid, the strongest ought to be on the bottom holding up the weak. At the very top should be the weakest person in the whole world, the person who cannot do anything for themselves or for anyone else. The world says that we should kill that person. Jesus says that we should serve them.
This is why the angels serve us; they are stronger than us. Who is considered greater: the President of the United States or Blessed Theresa of Calcutta? We forget presidents. Who remembers Chester Arthur? We remember saints. The scribes and the Pharisees sought human approval by trying to put themselves above others, which only makes others mad and/or jealous. We have put ourselves below others, as their servants, if we really want approval.
June 16, 2012 - Memorial of The Immaculate Heart of The Blessed Virgin Mary
1 Kings 19:19-21
Psalm 16:1-2+5, 7-8, 9-10
Luke 2.41-51
I think the three days should be considered like this: the first day was looking for Jesus in the caravan, the second day was going back to Jerusalem, and on the third day they arrived in Jerusalem. If this is the case, they probably headed right for the temple once the city gates opened on the third day. This seems like a very reasonable search. I see no reason for anyone to question the searching process of Mary and Joseph, and, if we look carefully, we see that Jesus does not question the process. He does not ask, “Why did you not look in the temple right away?” He asks, “Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” He is not correcting his parent’s methods but their attitude.
What their attitude was we can easily imagine. Jesus at 12 is an adult in his culture. In some ways it would be more like losing track of your 18 year old. When Jesus did not show up for lunch, Mary probably thought he was just with some friends. When he did not show up for bed that night, she probably spent the night lying awake, worrying more with each passing hour. The next morning was a frenzied trip back to Jerusalem. The next night was spent outside the city gates, waiting for them to open at sunrise. Then her relief and confusion, “Son why have you done this to us?”, reveal the stress she was under.
Not that Mary did anything wrong in all this. Worrying is part of being a parent. But what Jesus points out is also true, there was no objective reason to worry. It is not as if God might be getting into trouble, nor is it possible that anyone could have harmed him. Nevertheless, this was surely neither the first nor the last time that Mary worried about Jesus. Being a parent is hard, and being God’s parent does not make it easier.
We usually consider Mary as our Mother or as the perfect example of the Christian life or as the Mother of God in a theological sense, but, as yesterday we considered the humanity of Jesus in his Sacred Heart, today we consider the humanity of Mary in her Immaculate Heart. Just imagine all the worrying and hoping and suffering and love that her heart went through. Do not be afraid to turn to her; she knows what you are going through right now.
Psalm 16:1-2+5, 7-8, 9-10
Luke 2.41-51
I think the three days should be considered like this: the first day was looking for Jesus in the caravan, the second day was going back to Jerusalem, and on the third day they arrived in Jerusalem. If this is the case, they probably headed right for the temple once the city gates opened on the third day. This seems like a very reasonable search. I see no reason for anyone to question the searching process of Mary and Joseph, and, if we look carefully, we see that Jesus does not question the process. He does not ask, “Why did you not look in the temple right away?” He asks, “Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” He is not correcting his parent’s methods but their attitude.
What their attitude was we can easily imagine. Jesus at 12 is an adult in his culture. In some ways it would be more like losing track of your 18 year old. When Jesus did not show up for lunch, Mary probably thought he was just with some friends. When he did not show up for bed that night, she probably spent the night lying awake, worrying more with each passing hour. The next morning was a frenzied trip back to Jerusalem. The next night was spent outside the city gates, waiting for them to open at sunrise. Then her relief and confusion, “Son why have you done this to us?”, reveal the stress she was under.
Not that Mary did anything wrong in all this. Worrying is part of being a parent. But what Jesus points out is also true, there was no objective reason to worry. It is not as if God might be getting into trouble, nor is it possible that anyone could have harmed him. Nevertheless, this was surely neither the first nor the last time that Mary worried about Jesus. Being a parent is hard, and being God’s parent does not make it easier.
We usually consider Mary as our Mother or as the perfect example of the Christian life or as the Mother of God in a theological sense, but, as yesterday we considered the humanity of Jesus in his Sacred Heart, today we consider the humanity of Mary in her Immaculate Heart. Just imagine all the worrying and hoping and suffering and love that her heart went through. Do not be afraid to turn to her; she knows what you are going through right now.
January 29, 2012 - Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Today's Readings
Jesus taught in a way that astonished people. The people of the synagogue were amazed before Jesus cast out the unclean spirit. Jesus simply went into the synagogue and taught. I wonder what that must have sounded like, what it must have felt like, to have been sitting in the pews while Jesus gave a homily. I know what is like to hear a great preacher, to listen to someone who seems to be speaking directly to my soul, to my situation, to my desires, to my hopes, but Jesus is more than a great preacher. Every word he speaks carries with it an authority that no mere human person could ever speak with. When Jesus talked about the Scripture, it was like an author commenting on their own book. When he talked about the world or nature, it was like an artist commenting on their own work.
Jesus is the fulfillment of God's promise to Moses to send a prophet like us who would speak the words of God. Every prophet who was a true prophet spoke God's word, but the people of Israel had come to understand this teaching of Moses to refer not to all the prophets who had come to Israel but to one great prophet. Jesus fulfills that role perfectly. The prophet was supposed to come and teach the people the will of God, finishing what Moses had started. This is what Jesus did. After 1500 years, humans were finally ready to hear the rest.
What surprised the scribes and Pharisees was that Jesus did not come with new laws, as if the only thing lacking was specificity. Instead, Jesus came with something greater than a law; he came with the Holy Spirit. So now we Christians, rather than following a law, are disciples of a person. By the power of the Holy Spirit we declare ourselves devoted to Jesus Christ and to his Father. The law was a sort of middleman that Jesus eliminated. By following the law, the Jews were obedient. We Christians, instead, declare our obedience first and act in accord with that obedience. In this way, we Christians follow a stricter law then the Jews, but we follow it in freedom.
An example of this is found in our second reading today. There is no law in this reading; St. Paul merely suggests that it is easier to follow God if a person does not get married. Some people are afraid of what St. Paul says, because he seems to suggest that unmarried people are holier than married people, or at least that is how some people interpret it after reading it the first time. What St. Paul actually says in this reading is simply an undeniable fact: married people, especially married people with children, do not have time to spend their whole day in prayer. If a married person did spend all day in prayer, as if they were a contemplative nun or a Carthusian monk, they would be shirking their responsibilities to their spouse and their children. It would be wrong for a married person to abandon their family in some misguided attempt to be a more faithful servant of God.
However, I want to clarify one thing that St. Paul says. He says that an unmarried man is concerned about the things of the Lord, but this is not necessarily true. St. Paul is talking about a good unmarried man and a good married man. If we compare the lives of St. Bruno the monk and St. Louis the king, we would find that, although they were both Saints, St. Bruno spent far more time in prayer. This does not mean that St. Bruno was a better man than St. Louis, only that his life was simpler.
St. Paul is not speaking of an absolute fact but a possibility. Clearly not every unmarried person takes advantage of their opportunity to follow God. When I read this passage as a celibate man, I do not see St. Paul congratulating me or suggesting that I had better than married people. What I see is a serious challenge. I have given up the possibility of a wife and children so that I could more completely dedicate my life to God, but this does not mean that I necessarily will. I have so much free time without a wife or children, but what do I use that free time for? If I use my freedom as a single person to watch television or to collect figurines, then I am a fool. In giving up the possibility of family, I have given up a great good. If I fill this space left behind with self-indulgence, with anything less than a greater good, I am a fool.
So St. Paul is speaking of possibilities. A person could give up marriage and use the time and energy they save for prayer and serving others. If someone can do this, then their life will be simpler than the life of a married person who serves God. As St. Paul says, “I am telling you this for your own benefit, not to impose a restraint upon you.” Just because he recommends the one does not mean that he disdains the other. If a person can live the undivided life of service to God and neighbor, then they should not get married, but it is far better to get married and start a family and serve God and neighbor as you are able then to live a life of selfish indulgence.
There is no Christian vocation to be a carefree bachelor. Your life has been given to you by God not for you to do with it whatever you wish, but for you to use for good purpose. A life of meaning, a life with purpose, whether that purpose is raising a family or caring for the poor, is a life well lived. St. Paul followed his own advice. He never married, and had no children. He used his freedom to travel the world and preach the Gospel. He often lived in poverty. He sometimes lived in jail. He could never have done this as effectively with a family to care for.
How could God give this teaching in the form of the law? He could not. He is inviting us to exercise our freedom in favor of serving him. By definition, this cannot be mandated by law. Nothing is commanded. The vocation of celibacy is merely proposed. There would be no way for this to happen in the old law.
The second reading is a framework for the whole Christian life: no Commandments, just suggestions. St. Paul’s teaching is for people who are asking one question: “How can I serve God better?” In this way, a Christian is beyond the law. A disciple of Jesus Christ does not need to be told not to commit adultery or murder or theft. Would any of that serve God? Of course not. God does not want to control our lives with a lot of “do this” and “do not do that”. God wants us to be his coworkers, to share with him a vision of the universe, a mission, a purpose. Once we share that mission with God, we will be free.
Jesus taught in a way that astonished people. The people of the synagogue were amazed before Jesus cast out the unclean spirit. Jesus simply went into the synagogue and taught. I wonder what that must have sounded like, what it must have felt like, to have been sitting in the pews while Jesus gave a homily. I know what is like to hear a great preacher, to listen to someone who seems to be speaking directly to my soul, to my situation, to my desires, to my hopes, but Jesus is more than a great preacher. Every word he speaks carries with it an authority that no mere human person could ever speak with. When Jesus talked about the Scripture, it was like an author commenting on their own book. When he talked about the world or nature, it was like an artist commenting on their own work.
Jesus is the fulfillment of God's promise to Moses to send a prophet like us who would speak the words of God. Every prophet who was a true prophet spoke God's word, but the people of Israel had come to understand this teaching of Moses to refer not to all the prophets who had come to Israel but to one great prophet. Jesus fulfills that role perfectly. The prophet was supposed to come and teach the people the will of God, finishing what Moses had started. This is what Jesus did. After 1500 years, humans were finally ready to hear the rest.
What surprised the scribes and Pharisees was that Jesus did not come with new laws, as if the only thing lacking was specificity. Instead, Jesus came with something greater than a law; he came with the Holy Spirit. So now we Christians, rather than following a law, are disciples of a person. By the power of the Holy Spirit we declare ourselves devoted to Jesus Christ and to his Father. The law was a sort of middleman that Jesus eliminated. By following the law, the Jews were obedient. We Christians, instead, declare our obedience first and act in accord with that obedience. In this way, we Christians follow a stricter law then the Jews, but we follow it in freedom.
An example of this is found in our second reading today. There is no law in this reading; St. Paul merely suggests that it is easier to follow God if a person does not get married. Some people are afraid of what St. Paul says, because he seems to suggest that unmarried people are holier than married people, or at least that is how some people interpret it after reading it the first time. What St. Paul actually says in this reading is simply an undeniable fact: married people, especially married people with children, do not have time to spend their whole day in prayer. If a married person did spend all day in prayer, as if they were a contemplative nun or a Carthusian monk, they would be shirking their responsibilities to their spouse and their children. It would be wrong for a married person to abandon their family in some misguided attempt to be a more faithful servant of God.
However, I want to clarify one thing that St. Paul says. He says that an unmarried man is concerned about the things of the Lord, but this is not necessarily true. St. Paul is talking about a good unmarried man and a good married man. If we compare the lives of St. Bruno the monk and St. Louis the king, we would find that, although they were both Saints, St. Bruno spent far more time in prayer. This does not mean that St. Bruno was a better man than St. Louis, only that his life was simpler.
St. Paul is not speaking of an absolute fact but a possibility. Clearly not every unmarried person takes advantage of their opportunity to follow God. When I read this passage as a celibate man, I do not see St. Paul congratulating me or suggesting that I had better than married people. What I see is a serious challenge. I have given up the possibility of a wife and children so that I could more completely dedicate my life to God, but this does not mean that I necessarily will. I have so much free time without a wife or children, but what do I use that free time for? If I use my freedom as a single person to watch television or to collect figurines, then I am a fool. In giving up the possibility of family, I have given up a great good. If I fill this space left behind with self-indulgence, with anything less than a greater good, I am a fool.
So St. Paul is speaking of possibilities. A person could give up marriage and use the time and energy they save for prayer and serving others. If someone can do this, then their life will be simpler than the life of a married person who serves God. As St. Paul says, “I am telling you this for your own benefit, not to impose a restraint upon you.” Just because he recommends the one does not mean that he disdains the other. If a person can live the undivided life of service to God and neighbor, then they should not get married, but it is far better to get married and start a family and serve God and neighbor as you are able then to live a life of selfish indulgence.
There is no Christian vocation to be a carefree bachelor. Your life has been given to you by God not for you to do with it whatever you wish, but for you to use for good purpose. A life of meaning, a life with purpose, whether that purpose is raising a family or caring for the poor, is a life well lived. St. Paul followed his own advice. He never married, and had no children. He used his freedom to travel the world and preach the Gospel. He often lived in poverty. He sometimes lived in jail. He could never have done this as effectively with a family to care for.
How could God give this teaching in the form of the law? He could not. He is inviting us to exercise our freedom in favor of serving him. By definition, this cannot be mandated by law. Nothing is commanded. The vocation of celibacy is merely proposed. There would be no way for this to happen in the old law.
The second reading is a framework for the whole Christian life: no Commandments, just suggestions. St. Paul’s teaching is for people who are asking one question: “How can I serve God better?” In this way, a Christian is beyond the law. A disciple of Jesus Christ does not need to be told not to commit adultery or murder or theft. Would any of that serve God? Of course not. God does not want to control our lives with a lot of “do this” and “do not do that”. God wants us to be his coworkers, to share with him a vision of the universe, a mission, a purpose. Once we share that mission with God, we will be free.
November 5, 2011 - Saturday of the Thirty-First Week in Ordinary Time
Today's Readings
You cannot serve God and Mammon. If you love Mammon you will hate God. God is always telling us to give all our money to the poor. He calls money worthless when he says to return it to Caesar. He tells his disciples to not carry a moneybag when he sends them out. If you love God, you will hate Mammon. A saint might use money to get something done, but the idea of collecting the stuff, working to pile up the stuff, is just silly. Money might be a necessary evil, but to desire wealth for its own sake is just ridiculous.
You cannot serve God and Mammon. If you attend to Mammon, you will neglect God. Even in prayer you will be thinking about how you can get more money, so who are you really praying to? If you attend to God, you will neglect Mammon, even at work you will try to be a better person, so who are you really working for? If you attend to Mammon, you will neglect God. You will work on Sunday, not because you might starve otherwise nor because your work is a necessary part of society but for the money. If you attend to God, you will neglect Mammon. You will be too busy loving your neighbor to consider how they might be profitable to you.
“No servant can serve two masters.” Instead of the usual word for servant, Jesus uses a word that implies that the servant is to some extent part of the family. I did not have any servants growing up, but I think of Alice on the Brady Bunch or Jeeves from Jeeves and Wooster or some of the other servants in books who form an essential part of the household. A farm hand might do a little work here and little work there, but a household servant cannot so easily divide their loyalties.
We belong to the household of God. In another place Jesus calls us “the adopted sons and daughters of God”, and our loyalty is called “love”; here Jesus calls us “housemates” and calls the loyalty “service”, but both images express the same idea: God is bringing us into his family. We stand outside in a dark, cold world. Mammon beckons, offering small, temporary comforts; God invites, offering warmth and light and a place to live. Above all, God offers a family to join. We have to choose.
You cannot serve God and Mammon. If you love Mammon you will hate God. God is always telling us to give all our money to the poor. He calls money worthless when he says to return it to Caesar. He tells his disciples to not carry a moneybag when he sends them out. If you love God, you will hate Mammon. A saint might use money to get something done, but the idea of collecting the stuff, working to pile up the stuff, is just silly. Money might be a necessary evil, but to desire wealth for its own sake is just ridiculous.
You cannot serve God and Mammon. If you attend to Mammon, you will neglect God. Even in prayer you will be thinking about how you can get more money, so who are you really praying to? If you attend to God, you will neglect Mammon, even at work you will try to be a better person, so who are you really working for? If you attend to Mammon, you will neglect God. You will work on Sunday, not because you might starve otherwise nor because your work is a necessary part of society but for the money. If you attend to God, you will neglect Mammon. You will be too busy loving your neighbor to consider how they might be profitable to you.
“No servant can serve two masters.” Instead of the usual word for servant, Jesus uses a word that implies that the servant is to some extent part of the family. I did not have any servants growing up, but I think of Alice on the Brady Bunch or Jeeves from Jeeves and Wooster or some of the other servants in books who form an essential part of the household. A farm hand might do a little work here and little work there, but a household servant cannot so easily divide their loyalties.
We belong to the household of God. In another place Jesus calls us “the adopted sons and daughters of God”, and our loyalty is called “love”; here Jesus calls us “housemates” and calls the loyalty “service”, but both images express the same idea: God is bringing us into his family. We stand outside in a dark, cold world. Mammon beckons, offering small, temporary comforts; God invites, offering warmth and light and a place to live. Above all, God offers a family to join. We have to choose.
September 2, 2011 - Friday of the Twenty-Second Week in Ordinary Time
Today's Readings
“Christ Jesus is the image of the invisible God.” “No one has seen the Father except Jesus Christ, who is from God; he has seen the Father.” Imagine what God the Father looks like. If you imagined something, it is wrong. There is no image whatsoever that can represent the Father. We sometimes think of God the Father as being the old man with the white beard, but God is a spirit.
When God created the world, he made an image of himself for us to look at when we want to know him. It is us. We are created in his image and likeness, male and female he created us. So each individual person is an image of God, because we are alive and he is alive, because we can think and he can think, but we are more an image of him because we can love and he is love. The family is an image of God: three persons but one God, so also three persons but one family.
None of these images were ever perfect. A family is cannot be truly one the way that God is one. We can think but God knows everything. We are alive but God is life. None of these images were ever perfect, but when we sinned that first time, and every time since, we have smudged and obscured the image so that it can be difficult to see God.
Which is where Jesus comes in. He is the image of the invisible God. He is the perfect image; he is, first of all, the perfection of man. In Jesus Christ we can see the image and likeness of God that is damaged and blurry in each of us as clearly as it was originally intended to be. Here is one who thinks rightly. Here is one who lives well. Here is one who loves with the entire capacity of the human heart.
The link between any symbol and reality is a convention, an agreement of human minds. All language is ultimately arbitrary. Any given word could mean anything at all if we agreed on it. But the link between the human nature of Jesus and the divine person of the Son is perfect and complete: the hypostatic union. If we have a relationship with Jesus, then we have a relationship with God. Jesus is the image of the invisible God because Jesus is the invisible God.
“Christ Jesus is the image of the invisible God.” “No one has seen the Father except Jesus Christ, who is from God; he has seen the Father.” Imagine what God the Father looks like. If you imagined something, it is wrong. There is no image whatsoever that can represent the Father. We sometimes think of God the Father as being the old man with the white beard, but God is a spirit.
When God created the world, he made an image of himself for us to look at when we want to know him. It is us. We are created in his image and likeness, male and female he created us. So each individual person is an image of God, because we are alive and he is alive, because we can think and he can think, but we are more an image of him because we can love and he is love. The family is an image of God: three persons but one God, so also three persons but one family.
None of these images were ever perfect. A family is cannot be truly one the way that God is one. We can think but God knows everything. We are alive but God is life. None of these images were ever perfect, but when we sinned that first time, and every time since, we have smudged and obscured the image so that it can be difficult to see God.
Which is where Jesus comes in. He is the image of the invisible God. He is the perfect image; he is, first of all, the perfection of man. In Jesus Christ we can see the image and likeness of God that is damaged and blurry in each of us as clearly as it was originally intended to be. Here is one who thinks rightly. Here is one who lives well. Here is one who loves with the entire capacity of the human heart.
The link between any symbol and reality is a convention, an agreement of human minds. All language is ultimately arbitrary. Any given word could mean anything at all if we agreed on it. But the link between the human nature of Jesus and the divine person of the Son is perfect and complete: the hypostatic union. If we have a relationship with Jesus, then we have a relationship with God. Jesus is the image of the invisible God because Jesus is the invisible God.
March 20, 2011 - Second Sunday of Lent
Today's Readings
One week into Lent is a tough place to be. We have five weeks left until Easter. Around this time we begin to look longingly at the indulgences that make up our life the rest of the year. It seems as though we ought to be further along than just beginning the second week. At least, I hope this is how you feel. If not, if Lent is going along easily, if you forgot that it was Lent, then you probably are not doing enough for Lent. Lent is only easy if we are already perfect or if we are not doing it. The point of Lent is to die. On Easter, Jesus rose from the dead. If we want to rise with Jesus this Easter, we will need to be dead by then. Lent ought to be killing us: that is how you know it is working.
How glorious it is then that the Church gives us some refreshment today. Not the mistaken refreshment of those who think that Sundays are a day off from Lent, as if Jesus took a day off each week during the 40 days in the desert. No, man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of God. The readings today, the Word of God, provide our example, encouragement, and refreshment.
We begin with a good example in Abraham who, at the Word of God, left his home and traveled across the whole Middle East. Abraham believed that God would fulfill his promise. We can only begin to imagine the sacrifices he made. It was 25 more years before the promise began to be fulfilled with the birth of Isaac. God has made promises to us also. He promises us that if we leave our lives behind, he will give us far more than anything we ever gave up. We should believe this promise.
After the example we get encouragement and advice. St. Paul tells us, “Bear your share of hardship for the gospel with the strength that comes from God.” We are not supposed to use our own strength. There is a strength that comes from God and it is stronger than we are. We prayed in the psalm today: “Lord, let your mercy be on us, as we place our trust in you.” Lent is not a time where we learn to trust in ourselves. If the fasting of Lent or the additional work and prayer we do were done with our own strength, then Lent would make our pride and self-reliance grow. If, instead, we do everything with the strength that comes from God, then our reliance on God will grow, our love for God will grow.
Then we arrive at the refreshment. The Gospel today is the Transfiguration, as it always is on the Second Sunday of Lent. The Transfiguration is such a beautiful image, like an eyewitness account of heaven. All of salvation history is present on the mountain. Moses, who wrote down the Law, was there. Elijah, the greatest of all the prophets, was there. Jesus, son of David, King of Israel, was there. Peter, who was the first pope and wrote two letters of the New Testament, was there. John, who wrote a Gospel and another letter, was there. James, the first apostle to be a martyr was there. God is present: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The Father speaks; the Son, Jesus, shines forth like the sun; and the Holy Spirit is present as the bright cloud.
The Father said, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him.” What a wonderful relationship between the Father and the Son. We were supposed to have perfect families like that too, but sin ruined it. Imagine, children, if your parents were perfect. Perhaps I am surprising you, when I warn you that they are not; perhaps you have already figured that out. But if they were perfect, it would be easier to always obey them. And parents, imagine if your children were perfect. How much easier it would be to be their parent! Our families are not perfect, because we are not perfect, but for now, let us just stay on this mountain, and imagine.
Peter was so happy to be on the mountain that he did not even know what to say; he only knew that he wanted to stay there. I wonder whether he interrupted Moses or Elijah, who were conversing with our Lord, with his offer to set up tents. Years later, Peter recalled this moment in a letter, reminding people that he was actually there on the mountain, that he had really heard the Father’s voice say, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.” Life was good, that day, on top of the mountain. It was as close to being in heaven as a person can experience on the earth. If we sit and contemplate that image, of Jesus shining like the sun, surrounded by saints, we can share in that taste of heaven.
We will probably have to wait until heaven to see heaven. When we see Jesus shining like the sun, surrounded by the saints, it will be on the other side of whatever death is out there waiting for us. But we do have a sort of mountain we can visit: right here at Mass. We will not see Moses or Elijah or Peter, James, and John, but we will read about them, and Jesus too. Jesus will be present, not in shining white garments, but hidden under the forms of bread and wine. The apostles spent time with Jesus every day, but his true identity, which was usually hidden, was revealed on the mountain. We can receive the Eucharist every day, and we believe that Jesus’ true identity is hidden in these symbols of bread and wine, which actually are the Body and Blood and Soul and Divinity of our Lord, the same Jesus Christ who was transfigured on the mountain. Indeed, the apostles saw Jesus on that mountain, but we, when we receive the Eucharist, are united to him in our bodies.
When we come here each week, it is like climbing the mountain. The world still exists out there, but we can forget about it for a little while. We should savor this time we spend with God. We cannot set up tents, though. We have to go back into the world. Jesus had to come down from the mountain and go die on the Cross. We have got five more weeks of Lent, and then the rest of life, before heaven.
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