2 Kings 22:8-13; 23:1-3
Psalm 119.33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 40 Resp. 33a
Matthew 7.15-20
After many kings who did evil, King Josiah began the work of restoring the temple. When the book of the Law was found during the restoration, he wept and committed himself fully to the Law. He had it read to the people so that they too could follow the Law. King Josiah begins anew the covenant between Israel and the Lord. He rids Israel of the pagan religions and celebrates the Passover of the Lord, that great feast which had not been celebrated for hundreds of years.
So what happened to the great King Josiah, who “turned to the Lord with all his heart and with all his soul and with all his might”? He died. He was killed in battle by the Pharaoh of Egypt who took over the country until the Babylonians arrived a decade later. And the sons of Josiah did what was evil in the sight of the Lord. Josiah never really had a chance to make his reforms stick. Too much evil had been done in Judah by the previous generations, and it is not so easy to undo centuries of evil with one good king.
So also in our spiritual lives. One good intention is not enough to undo a lifetime of sin. One good retreat or one good prayer will not change us. Our willingness to sin has made us weak. We confess our sins, but then we return to them. It is not possible to give in to temptation a thousand times and then simply decide to stop sinning, not without grace. God can accomplish anything in us, if we allow him, but allowing him may be dangerous. To purify the Israelites, God sent them into exile for 70 years. Who knows how God will purify us! It probably will not be pleasant or easy. Perhaps we are afraid of life without sin, or of the suffering that will free us from our sins. We would so like to start over fresh, as if none of the past had ever happened, but we cannot, because it did. God forgives our sins, but in order to free us from them, there must be fire, either in this life or the next. If we truly want to be free, we will embrace the fire in this life and allow it to burn away the attachments we have formed. And we can make this fire burn hotter now by fasting and penance, if we wish.
Daily Homilies
Showing posts with label Justification. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Justification. Show all posts
February 21, 2014 - Friday of the Sixth Week in Ordinary Time
James 2:14-24, 26
Psalm 112:1-6
Mark 8:34-9:1
When Martin Luther was inventing his new version of Christianity, where he decided that whatever he happened to think was right was definitely right, thereby claiming for himself the infallibility that he denied the Church, he ran into a difficulty in that part of the New Testament clearly contradicted his interpretation of St. Paul. A more humble man might have begun to question whether the interpretation was correct. Martin Luther was not a humble man. He considered himself able to judge the epistle of James: these parts he liked, these other parts he did not like.
He wanted to say that faith justifies apart from works. This is mostly because he did not know the meaning of the word “justify”, which means to change a person into someone who does just works. Our faith is not something we hold onto separately from who we are. Our faith changes us. Faith is not a passive possession; it is an active principle.
If our faith justifies us, that means that our belief in God makes us into a better person, but this is not necessarily true. St. James points to an obvious case: the demons. They believe in God but they are not made into better people. We do not need to go to the supernatural realm to find that this is true. People like those Christians who protest at funerals or a child-abusing priest prove the principle right here on earth. They believe in God, but it does not do them much good.
So faith by itself is not sufficient for justification; something more is needed. St. James calls it “works”, but the principle of these works is love. Jesus tells us to believe, but he also tells us to love. Faith without love is dead. I cannot merely wish good things for the poor. “Bye. Keep warm and well-fed.” I have to love them. “Love one another as I have loved you.” Jesus said that. Faith is not enough.
Faith does not require anything from me. I can believe and then go on living as I always have. Faith is cheap; love is costly. Whoever wishes to follow Jesus must deny themself, take up their cross, and follow him. Does this sound like faith? No. Faith cannot lift a cross. Only love can do that. Faith tells us that we should follow Jesus; love is what does the following. Faith tells us who we should love and who loves us; love is what does the loving.
Psalm 112:1-6
Mark 8:34-9:1
When Martin Luther was inventing his new version of Christianity, where he decided that whatever he happened to think was right was definitely right, thereby claiming for himself the infallibility that he denied the Church, he ran into a difficulty in that part of the New Testament clearly contradicted his interpretation of St. Paul. A more humble man might have begun to question whether the interpretation was correct. Martin Luther was not a humble man. He considered himself able to judge the epistle of James: these parts he liked, these other parts he did not like.
He wanted to say that faith justifies apart from works. This is mostly because he did not know the meaning of the word “justify”, which means to change a person into someone who does just works. Our faith is not something we hold onto separately from who we are. Our faith changes us. Faith is not a passive possession; it is an active principle.
If our faith justifies us, that means that our belief in God makes us into a better person, but this is not necessarily true. St. James points to an obvious case: the demons. They believe in God but they are not made into better people. We do not need to go to the supernatural realm to find that this is true. People like those Christians who protest at funerals or a child-abusing priest prove the principle right here on earth. They believe in God, but it does not do them much good.
So faith by itself is not sufficient for justification; something more is needed. St. James calls it “works”, but the principle of these works is love. Jesus tells us to believe, but he also tells us to love. Faith without love is dead. I cannot merely wish good things for the poor. “Bye. Keep warm and well-fed.” I have to love them. “Love one another as I have loved you.” Jesus said that. Faith is not enough.
Faith does not require anything from me. I can believe and then go on living as I always have. Faith is cheap; love is costly. Whoever wishes to follow Jesus must deny themself, take up their cross, and follow him. Does this sound like faith? No. Faith cannot lift a cross. Only love can do that. Faith tells us that we should follow Jesus; love is what does the following. Faith tells us who we should love and who loves us; love is what does the loving.
November 20, 2012 - Tuesday of the Thirty-third Week in Ordinary Time
Revelation 3:1-6, 14-22
Psalm 15:2-5
Luke 19:1-10
The law, as reflected in this psalm today, is an accusation against us. “Who can go to heaven?”, the psalm asks, and it answers, “He who walks blamelessly and does justice; who thinks the truth in his heart and slanders not with his tongue. Who harms not his fellow man, nor takes up a reproach against his neighbor; who lends not his money at usury, and accepts no bribe against the innocent.” Who can hear all that without being aware of their own failure to live up to it? When we are young, we are told to be good, and we try to be good. As we grow, we look forward to a day when we have grown out of our faults, but eventually we realize that we are making no progress. There are two human responses to this realization: we can give up trying to follow the law and accept our sins, that we will always be selfish, greedy, and cruel, or we can just pretend that we are following the law, though we know better. We can be a sinner like Zacchaeus or a hypocrite like the Pharisees, or in all likelihood, some combination of each.
Yet even after we have given up the desire of our youth to actually be good, the desire is not entirely dead. If there were a pill we could take that would fix us, and allow us to be generous and loving and consistent, who would not gladly take it? Or, if it were not something so simple, but rather a mountain we had to climb, who would not climb it? But the truth is that there is a solution to our problem. In this reading from Revelation, there are some harsh accusations against the Churches in Sardis and Laodicea, but they are accompanied by an offer. “Buy from me gold, and white garments, and ointment for your eyes. Those whom I love, I reprove and chastise.”
Jesus is the cure to what ails us. It does not come in an instant. It is more like climbing a mountain than taking a pill, but this solution is real. This possibility is real. It is not necessary to give up. Our efforts are useless on their own, but with Jesus Christ, we have the power to become the people we have always wanted to be. He is holding out his gifts and begging us to make use of them.
Psalm 15:2-5
Luke 19:1-10
The law, as reflected in this psalm today, is an accusation against us. “Who can go to heaven?”, the psalm asks, and it answers, “He who walks blamelessly and does justice; who thinks the truth in his heart and slanders not with his tongue. Who harms not his fellow man, nor takes up a reproach against his neighbor; who lends not his money at usury, and accepts no bribe against the innocent.” Who can hear all that without being aware of their own failure to live up to it? When we are young, we are told to be good, and we try to be good. As we grow, we look forward to a day when we have grown out of our faults, but eventually we realize that we are making no progress. There are two human responses to this realization: we can give up trying to follow the law and accept our sins, that we will always be selfish, greedy, and cruel, or we can just pretend that we are following the law, though we know better. We can be a sinner like Zacchaeus or a hypocrite like the Pharisees, or in all likelihood, some combination of each.
Yet even after we have given up the desire of our youth to actually be good, the desire is not entirely dead. If there were a pill we could take that would fix us, and allow us to be generous and loving and consistent, who would not gladly take it? Or, if it were not something so simple, but rather a mountain we had to climb, who would not climb it? But the truth is that there is a solution to our problem. In this reading from Revelation, there are some harsh accusations against the Churches in Sardis and Laodicea, but they are accompanied by an offer. “Buy from me gold, and white garments, and ointment for your eyes. Those whom I love, I reprove and chastise.”
Jesus is the cure to what ails us. It does not come in an instant. It is more like climbing a mountain than taking a pill, but this solution is real. This possibility is real. It is not necessary to give up. Our efforts are useless on their own, but with Jesus Christ, we have the power to become the people we have always wanted to be. He is holding out his gifts and begging us to make use of them.
October 28, 2012 - Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Jeremiah 31:7-9
Psalm 126:1-6
Hebrews 5:1-6
Mark 10:46-52
“What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asks Bartimaeus, and Bartimaeus is ready with an immediate answer. Are we ready with an answer? If we heard that Jesus was waiting for us, and he asked this question, would the answer come so quickly to our lips? Bartimaeus does not have a list. He does not pause between various options. He knows what he wants: to see again. We should have a desire in our hearts as strong as the desire of Bartimaeus to see again. He wants to see so badly that even when the people tell him to be quiet, he calls out all the louder.
What should this desire be? If it were for some material object, it would not be worthy of being all-consuming. If it were merely for a physical healing, it would be inferior because it would be temporary. We are all going to die. Every one of us is terminally ill. A physical healing might grant us a few more years or even decades, but nothing more. The desire of our hearts is for something greater, for a healing that will last more than 100 years. The desire of our hearts is for the Resurrection. In the Resurrection, we will have every material thing we need. In the Resurrection, our bodies will be healed of every pain and disability. And the Resurrection is forever.
But what does it mean to desire the Resurrection? The Resurrection signifies a completely different mode of being. To desire the Resurrection is to desire change. If I want to participate in life forever, I have to be changed into the sort of person who can live forever. Right now I am not good enough. If I lived forever, my faults would infinitely multiply. The only way we can live forever is if we first become perfect. Perfection seems like a hopeless goal in this life, but it is a necessary prerequisite for the Resurrection. Since the Resurrection is the desire of our hearts, this perfection is the desire of our hearts.
The perfection we want is not simply to be freed from all sins. It is not enough to stop doing bad things. When Jesus says, “Be perfect”, he is speaking about love. To be ready for heaven, our love has to be perfect. First of all, our love of God has to be without qualification or reservation. We must love God with all of our heart, strength, mind, and soul. And then we must love each other as Jesus loved us. That is what it means to be perfect.
We cannot achieve this perfection by our own efforts. Justification, which is the process of God making us perfect, is by grace alone. It cannot be accomplished by human strength. Bartimaeus could never have healed his own blindness. All he could do was wait for the healing of God. But his waiting is not a passive waiting. He actively cries out to God for healing. So too we cannot just wait around for God to justify us. We work every day for the unattainable perfection, waiting for the day when God brings it within our reach. This waiting is full of striving and prayer. We strive so that we are headed in the right direction, but it is our prayers that will do the most good.
Like Bartimaeus, we must call out, “Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me.” We must not call out just once or twice. We must not stop if the crowd tells us that our cry is useless. Like Bartimaeus, who could not see Jesus, but still called out for him because he heard that Jesus was there, we too call out for what we cannot see but have only heard of. Bartimaeus must have wondered after calling out for the tenth or twentieth time whether Jesus was still there, or whether he had ever really been there. Suddenly, the crowd tells him, “Jesus is calling you.” Can we even imagine what it will be like after calling out for Jesus for the millionth time to suddenly hear the crowd of angels and saints tell us, “Jesus is calling you.”
What does Bartimaeus do when he receives his sight? Jesus says “Go”, but Bartimaeus instead follows Jesus along the way. Where else would he go? Jesus frees Bartimaeus to go wherever he wants, but where he wants to go is with Jesus. Just a few weeks ago, we heard Jesus tell the rich young man to go and sell everything and then come follow. Bartimaeus, being poor, is free to just get up and follow. The possessions of the rich man act as chains on his heart that prevent him from going easily where he wants. Bartimaeus, having nothing, is not held down by anything. With these stories next to each other, we see the contrast between the freedom of poverty and the slavery of riches.
Our readings today are filled with the promises of the Resurrection. God will bring us back from wherever we have wandered off to, and in the life he has planned for us, the blind will see and the lame will walk and every tear will be wiped away. The Lord has done great things for us; we are filled with joy. This life we live now is filled with reasons for sorrow, but every sorrow will be forgotten in the life to come. This life is hard because we are separated from God and from each other. Jesus is the high priest who can finally achieve for us the reconciliation with God. When we have been forgiven by God, we will naturally forgive our brothers and sisters. There is a perfect life waiting for us, and all we need to do is become perfect.
If we want to see the fulfillment of these promises we are going to need the faith of Bartimaeus, the ability to believe even when we cannot see, and the hope of Bartimaeus that continued to call out when Jesus did not immediately answer, and the poverty of Bartimaeus; since he did not have material things to love he was free to love Jesus and follow him. Bartimaeus is for us an example of faith, hope, and love. This is the contradiction of the Gospel. A blind beggar who was dismissed by those around him is for us today an example of perfection.
Psalm 126:1-6
Hebrews 5:1-6
Mark 10:46-52
“What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asks Bartimaeus, and Bartimaeus is ready with an immediate answer. Are we ready with an answer? If we heard that Jesus was waiting for us, and he asked this question, would the answer come so quickly to our lips? Bartimaeus does not have a list. He does not pause between various options. He knows what he wants: to see again. We should have a desire in our hearts as strong as the desire of Bartimaeus to see again. He wants to see so badly that even when the people tell him to be quiet, he calls out all the louder.
What should this desire be? If it were for some material object, it would not be worthy of being all-consuming. If it were merely for a physical healing, it would be inferior because it would be temporary. We are all going to die. Every one of us is terminally ill. A physical healing might grant us a few more years or even decades, but nothing more. The desire of our hearts is for something greater, for a healing that will last more than 100 years. The desire of our hearts is for the Resurrection. In the Resurrection, we will have every material thing we need. In the Resurrection, our bodies will be healed of every pain and disability. And the Resurrection is forever.
But what does it mean to desire the Resurrection? The Resurrection signifies a completely different mode of being. To desire the Resurrection is to desire change. If I want to participate in life forever, I have to be changed into the sort of person who can live forever. Right now I am not good enough. If I lived forever, my faults would infinitely multiply. The only way we can live forever is if we first become perfect. Perfection seems like a hopeless goal in this life, but it is a necessary prerequisite for the Resurrection. Since the Resurrection is the desire of our hearts, this perfection is the desire of our hearts.
The perfection we want is not simply to be freed from all sins. It is not enough to stop doing bad things. When Jesus says, “Be perfect”, he is speaking about love. To be ready for heaven, our love has to be perfect. First of all, our love of God has to be without qualification or reservation. We must love God with all of our heart, strength, mind, and soul. And then we must love each other as Jesus loved us. That is what it means to be perfect.
We cannot achieve this perfection by our own efforts. Justification, which is the process of God making us perfect, is by grace alone. It cannot be accomplished by human strength. Bartimaeus could never have healed his own blindness. All he could do was wait for the healing of God. But his waiting is not a passive waiting. He actively cries out to God for healing. So too we cannot just wait around for God to justify us. We work every day for the unattainable perfection, waiting for the day when God brings it within our reach. This waiting is full of striving and prayer. We strive so that we are headed in the right direction, but it is our prayers that will do the most good.
Like Bartimaeus, we must call out, “Jesus, Son of David, have pity on me.” We must not call out just once or twice. We must not stop if the crowd tells us that our cry is useless. Like Bartimaeus, who could not see Jesus, but still called out for him because he heard that Jesus was there, we too call out for what we cannot see but have only heard of. Bartimaeus must have wondered after calling out for the tenth or twentieth time whether Jesus was still there, or whether he had ever really been there. Suddenly, the crowd tells him, “Jesus is calling you.” Can we even imagine what it will be like after calling out for Jesus for the millionth time to suddenly hear the crowd of angels and saints tell us, “Jesus is calling you.”
What does Bartimaeus do when he receives his sight? Jesus says “Go”, but Bartimaeus instead follows Jesus along the way. Where else would he go? Jesus frees Bartimaeus to go wherever he wants, but where he wants to go is with Jesus. Just a few weeks ago, we heard Jesus tell the rich young man to go and sell everything and then come follow. Bartimaeus, being poor, is free to just get up and follow. The possessions of the rich man act as chains on his heart that prevent him from going easily where he wants. Bartimaeus, having nothing, is not held down by anything. With these stories next to each other, we see the contrast between the freedom of poverty and the slavery of riches.
Our readings today are filled with the promises of the Resurrection. God will bring us back from wherever we have wandered off to, and in the life he has planned for us, the blind will see and the lame will walk and every tear will be wiped away. The Lord has done great things for us; we are filled with joy. This life we live now is filled with reasons for sorrow, but every sorrow will be forgotten in the life to come. This life is hard because we are separated from God and from each other. Jesus is the high priest who can finally achieve for us the reconciliation with God. When we have been forgiven by God, we will naturally forgive our brothers and sisters. There is a perfect life waiting for us, and all we need to do is become perfect.
If we want to see the fulfillment of these promises we are going to need the faith of Bartimaeus, the ability to believe even when we cannot see, and the hope of Bartimaeus that continued to call out when Jesus did not immediately answer, and the poverty of Bartimaeus; since he did not have material things to love he was free to love Jesus and follow him. Bartimaeus is for us an example of faith, hope, and love. This is the contradiction of the Gospel. A blind beggar who was dismissed by those around him is for us today an example of perfection.
October 22, 2012 - Monday of the Twenty-ninth Week in Ordinary Time
Ephesians 2:1-10
Psalm 100:2-5
Luke 12:13-21
There are two wrong ways that people commonly think about how to get into heaven. The first is what Protestants accuse us Catholics of, called works-righteousness. According to this idea, we do good things and bad things and God keeps track, and then if the good is more than the bad we get into heaven. This is what many people, Catholic and Protestant, tend to believe. It is wrong. We are not saved by works of the law. The other wrong way is the traditional Protestant teaching that they get from misreading these verses, called Sola Fide. According to this idea, if a person believes that Jesus is Lord then they will get into heaven no matter what they have done. Jesus himself says that this is wrong.
The true Catholic teaching is what St. Paul gives in this reading today: “By grace you have been saved.” Salvation is by grace alone. What is grace? “It is not from you; it is the gift of God.” It is the power of God to change us. We do not go to heaven by having more good actions than sins. We do not go to heaven because of what we happen to believe. We go to heaven if the grace of God changes us into the sort of people who can live in heaven. The reason why Protestants accuse Catholics of works-righteousness is that good works are one way to tell whether the grace of God is active in my life. If today I am more likely than last year to serve the poor and do the other things that Jesus says, then I clearly have changed for the better. There is progress in the right direction.
Also, because of free will, when we choose to do bad things, we are refusing the grace of God and not changing for the better. This is why no one can say that they have done enough good to get by with a little sin. Like the man in the Gospel today, when he decided to tear down his barns instead of sharing his bountiful harvest with the poor, it made him a little smaller and worse. Faith is important. “By grace you are saved through faith.” Knowing about Jesus and his teachings helps us to accept the grace of God, but knowing and even believing mean nothing if we are not changed for the better by them.
Psalm 100:2-5
Luke 12:13-21
There are two wrong ways that people commonly think about how to get into heaven. The first is what Protestants accuse us Catholics of, called works-righteousness. According to this idea, we do good things and bad things and God keeps track, and then if the good is more than the bad we get into heaven. This is what many people, Catholic and Protestant, tend to believe. It is wrong. We are not saved by works of the law. The other wrong way is the traditional Protestant teaching that they get from misreading these verses, called Sola Fide. According to this idea, if a person believes that Jesus is Lord then they will get into heaven no matter what they have done. Jesus himself says that this is wrong.
The true Catholic teaching is what St. Paul gives in this reading today: “By grace you have been saved.” Salvation is by grace alone. What is grace? “It is not from you; it is the gift of God.” It is the power of God to change us. We do not go to heaven by having more good actions than sins. We do not go to heaven because of what we happen to believe. We go to heaven if the grace of God changes us into the sort of people who can live in heaven. The reason why Protestants accuse Catholics of works-righteousness is that good works are one way to tell whether the grace of God is active in my life. If today I am more likely than last year to serve the poor and do the other things that Jesus says, then I clearly have changed for the better. There is progress in the right direction.
Also, because of free will, when we choose to do bad things, we are refusing the grace of God and not changing for the better. This is why no one can say that they have done enough good to get by with a little sin. Like the man in the Gospel today, when he decided to tear down his barns instead of sharing his bountiful harvest with the poor, it made him a little smaller and worse. Faith is important. “By grace you are saved through faith.” Knowing about Jesus and his teachings helps us to accept the grace of God, but knowing and even believing mean nothing if we are not changed for the better by them.
October 12, 2012 - Friday of the Twenty-seventh Week in Ordinary Time
Galatians 3:7-14
Psalm 111:1-6
Luke 11:15-26
The problem with the law is how empty it is. There are hundreds of laws about food and eating, but none of them ever fed a starving person. The law about not mixing wool and linen in one cloth do not warm someone in need of clothes. Even the laws that tell people to care for the poor are still empty unless someone obeys. Above all, the law does not satisfy us spiritually. The only thing that the law does is reveal to us how lacking we are. Because of the law, I know what I do wrong, but the law does not lift a finger to help me do right. This is why St. Paul tells the Galatians that no one is justified before God by the law. The only thing that the law can provide is a curse for everyone who disobeys it, and who can go through life without ever breaking the law? We all break the law. So we all are cursed.
We are beaten down over and over again. And the law is true. It is no use to pretend that the law is false. The curse of the law is so frightening that we want it to be a nightmare we can wake up from, but we know that it is true. Journeying through the law is like walking through a desert. Does it help while walking through the desert to pretend that the human body does not need water? No. The law of thirst is absolute. If someone pretends that they do not need water, it just proves how badly in need they are: they are starting to lose their mind from thirst. But what if, instead of denying the law of thirst, we find an oasis?
What solution is there besides denying the truth? Faith. Just as food is to a hungry person and water to a thirsty person, so is the grace of faith to someone longing for God. Jesus tells us that if a demon is cast out, but the soul remains empty, the demon will return with 7 companions. If the law denies us our demons, but we remain empty, we will find worse demons. We will begin to think that we would be better off without the law. With faith though we are full, too full for any demons. Saying “NO” is a weak way to get rid of sin. Instead, say “Yes” to the Holy Spirit, to faith, to the grace of God, and there will be no room for evil.
Psalm 111:1-6
Luke 11:15-26
The problem with the law is how empty it is. There are hundreds of laws about food and eating, but none of them ever fed a starving person. The law about not mixing wool and linen in one cloth do not warm someone in need of clothes. Even the laws that tell people to care for the poor are still empty unless someone obeys. Above all, the law does not satisfy us spiritually. The only thing that the law does is reveal to us how lacking we are. Because of the law, I know what I do wrong, but the law does not lift a finger to help me do right. This is why St. Paul tells the Galatians that no one is justified before God by the law. The only thing that the law can provide is a curse for everyone who disobeys it, and who can go through life without ever breaking the law? We all break the law. So we all are cursed.
We are beaten down over and over again. And the law is true. It is no use to pretend that the law is false. The curse of the law is so frightening that we want it to be a nightmare we can wake up from, but we know that it is true. Journeying through the law is like walking through a desert. Does it help while walking through the desert to pretend that the human body does not need water? No. The law of thirst is absolute. If someone pretends that they do not need water, it just proves how badly in need they are: they are starting to lose their mind from thirst. But what if, instead of denying the law of thirst, we find an oasis?
What solution is there besides denying the truth? Faith. Just as food is to a hungry person and water to a thirsty person, so is the grace of faith to someone longing for God. Jesus tells us that if a demon is cast out, but the soul remains empty, the demon will return with 7 companions. If the law denies us our demons, but we remain empty, we will find worse demons. We will begin to think that we would be better off without the law. With faith though we are full, too full for any demons. Saying “NO” is a weak way to get rid of sin. Instead, say “Yes” to the Holy Spirit, to faith, to the grace of God, and there will be no room for evil.
September 24, 2012 - Monday of the Twenty-fifth Week in Ordinary Time
Proverbs 3:27-34
Psalm 15:2-5
Luke 8:16-18
Jesus wants all his little lamps to be shining on lampstands. He did not give us the faith, hope, and love just for our benefit. He wants to show us off. For every person who has faith in this world, a number of others are encouraged in their doubts. For every person who has hope, a number of others are no longer afraid. For every person who has love, a very great number of others are brought closer to God. A real saint does not go through this world without impact. They are like a lamp in a dark place: everyone else is lit up just by being in their presence.
How should we evaluate the Church? If we focus on the great sinners, those who have given real scandal to the Church, our claim to holiness will seem to be debunked. For every St. Francis or St. Therese, there is a wicked person who has given the Church a bad name. But this does not actually balance out. If there is a wicked person in the Church, I am not surprised. There are wicked people everywhere, and the Church’s membership requirements are pretty flimsy. All the wicked people in the world cannot cancel out one Saint. The existence of each Saint is enough to prove the faith. They found something; therefore, there must be something to find.
Just as it is not enough for the Saints to be holy for their own sake, but rather they have to be shining lamps on lampstands, it is not enough for us to see them and enjoy their light, we must take their existence as an invitation to become like them. It is nice to be in the light, it is better to be a light. Is this possible? Absolutely. The graces of God are not reserved for a few chosen people. The thing is to get started. No one can become a Saint overnight. The way is hard. It is very difficult to follow the narrow path between laxity and extremism. No one can become a Saint by their own effort and intellect. The law, the proverbs, all these instructions here are not enough. The end is clouded, but we do not need to see the end, just the next step. Wherever we are on the journey, God, right now, is giving us everything we need to take the next step. To those who have, more will be given.
Psalm 15:2-5
Luke 8:16-18
Jesus wants all his little lamps to be shining on lampstands. He did not give us the faith, hope, and love just for our benefit. He wants to show us off. For every person who has faith in this world, a number of others are encouraged in their doubts. For every person who has hope, a number of others are no longer afraid. For every person who has love, a very great number of others are brought closer to God. A real saint does not go through this world without impact. They are like a lamp in a dark place: everyone else is lit up just by being in their presence.
How should we evaluate the Church? If we focus on the great sinners, those who have given real scandal to the Church, our claim to holiness will seem to be debunked. For every St. Francis or St. Therese, there is a wicked person who has given the Church a bad name. But this does not actually balance out. If there is a wicked person in the Church, I am not surprised. There are wicked people everywhere, and the Church’s membership requirements are pretty flimsy. All the wicked people in the world cannot cancel out one Saint. The existence of each Saint is enough to prove the faith. They found something; therefore, there must be something to find.
Just as it is not enough for the Saints to be holy for their own sake, but rather they have to be shining lamps on lampstands, it is not enough for us to see them and enjoy their light, we must take their existence as an invitation to become like them. It is nice to be in the light, it is better to be a light. Is this possible? Absolutely. The graces of God are not reserved for a few chosen people. The thing is to get started. No one can become a Saint overnight. The way is hard. It is very difficult to follow the narrow path between laxity and extremism. No one can become a Saint by their own effort and intellect. The law, the proverbs, all these instructions here are not enough. The end is clouded, but we do not need to see the end, just the next step. Wherever we are on the journey, God, right now, is giving us everything we need to take the next step. To those who have, more will be given.
September 22, 2012 - Saturday of the Twenty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time
1 Corinthians 15:35-37, 42-49
Psalm 56:10-14
Luke 8:4-15
We are not yet what we ought to be. We are like an acorn in comparison to a tree. You plant the acorn and a tree grows. If the acorn wondered what sort of acorn it will be when it is a tree, it is missing the point that a tree is not an acorn at all. The acorn will have to be destroyed in order to become an oak tree. So we will have to be destroyed, torn down and built back up, in order to become immortal. God has great plans for us. Step one is our destruction. If God accomplished this without our cooperation, there would be nothing left to save in the end, but if we cooperate in our own destruction, in the tearing down of that selfish, weak, wicked self, then there will be something that remains through the process of growth and change: the part of us that cooperates will last.
How are we going to be destroyed? Jesus says that we are like the ground, and the seed is the Word of God, because when we hear the word, it is still something external to us, like a seed on the ground. Then we accept the word, and embrace it, and allow it to put down roots in our hearts. When the seed has grown and the roots have gone through every bit of soil so that the roots and the soil have become one, and the roots have even gone through every rock and broken it to pieces, when it is no longer clear where we end and the word of God begins, then we are ready for immortality.
We are so conditioned to fight for our own identity, to defend ourself against any attack. If someone says that we are not good enough, our first instinct is to prove that we are. We have to overcome this desire because of a greater desire. More than we want to defend who we are, we want to become who we could be. We accept the word of God even to our own destruction. It feels like giving in, but unlike every other attack on our identity, this comes from someone who loves us, who has great plans for us. It feels like starting over, but everything worth keeping will survive the change. We Christians are not afraid of death, because, if we are doing it right, we have spent our whole lives dying for that moment.
Psalm 56:10-14
Luke 8:4-15
We are not yet what we ought to be. We are like an acorn in comparison to a tree. You plant the acorn and a tree grows. If the acorn wondered what sort of acorn it will be when it is a tree, it is missing the point that a tree is not an acorn at all. The acorn will have to be destroyed in order to become an oak tree. So we will have to be destroyed, torn down and built back up, in order to become immortal. God has great plans for us. Step one is our destruction. If God accomplished this without our cooperation, there would be nothing left to save in the end, but if we cooperate in our own destruction, in the tearing down of that selfish, weak, wicked self, then there will be something that remains through the process of growth and change: the part of us that cooperates will last.
How are we going to be destroyed? Jesus says that we are like the ground, and the seed is the Word of God, because when we hear the word, it is still something external to us, like a seed on the ground. Then we accept the word, and embrace it, and allow it to put down roots in our hearts. When the seed has grown and the roots have gone through every bit of soil so that the roots and the soil have become one, and the roots have even gone through every rock and broken it to pieces, when it is no longer clear where we end and the word of God begins, then we are ready for immortality.
We are so conditioned to fight for our own identity, to defend ourself against any attack. If someone says that we are not good enough, our first instinct is to prove that we are. We have to overcome this desire because of a greater desire. More than we want to defend who we are, we want to become who we could be. We accept the word of God even to our own destruction. It feels like giving in, but unlike every other attack on our identity, this comes from someone who loves us, who has great plans for us. It feels like starting over, but everything worth keeping will survive the change. We Christians are not afraid of death, because, if we are doing it right, we have spent our whole lives dying for that moment.
February 17, 2012 - Friday of the Sixth Week in Ordinary Time
Today's Readings
When Martin Luther was inventing his new version of Christianity, where he decided that whatever he happened to think was right was definitely right, thereby claiming for himself the infallibility that he denied the Church, he ran into a difficulty in that part of the New Testament clearly contradicted his interpretation of St. Paul. A more humble man might have begun to question whether the interpretation was correct. Martin Luther was not a humble man. He considered himself able to judge the epistle of James: these parts he liked, these other parts he did not like.
He wanted to say that faith justifies apart from works. This is mostly because he did not know the meaning of the word “justify”, which means to change a person into someone who does just works. Our faith is not something we hold onto separately from who we are. Our faith changes us. Faith is not a passive possession; it is an active principle.
If our faith justifies us, that means that our belief in God makes us into a better person, but this is not necessarily true. St. James points to an obvious case: the demons. They believe in God but they are not made into better people. We do not need to go to the supernatural realm to find that this is true. People like those Christians who protest at funerals or a child-abusing priest prove the principle right here on earth. They believe in God, but it does not do them much good.
So faith by itself is not sufficient for justification; something more is needed. St. James calls it “works”, but the principle of these works is love. Jesus tells us to believe, but he also tells us to love. Faith without love is dead. I cannot merely wish good things for the poor. “Bye. Keep warm and well-fed.” I have to love them. “Love one another as I have loved you.” Jesus said that. Faith is not enough.
Faith does not require anything from me. I can believe and then go on living as I always have. Faith is cheap; love is costly. Whoever wishes to follow Jesus must deny themself, take up their cross, and follow him. Does this sound like faith? No. Faith cannot lift a cross. Only love can do that. Faith tells us that we should follow Jesus; love is what does the following. Faith tells us who we should love and who loves us; love is what does the loving.
When Martin Luther was inventing his new version of Christianity, where he decided that whatever he happened to think was right was definitely right, thereby claiming for himself the infallibility that he denied the Church, he ran into a difficulty in that part of the New Testament clearly contradicted his interpretation of St. Paul. A more humble man might have begun to question whether the interpretation was correct. Martin Luther was not a humble man. He considered himself able to judge the epistle of James: these parts he liked, these other parts he did not like.
He wanted to say that faith justifies apart from works. This is mostly because he did not know the meaning of the word “justify”, which means to change a person into someone who does just works. Our faith is not something we hold onto separately from who we are. Our faith changes us. Faith is not a passive possession; it is an active principle.
If our faith justifies us, that means that our belief in God makes us into a better person, but this is not necessarily true. St. James points to an obvious case: the demons. They believe in God but they are not made into better people. We do not need to go to the supernatural realm to find that this is true. People like those Christians who protest at funerals or a child-abusing priest prove the principle right here on earth. They believe in God, but it does not do them much good.
So faith by itself is not sufficient for justification; something more is needed. St. James calls it “works”, but the principle of these works is love. Jesus tells us to believe, but he also tells us to love. Faith without love is dead. I cannot merely wish good things for the poor. “Bye. Keep warm and well-fed.” I have to love them. “Love one another as I have loved you.” Jesus said that. Faith is not enough.
Faith does not require anything from me. I can believe and then go on living as I always have. Faith is cheap; love is costly. Whoever wishes to follow Jesus must deny themself, take up their cross, and follow him. Does this sound like faith? No. Faith cannot lift a cross. Only love can do that. Faith tells us that we should follow Jesus; love is what does the following. Faith tells us who we should love and who loves us; love is what does the loving.
October 21, 2011 - Friday of the Twenty-Ninth Week in Ordinary Time
Today's Readings
Can you sympathize with the struggle that St. Paul is describing? I can. He, the great apostle and saint, is freely admitting that even he does not live up to his own desire. He does not do the good that he wants to do, but the evil that he does not want to do. If he can admit his sin so freely, I can too: I am a miserable sinner.
Like St. Paul, I feel as if there were two of me, fighting against each other. There is the me that loves the Lord and wants to do whatever will glorify him, and then there is the me that wants to sin. Me, myself, and I, are all one person. How is it possible that I am in disagreement with myself? I do not merely mean that I can see both sides, but that I can make a good resolution at noon and break it by 1 o’clock. I have a fickle heart. When I can feel the power and joy of the Holy Spirit, I would gladly do anything the Lord wants of me. Then I forget about the Lord and suddenly find myself committing a sin; “I find myself” as if I were not myself.
I cannot simply decide to follow Jesus; my worse self will not let me. I do decide to follow him, but then I do not follow him. Who is the real me then? Am I really the servant of God who delights in the law of the Lord, or am I really the miserable slave of sin who cannot get free? Am I a saint with faults or a sinner who fails to be as good as I wish I were?
I repent of my sins, but I still want to be better. I need something more than good resolutions and good intentions. I am incapable of being who I want to be; I cannot change me, and I refuse to be satisfied with who I am. I could climb to the top of some mountain in Tibet and study for years under a wise man, and I would too, if that would work, but I know that the good I want is not within me. No guru can help me do what I want to do. No reiki is going to make me who I want to be. No yoga, no Oprah, no Deepak Chopra has what I'm missing. Just Jesus.
Can you sympathize with the struggle that St. Paul is describing? I can. He, the great apostle and saint, is freely admitting that even he does not live up to his own desire. He does not do the good that he wants to do, but the evil that he does not want to do. If he can admit his sin so freely, I can too: I am a miserable sinner.
Like St. Paul, I feel as if there were two of me, fighting against each other. There is the me that loves the Lord and wants to do whatever will glorify him, and then there is the me that wants to sin. Me, myself, and I, are all one person. How is it possible that I am in disagreement with myself? I do not merely mean that I can see both sides, but that I can make a good resolution at noon and break it by 1 o’clock. I have a fickle heart. When I can feel the power and joy of the Holy Spirit, I would gladly do anything the Lord wants of me. Then I forget about the Lord and suddenly find myself committing a sin; “I find myself” as if I were not myself.
I cannot simply decide to follow Jesus; my worse self will not let me. I do decide to follow him, but then I do not follow him. Who is the real me then? Am I really the servant of God who delights in the law of the Lord, or am I really the miserable slave of sin who cannot get free? Am I a saint with faults or a sinner who fails to be as good as I wish I were?
I repent of my sins, but I still want to be better. I need something more than good resolutions and good intentions. I am incapable of being who I want to be; I cannot change me, and I refuse to be satisfied with who I am. I could climb to the top of some mountain in Tibet and study for years under a wise man, and I would too, if that would work, but I know that the good I want is not within me. No guru can help me do what I want to do. No reiki is going to make me who I want to be. No yoga, no Oprah, no Deepak Chopra has what I'm missing. Just Jesus.
October 15, 2011 - Memorial of Saint Teresa of Jesus, virgin and doctor of the Church
Today's Readings
As we continue to read from the beginning of his Letter to the Romans, we see St. Paul proving that a religion based on faith is actually older than one based on the law. The Jews felt that they could not just abandon their religion, the laws given by Moses, for some newfangled religion founded on faith in the Resurrection of Jesus Christ. St. Paul is pointing out that Christianity is actually older than Judaism, in the sense that Abraham lived 500 years before the law. Abraham never had the law. Indeed, even the limited law that he did have, the law of circumcision, came relatively late in his life. Faith is the original religion.
The law served an important role for a time. In another letter, St. Paul calls it the “babysitter”. The law prepared the people for the coming of Jesus Christ. The law taught the people about the power of God; then God came as Jesus Christ. The law revealed to the people their sinfulness, but Jesus brought forgiveness. The law revealed their weakness, since no one ever could keep it, but Jesus brought strength by the power of the Holy Spirit. The law served the purpose of God, but faith existed before the law and it continues in existence now that the law no longer has any power over us.
It is not that the law has changed or passed away. As Jesus once said, the law will not pass away until heaven and earth pass away. The law remains, but it remains without power. The law reveals to us that we are sinners worthy of death. The law is an accusation, and the accusation is true. We have failed and we do fail to honor our parents and love God above all else. Who here has not coveted their neighbor’s stuff?
We are not righteous according to the law. The accusation is true, but it has no power. We do not claim to be righteous according to the law. We claim righteousness by faith in Jesus Christ. Not that he will save us without making us good! We believe in the fullness of redemption, including justification. The difference is whom we are relying on: we do not rely on our own ability; we rely on Jesus Christ. God has shown us through the law that we cannot be good without him, so we stopped trying. Instead, we are going to be good with him.
As we continue to read from the beginning of his Letter to the Romans, we see St. Paul proving that a religion based on faith is actually older than one based on the law. The Jews felt that they could not just abandon their religion, the laws given by Moses, for some newfangled religion founded on faith in the Resurrection of Jesus Christ. St. Paul is pointing out that Christianity is actually older than Judaism, in the sense that Abraham lived 500 years before the law. Abraham never had the law. Indeed, even the limited law that he did have, the law of circumcision, came relatively late in his life. Faith is the original religion.
The law served an important role for a time. In another letter, St. Paul calls it the “babysitter”. The law prepared the people for the coming of Jesus Christ. The law taught the people about the power of God; then God came as Jesus Christ. The law revealed to the people their sinfulness, but Jesus brought forgiveness. The law revealed their weakness, since no one ever could keep it, but Jesus brought strength by the power of the Holy Spirit. The law served the purpose of God, but faith existed before the law and it continues in existence now that the law no longer has any power over us.
It is not that the law has changed or passed away. As Jesus once said, the law will not pass away until heaven and earth pass away. The law remains, but it remains without power. The law reveals to us that we are sinners worthy of death. The law is an accusation, and the accusation is true. We have failed and we do fail to honor our parents and love God above all else. Who here has not coveted their neighbor’s stuff?
We are not righteous according to the law. The accusation is true, but it has no power. We do not claim to be righteous according to the law. We claim righteousness by faith in Jesus Christ. Not that he will save us without making us good! We believe in the fullness of redemption, including justification. The difference is whom we are relying on: we do not rely on our own ability; we rely on Jesus Christ. God has shown us through the law that we cannot be good without him, so we stopped trying. Instead, we are going to be good with him.
October 13, 2011 - Thursday of the Twenty-Eighth Week in Ordinary Time
Today's Readings
“With the Lord there is mercy, and fullness of redemption.” Not some half-baked redemption. The fullness of redemption. Not some watered down redemption. The fullness of redemption. Not some just good enough, best that could be done, what more could you expect redemption. The fullness of redemption. With the Lord there is mercy and the fullness of redemption. Mercy for when we sin; the fullness of redemption so that we may sin no longer.
The fullness of redemption includes justification. God is going to justify us. To be justified is to be made good, to be made just. I am not just, and you are not just. We commit an injustice with every sin. We need to be justified. Martin Luther, when he started the Lutherans, infected Christianity with a false idea of justification. He said that God only learns to ignore our sins. He told his followers to “sin boldly but believe more boldly still.” Because of this, the word “justified” in English has come to mean something like: to have a good excuse, which is so different from what St. Paul meant.
We do not want to have a good excuse for sinning; we want to stop sinning. We want to be justified: not justified in sinning but justified away from sin. We believe that with the Lord there is mercy and the fullness of redemption. It is all well and good to believe, but faith that accomplishes nothing is dead. A person is justified by faith and not the works of the law. How are we justified by faith? Faith in God is more than just an acknowledgement of his existence. Faith is trusting that the promises of God will come true. God promises to fix what is broken in our souls. If we believe that we are broken and we believe that God can fix us, then he can get to work.
Justification is a process; it does not happen all at once, in a moment; it is not as if we can say a little prayer confessing our faith and suddenly be fully redeemed, but when we believe that with the Lord there is mercy and the fullness of redemption, everything changes. As things stand without God, people must either hate themselves or learn to love sin. This is the dilemma of the world. For us Christians, the situation is different, we can hate sin but love the person we can become by God’s grace, the person we will become if we let God fully redeem us.
“With the Lord there is mercy, and fullness of redemption.” Not some half-baked redemption. The fullness of redemption. Not some watered down redemption. The fullness of redemption. Not some just good enough, best that could be done, what more could you expect redemption. The fullness of redemption. With the Lord there is mercy and the fullness of redemption. Mercy for when we sin; the fullness of redemption so that we may sin no longer.
The fullness of redemption includes justification. God is going to justify us. To be justified is to be made good, to be made just. I am not just, and you are not just. We commit an injustice with every sin. We need to be justified. Martin Luther, when he started the Lutherans, infected Christianity with a false idea of justification. He said that God only learns to ignore our sins. He told his followers to “sin boldly but believe more boldly still.” Because of this, the word “justified” in English has come to mean something like: to have a good excuse, which is so different from what St. Paul meant.
We do not want to have a good excuse for sinning; we want to stop sinning. We want to be justified: not justified in sinning but justified away from sin. We believe that with the Lord there is mercy and the fullness of redemption. It is all well and good to believe, but faith that accomplishes nothing is dead. A person is justified by faith and not the works of the law. How are we justified by faith? Faith in God is more than just an acknowledgement of his existence. Faith is trusting that the promises of God will come true. God promises to fix what is broken in our souls. If we believe that we are broken and we believe that God can fix us, then he can get to work.
Justification is a process; it does not happen all at once, in a moment; it is not as if we can say a little prayer confessing our faith and suddenly be fully redeemed, but when we believe that with the Lord there is mercy and the fullness of redemption, everything changes. As things stand without God, people must either hate themselves or learn to love sin. This is the dilemma of the world. For us Christians, the situation is different, we can hate sin but love the person we can become by God’s grace, the person we will become if we let God fully redeem us.
September 1, 2011 - Thursday of the Twenty-Second Week in Ordinary Time
Today's Readings
“Depart from me Lord, for I am a sinful man”, St. Peter says today. He is right about being a sinful man; unlike the Pharisees, he knew that he was sinful, but he was wrong to ask the Lord to leave. It is precisely because of his sins that he needs the Lord. He does not feel worthy to be in the Lord’s presence, and he is not worthy, but he is loved. To be loved is so much more important than to be worthy.
St. Paul addresses this question of being worthy in the first reading today. He is praying for the Colossians so that they may “walk in a manner worthy of the Lord.” This first use of worthy goes back to the etymology of the word. To be worthy is to be worth as much. St. Paul is praying that their actions will be worth as much as the Lord. The Lord has given himself to us: in creation, in the Eucharist, and in the Holy Spirit. Our actions should be worth as much as these gifts.
How will this be possible? St. Paul tells us further on that the Father “has made us worthy to share in the inheritance of the holy ones”. This time worthy is a different word: fit, strong enough, virtuous enough. The Father has made us good enough to share in the inheritance of the saints. He has done this by his gifts of creation and salvation. He has done this by sending the Holy Spirit to dwell within us.
So the gift of God which we have to live up to is the same gift that makes us able to live up to it. This means that our worthiness is only a question of not wasting the gift. We are worthy to receive the inheritance when we will no longer throw it away as if it were worthless. Just as a parent would not give a gift to an 18-month-old that they would tear up and destroy, so our Father will not give us an inheritance that we will despise. We first need the wisdom and understand to appreciate its value, so that we will in turn treat it according to its value. What is the value of an hour? What is the value of health in mind and body? Beyond measure! Yet people despise these great gifts every day.
“Depart from me Lord, for I am a sinful man”, St. Peter says today. He is right about being a sinful man; unlike the Pharisees, he knew that he was sinful, but he was wrong to ask the Lord to leave. It is precisely because of his sins that he needs the Lord. He does not feel worthy to be in the Lord’s presence, and he is not worthy, but he is loved. To be loved is so much more important than to be worthy.
St. Paul addresses this question of being worthy in the first reading today. He is praying for the Colossians so that they may “walk in a manner worthy of the Lord.” This first use of worthy goes back to the etymology of the word. To be worthy is to be worth as much. St. Paul is praying that their actions will be worth as much as the Lord. The Lord has given himself to us: in creation, in the Eucharist, and in the Holy Spirit. Our actions should be worth as much as these gifts.
How will this be possible? St. Paul tells us further on that the Father “has made us worthy to share in the inheritance of the holy ones”. This time worthy is a different word: fit, strong enough, virtuous enough. The Father has made us good enough to share in the inheritance of the saints. He has done this by his gifts of creation and salvation. He has done this by sending the Holy Spirit to dwell within us.
So the gift of God which we have to live up to is the same gift that makes us able to live up to it. This means that our worthiness is only a question of not wasting the gift. We are worthy to receive the inheritance when we will no longer throw it away as if it were worthless. Just as a parent would not give a gift to an 18-month-old that they would tear up and destroy, so our Father will not give us an inheritance that we will despise. We first need the wisdom and understand to appreciate its value, so that we will in turn treat it according to its value. What is the value of an hour? What is the value of health in mind and body? Beyond measure! Yet people despise these great gifts every day.
March 6, 2011 - Sunday of the Ninth Week in Ordinary Time
At a quick glance, the second reading, from St. Paul, seems to disagree with the words of Jesus in the Gospel. St. Paul says that we are “justified by faith apart from works of the law.” Jesus says that “only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven” “will enter the kingdom of heaven.” Obviously, if St. Paul and Jesus really disagreed, we would follow Jesus. Even St. Paul would side with Jesus in such a disagreement. However, we are not speaking here about the personal opinion of St. Paul, but the inspired Word of God, coauthored by St. Paul and the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit and Jesus are not going to disagree, because they are both going to be right and truth cannot disagree with truth.
It is important as we contemplate the Word of God that we consider the meaning of the individual words. St. Paul uses the word “justified” in the second reading today, and this word is often defined loosely in our mind, but it has a very specific meaning. The “fy” part means “to make”, so “Just-ify” means “to make just”. A just person is someone who does what is right. So, when we are justified, we are made into people who do what is right. St. Paul is saying that we are made into people who do what is right by of our faith, not because we are following laws. Jesus is saying that we will only enter the kingdom of heaven if we do what is right. There is no disagreement at all between them. Sometimes the most important part of theology is just making sure we understand what everyone is saying.
St. Paul is letting us know about a change that took place because of Jesus. In the first reading, Moses is telling the Hebrews how important the law is: “Take these words of mine into your heart and soul. Bind them at your wrist as a sign, and let them be a pendant on your forehead.” The Pharisees took this literally; perhaps you remember when Jesus admonished them for widening their phylacteries. A phylactery is a small pouch that contains some words of the law. The Pharisees would tie one pouch on their arm and one on their forehead. The words of Moses, the Torah, the Law, was the center of Jewish religion.
St. Paul is telling us that the works of the law cannot make us just. As long as a person needs to be told not to kill their neighbor and not to commit adultery, they are not just. A truly just person does not wish they could commit murder or adultery but then not do so because of the commandments. There is an obscene film out right now, that is being advertised all over. The premise of the film is that husbands are just waiting for permission from their wives to commit adultery. What a sad marriage that would be! Someone who wants to commit adultery, not just is tempted to but would gladly do it if they could get permission, is an very immature person.
All of the laws are for the immature. So long as we need to be told, “Thou shall not steal” we had better listen to it and follow it. So long as we need to be told to honor our parents, we should remember that commandment. But the Christian life should not consist of walking through this world aimlessly, trying not to step in any sin. A good person just honors their parents. A good person does not steal. A good person does not commit adultery or murder. And a good person does not spend their life wishing they could disrespect their parents and steal and kill and commit adultery. We need to be good people. We need to be just.
No matter how hard we try, though, we can never make ourselves just. We need to be justified. We “are justified freely by his grace through the redemption in Christ Jesus.” Justification is not something we do; it is something done to us. We are “justified by faith apart from works of the law.” Does this mean that all we have to do is believe in Jesus, and he will justify us? No. There are many examples throughout history of believing Christians who were not good people, and if we doubt the examples, Jesus confirms the possibility. He says that there will be many people who call him Lord, who prophesy, who drive out demons, who do mighty deeds in his name, but are not just, are not doing what is right.
Actually Jesus never says that these people were really doing the great works; it was their opinion that they had accomplished such things. Whether God chose to use them as his instrument for good despite their lack of real faith, or if they were deluding themselves with false prophesying and false casting out of demons, we have no way of knowing. What we do know is that, either way, we do not want to be like them. We want to have real faith; we want to be justified. Faith trusts God. Faith does not believe in him and then wish he was not always getting in our way. When we have faith we are not afraid, not afraid that we are going to miss out on some experience or fun because we are following God. Faith believes that God can and will fulfill his promises, and God has promised us everything good.
Justification is a process. We are not going to go to bed tonight and wake up perfectly just tomorrow. We will not be perfectly just until we get to heaven. For many of us, justification will largely take place in purgatory, where we “will be saved, but only as through fire.” This does not mean that we should put off justice until then, but only that our work here will be imperfect. In truth, we ought to be anxious to be just. When see the progression of justice in ourselves, not only as we begin to do good and avoid evil, but also as we realize that we hate sin, we are happier people. We begin to be repulsed by the idea of committing a sin, rather than begrudgingly obeying a law we do not understand. Life begins to have meaning. We Christians are not aimless wanderers through this world but adventurers. We have a destination: heaven, perfection. We should have begun the journey already. We should not waste any more time.
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